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crypticminx · 4 months

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Dad!Jacob going to his first parent teacher conference!!!

Sooooo cute! Ty angel!! This is pure fluff :3

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Jacob’s little girl was an angel.

Actually, angel was quite the understatement for the four year old who was already such a little ball of wonder.

From the moment he first laid eyes on her when she was just a tiny infant, letting small wails out as she entered the world, he was in awe. Seeing her all nestled in his overbearing arms made her look so much smaller—so petite and full of innocence. As her big, brown eyes stared at him with curiosity, he knew she was special.

His loving girlfriend, y/n was an extordinary woman. She caught his attention off a whim, the two of them meeting on set for a shoot he was doing. She was his makeup arist and he just so happened to be the very lucky model who had the pleasure of getting his looks done by someone as beautiful as she was. After a successful shoot, the heart struck man figured he had nothing to lose and asked the girl, catching her off guard, to join him sometime for a coffee.

She compiled, of course.

One thing lead to other for the fast moving individuals and soon enough, after only dating for a short period of time, she fell pregnant. That happened to be the best day of his life hearing the news he would be a father.

Though the tabloids said otherwise. Making dumb—and extremely false—accusations. Actor Jacob elordi seems miserable going on a walk with unnamed woman or Jacob Elordi is next in line to be a dad after one night stand gone wrong, the absurdity of it all made the happy couple laugh. But that’s just show business.

As he’d reminisce of all the moments leading up to the birth of his first born daughter, he truly treasured the days of getting to endure all of her firsts. He’d never forget the moment he was away filming and got an unexpected facetime from y/n. excusing himself to answer it somewhere private, thinking something was wrong, he was stunned to hear his baby girl say her first words. However, he was also full of remorse for not being able to witness it in full physical form.

As time progressed faster than he would have preferred, she was still always going to be his little girl no matter what.

That’s why he felt joyous that tonight he got to attend her very first parent teacher conference.

She absolutely adored going to school. Upon hearing that she would be starting school, something her parents brought up to her in a very light manner, her mind raced with all the fun new possibilities it would bring her. She was already a natural achiever for such a young age. Every little outing they’d attend as a family, nothing crazy huge, she wasn’t the one to shy away or hide behind his legs. Instead, she’d run around introducing herself to the best of her abilities.

It wasn’t the little girl who cried on the first day of school, it was Jacob. He felt his eyes grow watery as he waved goodbye to her from a distance once she began walking in with all her new classmates. He hid his tears behind sunglasses, but broke down to y/n once they had privacy in the comfort of his suv. He was accustomed to having her at homes all times, especially when he’d take short breaks from acting.

The two of them going on walks with Layla or taking her to the park where she would scream with laughter as she’d beg him to push her higher on the swings; they did everything together.

So being able to hear about her progress in school was exciting to him. It made him feel extraordinarily proud.

Unfortunately, he’d have to attend alone.

His adoring y/n had just given birth to his second child, another beautiful girl, a few months ago. Having a fussy baby that was on a tight schedule was not something y/n was in the mood for bringing to an event that took place after hours. As much as it brought her sadness, she reassured Jacob that it would be best for her to stay home and watch his girls. He agreed and vowed to share every little detail when he got home.

He walked in his bedroom, smiling at the sight that was y/n all snuggled up on their bed, pouring herself into one of his books. Beside her was a handmade bassinet, comforting the sleeping newborn who was just put down for hopefully the rest of the night. His other little girl kept herself occupied in her playroom as she played with her Barbie’s in a new doll house Jacob gifted her.

“I think I’m gonna head out,” he whispered, leaning down to y/n as she gently placed her book on her lap. He gave her a swift kiss on her cheek, feeling her lips curve up into a smile.

“Have fun, my love,” y/n beamed at him as he slowly retracted himself from their embrace.

———————

When it was Jacob’s turn to be called in, he followed after his daughter’s teacher as she welcomed him in taking a seat with her at her large desk displayed in the centre of the room.

The classroom was inviting.

Pictures that the young students made for their parents were placed all over the wall. When his amused eyes found the one his daughter made, he felt himself grow full of sentiment.

“So, Mr. Elordi, You’re Ceres’ father,” her voice was soft, sounding fond of her pupil as she gathered her notes.

“Yes,” he cleared his throat. It wasn’t that he was nervous, but he forgot how these types of things played out. It had been ages since he was in grade school, it made him feel nostalgic in a strange way.

“Well, she’s a lovely student,” he felt a sigh of relief exit him, even though he already knew that was the truth. It felt good hearing his daughters teacher admit that to him.

“You know, I’ve never seen a girl as excited to be in school as yours,” she acknowledged to the proud father. “Most kids when they start off have a hard time adapting, struggling to get comfortable in a new atmosphere away from their parents.”

“Totally,” he agreed, his mind replaying back to his early moments of attending school, “my mum always told me I’d never want to leave her side when she’d drop me off. I guess it’s just hard for some kids.”

The teacher sheepishly laughed with him before she continued praising his little girl.

“I’m sure you and your partner are very thrilled to be blessed with an easygoing child.”

Jacob missed his girlfriend at the brief mention of her. He wished she could be by his side, hearing all the great things that had to be said about the very child they created. It was astonishing really. Something he couldn’t fathom to explain, but it brought him a great sense of joy and made him a little bit emotional.

“Well, we’ve just welcomed a new baby, so things at home have been a little hectic and all. Y/n wished she could’ve been here, but she sends her regards.” His face light up taking about his girlfriend, it was clear as day to anyone that he absolutely loved her.

“Oh, I know,” the teacher grinned, “Ceres talks about her baby sister to no end, it’s very sweet.”

At home, his angel was always trying to see what she could help her mother with. Though there wasn’t much for her to actually do, as taking care of a newborn was a very delicate task, she still included herself in everything. She loved to hold her baby sister with her frail arms and the heartwarming scene of it was y/n and Jacob’s favourite thing to gaze at.

He shook his head with a short chuckle, “yeah, that sounds about right.”

As their meeting continued, the teacher talked about how his daughter excelled at the criteria that was given to her, sounding like quite a smart student at such a young age. She displayed some of her work for him to take a peek at, even letting him take home one of the art projects she created. They discussed the further constructs that were going to be taught and what was expected, but Jacob had no fear. His daughter was intelligent, he gave that credit to y/n.

Before he knew it, the conference came to an end. There was so much to say about Ceres. However, there was a still a long line of other parents who patiently waited for their turn outside the classroom door. He gathered himself up, grabbing all the things he had the privilege of taking home, knowing he would display them forever.

“Mr. Elordi,” the teacher caught his attention, “you’ve got a good one on your hands.”

He nodded, feeling giddy and fuzzy with strings of heartfelt emotions. He was beyond proud getting to endure hearing nothing but the positive words that had to be said about his little girl, he felt silly for feeling nervous before.

For now, the only thing on his mind was sharing his excitement with y/n and spoiling his daughter.

#screaming crying rn #jacob elordi x y/n #jacob elordi fanfic #jacob elordi fanfiction #jacob elordi x reader #jacob elordi #saltburn #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x reader #felix catton #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs

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muffinlance · 2 years

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Kidnapped Zuko? Rescued by Gaang who dont know who he is and he has to hide his identity.

Okay, so. There’s already a teenager down in Commander Muttonchop’s brig. This fact is so far past concerning it’s wrapped around to let’s-not-think-too-hard-about-this hilarity, and Sokka finds himself grinning, and offering the guy a good ol’ fashioned Water Tribe wrist shake through the bars. They’re neighbors, after all.

“Hello, Fellow Prisoner. What are you in for?”

“I, uh,” says Fellow Prisoner, who is clearly undersocialized from his time in here. He’s looking a little grimy around the edges of his all-black outfit, and the bruises on him have had time to get newer, fresher bruises on top, which is just. That is all kinds of reassuring. Oh, and the giant fiery facial scar. Also reassuring. Though at least that one’s a few years old. So… inflicted when he was, what, Aang’s age?

So reassured, is feeling Sokka, for the Fire Nation’s upcoming hospitality.

“Uh,” repeats Fellow Prisoner, who is uncoiling a little in the direction of Sokka’s offered hand. As if Sokka was trying to coax him out, and hadn’t just sort of forgotten he was holding it there while his thoughts were doing their downward spiral. But hey, one man’s desperate attempts to keep his cool were another man’s offer of friendship. Fellow Prisoner grasped his wrist and shook it, in both the most technically correct and least experienced Water Tribe wrist clasp Sokka has ever experienced.

“Zhao thinks I was stealing military correspondence,” the guy says.

“Were you stealing military correspondence?” asks Sokka.

“Only his,” scowls Fellow Prisoner, to whom Sokka takes an immediate liking. “...What did you do? To get arrested. But not killed. He doesn’t usually…”

So, so reassured.

“Oh, you know,” Sokka says, continuing to shake wrists, because it is becoming clear that Fellow Prisoner has no idea how long this is supposed to last and Sokka isn't going to be the one to stop him. “The usual. Found the Avatar. Became traveling companions. Got captured doing something definitely heroic that did not in anyway involve excessive screaming of an unmanly pitch.”

“...The Avatar?” says Fellow Prisoner, who clearly knows how to focus on the important points.

“I’m bait,” says Sokka.

“For the Avatar.”

To be fair, Sokka is still a little stuck on that point, too. It’s been a few weeks, but he still wakes up too-hot in the night and wondering why the stars above him aren’t quite right.

“Yep,” he confirms.

Fellow Prisoner’s face does a thing. A sort of processing, processing, processing thing that involves progressively more scowling. “The Avatar left you? I knew the old man must be a coward.”

“So,” Sokka says, “about that.”

Fellow Prisoner drinks up Sokka’s story like a man who’s spent three years in a desert searching for water.

- - -

(It’s been two and half years.)

- - -

Their escape involves a significantly higher swords-to-escapees ratio than Sokka had anticipated, which is distractingly epic.

Also, the last-minute bison save is both the stupidest thing his little sister could have possibly done and very welcome, which means that Sokka is going to catch his breath and let some of his adrenaline fade before channeling his inner Gran-Gran for a lecture.

Fellow Prisoner sheaths both his swords. And kind of stares, rather than sitting down, so Sokka pulls him over before the bison turbulence (read: catapult dodging) can do the job. This does nothing to interrupt the staring.

“Hi,” says Aang, looking back from Appa’s head. “I’m Aang! What’s your name?”

“...Li?”

Under the sunlight, Fellow Prisoner’s eyes glint gold. He is… very Fire Nation-y looking, now that there is enough light to see him. And he is warmer against Sokka’s side than anyone not feverish should be, even in the ridiculous heat these northerners call ‘winter’.

“Are you a firebender?” asks Aang, like that question hasn’t spent decades earning its status as an insult.

“Uh,” says Li.

“Great!” says Aang, who has already figured out Li-speak. “I need a teacher!”

On the deck below them, Zhao has gone from shouting to laughing.

Sokka continues to be reassured.

#Zuko: I will definitely not ruin this for myself #also Zuko: *immediately gets declared a traitor to his nation AND burns bridges with the Gaang*#Sokka: oh my god he's literally a hot idiot #And There Was Only One Braincell #this doesn't have to be Zukka but boy did I want to use that tag #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla #Zuko #Fellow Prisoner Li #ficlet

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lxclerc · 10 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 | 𝐝𝐫𝟑

summary... it’s never the right time for you and daniel, always something pulling the two of you away from each other. requested... yes by literally everyone. yall were coming at me with pitch forks for this warning... age gap (7 years), emotional cheating, physical cheating, angst, angst, angst, light smut (more on fade to black) pairing... daniel ricciardo x horner! reader

note... i am tagging each and everyone of you who asked for a part 2 bc this fic has quite literally loomed over my head ever since i posted it a year ago. literally everytime i open this godforsaken app, someone is offering me their first born for the part 2 so yall better give me all the notes!!!

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

← prev part

high tide came and brought you in

“if you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?”

the question caught you off guard as your friend drunkenly pondered over it out loud. where would you go? you were sober enough to say home, the most acceptable answer that would not invite any other follow up questions. it’s simple and doesn't need a discussion. the reason it caught you off guard wasn’t just that though but because your answer was instantaneous in your head. your answer isn’t a where but rather a who, came your bitter realization.

and you knew that if you could go anywhere in the world right now, it’d be him you’d go to. he always lingers in the back of your mind, everything that reminded him of you tends to bring a certain kind of aching and longing you’ve grown to resent over the months and years spent without him.

daniel sent you away and deep in you, you know he meant good. he’d done a selfless thing, loving you and setting you free. but missing him was unbearable, loving him all consuming and you resent him for doing this to you. you resent the world for making you fall for a man without letting you have him.

still, you did as he told you. you went back to school, pursuing a career in a field you knew he’d be proud of, achieving your dreams and living your life as though a part of you hadn’t been left with him.

your friends carry on with the party. half of university was partying which is a scene familiar to you. this time, it’s on the beach, the salty air and sound of crashing waves echoing with the sound of the music and chatter. still though, you can’t help but scan the place as though looking for him among the crowd of people the same way you always would. you miss the way you’d find his eyes already on you, pools of brown dripping like honey on your skin.

but he’s never there and you feel dirty whenever another man looks at you, their gazes too eager as they look at you as though you’re a piece of meat, never gentle like his as though you’re aphrodite herself walking among mere mortals.

you miss him is the ugly truth. you miss him so fucking terribly it makes you angry. you don’t want to miss him. you no longer want to love him. loving him hurts, as though he’s clawing at your chest and squeezing your heart together in a sick sort of torture.

but even before he touched you, you were his. all he had to do was look at you. you exist in two places – here and wherever he is.

eventually as the night progresses on, you move away from the party. you’re in some fancy country club and the tile is expensive on your feet as you step out of your heels and walked towards the beach, feeling the cool sand against your skin.

in hindsight, you really shouldn’t have been surprised to find him in a place like this but despite looking for him wherever you go, you’d never expect to find him. searching for him has become a comfort the same way longing for him has – in a sick, twisted and painful way.

but he’s here now and in the one time you hadn’t searched for him, he found you. the moment you’d spotted his figure looking out at sea, he turned to you as though a gravitational pull connected you to him.

one year, three months and fourteen days. that was the last time you saw him but he looked no different from the man who’d brought you back to your hotel room only to say goodbye.

and then he smiled and it was as though the sun shone on you again.

“honey,” he says and your heart trembles.

daniel.

it was too early. and you’re drunk and you aren’t entirely sure if you were dreaming or not.

but he stands before you, eyes of brown looking as though you’re aphrodite herself and he can’t quite believe he gets to stand before you. eyes of brown that seem to be sobbing without tears. daniel.

you’re still not talking and he’s letting you, watching you so intently as though he’s memorizing your face. he looked the exact same but you know what he must be seeing. you look nothing like the woman he left behind. you’d cut your hair short and dyed it. long gone were your summer dress, replaced by tight fitting ones that showed off your body. you feel different and you tried so hard to make sure you wouldn’t recognize yourself in the mirror. you hated seeing the woman who couldn’t make him stay.

but in his eyes, you see your reflection and you recognize her well.

“daniel,” you muttered as the crashing waves touched your feet. would you love me now? you wanted to ask.

he smiled again. “you look beautiful as you always are.”

please touch me, you wanted to beg. soft eyes and soft soft hands. you’re lonely without him.

you manage a grin. “sure, old man.”

the laugh that he let out echoed against your soul. “i’m being honest.”

you missed him. god, you missed him so fucking much.

but daniel still would not let himself love you. not yet, not now that you’re finally building something for yourself. you have friends and have set goals. not yet.

“y/n!” someone calls from behind you but you’re hesitant to take your eyes off of daniel, terrified he’d become a figment of your imagination the moment you do. but your friend's familiar calls force you to. “come on, we have to go.”

you ignore her, turning back to daniel and he smiles at you, offering his hand for you to shake. this is the best he can offer for now. “i’ll see you around, kid.”

you wanted to cry, wanted to scream that it’s so unfair, but you smile sadly as he shook his hand, his calloused fingers so familiar against yours.

“in a few years,” you say.

and as the ocean brought him back to you, the waves must return to the sea.

but you were still gone and gone, gone and gone

the next time you see daniel again, you were twenty four. you’re in your last year of university, applying for your doctorate. you loved academia, you loved your two cats and your little apartment downtown, you loved science and the galaxy it holds and you eventually realized that this is why he let you go. he wanted you to have this — be more than someone who just follows a man around country after country.

he wanted you to grow, wanted you to find the things you really loved without influence from him. he wanted you to find your independence and learn to stand on your own two feet.

max brought you here. it’s his first world champion and as his self proclaimed best friend, he refused to allow you to skip this one and so you pulled up your big girl pants and got on with it, arriving in abu dhabi on friday.

by some cruel twist of fate, he’s the first person you find the moment you enter the paddock. it would have been rude to ignore him and so you smile even though you can clearly see the woman next to him and the way she stands close.

goddamn it.

it hurt. it hurt seeing her there. it hurt seeing her cluelessly smile at you. the way he looks at you now, eyes of brown full of silent apologies, looking as though he wanted to reach over and touch you, to comfort you.

you release a shaky breathe, raising your hand in an pathetic attempt of a wave before you walk past him. you aren’t the same young kid like before. now, you have enough self reservation to not actively put yourself in a situation that would only hurt you. you don’t need to play besties with daniel’s new girlfriend.

the moment you enter the red bull motorhome, you hit max at the back of his head.

“what?” he exclaimed as you glared at him.

“you’re an idiot,” was all you said before moving towards your father. you’d ignore daniel and his girlfriend. you’re here to support max – even if he is a stupid idiot – and there’s no need for you to obsess over daniel.

but of course, you still do anyway. even as you watch the race, you’re watching him. he looks good, amazing, fucking edible. he looks like he stepped right out of your dirtiest dreams, all thick neck and stable arms. he looks beautiful, absolutely gorgeous and breathtaking and you selfishly want him just for you. but you’ve always wanted that and you’ve never been allowed to have him.

and then you’re watching her. she’s grace herself, really. she’s exactly the kind of woman he needed and you wonder if she knows about you and then you wonder what it is about her. what is it about her that made it so that daniel thought she’s good enough for him to love when he never could you?

“mate, it’s getting creepy,” max said as he took the seat before you. he looks tired but he looks determined and the way the hair falls over his face makes you smile. max is a very special person to you and you know that he always will. you hold him close to your heart and you know you’d move the earth for him.

you reach over, fixing the collar of his red bull shirt. “shut up.”

“her name’s caroline,” max says. “if you want to get to know her then just approach her.”

you glared at him. you don’t want to know her name. you don’t want to know what her laugh sounds like or the color of her eyes. you don’t want to know what made daniel fall in love with her. you don’t want to know her.

“shut up,” you say again. “i’m still blaming you.”

max laughed and you think him annoying you might just be his way of distracting himself from the race so you let him. you let him talk on and on and on the entire time till he’s needed back in the motorhome. you let him steal yur ice cream and tap your nose.

but when you turned back to her, caroline, you find him staring right back at you, anger and jealousy in those brown eyes you missed so much.

and it was like you’re twenty again, petty and young as you glared right back at him. he had no reason to be jealous when he has her beside him. he has no right to be jealous when he’s the one who’s never allowed the two of you to be more.

these hands had to let it go free

that night, he called you for the first time in three years. his name lit up your phone and your hand shook as you picked it up. his picture, smiling up at you taken at your twentieth birthday stares right back at you.

“daniel,” you breathe out as you press the phone against your ear. you’d arrived back in your hotel room two hours ago smelling of champagne and victory. max’s world championship trophy is laying next to you after being forgotten because your best friend was far too drunk to grab it before his girlfriend dragged him out. throughout the party, you avoided daniel like the plague, keeping to your side of the room and never straying towards him.

“i missed you,” he says from the other end, voice cracking and slurring. he’s drunk and you push back the blanket as you enter the bathroom, hand gripping your phone. “but fuck it, i don’t miss this.”

“what are you saying?”

“he’s my best mate, y/n.” there goes your name. not sweetheart or honey. he says your name like it’s sacred, something he’s only ever allowed to say when he’s at his most vulnerable, completely raw and baring his soul to you. “and i wanted to fucking punch his face the entire night.”

you close your eyes. this is familiar to you. daniel and his raw honesty when he’s drunk. daniel and his jealousy of max. this is all so familiar to you that you feel twenty again. you feel young and out of control and so drunk in love with a man you can’t have that it physically hurts. he’s ripped you off the past few years where you’ve grown into yourself. you’re twenty again and so tragically in love.

“i wanted to punch his fucking face because his touching you, because i’m not allowed to touch you,” he continues as you sink to the floor.

“you’re the only one who’s never let yourself touch me, daniel,” you whispered on the phone, broken down from one phone call.

he laughs bitterly and you might as well not have said anything. “and here i am, can’t even sleep next to my damn girlfriend because i keep thinking of you. it’s so unfair.”

you wanted to laugh too. unfair? how does he get to talk about unfair when he’d been the one to create this mess for the two of you? how dare he talk about being unfair when he’s the one who’s with another girl? this is unfair. it’s unfair to you. he doesn’t deserve to talk about it being unfair.

the night he left you in your hotel room on your twenty first birthday, you’d called his name again and again like a child. you hoped by some magical thing that he’ll appear. you were desperate.

“you shouldn’t have come back,” he says. “not yet. we both weren’t ready.”

you wipe the tears falling to your cheeks. “and when will that happen? when will we be ready? maybe it’s time to accept that it isn’t us.”

you heard him let out a shaky breath. “don’t say that. don’t say it.”

“i’m so tired of waiting. if it wasn’t us then and it isn’t us now, why do we still believe that it’s us someday?”

“ask me to stay,” he whispers. “ask me to stay and i will. ask me to drop her and i will. i will drop everything if you ask me to.”

you cry, pulling your knees against your chest. “goodbye, dan.”

struggled through the night with someone new

the next time you see daniel again, you invited him. you’re twenty five, it’s two thousand and twenty two, you’re engaged and you’d gotten arrogant.

you met your fiance, james, in university. you’re in the same program and the same friend group though you never paid much attention to him. for the most part, you never really paid much attention to anyone. six months later and he asked you on a date, one you’d declined without a second thought. it didn’t matter how many guys asked you out, you always declined, daniel in the back of your mind always reminding you of what you’re truly waiting for.

but james never treated you any differently. he never made it awkward and never put you on the spot. for the most part, you both acted like it never happened. but you applied to the same doctorate program and coincidentally ended up in apartments right next to each other. he was a comfort, a friend you already knew that you could rely on. he never made anymore advances towards you but it was inevitable to grow closer.

he’s stability and curiosity. he never once pulled back whenever you touched him or apologized for liking you. it was a breath of fresh air – to be admired so freely. you did your thesis together, hands tightly clamped together as you defended it.

you were the one to ask james out on a date, knowing he wouldn’t again in fear of making you uncomfortable. and after leaning on each other as friends for so long, transitioning to become lovers was so easy, you didn’t have to worry what anyone would say or think of you. you didn’t have to worry what your family would think. everything was easy with him.

james was so different from the type of love you were used to. you could love him without guilt, without pain and longing. you could love him simply, easily. you didn’t need to ask him to love you back, didn’t need to wonder if he’d still love you tomorrow. it was so easy being with him and you’d gotten lazy. waiting and hurting and crying for daniel was exhausting.

you wanted a love you didn’t have to fight for.

you’ve convinced yourself that you no longer felt anything for daniel, gaslighting yourself into believing that you’d close that chapter and left it in the past. you can move on now. there was no need for you constantly being miserable and lonely waiting for him to be ready.

and yet here you were, your fiance’s arm around you as you stare at the front door. you shouldn’t have invited him. there was no reason for you to do so but you wanted to prove yourself. you wanted to prove to yourself that he no longer affected you. daniel is in the past and you’ve told yourself repeatedly that you’ve let him go but now you wanted to show yourself that you have.

if you’re lucky, maybe he wouldn’t attend at all.

“are you okay, love?” james whispered against your ear, having noticed your stiff posture. you spent weeks planning your engagement party, stressing over the smallest details but now you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.

you loved this about him – the way he’s able to read you like an open book. james knows there was someone before him – someone who’d left you broken and torn apart. he just didn’t know that person would be attending today.

you nod, taking a sip from the champagne glass you’d been holding as an excuse to stop your hands from fidgeting. “just a bit nervous from the crowd.”

“don’t worry too much. it’s just friends and family.” he gives you an assuring smile, accepting your reasoning as he pulls you closer towards him to try and comfort you.

you’re an idiot, the biggest one there is. max told you himself after you told him that you sent the invite to daniel. you’re a massive idiot and you’re in denial and you set your own trap, tempting yourself when there was no need to and now you were going to hurt james because the moment daniel entered the room, your breath was knocked out of you, heart beating furiously as though it recognized him.

it was daniel. how can you be so stupid?

his eyes meets yours and you missed the way those eyes of brown settle on your skin, grazing as though his soul was touching yours. but they’re sad this time – sad and exhausted and defeated and you can practically hear the way your heart shatters. it was daniel. it has always been daniel. it will always be daniel. how stupid were you to think otherwise? how stupid were you to believe you could ever forgot the way your heart and soul roars back to life the moment he enters the room.

you’ll break james’ heart, you’re breaking your own and you’ve broken his.

the entire time, you and james had stood before the door, greeting all of your guests and showing them where they can wait. you absolutely had no plans to greet daniel. it was bad enough that he was here, but james, sweet sweet james, who had no idea what he was doing dragging you towards the formula one driver, hadn’t gotten the memo.

he didn’t know that having daniel’s eyes on you so close would set wildfires in your stomach and he didn’t know how exhausting and difficult it was to contain those wildfires. he didn’t know that he was burning himself as he all but dragged you in front of him.

“hey,” your fiance says cluelessly. “daniel ricciardo!”

daniel is looking at you and you feel frozen under his gaze. it’s heavy. he makes you feel heavy, like you were cheating on james simply by looking at you. you feel nauseous but with guilt eating up at every cell in your stomach. but you shouldn’t feel guilty. he had no right to make you feel guilty for moving on. he moved on. last you him, he had a girlfriend. why aren’t you allowed to do the same? why can’t you go on with your life and build a future with a nice man that isn’t him?

“i’m a big fan,” james says cheerfully, offering his hand for daniel to shake and forcing him to tear his gaze away from you.

daniel forces a smile to his face, moving to shake his hand and you know this is the part where you’re supposed to introduce him. daniel is your guest after all and so you clear your throat, hoping your smile isn’t as stiff as you feel like it is.

“james, this is my friend daniel. daniel, my fiance james.” you manage to let out, gripping your champagne glass to avoid having to touch either of them the same way you avoid the way daniel’s eyes hardened when the word fiance tumbled from your lips.

“it’s really nice to meet you, mate,” james says with a massive smile. god he’s so nice and sweet and you hate what you’re doing to him.

daniel says nothing, only smiling and you end this entire interaction the moment you get a chance to. pointing at the snacks table, you turned to him. “there’s food over there and max is around here somewhere. nice seeing you again, daniel.”

you were lying through your goddamn teeth. thankfully, he seems to have taken the hint, walking away without saying another word.

the entire night, you feel his eyes on you. even as james makes his speech declaring his love for you, daniel stares at you with hooded eyes. he looks pissed and sad at the same time and you wanted to scream. stop looking at me! you couldn’t take anymore of this. he’s looking at you as though you’re under a microscope – staring into your soul like he could reach you there.

you’re an idiot and now that he’s in the same room as you are, the illusion has left you. you’re not over daniel because you can never be over him. he’s engraved in your soul, his fingerprints all over your heart. he was, and still is, the sun that made your universe turn. you’re choking and you needed to get away lest you burst.

daniel is overwhelming. he’s terrifying and addicting and you hate him but you’re madly in love with him. and worse of all, you’ll spend the rest of your life being in love with him. you’ll spend the rest of your life wanting him and hurting for him and and longing for him and that’s a goddamn fucking tragedy.

you manage to get through the party, practically dissociating yourself. eventually the guests leave one by one, only your family and closest friends left. you sit on the foyer with max, the dutchman watching you drink champagne straight out of the bottle.

“you shouldn’t have invited him,” he tells you quietly. “you were fucking yourself over.”

you roll your eyes. you stare inside the house where daniel is talking to your father. your dad offered his home for your engagement party. you know he likes james. your mother too and your little siblings can’t get enough of him. that fact almost makes you want to throw up.

“i thought i was over him,” you say.

it’s max’s turn to roll his eyes. “you’re just a good liar. you’ll never be over daniel and he’ll never be over you. even i know that.”

you glared at him. you already know what he’s telling you and quite frankly, you had no desire to hear it again. “i hate you.”

“neither you nor dan would survive this long without me.” max laughed and you threw the throw pillow at him.

not that he’s lying. you met max the same time you did daniel and you clicked immediately. he knows everything, comforted you many times as you pined over dan. he’s your best friend and he’s also daniel’s best friend. he knows more than anyone how deep the connection you two shared.

“go home already,” you tell him. you’re tired and slightly drunk and you just want to go to bed now. “and make sure you take him with you.”

max laughed at the way you said him like it’s a bad taste on your tongue but did as you said anyways.

that night, you laid on the bed you and james shared, you couldn’t sleep. he’s fast asleep next to you, his arm over your stomach as you lay wide awake. you shouldn’t have invited him because now he’s turned your world upside down again. everything you’ve built for yourself was gone the moment his eyes met yours. he’s a plague, sucking all the happiness out of you.

eventually though, the restless night was about to get worse as you picked up your phone, scrolling through your contacts till you found his name. you stared at it for a while, knowing that you shouldn’t but you’re rattled and your self control is at an all time low. you shouldn’t have been trusted to make any types of decisions.

you come back to what you need

daniel was waiting for you when you parked your car outside his apartment building, hand gripping his phone as he watched you step out of the vehicle. four years since he first let you go and one year since he last saw you and you look as beautiful as you ever were.

he shouldn’t have told you to come but he’s so exhausted from staying away, from waiting for the right time. there will never be a right time and tonight, he’s done holding back. he wants you, he always has and he no longer has the energy to stop himself from wanting you.

“i shouldn’t be here,” was the first thing you said as he opened the door for you.

a lazy, almost mocking smile covered his lips. “and yet here you are.”

you glared at him but daniel’s heart was soaring. it’s been so long since you were this close. he can smell the perfume that followed you and the scent of your shampoo. he’s so so tired, he just wanted to hold you.

he’s going to make this as hard as possible, you realize. you’re no longer a child, he doesn’t need to play nice and easy with you anymore. you’re a woman now and he’s going to treat you like one. but you just need to get over this. you need closure. you need to put him in the past where he truly belongs so you can go about your life. you need him out of your system.

daniel may be everything you wanted but it’s time to accept that he’ll never be what you need.

“why did you come?” you asked, wanting to get this over with as quickly as you can. three years pining for him in red bull and four years of longing for him and everything leads you here.

daniel cocked an eyebrow. he’s done with playing nice. “you invited me.”

okay, you walked right into that one. “you still shouldn’t have come.”

daniel wanted to laugh. “i guess we both like doing shit that we shouldn’t do. now the question is, sweetheart, what are you doing here?”

“i’m getting married, daniel,” you whispered. “we need to accept that it isn’t us.”

“i thought you did that in abu dhabi.”

he’s being an asshole. “you’re the one who told me to leave. you don’t get to be mad that i’m moving on.”

“you��re not moving on,” he laughed, leaning against the wall.

you glared at him. “yes, i am. i’m getting married!”

he looked at you as though you said something hilarious and you wanted to punch him in the face for it. “and yet you’re here.”

“for closure.”

he stepped towards you and you found yourself holding your breath. from this close, you can see the freckles on your cheeks, the ones you used to spend all your time trying to memorize. the curve of his plump lips and the intensity in his eyes. and when he touched, it felt like the first drop of rain after a million years of dessert. his hand perfectly fitted on your hips, warm and so achingly familiar.

his hand snaked from your hip to your legs, finger light on your skin as he ever so slightly tugged at your shorts. you need to pull away but your body needs him closer. you want him. you want him to get closer. you want him to touch you more, to feel his skin against yours. you can have every single inch of his body pressed against yours and you’d still begged to get closer.

his lips graze your cheek before it reaches your ear, even breathes in contrast to your desperately shaky ones. “is that really what you want, baby?”

with every ounce of sanity you have left, you forced yourself to nod and you can feel the way his lips formed into a mocking smile against your cheek.

“really?” he mocked. “then why are you clutching my shirt like you want more?”

you hadn’t even realized the way your fist is holding on to his shirt, pulling him closer towards you like you’re terrified he’d disappear right between your fingertips.

“fuck,” you muttered, the heat of his skin against yours dizzying. james is nowhere near your mind as your hand slips under his shirt, self control flying out the window as you feel the curves of his abs. you want him. you’ve always wanted him so desperately that you’re willing to go to hell for it. “fuck me.”

he kissed you then, fire in his lips as it finally finally touched yours. this is all you’ve ever asked for and it’s worth the damnation you’d be paying in return. you pull him impossibly closer, going on your tiptoes. you need to get closer. closer, closer, closer.

like an addicted chainsmoker to cigarettes, you can’t get enough of his kiss. you want to inhale the fumes of his breath, of him, deep into your lungs. he tugs at your shirt and you pull away enough for him to get it off.

you grunt in complaint when he pulled away from you, only to swallow it back as his lips attached to the skin of your chest, licking and nibbling as it slowly made it way down.

“oh,” you breathe out as he lips attached to your breast, your fingers tugging at his curls as his tongue circled your nipple.

you should have stopped him the moment his hand unbuttoned your shorts but as he bent you over and his hand slipped between your folds and he trapped your moans with his mouth, you were far too gone. god be damned, morality be damned. you’d crawl through hell for this.

but eventually, reality comes knocking and morning comes and your bliss ends. you woke up from your phone ringing, cocooned in daniel’s arms.

“don’t answer it,” he mutters but sleepily, you grab your phone from the nightstand, seeing james’ name on your screen.

and that snaps you out of it, being reminded of what happened the night before and what you did and you all but jumped out of his arms as though his touch burned you.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you hurriedly put on your clothes, daniel watching you still naked from his place on the bed. you turned to him, “this never happened.”

you watched as anger slowly filled his eyes. “are you being serious right now?”

“i’m getting married, daniel!” you’re panicking now, screaming as your phone rings again.

“then why the fuck were you knocking on my door at two in the morning?”

you ignore him, gathering your things. “it was a mistake.”

he’s glaring at you now, looking like he wanted to start screaming. but he remains silent, only glaring as you gather your things and put on your clothes.

you look at him again, apologies and sorrow in your eyes. “i’m sorry but this isn’t me. this can’t be me.”

and then you left, not allowing yourself to look back as you ran to your car. maybe in a parallel universe or a different world, you sit next to each other at the kitchen table and go over the grocery list, but for all the universes and worlds there are, this one was not enough, not for now and not for you and daniel.

when you finally arrive home, your father is in the kitchen, eyeing you up as you walk past him. “where were you? james was looking for you.”

you grimace. there’s a knowing look in christian’s eyes as though whatever you reason he already knows will be a lie. and unfortunately, he’d be right. “i was out with friends.”

“at seven in the morning?” he narrowed his eyes and you hated his timing. of all times, did he have to question you now?

“breakfast.”

you all but run to your room before he can question you further, thanking all the gods that james isn’t there. for a moment, you stood stunned, reeling from the past twenty four hours as the guilt settles in your chest. you need to get as far away from daniel as you possibly can. you can’t be the type of woman who cheats on her fiance. you refuse to be. you refuse to break a good man’s heart like that.

and yet as you finally calm down enough to try and fix yourself, your phone buzzes, his name appearing on your screen saying he sent you a text message.

daniel i’ve loved you in every way i can. i loved you selfishly and so i tried loving you distantly, i tried loving you selflessly, i tried loving you correctly but i just want to love you now. if i could do it all over again, i would love you better but i can’t love you more than i do now.

this love came back to me

the wind is chilly as you step foot in hungary and the dress you wore is definitely not meant for it but still, you persevere, finding your way to the red bull motorhome and greeting your father. the last time you attended a grand prix was abu dhabi 2021 and yet it still feels like home.

“there’s my biggest fan!” max cheered the moment he saw you, immediately wrapping his arms around you. he hasn’t seen you for nearly a year and he missed his best friend. to be fair, no one has seen you for nearly a year, disappearing from the face of the earth after your failed engagement.

after the night of your engagement party, the guilt ate you alive as you realized that you were exactly the kind of girl you didn’t want to be and so you came clean to james. he screamed and cried and said you could work it out but you were exhausted from lying to yourself. as long as there was daniel, you can never be happy with anyone else and no man deserve to be someone you simply settled with.

you realized then that you’d lost yourself. you don’t know who you are, don’t know who you’ve become and so you left everything you know, ignoring everyone’s calls as you attempt to find yourself.

“actually, i’m supporting ferrari,” you joke once max finally lets you go.

“i’ll disown you!” your father screamed from across the garage, making you and max laugh.

“have you seen him?” max asked, whispering as though he’s telling you a secret.

you shake your head. coincidentally enough, or ironically, the first gp you attend in a while, daniel is announced to race in. and max, quite frankly, is far too excited for the two of you to see each other again. he’s had enough watching you both be stupid.

after catching up with max and the mechanics you still know, you find yourself in a cafe with your father, talking about everything and nothing at all. christian watched your every move and you can see the worry in his eyes. he’s part of the people you ran from and you know that it was a cruel thing to do to your father.

and then he was there and you’re all too familiar with the feeling of your world freezing the moment your eyes meet. he looks better, happier and you’re sure you look different too, hopefully more grown.

“you’re here,” he says, unbelieving.

you smile, genuine and free this time. “i’m here.”

and this time around, you were both tired of fighting it. it’s him. it’s always been him. there was no point denying it. he’s the only person you’ll ever want. you are totally and irrevocably in love with him – the kind of love that’s so intense it feels like an explosion of fireworks throughout your whole body. the love that leaves you sleepless but exhilarated, speechless but poetic, lost but exactly where you're meant to be.

and in that moment, your lives flashed before your eyes – marriage, children, growing old together.

daniel ricciardo is the defining moment, the collision of stars that slammed into you so hard it tore your heart in pieces and only he can put it back together again.

he smiles at you and you smile back.

hello, love, welcome home.

and finally, finally, it felt like the world isn’t burning anymore.

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velvetures · 10 months

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Hi!!! I saw your post about taking some requests so I thought that I'll give it a shot. If it's possible, could you maybe do a Captain Price one? I haven't seen a story about him yet on your page, so I hope that this request can finally add one to your masterlist.

So here it goes: A Price x virgin!reader one. I feel like he's the type of guy to be really gentle and slow when he realizes that the reader is inexperienced, mostly due to his calm and caring nature. But once they start to get comfy, he'll get kind of rough in some way? And aftercare, I just know that this man would be an expert at it. Would help in washing them up in a tub or even cooking them a meal after. I could see that he's also a sucker for cuddles and just being close to them in general.

So yeah, I really hope that you'll consider this request and possibly write something out of it. If not, that's totally okay!!

Side note: I just wanted to say that I love your stories and that it brings me comfort, too:))

I Knew, Sweetheart

A/N: I'm so sorry this is so fucking looonngg!! I just couldn't get it right and I ended up going for "better is more" in the hopes that it'll hide the god-awful writing. :( Anyways, please don't burn me at the stake. It's my first Price fic, and I've still not got his voice or character dialed in. Summary: Reader is Price's gf, and while they've been together for a little while... sex hasn't come up. Nor the fact that the reader is a virgin!. Reader goes about bringing it up a little unconventionally, and things progress. T/W: virgin!reader, fem-reader, NS/FW 18+ ONLY, p-in-v sex, fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that IRL), established relationship, a little bit of an age-difference?, cursing?, first-time anxiety?, aftercare, probably missed something else. proofreading is for people w/ friends of which I have none.

John Price set himself apart from most of the men that he often worked alongside when it came to matters of his personal life and the ways in which he operated. A lot of people would often make jokes, saying it was nothing more than his being an “old man” who couldn’t adjust to the newer ways of life. But fuck, he wasn’t that old when it came right down to it, and yes he liked going along with the traditional ways specifically when it came to relationships, at least when he had the chance to. He’d been a lot younger at one point, not seeing how detrimental his actions could’ve been affecting the women he associated with or spent a few hours in bed with just to leave without another word sent their way.

Captain Price knew he’d made many mistakes when the heart was involved. He threw away a lot of advice he’d been given growing up -some good and some bad- all because he thought he knew better or had enough intelligence to figure it out as he went. Much of that changed when he started realizing that he wasn’t fulfilled in the slightest. For a few years, he was bitter over the emptiness. Not understanding where it came from or how the fuck he could get rid of it. Unraveling layer after layer like a frayed pair of jeans, John kept questioning how he’d come so far just to be that alone. Praying his mistakes hadn’t destroyed his chances of finding a little sliver of humanity outside of his work to motivate him. Keep him sane in the most bitter of hours, and soft when everything and everyone else around him kept adding brick after brick into never-ending, emotionless walls.

Then you showed up out of nowhere, sitting on a barstool in one of the pubs he frequented when he had some time away from his work. Close to home and nowhere near busy enough to call a bar or club; John immediately thought you looked like you’d taken a wrong turn and wound up in an old man’s hangout. It took him a few hours of watching out of the corner of his eye to finally weigh the options of being shot down, or possibly making something out of a whole lot of nothing. His offering to buy you a drink led to taking a few puffs off of his cigar outside. From there he learned just about everything about you within the first few weeks of seeing you or calling here and there.

You liked to talk, a lot. Something John was thankful for since he developed a bad habit of just staring at your pretty face instead of listening like he knew too. Fuck it made him feel ten years younger. And that was something else that made your relationship feel unusual to the Captain. More than six years in age difference didn’t sound all that significant on paper. Yet it was more interesting than either of you thought it would be initially. Aside from just simple pop culture references and enjoyment of music and other low-stakes things, your lives were on different paces. John was stable… at least as stable as his work allowed for. While you’d finally got the job you’d been dreaming of, and hadn’t been working for a full year when you met him. Everything all together challenged John, and you as well, with figuring out what you wanted from each other. How you planned -or wanted to- go about making that happen. And if being serious was something that you shared an interest in.

A few months of going on dates and John walking you home was traded for him sharing half the dresser drawers in his bedroom with you. He was gone nearly all of the time, which put a damper on things but he liked having peace of mind that you were safe and in his home. Besides, it was a short drive from his house to your work and you could stop paying half your paychecks on rent and start saving it up for anything you really wanted. At least… anything John hadn’t already bought or given you. Well… there was one thing John hadn’t given you. And it began gnawing at your mind harder and harder every time he went away for a mission and came home without the slightest inclination to do more than give you a kiss.

John Price still hadn’t asked or hinted at wanting to have sex with you.

At first, you thought it was refreshing. Seeing a man old enough and patient to understand that sex wasn’t just given but earned. Yet every time you thought there would be a moment after a date or a ‘welcome home reunion’ where he’d finally bring up the topic, your expectations fell short. Plenty of excuses floated around your brain, including the more rational ones: he was just very respectful. While others were much more self-conscious and saddening: he was getting it somewhere else, or he could see that you weren’t experienced. The age-old struggle of being a virgin past the age of eighteen.

Too old for half the population, and far too young and inexperienced for the others. Sheltered didn’t describe you. You had toys and knew how to give head as well as having been on the receiving end. But going “all the way” eluded you by some miracle or curse. Looking at John in comparison to yourself was just as attractive as it was intimidating. You knew better than to think he didn’t know his way around the bedroom. He was just too smooth. Far beyond any man, you attempted a relationship previously. You wanted to think he respected you, but at the same time, waiting for much longer for him to make a move just felt like another eternity you lacked the patience and confidence to endure. So after a long night of overthinking and wondering how you could even go about bringing it up, you made a decision that when he got back home from his latest mission, you’d be the one to bring it up.

God your hands were sweating. He was supposed to have been home two hours ago and there was still no sign of his truck in the driveway or a single message from him on the phone you had gripped between your damp palms. Everything had been just fine all day, until the sun began to set over the hillside in the backyard, leaving you less than six hours away from John coming through the door. Worried didn’t even begin to explain how your stomach was tied in knots with a low burning fire in your throat. John had been nothing short of perfect -save for being gone so often- and you knew there wasn’t a single reason for you to be so overwhelmed at the mere thought of being an adult and asking him to have sex with you. Of course… You made up your mind to omit that you’d never done it before and just hoped the Captain would be too preoccupied with something else to notice.

Noticing the details quickly got turned around on you when the front door creaked open on its hinges and you hadn’t the slightest clue that John was standing halfway through the threshold with bags slung over his back and a small look of curiosity on his face. His pretty little thing, sitting on the couch with her arms wrapped around her bent knees and a deep stare somewhere far away from the both of them. He had to admit it wasn’t the first time he had caught you sitting with your eyes “comfortable” as you liked to call it; however, it was the first time he’d seen you wearing something quite that lacy for no damn good reason before.

Some kind of black, strappy, and frilly little number. It hardly left anything to the imagination, and John had to force himself not to go into deep thought about how you’d even got into the thing without instructions. It made your figure that much more eye-catching, and after staring at nothing but rain and mud for two weeks you were a sight for sore eyes. Even a Captain had to admit his biggest weaknesses to overcome himself and improve, but he wasn’t sure in that second if he could ever overcome -much less forget- how divine you looked. Honestly, he didn’t even know you owned it to begin with. But by the way, you kept spinning your phone in your hand, he had the vague gut feeling that you had something on your mind. A little more than dinner or fussing over the possible injuries he could’ve sustained while gone.

“Waiting on someone?” He asked lowly, trying his best not to startle you too much. Right away your eyes locked on his and widened. Almost like a little rabbit cornered by a fox and no hole to scurry into. He watched a flash of sudden panic overtake you and how quickly you reached for one of the throw blankets at the end of the couch to hide behind. Price chewed his tongue, forcing himself not to smirk at you at the moment. Wanting so badly to tease you a little bit for looking so sexy in that bodysuit, but acting nothing short of the little shy church girl getting kissed on the cheek for the first time.

“J-John,” Your voice sputters on his name a bit, forcing a smile to his face. He couldn’t help it after being away for this long without the chance to hear you even over the phone for a few minutes. “You’re home a little late.”

He nods, guilty. “Delayed flight. Weather kept us from movin’ out on time.”

Careful, he dropped his bags off at the front door without the slightest concern about how long they’d sit there. More important things were swirling around in his head. Trying to decipher if you were planning something and just backed out, or if you just needed a little bit of coaxing to not be so shy. Hostage negotiation wasn’t something he thought would ever come in handy when it came to interacting with you, yet John found himself rounding around the chairs on the other side of the living room from you, and planning each step he made to ensure he didn’t spook you. That lingerie wasn’t for nothing, and he desperately needed to know what you planned on doing with it.

He licked his lips, taking a steadying breath. “What’s under the blanket, sweetheart?”

You swallowed thickly, “N-nothing… I thought - I hoped it’d look nice,” Fumbling pathetically for an excuse, you finally spit one out all under the very soft and lightly amused eyes of one John Price. “It doesn’t fit.” The second it left your lips, you internally cursed yourself.

John’s eyebrows raised, instantly grabbing onto that loose thread and pulling on it. “I’m sure you’re wrong about that…” He came closer, standing just in front of you on the couch with his hands on his hips. “Come on, why don’t you let me have a look? I’ll give you a second opinion.” His words made your heart stutter, and you weakly shook your head in response.

“I should just return it.” You mutter, scooting over to the side of him and attempting to sneak off with your protective blanket.

You’re not even close to getting away from John when he chuckles, one arm curling around your shoulders and the other getting a firm grip on the material you’re hiding under. Naturally, you don’t exactly fight to get away. But a furious blush breaks out over your cheeks and neck, feeling the preverbal trap tightened around your throat. He’s turning around and sitting down on the couch with a nonnegotiable silent order for you to take a seat straddling his lap. That alone is enough to drive you up a wall with anxious feelings. Not that you’d never sat on his lap before -actually it was quite common- but under these circumstances, there was a lot more than just a little bit of heat passing between the both of you. Very slowly, John found the edge of the blanket and slipped a hand under, searching out for your skin and eventually landing on a little bit of the lacy material stretching in a high cut over your hip. You can actually see his eyes darken, tracing along the hemline and mentally picturing what was under his fingers. Touch alone was making you squirm, avoiding eye contact and trying to keep quiet so as not to embarrass yourself even more than you already felt.

“Oh, sweetheart… fits like a fuckin’ glove.” He whispers lowly, hand palming your asscheek and toying with the thin little string that disappeared into the cleft.

“It’d be a shame for you to get all dressed up… go through all this trouble… then not let me see your hard work.” His voice lulled slow and steady, swaying your fears just enough for you to feel your head nod up and down a couple of times before letting the blanket fall off your shoulders and pool on Price’s lap. The front of the bodysuit had been well-hidden up until now, with you sitting so lady-like in his lap. But the thin straps just crossing around your tits and holding them up without a single stitch of material covering them totally, John thought he’d been shot right through the chest. Between the innocent look in your eyes, and that damned outfit making you appear about as sinful as hell, he couldn’t keep from letting out a low growl and squeezing your ass just hard enough to make you gasp.

“This is what you were trying to hide?” His breathlessness couldn’t be masked, nor could the frequent shift in his eyes between your practically bare chest and eyes. John chuckled, hands drifting towards your hips and up to rest on each side of your ribs. Pushing your tits together just a little bit, almost bewitched by the sight of you like that on his lap. “Oh, you’re such a pretty girl…” He muttered, almost to himself.

Shifting in his lap, you tried to keep your growing arousal and nervousness under control. Each touch set you on fire, and with John moving this slow you couldn’t be sure you’d live long enough to see another day. It was too good feeling a man actually appreciated a woman in front of him. Not just finding the small bits and pieces he preferred and overlooking the rest. You knew being nervous was natural, but the more John rubbed and soothed, it was getting harder and harder not to whine or ask him for just a little bit more to satiate you. Right away, John’s eyes darted up to you, and something you couldn’t quite describe flashed through his eyes just long enough for him to lip his lips and sit up a little straighter, pulling you to sit straddling just one of his thighs.

“I think I know what you want, sweetheart.” He smiled so damn affectionately that it made your heart jump. “But just so I know… why don’t you go ahead and tell me, that way I don’t miss anything. I don’t like to disappoint.” Toying with the zipper of his sweater, you suck in a nervous breath to steady your nerves.

“I want you to, have sex with me.” You hardly whisper the second part, still drawing your own attention towards anything minute that could serve as a focal point with your body shaking so badly.

“Hmm…” His thoughtful hum sends shivers up your spine, and the feeling of his hands massaging your hips makes it hard to breathe. “So I was right,” A smile crosses his face. “Well then, how about you go ahead and take care of this.” He growls a little, his fingers slowly tracing over the barely-there strip of fabric covering your core, already soaking wet with your arousal. Your little moan slips out before you can even try to cover your mouth, and John’s fingers slip away like he was purposefully trying to be mean and deny you a taste of relief.

“John, please…” You whimper, hands resting on his shoulders hoping he’ll take mercy on you.

He just shifts down to rest against the couch a little more and bounces his knee a few times, sending jolts of extreme sensation right up your clit into your lower stomach. You didn’t get it at first… what he wanted you to do. But now you did, and John almost grinned when he saw the realization, followed by the shy look you gave him. Encouragement was needed, and he was more than happy to deliver. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his pants, purposefully having settled you on the side that his thigh-holster was strapped to, adding two extra ridges that instantly began working to overstimulate you. It was too good, and not enough. Pushing your inhibitions just a little further out of focus and forcing you to really focus on how nothing more than his thigh was getting you to a release quicker than any toy or trick you’d tried on yourself. Impeccable alone, it was his low voice right in your ear that made everything outside of John Price holding you on his lap disappear.

“Doin’ so good, sweetheart…”

“Making me feel bad for not helping sooner… If I would’ve known how needy you were.”

“That’s it, love. Keep going, want you to let go. Right on my lap, then I’ll take care of you.”

His lips suffocated your moans and whimpers, swallowing each little pleasure and claiming it as his own. John hadn’t taken his time like this in years, but damn it was special seeing you -his pretty little thing- so needy and whining his name. So sensitive to the texture of his cargos that he was actually wondering if you could withstand something more… purposeful. God, he hoped you could. He wanted to tase you so bad after feeling just how wet you were. Fuck, even the dark khaki color of his pants was getting darker with each little jerk and grind of your hips. Thighs twitching and clenching around him like you couldn’t get the right angle, and were slowly getting more pathetically and innocently frustrated. He needed you hungry though… wanted to ensure that this was done properly. And if it meant withholding from you just enough to make sure you were desperate, he’d bite back every urge he had to give you everything right away.

John knew right away that you were a virgin. Either by just his ability to read people or by the way that you didn’t particularly use sex appeal to draw him in right when you first met. You weren’t innocent of how you looked though, and always dressed and acted much to the benefit of being seen as the valuable woman Price always believed you to be. Yet it didn’t escape his curiosity as to how you’d been able to slip through the grasps of so many disrespectful and predatory men who would’ve done anything to have taken their chance at you. Fuck, he was thankful beyond belief. He hated thinking that you could’ve needed to experience pain or discomfort at any point… but he never asked you simply out of respect and the knowledge that at some point the topic would come up. Only, it didn’t come to fruition quite like he expected. In fact, he never imagined that you’d had your first orgasm with him riding his thigh while sitting on the couch in his house. He wouldn’t change it for a goddamn thing, though.

In the moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to hear you. After hearing so many little whines and pleas for his help, he knew you’d sound so beautiful. But his own intentions fell to desire when he crashed his lips to yours, taking those cries of pleasure for himself. There would be plenty more to come for him to bask in the sound of. The first one though? He needed it. It was his to taste and keep forever. Alongside the taste of your pleasure, he relished in your shaking legs and the harsh bite of your nails digging into his shoulders hard enough to feel through two shirts. He felt your desperation just as deeply as his own, and while his cock straining against his zipper was not totally lost to his attention, John could easily stave off his own needs to make sure you were satiated just as thoroughly as deserved for coming on his pants like the good little things you always were.

“Good girl… You did so good for me, sweetheart.” His rough voice rumbled against your ear as his kissed you softly.

Petting your hair and rubbing his other hand down your quivering thigh. As much as he wanted to keep you right here and not disturb your come-down, he wanted you in bed. Needed to see you laid out like he pictured when jerking his cock after weeks of pent-up stress needed a release. Fuck he wanted to take you slow in his bed and wake up in the morning with you wrapped around him and the smell of sex on the sheets. Before you could really even catch your breath, John had you spread out on the bed with him staring down at you almost astonished. You were just as affected, seeing the heavy outline of his dick parallel to his zipper and ending just at his belt. His eyes caught your lingering, and he chuckled, biting his tongue with his back teeth before squeezing himself and shrugging like it wasn’t the hottest thing you’d ever seen him do. The little gasp you let out only gave him that much more confidence to keep teasing you as much as he’d been.

Slowly, painfully, stripping off one piece of clothing at a time and letting it drop to the floor. Eyes locked on yours like he was getting off to how you reacted to each little inch of skin that was bared to you. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he enjoyed all of the attention on him. When in reality, he was just mesmerized by how in awe you were of him, looking like a war-torn soldier with his scars and hardened body. You were holding your breath for the moment he pushed his underwear down off his hips, standing downright predatory with his fist tight around the base of his thick and glistening cock. If you ever had a moment of hesitation about doing this with John, they dissolved in that single moment. Because your next movement was to reach your hands out, wiggling your fingers for him to come closer.

“What would you like?” He asks, coming to stand at the foot of the bed just out of your reach.

“You.” You answer a little plainly, making him chuckle.

“Not quite specific enough, sweetheart.” His eyes drop to your body hugged in that black outfit and he bites at his cheek. “But as much as I love you in that, I’d like to see you take it off.” A very easy request. Had it not been for your inability to reach the little snap at the back that kept you tied into all of the lace and straps. So, you very politely raised up and sat on your knees with your back to John and gave him the sweetest look you could manage.

“Give me hand, Captain?”

He nearly ripped the fucking thing off.

The moment he had your seduction tactic of clothing balled up in his fist, he felt the first little surge of his common sense holding him back a little bit. Base instinct screamed for him to sink into you as quickly as possible. But feeling your hands rub over his chest and your shy little kisses to his neck reminded him of circumstance. Pinned against your belly, his cock twitched in response to your teeth grazing accidentally over his collarbone. You were about to whisper an apology when John wrapped a hand around your throat to tilt your head up and suck hard just under your jaw. He liked when you did that… The thought gave you a little bolt of satisfaction. One that progressed into your hands sliding down his stomach until your fingers curled around his thick shaft, earning a warning sound of a moan deep in his chest.

“So fuckin’ soft…” He murmured against your shoulder, kissing it hotly and slowly rocking his hips against your hands. Teasing himself. Edging closer to try and raise a little bit of resistance so he wouldn’t spill his load on the bed long before he was damn well ready. Your silky little hands spreading his arousal over his length only lasted for a few minutes before John was pulling you away with heaving breaths and a flush breaking out over his cheeks.

“Too much?” You ask a little giggly when he lays you back and crawls up to kneel between your spread legs.

His reaction is one of raised eyebrows and a devilish kind of smile that makes you feel like you just made a little too accurate of a joke to be laughing. John gives you a little warning ‘tsk tsk’, shaking his head like he could try and hide the lust and affection swirling in his dark eyes at the sight of you giggling, and all spread out for him like a five-course meal the Queen of England couldn’t afford to buy. A wiser man might’ve believed himself worthy of you, enough that his dirty hands could touch you and try to give you pleasure in the way they assumed to know best. Yet John leaned over you with the knowledge that he was one of the most unworthy men on the planet, and you had so much grace and love inside of you that it didn’t matter. One little touch and you could cleanse him of every blood stain he’d not been able to clean or sinful act of revenge he couldn’t resist committing. Above all else, you’d decided in all your innocence of the world that you trusted him with your body as much as you’d already handed over your heart and mind.

John kissed you. Hard. With everything he had to offer in return for the invaluable

With that, he’s, hauling you up against him. He wants you laying right on top of him so he can sleep soundly with you right against him. He’s very quick to give you more praise and ask again if you’re feeling okay mentally and physically. You mention feeling just a little insecure, despite all of his very purposeful care throughout the whole process, but Price won’t have it.

Right away he’s kissing you softly, hands rubbing over your back and butt affectionately. Letting you know just how special he feels that you trusted him, as well as just how lucky he was to find someone like you in the first place. Holding the back of your head and gently cradling you against his lips; Tongue licking into your mouth and groaning softly when you mirror his movements, even going far enough to nip at his tongue. Using that same little hint of him enjoying your teeth on him. Just like before, you’re met with another warning sound of a growl, and John is pulling back and moving his head between your legs with a careful watch on your reaction.

“Can’t wait any longer, sweetheart.” He kissed your inner thigh sweetly. “Please let me taste your sweet little pussy.”

His words shock your body, and your head falls back with the little bit of erotic pleads overwhelming you. God, it was making you drip onto the sheets feeling him so close yet waiting for your answer. Pathetically, you couldn’t get the word ‘yes’ out of your mouth for a few long minutes. Just enough time for him to lovingly suck bruises onto your inner thighs and mean you scream out his name, squirming under his hands to try and get some real relief.

John takes pity on you, stopping long enough to let you catch your breath. “Come on pretty girl. Just say the word… I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good.”

“Yes, yes, yes… please. I need more!” Your airy pleas fall like angel’s trumpets on his ears, as his mouth descends hungrily onto your cunt.

Licking through your slick folds and growling your own name back against your core with the sweet and alkaline flavor. Your hips buck up and you cry out, feeling his tongue lash over your clit for the first time and right away he’s got one forearm over your hips to hold them steady with the other hand held tight with his fingers intertwined with yours. His mustache tickles against your skin and you can feel him resting his head against your thigh, almost like he’s getting comfortable for an extended stay with his tongue in your cunt.

Another orgasm is ripped from you without warning less than ten minutes into John’s unyielding assault on your sensitive clit. And it’s this time that John ensures your thighs can’t wrap around his head for the sole purpose of hearing your loud and raw scream of his name. Blissed out, and shaking once again, John smiles against your pussy; Lapping up any remaining release he’d missed mere seconds before and feeling the dull pressure of your heels digging into his back.

“God, you’re so good for me sweetheart,” His praise blows cool air over your folds and you jerk a little, whining when you feel his lips return back down to you. Slowly, teasingly, he began all over again just as he did the first time.

It takes a couple seconds for you to realize he doesn’t plan on stopping. But when you do, crying for him to stop when he begins using his thumb to tease your clit while his tongue fucks slowly in and out of your clenching hole. John almost laughs, darkly and amused with your little cries and moans. Feeding off of your pleasure just to give it right back to you in the direct motivation of making you come on his tongue and fingers this time.

“F-fuck - John! Sh-shit,” Your stuttered voice falls into an unabashed groan when he teases his finger at your entrance, and slowly slides it deep into your fluttering pussy, squeezing around it tightly. Hungry for more, and weeping with each small curl of the digit hitting on your upper wall.

Your eyes roll back, and you attempt to push John’s head back to try and ease the stimulation, just to feel his hand holding you back and in place. It’s maddening, feeling so good that it’s almost bringing tears to your eyes, having already come twice -more than you typically gave yourself- and no sign of him letting you escape.

God, John was pushing you to the boundary of everything you knew about your own body, as well as giving you the first, raw, experience of just how good sex could be. Lifting your head up just to try and get a small glance at him, you catch the sight of his eyes, fiery and intense looking right back up at you with your own come soaking his mustache and the entire lower half of his handsome face. You clench around his digit again, being pushed that much closer to the edge just at the visual alone.

Your third release came as quickly as the first two, this time resulting in the delicious stretch of John’s three fingers pumping in and out of your cunt, literally slurping up your release; Almost dragging it out of you like he couldn’t stand the thought of not swallowing every drop. He whispered your name so gently as he came to rest on his forearms overtop of you, kissing your forehead with his wet lips and feeling his hair stick against your sweaty forehead.

“Sweetheart…” his tone had softened to the smallest whisper you’d ever heard from him. “Are you sure you want this? We can stop here if you’d like.”

Opening your eyes to see his handsome face and the slight of his hair in a total mess, you knew getting away with not mentioning your lack of experience was impossible. Your John… wasn’t nearly as unobservant as you’d wanted him to be. Without more than a tired little smile, you nodded. Raising your head weakly just far enough to kiss him gently, tasting yourself against your lips and feeling the slight quiver of his breath.

“Please, I want this. I want you John.”

Initially, no matter how much he’d taken care to prep you there was still a deep stretch as his thick cock began slowly entering you. Sweetly, he worked you through each little discomfort, giving you kiss after kiss and running his hands through your hair. Distracting from the little sting that had never been present with your toys, and praising you until his hips pressed flush against yours.

“Fuucckkk yes,” Price couldn’t hold back the loud groan as he looked down to see your pretty little cunt taking every last inch of his dick and squeezing so hard he could barely think straight.

“Takin’ my cock so good… Such a pretty girl, my good little thing…” His murmurs and curses slowly devolved the further you progressed.

Your body slowly adjusted to the intrusion and the gentle thrusts John made the moment you began squirming and pleading with him to move through your little hiccups. The unusual feeling of John moving inside of you slowly began to coax moans and praise from your mouth every time the crown of his cock rubbed deep against a swollen, textured, spot inside of you that built up pressure so quickly that you needed to wrap your legs around his hips to keep them from shaking uncontrollably. Each stroke got harder and harder, with John eventually pounding his cock deep inside of you, moaning and using one arm to wrap around your waist to hold your lower body still so he could bring both of you closer.

“J-John…” Your voice jolted with each snap of his hips as you tried to warn him.

Feeling that familiar yet almost destructive power of another climax rushing through your lower body. Convinced you didn’t have enough left in you to come again, you felt tears pricking your eyes, overwhelmed with immense pleasure skyrocketing you towards a final orgasm you kept denying until John’s fingers reached between you and expertly began rubbing tight circles around your clit, violently tossing you into whited-out vision, and muted hearing.

Above you, John found his own release and shared it at the same time as yours. Fisting the bedsheets to keep from grabbing ahold of you too tightly and bruising you; his cock getting squeezed so tightly from your climax that it was almost painful to stay seated inside of you. With so little arm strength left, he fell nearly full-weight on top of you and only propped himself up by his elbows to keep from suffocating you.

Utterly wrecked, and feeling more than you’d ever experienced more than you’d felt in your life, it took minutes before you could open your eyes and actually have enough of the mental capacity to realize that John was gently stroking your head, kissing your forehead and your nose, and holding you tightly to him as the strong muscle jerks and twitches in your body began to die out.

“You here with me?” Low and comforting, you smile dazedly with your eyes heavy and trying to focus on him.

You merely nod your head yes and give what you assumed was a ‘mhmmm’ but might’ve sounded more like a small animal being choked or drowned. Naturally, John’s lips spread into a very happy and amused smile, cupping your cheek with his hand and pressing a kiss to your lips softly.

“Come on, sweetheart…” John whispered, pulling your head up to his chest and gently easing himself out of you with a low sigh.

You’re once again lifted up and whisked away, this time, into the bathroom just off to the side of the bedroom where John carefully sits you down on the edge of the bathtub and starts running hot water with the lights dimmed low. Certain he’s got everything for your bath within your reach and the water is high enough for you to really sink down into in and relax, he gives you a soft kiss and promises to return after just a couple minutes.

He returns before you even work up the desire to wash your hair, and immediately takes over the task of getting you cleaned up himself. In between the lulls of soaps, and conditioners, John will pose quiet questions, asking how you’re feeling and wanting to know if there was anything that hurt you physically or was bothering you mentally. His care was intense and very personal, giving you much more confidence and comfort after having such a draining experience. Of course, you felt fantastic throughout, but when he asked if you were tired, there was a feeling that he already knew you were and expected you to tell him how he could best support you.

Other than letting your head rest against his chest. Leaving not one inch of your body neglected, from your face to your feet. Throughout the process you watch through sleepy eyes, seeing a very peaceful sort of look on his face while soaping you up and helping you rinse off and step out of the slippery bathtub into a warm towel you could only assume he’d thrown in the dryer just for your comfort.

Holding the towel around yourself, you peck him on the lips and smile, too tired to really say anything of real value. However, you’re certain John understands by the way his arms wrap you up and hold you tight to his bare chest while running his fingers through your wet hair, helping get out some of the little tangles your conditioner couldn’t quite take care of alone.

“I love you, John. More than anything.”

He drops a kiss on top of your head, rocking your weights back and forth in the dimmed light of the bathroom. Admiring your little form in the darkened silhouette of his much larger one.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“You’re my best friend.”

He chuckles, finding that so very endearing.

“You’re mine too.”

yeah... the "you're my best friend" part, me and my husband do that <3 so.... that's a thing.

#john price #captain john price #captain price #mwii #cod mwii #john price x reader #john price smut #captain price x reader #captain price smut #velvetures #velvetures writes #velvetures answers #cod #anon <3

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mayullla · 4 months

Text

Title: Obsessive Passion

Character(s): Witch's Apprentice (Unnamed character/original work)

Summary: You didn't know how much jealousy and hatred he had in his heart and you didn't know how desperate his love was too. He was greedy and was even willing to break you so that you would love him back. Tags/Warnings: male!yandere, fem!reader, apprentice!yandere x witch!reader, both are adults, general yandere themes, brainwash/hypno, drugging, manipulation, dubious consent, 3.4k words

You were a famous witch in the kingdom. Many sought you out for your spells and potions, and the things created by your hand were highly coveted. You were a woman who had reached fame for her talents in magic, knowledge, and powers at a young age. Many sought you out, including the royal family. However, instead of seeking more fame and money, you chose to leave the public eye and live a quiet life away from the capital. Only a few trusted friends and acquaintances knew where you were. You still made many potions and helped whenever the situation required it, but for the most part, you wanted to make time for yourself. You wanted to research and create spells and potions of your interest instead of what was requested and demanded.

With you, you took your apprentice, a man who had talents similar to yours, yet not as fully developed. Many said that he would not be able to achieve what you have due to his lack of mana, but you believed that he would be able to do more, even with that weakness. You knew he was smart, smart enough to figure out how to overcome that hurdle.

But maybe you should have been more careful with him.

You didn't know of the crazed love he had for you, a lust mixed in with unchecked jealousy and hunger. He loved you, he was so madly in love with you that sometimes he felt that it was driving him insane.

You were, in a sense, his savior, someone who took him out of a dark hole and showered him with positive love and attention. You were the one who saw his potential even with his lack of magic when others tossed him aside due to his limits.

It was an innocent crush at first, his heart beating faster when you got close to him as you helped him figure out a new spell that he was trying to create. He was deeply touched when he found out that you created a spell to move your mana to him when he started to run out, effectively stopping him from making progress in a lot of his work and studies.

To him, whenever you poured your energy onto him, he could not help but feel a shiver down his spine. His face flushed into a dark shade of red, perverted thoughts in his mind. All you needed was skin-to-skin contact, holding each other's hand, or you should hold his shoulder. But to him, it was more than that, more than a hug, more than a kiss. It was far more intimate than that when he felt your magic coiling with his, mixing together in his body. It was addicting.

It was difficult for him to hold himself, some days when you saw him panting so heavily after it, he had to make an excuse of some sort.

However, he also had too much anger and too much pride. He resented those who looked down on him, their judgmental eyes ranking his worth in their minds. You were the only one who looked at him in a different light.

You always told him to think of the good for the kingdom, that even when they looked down on him, he could show them what he could do and then their thoughts would change. You were always too kind and so positive.

You weren't naive. If you were, you would have long become a mere pawn of someone malicious, working endless hours for something empty, rather than being free to do whatever you want. But he had always been the more sly one.

That was what he loved about you but also hated. He hated how talented you were compared to him. He hated that you were more powerful than him, that he was in a sense below you. Because you were gifted, you had access to all kinds of magic spell books, even those that belonged to the royal library, while he was not even allowed into the room. He hated your magic because you had so much, unlike him.

He hated your pity.

You did know of his anger, anger towards the world and around him, but you never knew the extent of it. While you also believed that he could do more, you didn't realize what he could already do.

It was just headaches at first when you woke up. Headaches that would never go away no matter what you did. No potion or spell would cast away the pain in your head. Some days it was a numb pain that you could still function throughout the day, but with a few momentary breaks here and there. Sometimes you could go through your day like normal with a very light headache. Sometimes you could do nothing but sit in one place the whole day, unable to think because of the painful throbbing that almost felt like your skull was cracking.

Moments like those always made you mentally note to create another seal for your mind so that you could avoid these sorts of headaches in the future. But by then, it would be too late.

Your apprentice had taken care of most things while you had those serious headaches, giving him work that he could do when you weren't able to do them.

But while doing those tasks, he always took time to take care of you too, handing you tea that was supposed to soothe headaches. While it didn't work for the most part, you appreciated his gesture. Maybe if you were a little more aware and less in pain, you would notice something about the tea that he gave you.

Deep in your sleep, you would never notice how your apprentice would loom over you, having a smile on his lips, cheeks flushed as he played with your mind.

Being famous, you had always been careful of hidden threats and placed many seals in your body to protect yourself. One was on your mind, a seal that you had placed to protect you from any mind magic and dark magic. Much to your apprentice's amusement, he found it very cute that you were that cautious when dark or mind magic had become so rare.

It was taboo and illegal to dabble in such magic after all. Many who were found to be able to do so were mostly killed and burned on torture stakes. It had been years since someone could use such magic. Most magic of that sort was inherited after all, yet when they continued to kill most who could, there was no heir for such magic.

But it wasn't like all dark magic was gone.

He could not help but laugh when he thought of it, how you were so overly cautious of such magic yet took in an apprentice who could use dark magic. This was something you did not know, nor did you know much of. This was what he had over you.

Your seal, while effective if magic was used suddenly to get in your mind, was weak if it was something gradual, slowly chipped away. You would never notice it, not when your headaches started to worsen and worsen the more he chipped your little seal.

It felt like your mind was ripping apart, yet you could not wake up, a sleep potion that paralyzed you, keeping you in deep slumber no matter what he did to you. The torturous pain would be nothing but a nightmare the moment you wake up. He could not help but pity you a little, yet also find a certain thrill to it. A certain satisfaction that he could make you like this.

That he held power over you.

Your body reacted greatly to the broken seal, stiffening as sounds left your mouth, no matter how much he tried to minimize the pain. When it was forcibly broken, there was bound to be some backlash. Yet just as quickly, the sleep potions dragged you back to sleep, unable to react to the shattered seal, unable to see him right above you.

He could not help but laugh, holding it back as he covered his mouth with his hands. His lovely teacher, the teacher who trusted him so much, now at his mercy. He would finally watch you fall from your little stage right under his arms, weak and nothing like the powerful witch you were.

It was a complicated seal that he created just for you, drawn with magic above your head. It was made just for you, like the spell that you had created for him. It would replace the seal that he had broken, and you would be none the wiser. Even if you checked the seal, you would see and feel that same seal that he had broken still there.

One by one, he would change your thoughts, amusing himself in your confusion as he continued to slowly change your mind to his liking, doing things for his pleasure, yet none the wiser.

It took a while, but when you woke up, the headache you had for weeks was suddenly gone.

It was surprising when you realized that you didn't feel like someone was hitting you constantly with a hard, dull hammer every time you even blinked. You were suspicious of the change, but you also felt nothing more than relief. Even when you checked the seals that you placed in your body, nothing was strange.

Yet you just could not help but feel that something was off. That something was not right, but you just could not place a finger on it. You checked the potions and cabinets in the house to see if you misplaced something or if something was stolen, but it wasn't the case. Your apprentice took care of most of the cleaning and potion making while you were resting in bed. Anyone who visited your apprentice had given them the requested items and potions without any problem, but something just felt off.

"Is something the matter?"

You were startled by his voice, jumping a little as if you were caught doing something you shouldn't do. Turning to him, you could not help but frown. "It is nothing, I am just a little confused right now. I can't help but feel like I am missing something."

You honestly replied to your apprentice, wondering and maybe hoping that he had the answer why you were like this. "I am not sure," he answered, having a worried look on his face, wondering if he had made a mistake while you were resting. "Did I make a mistake of some sort?"

Looking at his thinking face, probably trying to calculate expenses or thinking where stuff in where, you shook your head, raising your hand to stop him. "No, it is fine. Thank you for taking care of everything." Seeing that soft smile on his lips, you decided to give your worries a rest.

Yet it always lingered in the back of your mind. As days passed, you started to pay more attention to your apprentice. When you were in the middle of your own research, your mind sometimes thought of him unconsciously, wondering what he was doing and where he was. If he was in the room, you became overly conscious of him. Your eyes could not help but look at him some days, falling into a daze until you snapped out of it with him calling you with a worried look on his face.

It wasn't like you ignored him in the past; you tried to teach him when you were not caught up with your own research. In fact, you were able to give more time to him after you moved to the village, having more time to do whatever you wished. You invested more time into helping him train and learn.

However, this was different.

Your mind just could not think straight sometimes, finding it hard to concentrate when your mind kept thinking of him. He was your apprentice, and while not really far in age, sometimes you thought of him more as an assistant. He was mature and helped you a lot too back then when you had so much work to do. Even now, when he followed you to the countryside, he continued to help you when you needed it. He was reliable.

It wasn't on purpose when you unconsciously started to look over him more often, seeing and checking what he was doing. You took even more time away from your own research to help him learn more about magic and his own research. A quick learner, you always thought, when he picked up a lot of the things you taught him. He was faster… way faster than you when you studied magic around his level.

As more days passed, you started to think that he was better than you, clearly way more talented than you. More often than before, you would compliment him. You complimented him a lot before too, yet you started to do it more and more often. And every compliment seemed to remind you that he was far better than you, that he was better than you.

But it never changed the fact that, unlike you, his magic reserves were smaller than yours. You frowned at the predicament. You were still researching how to help your apprentice's problem, yet you still didn't find a way to fix it. One's own limits were decided the day they were born, and not much could change to make it larger or smaller. The only way you could help your apprentice was to give him your own.

A light touch on his hand or arms, you concentrated on moving your own magic to him. Yet even that took a long time.

Pushing all your other research away, you started trying to find a way to make the transfer quicker and more clean, as there were moments when magic would just leak out and largely go to waste. You were fine with it, to be fair, born with large reserves that it was difficult to use them all in one day anyway, yet you just could not forget your apprentice's face, the jealousy in his eyes when he looked at you.

"Good job. You are doing so well." Compliments continued to leave your lips. Yet as soon as it did, darkness coiled in your stomach as you patted his head. He… he was better than you… Far, far better than you.

You looked down at his sitting form, a smile on his lips, your hand still on his hair as you zoned out deep in thought. "You should really stop patting my head," he told you in a cheery voice, "I am not like some elementary kid who should be rewarded with head pats." You thought for a moment. Looking at him, you could not help but think that it was true, he was far too old for such a thing, but just that you had a habit of doing so.

As soon as you thought that, you tried to take your hand away from his hair, unconsciously wondering if you offended your apprentice or not, yet your hand was stopped by a larger hand. "Ah, I didn't mean it like that!" he said, looking almost surprised when his teacher suddenly started to avoid him. "It is fine to touch my hair, you know… I don't mind," he told you a flush on his face, looking else ever as he tried to hide his cheeks with one hand, "I always know that you like touching my hair, don't you? What I mean to say is that you can touch it whenever... but I am not a kid."

Yes… nothing was wrong… Nothing was wrong at all.

From there, it spiraled again. You were able to function in your daily life, but there were just moments when your memories blanked, and you barely remembered anything. At one point, you thought it was the tea that you were drinking, the one that your apprentice would always make for you.

You were suspicious of the liquid inside your cup, pausing as you stared at it with narrowed eyes. "Is something the matter, teacher?" You looked up at your apprentice, who was looking at you in wonder, an eyebrow raised as he tilted his head. "Do you not like the tea? I made it as you have always liked."

"It is nothing," you said, moving the tea closer to your lips. The smell hit your nose, the same fragrance that you were always familiar with. For a moment, you hesitated, but when you were watched by your student, you chose to take a drink of the tea…

"It is adorable how cautious my teacher is." Your eyes were glazed over as you blankly stared at the floor. Your fingers that were holding the teacup lost their strength, letting the glass fall to the floor and shatter. "Clumsy. Clumsy~" Your apprentice had a mocking tone as he looked at your sitting form. There was no recognition in your eyes, whatever sliver of it was quickly dragged back into the haze. "What would you do without me?"

Moving in front of you, he spelled the glass teacup to rise from the floor and mend itself. When it was placed onto the table, it looked as if it was never broken from the start.

Looking at you, he moved his hands to gently grab your face, forcing you to look at him. "But then again, I always loved my teacher. So much so that it drives me insane sometimes." Your unfocused eyes stared back at him, making him feel chills that he was the one who caused this. That he was the one who made you like this.

He could not help but burst out laughing.

My precious teacher… my precious, precious teacher!" He kept on chanting, in the middle of a quiet forest where there was nothing to hide. His eyes were red with lust and lovesickness.

"My cautious little teacher, slowly you will fall into my arms, and when I finally have you all to myself, I will chain you to me so that you will never be able to leave me. I will make you think of me just as much as I think of you." One by one, he told you all the things he would do to you when you finally could not think for yourself. When your mind breaks and shatters, he will never mend it; instead, he will accept it into his heart.

Then he will create a piece with it that is submissive to him, that yearns for him, that begs for him. One that places him in a high stage that demands others' attention, yet he will give none to them when his eyes are on you, just as he had forced yours to his. You will tell others that he is your heir and that you will be fully retiring.

He will be the one to take care of you, he will take all your magic from your body, greedily taking everything, leaving you unable to even sit up from the bed. He will take care of your body, telling you how well you have done, letting you rest as he fulfills orders for potions and creates spells without limit, looking for you again and again when he runs out.

He will make you sign a contract to become forever his, he will make you sign your name into something that will relinquish everything that belongs to you and give it to him. He will make you give up your talents, your knowledge, your wisdom. He will take everything and gobble it up, as you scream in pain and anguish he will comfort you in his arms and hushed loving words.

You will be his and nobody will be the wiser. Nobody will notice how broken you become as you can do nothing but follow his orders, when you will tell others that he has now inherited your shop and that you will instead become something of a sort of helper. Nobody will know that it is hard for you to make simple potions as he teaches you how to make an easy potion, when you barely even have enough magic to use for yourself as he continues to steal from you.

He will make you clingy, he will make you feel useless and desperate just as he had felt as he looked at you in the past.

You made him insane, and he will show you what it was like as you drowned in his love.

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jgracie · 2 months

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💭 DO YOU THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOU?

masterlist | rules

in which jason wakes up on a random bus with a random girl and the feeling of your hand in his

pairing jason grace x fem!reader

warnings none as far as im aware!

an my first piece of writing on here!!! very very excited :) i know this has probs been done SO much but i had to make it my first fic LOL feel free to give any feedback!

Jason would say he’s never experienced anything crazier than what he was going through at the moment, but he couldn’t recall anything from before he woke up on that bus - not even his own age, or his so-called ‘friends’, one of which was holding his hand right now. She was pretty, but something about it felt very wrong. She didn’t hold his hand like how he was used to, which was another strange thing. Out of all memories his brain could’ve retained, it chose the feeling of someone’s hand in his.

“Jason, you okay?” The girl asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. Nothing was okay, but Jason managed to keep his composure as best as he could. As the day progressed, he eventually figured out many things: his friends’ names (Piper and Leo), the fact that he’s a demigod (that one came to him naturally) and that there was a special extraction team looking for him and his friends. However, none of it was what he was looking for. While he enjoyed gathering more information about the puzzle pieces of his life, ever since Jason had opened his eyes on that bus, there’d been a specific memory that definitely wasn’t fully gone. He’d almost gotten it when he remembered the way someone’s thumb would gently stroke his hand as their fingers interlocked, but it wasn’t fully there yet, not until Piper asked him about the bracelet he hadn’t even noticed he was wearing.

It was simple, just purple and white beads on a string with an initial that definitely wasn’t his dangling off of it, but Jason was surprised he hadn’t noticed earlier. As soon as he laid eyes on it, he knew it was one of his most prized possessions.

Without missing a beat, Jason said, “Oh, this? It was a gift from Y/N.”

Ever since then, nothing was the same. All Jason could think about was her. Somehow, the bracelet had unlocked the vault of memories of them he didn’t even know he had. It didn’t matter if he slept in the cold, harsh atmosphere of Cabin One or on a random piece of ground during their quest, his dreams were always the same. Their first meeting, him helping her with her sparring, her laugh – Gods, her laugh! If that’s what it sounded like in his dream, he couldn’t even begin to fathom what it must be like in real life. All of these little moments slowly began coming back to him and when Jason found out that they’d all be going to Camp Jupiter, his home, he was buzzing with excitement. He’d begun journaling his experiences out of fear that he’d forget again, and he couldn’t wait to be able to tell you all about what he was up to.

Time flies by when you’re having fun. Soon enough, Leo was done with building the Argo II and the three, along with Annabeth, began heading for Camp Jupiter. That’s when the worries began consuming Jason’s mind. As far as he was aware, despite clearly sharing some romantic moments with you, you two never formally started dating before he got whisked away by Hera. It's been months since that happened, what if you found someone else? He wouldn’t have blamed you, he probably broke your heart.

Surprisingly, it was Piper who comforted him. Piper, who’d been fed a fantasy and led on simply for the sake of some Goddess’ schemes. Piper, whose heart he definitely broke the moment he mentioned your name.

“It’ll be fine, Jason,” she said, standing next to him as Camp Jupiter slowly began coming into view, “the worst is over. I’m sure Y/N will understand once we explain everything. She clearly loves you a lot, trust me.”

For some reason, maybe her godly heritage working its magic, he did believe Piper. Although things had been awkward with her, she meant a lot to him, and he’d felt really bad during the conversation they had after their first quest together, so he was glad she wasn’t secretly mad at him. Turning away from her, Jason now gazed upon the shapes of his home with a newfound confidence.

And then he saw you. Whatever his brain managed to come up with in his dreams paled in comparison to the real thing. You seemed to glow and glimmer and shine and all those wonderful things as you walked towards the Argo II with Reyna. While Percy and Annabeth had their heartfelt (albeit strange) reunion, you shared your own.

“Jase!” You said, running to him. Immediately, he picked you up and spun you around. He knew he was probably getting really strange looks from his fellow Romans, but he didn’t care. This wasn’t about them.

Putting you down, Jason wiped a stray tear from your cheek as you began to speak, your voice shaky with nerves, “thank the Gods you’re back! I was so worried when Percy came here and didn’t remember anything, I prayed day and night to anyone who’d listen to bring you home to me with your memories intact. I don’t know what I would’ve done if…” You faltered, unable to even utter the words out of fear they may come true.

Luckily, Jason had many words for you, starting with these: “do you seriously think I’d forget about you?”

#jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace #jason grace x fem reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #jason grace fanfic #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfic #jason grace drabble #cynwrites

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celtic-crossbow · 2 months

Text

Blood Ties Chapter 21

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD Violence and Gore; Sexual content; Animal death (hunting - not descriptive); Mild description of vomit; a little sad angsty moment; Non-con sedation

You had to admit that holy shit, it was nice to be out in the fresh air. It was cold as fuck, but you were bundled up in the coat that had been brought to you all those weeks ago. It sucked to keep it situated for easy gun and knife access but it was enough. Your feet were warm in your boots, two pairs of socks since they were a little big to accommodate any swelling of your feet as the pregnancy progressed but that only meant that your toes were nice and toasty. Leggings under maternity jeans were a hindrance when the baby decided to drop kick your bladder, but otherwise, necessary to ensure you didn’t get frostbite in very inconvenient areas, as well as your legs.

You had been walking through the snow for about an hour before coming across any walkers. There were two, both women. One a little older than Beth and one about your own age. They moved slower in the cold, you had noticed. After putting them down, you became aware that their skin appeared to be freezing solid.

“Walker popsicles. Huh.” You muttered, storing that information to share. Another fifteen minutes went by and you had still seen no game, so you decided to stop and rest. You weren’t necessarily out of shape but you were growing a human inside of you. That tended to take a bit out of the energy department. You had swiped a canteen and some of the jerky, partaking of both to make sure you could carry out what you came to do.

“Alright, Thumper. Let’s see if we can figure out daddy’s weapon of choice. Can’t be that hard, right?” You promptly came very close to shooting a bolt into your own foot. You blinked at it and looked around as if there had been anyone else to see the incident before putting a hand to your belly. Thumper rolled as if just as shocked. “Let’s just keep that between us, okay?”

It was the operation that hindered you. Once you figured out the mechanics,—with about forty-five minutes of tinkering—aiming and firing were things that came naturally to you. Daryl was going to murder you when he had to fix everything you had fucked with in your exploration of the weapon. Collecting the bolts you had used for practice, you froze, eyes narrowed on the small indentations in the snow. Rabbits.

Small game was your specialty. You always hunted rabbits and squirrels when it was just you and father. There was nowhere to keep an abundance of meat in your small home. No smokehouse. It had been different when the family would come over, your aunt and uncles. They loved their venison and you never had to be concerned with wasting anything.

The smile that lifted the corners of your mouth was one born of bittersweet longing. You wished your father could be there to meet his grandchild, but you were—at the same time—thankful that he wasn’t around to see what had truly become of the world, that it would never go back to how it used to be.

Still, you chuckled as you wiped away a tear. Your father would have had one hell of a time getting used to the idea of Daryl being the father, but in the end, he would have been the first to see through that rough exterior to the man hidden underneath. And he would not have wasted a single second before calling the archer out on it.

“If you’re a boy, I could name you after your grandad. Maybe after your uncle, if your daddy wants.” Daryl still hadn’t revealed much about his family. Maybe once he was better, you could sit with him and just talk, quid pro quo. You ask a question about him, and then him about you. He seemed to be okay with that sorta thing. He never liked being the center of attention.

He also appeared interested in learning about you in every way he could. It hadn’t taken you long to notice the way he picked up on things and filed them away. He knew how you liked your meat cooked when it was being eaten outside of a stew. He would take it from Carol and do it himself, usually. He knew how things touching the front of your throat made you feel uncomfortable, like scarves or the top buttons of a flannel, stopping Maggie from wrapping a rather pretty knit fabric around your neck one bitterly cold morning.

Daryl also knew just how to touch you, how to curl his fingers inside of you and how much pressure you needed when his thumb would graze over your clit. He excelled in making you shiver by wetting his digits with your own arousal before dragging the tips over your skin to stimulate your nipples. He did all this while pressing soft kisses just behind your ear or over your pulse, everyone sleeping around you being none the wiser. It was always so incredibly erotic to be brought over the edge knowing that any of them could simply open their eyes and see that he was working you over.

Maybe you could show him what you knew he liked while he recovered. You knew for a fact that he would groan if you lapped and nibbled at a specific area just above his collarbone. He would never admit it but you had noticed the way touching his nipples made his hips jerk when he was inside of you. The first time you’d gone down on him back in the woods, you had kitten-licked at his tip and pressed your thumb against the vein that ran underneath, dragging the digit up his length. He had clawed at the tree behind him so hard that you were certain he’d be picking splinters from beneath his nails afterward.

It took a soft thump to the cranium, snow falling from a branch overhead, to bring you from your pleasant thoughts. With an ache between your thighs and the prospect of maybe getting some alone time with your boyfriend—you still needed to clarify what you could call him, if anything—while he wasn’t trying to evict his lungs from within his chest, you whined quietly. You kinda wished you had stayed there and were curled up in bed with him. Was he okay? Were the meds helping? Was Carol whacking him over the head with the bedpost to keep him from chasing you?

You had nearly convinced yourself to turn back when you saw the first rabbit, a decent sized cane cutter that would make a nice stew to last a couple of days. It hadn’t seen you and taking it down was easy since you had not yet shouldered the crossbow.

“One down, Thumper!” You took one step and then paused. “It’s kinda insensitive to call you Thumper when I’m hunting rabbits, isn’t it?”

You had two rabbits by the time at least three and a half hours had passed, a little disappointing but it was freezing and you did have to make periodic stops to put down walking corpses and even more stops to pee. You were feeling a little nauseous as well, so it was likely beyond time to head back. Maybe Daryl would rest just as well the next day and you could come back out since this excursion would show everyone you could handle yourself out there.

Wiping your knife across your thigh after yet another slow moving walker, you had barely secured it into the sheath before you noticed the tracks.

Deer.

A single deer, young but more than a year. Based on the depth of the tracks, you could likely manage to haul it back on your own if you could take it down. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you glanced at the way back to the house; back to Daryl.

This was all for him, after all. The more food you could secure, the longer he could rest and recover. The decision was simple after that. Ensuring a bolt was loaded, you set out to do what you once did best.

You were still her.

The only differences were the people in your family were no longer an aunt and two uncles, the main man in your life was no longer your father, and you were 11 or so weeks away from having your own baby. You had never needed to be provided for, always the provider. There was no reason you and Daryl couldn’t share that responsibility. When the baby came, you’d adjust and adapt, providing differently and that was okay. The longer you could nurse Thumper, the easier it would make things. You’d step back then, let Daryl take over. It would be even more important to him then, the need to provide. You’d be a team, each caring for the baby in your own way.

The prospect was equal parts exciting and terrifying. New parents in a dystopian world. It wasn’t impossible. It was just dangerous. Daryl had done so well, thinking ahead when he had cleared that Wal-Mart. So much that would be needed already secured, ready to carry with your group when moving from place to place. With a small, tender smile, you glanced at the bracelet for morning sickness you still wore. It likely no longer worked, but you couldn't really bear to part with it.

You wanted to search out a baby store eventually, or make a request for a run. Cloth diapers would be a lifesaver once the disposable ones had been used. Infant and children’s medications needed to be stocked.

Thumper gave your ribs a jab, earning a hiss in response. “Okay, okay. I’m focused. Jeez, kid, can you be any more like your father?”

The tracks were getting closer together in clusters, the deer stopping to check out areas in search of food. You were catching up, the falling snow not yet filling in the prints. In the back of your mind, you maintained an active regard for the time you’d been gone, one eye on the sun to ensure you’d make it back before dark. You would be late and you’d steered off course but you were confident. You’d need to circle around and place yourself downwind soon if you wanted to stand a chance. This is what you knew.

You’d meet up with the search party at the very least on your journey back. That is if Carol hadn’t grown anxious and sent them earlier. Or Daryl—dear god, if Daryl hadn’t somehow managed to drag himself out of that house. No, they wouldn’t let him. You had to believe that. It would be Rick, Glenn, and T-Dog. Maybe Maggie. They’d likely be sore at needing to come find you but if you were hauling a deer, that disgruntlement would likely be forgotten quickly. You just needed to ensure you succeeded and that you stayed safe.

Just as you continued to track, you muttered a curse at a slow shuffling walker. One bolt needed to remain untainted for hunting and, so far, your knife had been sufficient but you were closing in on your target. Using the crossbow would be ideal for the dead at that juncture. Nearly silent kills. The crossbow was level with your eyes when you saw it.

The doe’s head perked up just beyond some snow-covered shrubbery, ears twitching. “Fuck.” You whispered. You had to take the deer first or risk it running from the walker. It had already spotted the threat, getting ready to move. There was no time to think. The deer went down easily, your muttered apologies and gratitude for what it would provide for your group were unheard as you dropped the bow and sprinted for the corpse.

Loading another bolt would take too much time, the deer would be lost to the walker. You were already cutting it close this way, the snow and the off-centered weight of your belly slowing you down. Just as the dead man began to fall on top of your kill for the unearned feast, you tackled him. There was a jolt of pain in your midsection but your knife was already sinking into an eye socket, the deed done.

“Ow,” you muttered. Scanning the area for threats as you unzipped and moved clothing, raising your sweater to look at the deep red mark on the side of your belly, just below your right rib cage. “Fuck.” A knee or elbow must have been angled just right to jab you on impact. “You okay in there?” Your sweater still rolled up, you laid your knife on your thigh and caressed the taut skin with both hands. “Come on, Thumps, need you to move.” A foot or hand pressed firmly into the injured side. “Okay, okay! Point taken! No more tackling walkers. Ouch, you little gremlin.” With a huff, you adjusted your clothing. You’d have Hershel look you over and check on the baby when you returned.

Wiping your knife on your jeans, you secured it on the sheath and crawled over to the deer. It remained unsullied and perfect to feed your family. It was a clean, quick kill and it didn’t suffer. You were always thankful for those.

“Alright, let’s get this back—” No time to register what was happening before you tilted over to retch violently. “Shit.” You panted, looking away from the mess of bile, water, and undigested jerky. Of course this couldn’t just go smoothly. Once again, the world had decided to fuck you. “At least Daryl beat it to getting me pregnant.” You laughed at your lame joke and laid back against the belly of the deer to catch your breath.

“Fucker.” You growled, angling your leg to kick the man's corpse. The baby moved as you laid there, the slightly ripple showing beneath your coat and sweater. “Oh, hey. I could see that.” You smiled, rubbing your very upset stomach. “Your father is gonna skin me right along with this deer.” You nodded to yourself. Closing your eyes, you took deep, calculated breaths in an attempt to gain control over the nausea.

But when they opened again, it was dark, the sun having fled and the moon bright in the star-filled sky. You groaned as you sat up, checking yourself and the area around you for any signs of walker activity. No bites. Your deer was frozen but whole. Shaking off the snow that had gathered on you, you rubbed your hands together, digging through the pockets of your coat with numb fingers in search of your gloves.

“You good in there, Thumps?”

Nothing.

You had just finished pulling on the second glove before stilling to stare at your round stomach hidden beneath your coat. “Thumper?” You had grown so accustomed to the baby reacting when you spoke that to feel such stillness made your chest tighten. “Baby?” Swallowing hard, you adjusted your clothing again, shivering when the chill of the night air struck your belly. “Come on, baby, can you move for mama?”

What if the baby had died inside you? Does the virus affect a fetus? What if you carried the baby only for them to be born a walker?

Then there was movement, gentle ripples below the skin. Some that you could see, some that you couldn’t. But the thought remained, a very real terror that your baby could already be dead and just trying to get out.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. You could only jerk your eyes back and forth at the sound of footsteps getting closer.

“Whatcha sittin’ in the snow for, Peanut?”

Now you definitely couldn’t breathe. There, bathed in moonlight, standing on two very there, very functioning legs, was your father. “Dad—daddy?”

“Hey, there.” You sat stock still, sweater still rolled up, eyes still frozen on him as he approached and crouched in front of you. “Let’s get you all fixed up here.” Gentle hands fixed your clothing, zipped your coat, and ruffled your hair.

“Am I dreaming?” You asked with the slightest wobble to your voice.

“‘Fraid so, Peanut-butter.” When the sound that punched out of you was like a painful sob, he was ducking to find your eyes. “Hey, hey. None of that.”

“I miss you.” You sniffled, letting him pull you close with his chin on your head. “There’s so much—”

“I know, baby girl. I’ve been watching.” He pulled back, thumbing away your tears. “Gonna be a grandpa, I see. Daddy wouldn’t have been my first choice but he surprised me.”

“You like him?” You smiled, lopsided and silly, giggling when he rolled his eyes.

“No father thinks any man is good enough for his little girl, but this one? Well, he keeps surprising me.” He offered you a hand, pulling you up with him as he stood. “He needs you. He’s always needed you just as much as you’ve needed him. So you need to get you and my grandbaby back to him before he loses his mind.”

“But the baby—”

“Is fine.” He chortled, gently stroking your cheek. “You’ll be an amazing mama, Peanut.” He was starting to fade right before your eyes. “You’ll see.”

“Don’t go.” You pleaded, hands passing through his shoulders when you tried to pull him back.

“I’m so proud of you.” His voice was echoing, distant even when you could still see his face. “You’ll be fine, all three of you. But now you need to wake up.”

A tear was frozen to your temple, pulling at your skin there when your eyes opened. Snow peppered down from the dark sky, the moon barely visible beyond the clouds. You felt no panic, breaths coming calmly and the baby kicking periodically, even if it did smart when the little extremities connected with the sensitive injury.

You winced pulling yourself away from the deer you knew would be at least partially frozen. The meat would keep, at least. You’d let the men handle the thawing and prepping anyway. The area was dark, no signs of flashlights or sounds of voices. They had either passed you by or never came at all.

It wouldn’t matter in the end.

Because you were going back to them.

Getting to your feet, you gathered your things and prepared to drag the deer. It would likely be about 115 pounds so carrying it was unlikely. You wouldn’t risk leaving it for later retrieval, not when 45 to 50 pounds of meat was likely from that single kill. Hell no.

You had once dragged Daryl while he was soak and wet and he had at least 60 pounds on that deer. This was doable. You just needed to think. Eyes darting around, you let your fingers drum on your tummy while you pondered. With a deep breath, you started to believe you’d just be dragging the damn thing by hand but then you noticed the walker you had put down. Grabbing your knife, you grinned like a damn fool and set to work.

Lori was pacing in front of the door, watching the men prepare to leave. “You should have already been out there hours ago! Before dark, Rick!” When the deputy stood with a sigh, she didn’t back down. “Do you remember when the decision was made to leave Daryl out when he didn’t come back? Who went to get him? What shape he was in when she brought him back?”

“Yes, I remember, okay! I was just trying to give her the benefit of the doubt! She seemed like she had something she wanted to prove.”

“She said four hours. Carol came to you before that because we were about to lose Daryl on a crazy quest to find her.” Maggie was looking at Glenn but then sent a pointed glance to each of them.

“He’s gonna have a lot to say when he finds out you waited, especially after what we had Hershel do.” Carol said from her spot on the top of the stairs.

“What did Hershel do?” All eyes turned to you in the doorway, dropping the straps you had made from the walker’s overalls. It was Lori that made it to you first, her arms winding around you awkwardly with two different sized bumps barring the way.

“Carol told us you had left to hunt and all I could think about were the things I said upstairs.” The other woman’s eyes were wet and sincere. With a smile, you pulled off one of your gloves and wiped a thumb below her eye. You didn’t say anything because what could you say? She had been incredibly insulting to Daryl and you wouldn’t speak for him. Maybe she would get the hint and talk to him eventually. Maybe not.

You looked past Lori toward Rick, T-Dog, and Glenn. "Got a deer and two rabbits." Then your next smile, wry as it was, aimed up the stairs. “What did Hershel do, Carol?” Carl and Beth came thumping out of the kitchen, throwing their arms around you. You hugged them close while your eyes flitted over to the old veterinarian himself walking along the banister from Daryl’s room. You were gentle when pulling away from the kids, tossing a kills are on the porch, have fun at the men while you began your ascent.

Carol fell in step with you.

“Before anything else,” you started, unzipping your coat, “I had a literal run-in with a walker. Hershel, can you—?” You rolled up your sweater, the skin already bruising.

“Has the baby been active?” He asked immediately, probing the area with tenderness while the other hand struggled to place his stethoscope in his ears.

“It’s Nascar in there, I promise.” You felt the baby squirm slightly before they settled again, your eyes on the old man’s face, watching for any concern. You found none and let out a breath when he straightened.

“Seems like all is well. Heartbeat is just fine and it is indeed the Indy 500. You were lucky.” There was a bit of a reprimand in that last statement, one you couldn’t say was unwarranted. Nodding in agreement, you made up your mind that as long as the meat could last until Daryl was on his feet, you wouldn’t venture out alone again.

You then turned to Carol. You had told her to do whatever it took to keep him there, even knock him out. If Hershel was involved, you assumed the knocking out was of a medicational nature. He wasn’t dead, they would have been smart enough to tell you that around people that could restrain you. “Okay, what’s the damage?” You asked from just beside the doorway, afraid to look inside just yet. “Is he tied down?” Carol shook her head.

“He was determined, Y/N. He pulled out the IV, only made it to the stairs before collapsing. They couldn’t get him back into the room, weak as he was, he fought all three of those grown men.” Hershel sighed. “I gave him a very small dose of morphine. It was enough to sedate him without compromising his respiration.”

You groaned. That man was going to verbally rip you a new asshole, but you’d take it with grace because it was going to keep him safe and give him more time to recover. As long as the meat was prepared and rationed correctly, it could last a while. Maybe that would give you a chance to get back on his good side.

He needs you. He’s always needed you just as much as you’ve needed him.

“Okay, so what do I need to do?” You asked, finally rolling your back against the wall to place you inside the room. Daryl was out. You had never seen the man so unconscious, and you’d seen him nearly die. That was a frightening thought. The plus side was that his color was so much better and the rattle in his chest couldn’t be heard until you were much closer. He didn’t stir in the slightest when you sat down next to his left hip, all the way around toward the wall, avoiding the arm with the replaced IV.

“You won’t need to do much of anything. Monitor his breathing and fetch me if it gets too slow. It shouldn’t with the dose I gave him but his body has been fighting a horrific illness, so we can’t be too careful. It’s been a couple of hours so it will likely start wearing off soon, regardless. When he wakes up, make sure he drinks and encourage him to cough. Coughing and keeping the lungs free of mucus and liquid is crucial.”

You were nodding almost robotically, your fingertips just brushing his hair back and forth with no particular rhyme or reason. Just touching him.

“His fever has yet to break but it’s lowered dramat—is she even listening to me?” Hershel finally asked Carol, who chuckled and leaned across Daryl to clasp your shoulder until you looked at her.

“Watch how he breathes, don’t let it get too slow. Only for an hour or so. Get him to cough and drink when he wakes up. Fever has come down but hasn’t broken. I’ll come tell you when to give him more tylenol. Okay?”

You smiled, both embarrassed and grateful. “Okay.” With a nod to Hershel and an eye roll at Carol’s wink, you watched them shut the door.

Your hand on his cheek had to be freezing. They had just said his fever was down but he felt like a furnace to you. Shit. You were still in the clothes you had been wearing out in the snow. Coat, boots, jeans, and one pair of socks were quickly shed, you were in your sweater and leggings with your thicker socks still covering your feet. You’d been gone long enough and couldn’t seem to wait another second to crawl onto the bed with him. He shivered once but settled, his head turning toward you. You thought for a moment he might wake but he remained still.

With a deep breath, you settled yourself against his shoulder so that you could look up at his face. “I know you’re going to be mad as fuck at me, and I get it. You have a right to be and I won’t tell you otherwise. I was careful, I promise.” Your palm settled on his chest, feeling his heart lazily thump against it. “I have a—well, it’s just a bruise. Hershel looked at it. Thumper’s okay. I’m okay.” Why were you even talking? He was sound asleep. “I didn’t like being away from you while you were so sick. I don’t think I would have liked it even if you weren’t sick.”

Your hand left his chest for your fingers to dance along his jaw while you admired just how peaceful he looked. No lines of worry or pain. Just resting, fully relaxed. Seeing him like that just made your own exhaustion compound into something nearly unavoidable. With a large yawn, you snuggled closer and placed your hand back on his chest, counting his breaths like sheep. You knew you were losing the battle to stay awake, a tinge of worry sparking to life in your chest until you felt him move, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head. He wasn’t so sedated that he couldn’t move.

Sighing, you smiled and finally let your eyes drift closed. “I love you.” You whispered, too far gone to react when the hand sporting the IV came to rest on top of yours.

“Me too, crazy girl.”

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zorosleftmantit101 · 6 months

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NSFW 18+ "Nudes? 🤲"

How straw hats would react to you asking for nudes and what type of photo they send?

NOTICE: I do not condone sending nudes nor do I encourage it! Especially if it is to somebody you don't know or if you are not of age. Remember your voice matters and if anyone reading this ever experiences something like this don't be afraid to speak up and speak out. Whether it's a stranger a friend or a relationship you should never be made to feel like you must show your body if it makes you uncomfortable.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Franky, Brook

A/N: willy wanka

C/W: NSFW - 18 plus, Minors do what you want idgaf‼️, im not accountable for your mentality and im not yo mum. Swearing, Nudes, brook gets his on warning cause his puns sky rocket death rates.

Luffy:

"What is that?, you want photos of my skin or some shit cause if you do I have a pretty gnarly staph infection on my elbow"

- Makes Law explain it to him

Relieases what you're talking about now,

Knows what a nude is he just didn't know they were called "nudes"

"Ohhhh you wanna see my cock"

The way he says it so nonchalantly always sends blood rushing to your cheeks

Luffy sends the most fucking android quality photos of his dick from above that you wouldn't be surprised if he had taken the photo with his fucking microwave.

- sends a silly selfie going like this

(✌️😝)straight after cause, he's a fuck ass

Zoro:

"Why"

...

"Cause 💔"

...

"Fair point"

Zoro doesn't in any way dislike nudes, especially when they're from you all dolled up in the lingerie he bought you making him have to excuse himself to go sort out his fat fucking boner.

The only reason he is reluctant is because he's fucking lazy as all shit, he wants to get a good pic for you, one that he knows you'll touch yourself to until he gets home, but it's just such a long process. He'll never deny your request of course but only 3/10 of the time do they have effort. Lazy ones often include top-angle photos of him holding his erection in his veiny arms, but the ones with effort... he's got his sweat pants pulled down just enough that he can fist his cock while holding his t-shirt up between his teeth.

Sanji:

Cums in his pants as soon as you ask‼️

No matter where he is or what he is doing he'll excuse himself to take the perfect photos and sends you a wide range of photos from every possible fucking angle. Has so many photos in his camera roll that photos make one of those little memory slide shows with the fucking stock happy music in the background.

Usopp:

"OK LOVE, ILL DEFINITELY GET TO THAT RIGHT NOW, YES RIGHT NOW TAKING A PHOTO OF MYSELF, FOR YOU, BECAUSE IM YOUR LOVE!"

"Babe it's ok you don't have to I can wait till you get home 😊"

"NO NO NO I WANT TO I JUST GOTTA FIGURE OUT HOW"

he's nervous alright he wants to take the best picture for you but he also doesn't know what you want you to see,

Sends a picture from the side his erection standing tall with his slender fingers rubbing at the tip.

"Oh shit babe thats hot"

*Usopp has invited you to play beer pong!*

Franky:

"Oh hell yeah you wanna see my nuts and bolts"

-you blocked Franky 💕

Brook:

"My love as much as I would love to I'm better off sending you an x-ray. I guess you could say it's a little bare-boned down their YOHOHOHOH"

-Brook also gets blocked 💕

This just progressively turned into a shit post.

#zorosleftmantit #one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece funny #headcanon #one piece x you #crack post #monkey d luffy #shitpost #x reader #zoro x reader #zoro smut #luffy smut #sanji smut #usopp smut #one piece crack #luffy x reader #one piece shitpost

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shadowshrike · 2 months

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Interfering with Halsin's Portal

It's pretty well known that there are a few situations you can get in where Halsin is well and truly angry rather than disappointed or worried, but I don't think a lot of folks know one of those situations is if you mess with his portal to the Shadowfell. It's a heartwrenching bit of acting. It's also fundamental to the plot of my in-progress fic Girdled Roots, so I figured I might share it with the other Halsin-lovers out there who have never seen it.

EDIT: Please be aware this is datamined dialog and may not be visible in game. It appears to be intended to trigger if the player attempts to enter the portal, which I don't believe is possible in the final game, or at least I couldn't find a way in the most recent version. Sharing this is simply to enjoy the incredible acting and get some plot bunnies moving, not to make any commentary about the game's canon.

Halsin's Initial Reaction

Halsin: No! Stop! Halsin: It's gone... that was our one chance. You've doomed this place to darkness! Halsin: I warned you - told you this was my burden to carry. Why didn't you listen?

The pure rage and despair is visceral. Prior to this, Halsin mentions this portal has been a century in the making, but he's so calm and measured (even upon success) that it is easy to dismiss just how much agony has plagued him as he hoped to make things right. This chance is everything to him. It has guided his every action for a century. It is a hundred years of work, prayer, and guilt to rectify the horrific fate of both land and people that came to nothing because a stranger he trusted refused to listen to him.

The portal breaking is the only time we hear Halsin speak the truth of its importance to him without a hint of emotional regulation. He is wild with pain. This man who is always thoughtful and slow to anger in the face of horror with the wisdom of age and suffering to guide him has become too overwhelmed to show any kindness.

Player response

The player is given several different ways to respond, and Halsin's reaction varies a surprising amount depending on how understandable their reason is. In most cases, he states that he needs to be alone afterward.

Option 1: I'm sorry - I acted on instinct. Halsin: Words won't repair what's been done to this land. Nothing will... I need to be alone.

You can hear the ache in Halsin's voice, but he's somewhat understanding of this response. He projects more sadness than unchecked rage. The player has admitted to making a mistake, and Halsin isn't the type of person who hold onto vengeance when an apology has been made, but he's not naive or people-pleasing enough to say "it's okay" or offer comfort either. The safest thing for everyone is for him to step away to grieve when there is nothing more to be done.

Option 2: I did all the work here - I couldn't just let you take the glory. Halsin: Glory?! There's no glory here. Now there's nothing here - only shadows and the total absence of hope. Halsin: There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Pure fury radiates from Halsin's response if the player focuses on the idea of being some grand hero rather than actually caring for the outcome. What the player did was an unforgiveable act, dooming everything that Halsin holds dear, and you have the audacity to complain about not getting glory from it. Again, he steps away, but this feels more like he's doing it because he believes you're worthless to reason with rather than because he needs a moment.

Option 3: I saved your grove - I figured it'd be best if I handled this as well. Halsin: We were this close to healing these lands. Now your arrogance has torn open the wounds once more. Halsin: There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Halsin is still frustrated with this response and unmistakably angry, but it's significantly toned down from the idea of wanting to go through the portal for glory. More like he thinks you're a self-important idiot than a truly terrible person.

Specialized player responses

There are also three special responses you can give if you have a particular class or diety.

Druid: I thought my powers were equal to yours. Halsin: It wasn't just power this needed - it was wisdom, understanding. I suffered along with this place for years trying to understand the curse... and it seems I will continue to do so. Halsin: There is nothing more to be said... I need to be alone.

Interestingly, he responds much more intensely to a druid than some of the other player choices. It might be in part because he feels like a druid should know better. He lectures the player like an Archdruid would initiates in his Grove, alternating between angry and explanatory, trying to get the player to understand why they were wrong and the sheer magnitude of their error. He ultimately ends in a much more resigned place here rather than personally resentful. Like a father-figure being forced through further life trials because of a child's foolish indiscretion. Frustrating, but inevitable.

Selunite: I trusted in Selûne to guide me through the shadows. Halsin: My friend - I wish you had trusted in me.

This is probably Halsin's most simple response with the least vitriol. He fully understands this answer, even if he's disappointed by it. The fact he calls the player 'friend' suggests a certain tired acceptance of this being a natural behavior for a Selunite trying to do good. We don't see this calm in other responses where Halsin was surprised by the player's choice.

Sharran: The Shadowfell is no place for non-believers - I couldn't allow you to soil it. Halsin: I should never have trusted an ally of the Dark Lady.

If you've ever taken Halsin along with Shadowheart in Act 2, then you know he is absolutely scathing toward her and her faith. He likely isn't as angry if a Sharran breaks the portal because it is utterly predictable. It merely confirms a truth he already knew and talked himself out of. That Sharrans cannot be fully trusted in matters of their goddess, even if one was good enough to rescue his people from the goblins.

#halsin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #analysis

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neteyamsyawntu · 8 months

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Kinktober 01

H a n d j o b

Neteyam x StepSis!Reader PART 1

✨Friendly Disclaimer: The content of this story contains aged-up characters! If this is something that makes you uncomfortable, please feel free to click or scroll away. The last thing I want is for anyone to read something they are uncomfortable with, however if you decide to interact with any negativity, you will be blocked from my blog as a result.

Warnings: 🔞MINORS DNI🔞, maturation, stepcest, vulgar language, mention of both ruts and heats, Neteyam in rut, dirty talk

A light wind blew through the lush trees of Pandora, the thick familiar scent of the forest filling your nostrils as you sat on your knees, fingers masterfully plucking through thick foliage in search of materials that would be later used for herbs. You were quite good at finding new remedies for just about everything, your grandmother, Mo'at, was quite impressed by your natural knowledge of the forest’s gifts. Of course she wasn’t truly your grandmother; Jake and Neytiri had adopted you when your parents had met their unfortunate fate during an RDA attack. At the time you were only 9 years of age, but you could still see their faces so clearly in your mind. It was hard not to miss them everyday, yet as time went on it progressively got easier, especially with the help of your new family.

Kiri had been one of your close friends even before the accident, so you were very much familiar with the family as a whole. When Jake had announced to them that they would be taking you in, you were more than welcomed in with open arms. Neteyam interestingly enough had already asserted himself as a type of guardian for you. In the early days, you would creep out of the Sully’s tent at night while the rest of the family was sound asleep, just to have some time to yourself. A young Neteyam would be awoken to the sound of your soft sobbing and quickly move out of the tent himself to cautiously seat himself beside you. At first not many words would be exchanged, but his company was welcomed, and soon it almost became a ritual for the two of you to sneak out at night just to talk. Although Neteyam wasn’t necessarily fond of breaking rules he made an exception for you, knowing that these meetings were slowly healing you in a way. Sharing this time with him always brought a flutter to your stomach, yet you figured it was just your body’s way of showing how much his company made you feel safe. Yet as you got older these flutters began to appear more frequently.

It was almost as if when you looked at Neteyam, it was always through someone else’s eyes. Like every detail as he grew was now presented as new and exciting, and you could hardly keep your eyes off him. It wasn’t until your first heat at 17 years of age that you truly knew what that flutter meant. When all you could think about was him as you ground your aching cunt into the mossy tree branch below you. The idea of him touching you, soothing you through your heat made your body shiver with longing, yet in your mind you couldn’t help, but feel guilty having these fantasies about your own brother, even if you weren’t related by blood. After this revelation you couldn’t help, but feel a tinge of awkwardness when you were around him, yet you tried to remain as neutral as possible, as if nothing had happened. As if you didn’t use the thought of Neteyam to get you off when your body most craved physical affection. A task that would soon become difficult as time went on, which is when you took it upon yourself to do chores for Mo’at to busy yourself.

At this point you had been out in the forest for about an hour, collecting variants of plants and herbs. Dropping the plant into your hand-woven basket, a familiar scent made your tail and ears flick with intrigue. The same musky scent you had found comfort in all those nights ago as a child. The smell of tree bark mixed with a sort of sweet wet dew. Your eyes wandered around at your surroundings before taking a more intentional sniff at the air to find the direction it was coming from. Just as you locked onto the destination of the scent, your eyes caught a glimpse of Neteyam’s back disappearing behind a thick trunk of a tree in the distance. Had he not noticed you were there as well? Curiosity peaked your mind at his purpose for being out here on his own. A solo hunt perhaps? With a mischievous smirk slowly growing across your face, your body acted just as quickly as your mind, finding the closest tree to yourself and climbing up its lengths through a couple layers of branches before stealthily making your way toward the unsuspecting Neteyam. Carefully, you perched yourself on a branch adjacent from where he stood, your body mostly covered by the leaves of the tree if he decided to look up.

You watched carefully as Neteyam leaned his back against the rough bark with a loud huff. He was panting as if he had been running for hours. Had he been running? Your mind felt fuzzy as a new wave of his scent washed over you. Something about it was…different. The usual notes were there, but they seemed stronger, more intense. Your jaw flexes giving a discreet sniff at the air once more trying to put your finger on that foreign note in his scent. It was a strange mix between sweat and the hot surface of a stone that had been basking in the sun's light for eternity. This scent was not anything you had associated with Neteyam before, it made your brows pinch in the center of your forehead. A raspy groan took you out of your thoughts as you focused back on the man below you. His chest was heaving with heavy breaths, his pants breaking into strained growls. You watched carefully as his hand trailed down the length of his abs, his fingertips skimming over the fabric at the hem of his loincloth. That’s when your gaze was directed slightly below his hand, the sight making your eyes widen, a gasp getting caught in your throat as you quickly bit your lip before it could escape.

Your wide eyes landed on the painfully obvious bulge in his loincloth. Your heart hammering against your rib cage as you witnessed Neteyam’s hand travel over the length of his tewng, cupping his erection, a strained hiss emerged from his throat as he slowly began to massage it through the thin fabric, his head leaning back, eyes fluttering closed for a moment in attempts to steady his breathing and soothe his discomfort. “Wiya…” he grumbled the curse to himself as he quickly became fed up with his own feeble attempts at calming himself. You should’ve been long gone by this point. Neteyam had clearly come out here for privacy and there you were gawking at him while he touched himself, this wasn’t right. You shifted to make your leave when then his scent washed over you again. Being this close to him somehow made it all the more intense, you could’ve sworn your knees would buckle if you weren’t already in a crouched position. That’s when the realization hit you. The new note in his scent was a sign of his rut. Your eyes gandered back down toward the scene below just as Neteyam let out a desperate groan. He sounded as if he was in pain.

You remember how painful your last heat was as you watched Neteyam struggle to calm himself, his breaths becoming more ragged by the second. Then a sudden thought dawned on you… perhaps… no it was a terrible idea…,but what if he didn’t have to spend his rut alone? What if you could help him? Would he even accept the help if you offered it to him? Or would doing so simply out yourself for being a pervert and ruin your relationship with your step brother forever? You tried to convince yourself that however that scenario went, would not end in a positive outcome, yet as you tried to make a second attempt at fleeing the scene, the mix of his intense pheromones and the distant sound of his needy groans as Neteyam palmed himself brought back that familiar flutter in your stomach. You could’ve sworn it even made your cunt ache for a moment. You release a soft hiss in disapproval at your own body’s reaction as you came to the consensus that simply leaving wasn’t going to be as easy as you had planned.

Carefully you made your way down the tree you were perched on dropping to your feet with a soft thud. Neteyam’s head snapped in the direction of the noise, his eyes widening slightly in his dazed and frustrated expression, taking in the sight of you as you straightened your stance, palms facing out at your sides as if to show you were no threat, which of course Neteyam already knew. “Teyam?” You spoke in a soft tone as you cautiously made your way over to him, taking small and discrete tip toeing steps as you studied his movements carefully, scared that he may pounce at any moment with the way his eyes bore into you. “Y-Y/N how did you- rrrg you should not be here right now. It is not safe for you” Neteyam spat quickly, stumbling over his own words as he continued to massage the bulge beneath his loincloth. “Shh, shh, shh I know, I know… it’s just…” your words trail off as your eyes fall between his legs once more, the sight alone enough to make your knees weak. “It looks painful… under your tewng.”.

Neteyam’s eyes narrowed on you slightly before falling back to watching his own hand go to work, futilely rubbing at himself, “It hurts- it hurts so bad Y/N…” Neteyam admits in a rough whimper, “I can’t… haah-“, “Shhh it’s alright, Nete. Let me… let me help you” you coo comfortingly to him as you finally step to stand in front of him, your eyes locked on his. So many emotions were pouring out of him all at once; desire, longing, frustration, desperation, it made you pity him to see him in such a state. “I can’t allow that. I am not myself right now…” Neteyam paused as he let out a low groan, palming himself with more motivation as your scent wafted into his nostrils, “I cannot promise your safety while I am in this state… please”. As much as you knew it was wise to heed his warning, your mind was already made up, and the arousal moistening your folds beneath your own loincloth only motivated you to stay all the more.

“You won’t hurt me, tsmukan. Let me make the pain go away…” you whisper softly him, slowly bringing your hand up to cup over his own, causing his breath to hitch at the contact, letting a barely audible curse fall from his lips as his eyes pinched closed, trying to hold back his instinctual urges as much as he could, yet allowing you to continue touching him, “There you go…” you hum as his hand falls to his side to grip at the rough bark behind him. The feeling of your hand brought a new sensation to his loins. It was almost addicting as he absentmindedly bucked his hips into your hand as you stroked him, “M-more.. Please, it is not enough.”. Blinking at his sudden eagerness you breathlessly nod, wrapping your hands around his waist to behind untying his loincloth. Neteyam released another needy groan, closing the distance between the two of you as he rested his forehead against your shoulder, inhaling your scent with earnest. His body felt hot against your own, that same hot, wet stone smell wafting back into your own nose, making your mind go dizzy for a moment, as your fingers fumble with the knot of his garment, your thighs absentmindedly squeezing themselves together as another prominent flutter in your stomach presented itself.

“You smell so good, yawne… not just here-“ Neteyam purred, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, his lips ever so slightly grazing across your sensitive skin there, “-,but here too…” Neteyam’s tone shifts into a low growl as his hands move down to roughly cup your ass, massaging and spreading your cheeks apart to allow the scent of your arousal to escape the confines of your closed thighs, releasing a shaky sigh as the smell made its way into his nostrils. “Y-yawne?” You echo the pet name that he had used, taken aback at his boldness to even use it with you, “Yes… my yawne… all mine” he growled into your ear, as his grip on your ass tightened causing you to let out a slight yelp. Bringing your focus back to the task at hand you quickly undo the knot in his loincloth, pulling it away from his pelvis as the garment fell loosely into your grasp, letting it fall to the ground beside you.

Neteyam lets out a rumbling hum as he watches you take in the view of his bare torso, a small smirk playing on his features. “I uh… I’m not sure what to do now…” you admit a little hesitantly, a warm blush painting itself across your cheeks as you avert your gaze back up to his own. Neteyam merely chuckled with a slight shake in his head. Of course you’ve never done anything like this before, with no prior knowledge on how to please a man. “Oh ma yawntutsyìp… so eager to please your tsmukan when you hardly have an idea of how… so cute” Carefully Neteyam reaches out for your hand, taking it in his. His palm is clammy and warm as it guides your own to the base of his shaft, licking his lips as your fingers brush against his cock, “Do not be embarrassed, I will show you. Now… wrap your fingers around it like this…” he instructs in a low hum, wrapping his hand tightly around your own as you close your hand around his cock, feeling it’s true weight in your hand, a strained “mmmn” vibrating his chest as you give him a small experimental squeeze. “Good… now follow my movement, yawne.”, holding your hand firmly in his own, Neteyam slowly guides your hand up his shaft, his eyelids fluttering as his lips begin to tremble slightly, a shaky exhale escaping through his nose just as you reach his tip. “F-fuuck..” He mutters under his breath, before sliding your hand back down to its original position at his base.

The moan that fell from his lips sent a shiver up your spine, your ears flicking in satisfaction as it echoed in your head, eager to repeat the movement to hear it again. Without his guidance this time, you drag your hand up his shaft and carefully bring it back down, adding a bit more pressure to your grip as you do. His hips almost immediately buck into your hand, caught off guard by your boldness, letting out another needy moan into the crook of your neck, “Did that feel good, ma tsmukan?” You purr teasingly in a innocent tone, “Y-yes… mmn good girl, just like that” he groans breathily, guiding your hand with three more slighter faster pumps before letting you take over completely, his head falling back against the tree behind him as you continue to stroke his cock, his hips greedily jerking to meet your hand with every few pumps. “Ahhh~ oh fuck yes… you’re doing such a good job for me, yawntutsyìp… feels so good…”. His words only made you work your hand more passionately, pumping his cock faster until his hips were stuttering, bottom lip sucked between his teeth with a mixture of needy moans and whimpers escaping his throat. You couldn’t deny that seeing him like this was making your body react in strange ways.

You release a low hum in response to one of his moans as you feel the sensation of your slick beginning to drip down your inner thigh. Your body felt as if it was climbing to match Neteyam’s own temperature, you were nearly panting yourself, leaning forward to find the place at Neteyam’s collarbone, where his pheromones seemed to pool the strongest, your tail curling hungrily at the smell. “Hmm you naughty little thing, getting hot and bothered off of your tsmukan’s pheromones…” Neteyam growls almost hypnotically into your ear, “I can smell you, yawne…ahh~. I can tell how much you are enjoying this. If we were related by blood, my pheromones would disgust you…but instead they draw you in… they make you want me the same way I want you…” Neteyam’s tone was as low as rumbling thunder in your ear. His growls were becoming louder and his hands more possessive as he gripped your hip roughly with one and sliding the other under your beaded top to knead at your breast. Your breath hitched in as his calloused fingers groped your bosom, fingers shifting between massaging the mound of flesh to tweaking your nipple between his fingers. The sensation made your back arch into him, letting out a trembling whimper, his words making your head spin as you tried to stay focused on making him feel good rather than yourself. The thought almost just as quickly was overshadowed when Neteyam brushes his lips along the skin of your neck before placing an experiential peck along your jugular. When the action causes you to gasp, Neteyam’s lips fold into a smirk, before pressing his lips more firmly against the same spot, this time coaxing out a soft whine from you, making his loins burn with want, “Such a pretty noise… do it again, yawne.” He whispers to you softly as his lips part just enough for you to feel the wetness of his mouth on your skin, teeth lightly poking at your neck as he begins to suck on the same spot, earning a breathy moan from you in response, his tail flicking in approval behind him.

It was now almost too hard to focus, your mind was preoccupied on savoring the feeling of his lips against your neck that the hand you have wrapped around his cock begins to loosen slightly and slow down. Completely lost in your own world, a sudden smack on the ass brings you back to reality with a yelp, “I didn’t say you could stop… Keep going.” Neteyam growls, giving your breast a firm squeeze to give you that extra bit of motivation. Your ears flat against your head in submission as you slowly nod, you begin to climb back up to your previous pace, pumping him with just enough pressure to make your step brother moan his hot breath into your neck. He was getting close, you could tell by the way his lips trembled against your neck, how his grip on your body was bordering bruising, fighting desperately to stay in control of his instincts, and yet he was losing. “Wa- haah… I want to be inside you so badly. Want you to take my dick like a good girl while I fuck you full of my cum…” he moans into your neck, pulling your body close enough to where the tip of his cock brushes against the smooth skin of your stomach everytime you pump him. “T-Teyam you shouldn’t talk like that.” You whine, now feeling his cock begin to twitch in your palm. “Why not? Is my offer too tempting? Are you imagining it, yawntutsyìp? Are you imagining yourself being fucked dumb on my cock, feeling me all the way up here in your womb?” Neteyam teases with a cocky smirk as he presses his palm against your lower abdomen. Your body trembles as his words begin to paint pictures in your mind. Your thighs pressing together once again, now mentally praying for a bit of friction between them.

“Look at you… so fucking needy for me…ahh!” Neteyam is suddenly cut off by your hand now jerking his cock mercilessly, working beads of precome out of his tip that slowly roll down your knuckles, his chest is heaving faster than it had been earlier, his eyes closing tightly, mouth falling open with ragged breaths and groans. With a shivering hand, Neteyam sheepishly holds your wrist as his cock begins to twitch more greedily, so close to bursting his hot seed into your hand, “Ohh- Y-Y/N,… Y/N slow down I’m gonna-.. oh shiiit!” Neteyam groans as ropes of cum spill from his tip, yet you don’t let up, continuing to stroke him until he’s run dry, his voice weak and nearly audible, tail curling and swatting in retaliation. Finally tightening his grip on your wrist, he tears your restless hand away from his cock, panting heavily as his gaze bores into you, eyes heavy lidded, pupils heavily dilated. Without a word, Neteyam’s eyes shift from your own to your now sticky hand, slowly bringing it up to your lips, “Go ahead… clean yourself.” He orders in a ragged growl. Your brows raise for a moment at the realization of what he was asking you to do, but there was something about the look in his eyes, as if he were testing you, and you’d be damned if you let him get the upper hand. With a slight gulp you part your lips, letting your tongue first slide across his hand that held your own, eyes locked on his as your trail your tongue to lick up the salty substance from your own hand. Neteyam’s satisfied growl echoing in your ears as you watched you eagerly devour his cum, all while enjoying the show you were putting on for him.

“Mmm fuck, yawne… such a little tease..” he purrs shoving your hand away from your mouth to capture your lips hungrily, his tongue eagerly shoving its way into your mouth, petting your tongue with his own. Your eyes are wide as you process the action, but quickly melt into the kiss, moaning into his mouth and wrapping your arms around his neck to pull you against him, noting his already stiffening cock pressing against your thigh. A trail of saliva connects your mouths as Neteyam pulls away for air, your own mouth eagerly following in search of his own once again, yet Neteyam merely chuckled and leans in to place a tender kiss on your forehead, “Do not worry, yawne, you’ll get as many kisses as you want… but first…” slowly Neteyam lowers himself to his knees in front of you, his fingers caressing the sides of your thighs as he nuzzles your lower abdomen gently, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he takes in the smell of your dripping cunt, hiding behind your loincloth, before shifting his head to stare up at you, his eyes almost seem to shift in color for a moment as he drags the flat of his tongue along your soft belly, “…I want to taste you…”

Tag list: @pandoraslxna @dvxsja @jakexneytiri @blue-slxt @neteyamsoare@tiredmamaissy, @neteyamsikran @oceanstar19 @hadesbabygurl @xylianasblog @neteyamssyulang @anonymousailurophile @netyamstruelove @eyrina-avatar @justcaptiannoodles

#avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam smut #avatar twow #avatarsmut #neteyam sully smut #neteyam x reader #stepbro!Neteyam #tw stepcest #lunaskinktober2023

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quoththemaiden · 3 months

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@mrghostrat This is now the third time since December that I'm writing about your middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man problems (1, 2). Please come collect them, because they're causing a disturbance.

Or, if you aren't able to wrangle them, then please enjoy this scene inspired by Chapter 10 of Big Name Feelings.

For everyone who hasn't already seen the top portion of this on Discord, know that this is set sometime after the con but before the big bang.

—

"I think your hair might be getting long enough to braid now."

Crowley's eyes snapped over to him. "Braid?"

Aziraphale blinked at the sharp question. "I didn't mean anything by it." He'd still never figured out quite where Crowley's gender identity lay, or if it changed day-by-day. He suspected Crowley's public presentation of his gender was either "whatever's simplest for everyone involved" (around people he didn't know but generally liked, like at the con) or "whatever causes the most problems for everyone involved" (like with a particularly annoying security guard that had left Aziraphale remembering that being middle-aged, white, and extremely stuffy in appearance was its own form of armor). Aziraphale's own perception of Crowley's gender was just "Crowley." What Crowley felt about it was something Aziraphale had never quite managed to parse out. "You can do whatever you like—"

"Do you know how?"

"How...?"

"To braid hair." Crowley's tone was oddly urgent. "Like for your nieces or cousins or—"

"—for crafting, yes. Tassels for bookmarks and such. You want me to—" Crowley practically flinging himself down onto the sofa next to him was answer enough. "Oh."

Crowley's hair really was barely long enough to braid, Aziraphale decided as he gently freed it from its elastic band. He ran his fingers through it slowly and carefully, easing out the light tangles from a day's confinement. Crowley slumped forward in boneless contentment, and Aziraphale had to switch to prickling the top of his scalp with his fingernails to get him to sit up straight enough for Aziraphale to work.

Aziraphale determined his gameplan, then, and gently eased up a few locks of hair at the crown of Crowley's head, smoothing down the top with the flat of his palm. He started working the strands into a French braid, taking it tiny piece by tiny piece to ensure every section was balanced in size. If Crowley were doing it himself, he suspected he'd get it done in just five messy joins, but every strand he brought in gave Aziraphale another excuse to run his fingertips along Crowley's scalp and he luxuriated in each opportunity. "Has anyone ever told you your hair is unreasonably thick?" he murmured, his voice huskier with fond affection than he'd intended. Crowley spared him from a tease by being too utterly sedated to manage more than a vague hum in response. Aziraphale smiled at that and kept his progress blissfully slow and methodical until he had no choice but to tie the braid off at the nape of Crowley's neck — half a French braid, half a ponytail made bushy from having had waves worked into it. He placed a soft kiss to the back of Crowley's head, padded by the thickest part of Crowley's braid and somehow all the more intimate for it. "All done, love."

Crowley leaned back against Aziraphale's chest, tilting back his head to look up at him with eyes made impossibly soft with contentment. "I'm never putting my own hair up again. Just hope you know that."

Aziraphale chuckled softly, just as fond. "I'll manage somehow, I suppose."

—

Crowley's boneless appreciation of the hair braiding had turned into boneless napping, and while Aziraphale enjoyed having Crowley fall asleep against him at certain times of day, he had never been one for naps himself and there was a limit to how long he could stay motionless sans entertainment before even he got antsy. He eased his way out from under Crowley, grateful the other man was a heavy sleeper even during the day, and was left deciding what quiet amusement he could pursue until whenever Crowley woke up and started making noises about dinner. He could always read some fanfics, of course, but his eyes couldn't help but be drawn towards his favorite muse.

His muse who had, he recalled, tempted him into joining a rigged bang and had talked him into getting a digital tablet. Aziraphale still planned to do his official art for it traditionally, because he was sure Crowley's writing would deserve no less... and, if he was allowed to be vain in the privacy of his own mind, because he still remembered the feeling he'd had when Crowley responded to his scans with barely coherent keysmashing. He wasn't in deferential awe of Crowley anymore, although he still loved his writing just as much, but part of him still hoped that Crowley might respond with just as much enthusiasm at getting to see the finished piece in person, textured paper and unprocessed colors and all. Well, assuming he could be gutsy enough to actually give it to him in person instead of just leaving it on the drafting table for him to find, which was really the more statistically likely result. But anyway.

But anyway.

His muse was sleeping in front of him, and a stylus on an iPad would make hardly any noise at all. And if he got good enough at using it, maybe he could draw some extra digital art to celebrate the fic as well.

In any case, sketching Crowley while he slept was one of life's little joys. He didn't think Crowley knew how often he did it, and that was probably for the best. If he did it all in his notebook, it would have been too easy for Crowley to flip through and find the sketches (and removing sheets would have felt damnably like a guilty conscience). With his iPad, however, he was safe to sketch as much as he liked and there was no real way for Crowley to stumble across it. Aziraphale willfully shoved aside the thought that that didn't really sound any less guilty and started setting stylus to screen. It wasn't long until he'd settled into a comfortable rhythm, his eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and where Crowley was lying face-down on the sofa, his new braid highlighted in a beam of afternoon sunlight.

Something Aziraphale did appreciate about digital art was that white could be layered on top of other colors and be shockingly vibrant, which wasn't an effect he could get easily with his beloved watercolors. Something else watercolors didn't give him was the ability to pick out very fine details, and as his sketch started coming together, he found that was exactly what he wanted to do now. While Crowley's hair was a vibrant red in his selfies or on stage, when he'd had the opportunity to run his fingers through every strand, he'd found that Crowley's hair was showing his age just as much as his own was.

The first day Aziraphale had found a grey hair had come as a shock. He'd naively assumed that with his hair being as pale as it was, even if it started greying, he might well never know. Instead, he found that the grey hairs' texture was frustratingly different from the strands that were still blond, and until they reached a critical mass fifteen long years later, they had an unfortunate tendency to stick out unattractively if his cut was anything less than perfect. He had become quite a regular at his barber's.

With Crowley's hair being as long as it was, his grey hairs had worked smoothly into his braid. From even the small distance from couch to armchair, they melded into the red strands perfectly... but Aziraphale had just spent long minutes twining them into neat twists and didn't need to see them now to know they were there. Aziraphale zoomed in close (another marked benefit of the digital display) and set his pen to a thin, sharp line, layering sleek silver strands into the red braid he'd drawn. Following the way they weaved around each other and dipped in and out of view felt delightfully meditative.

Eventually, Crowley made a soft snuffling snort-groan as he roused from his nap, slowly turning to unbury his face from the pillows. "Wha' time'zit?" he mumbled, patting around blindly for his cellphone.

"Coming up on 5:30 now," Aziraphale replied softly, trying not to startle him into full wakefulness too quickly. He rose and fetched Crowley's phone, placing it gently into his fumbling hand. "There you go."

"Mmrrr. Don't need it now." Crowley tucked the phone under his side in what Aziraphale would have guessed would be a very uncomfortable fashion but which Crowley did without even thinking. At least it wouldn't be going anywhere from there, Aziraphale supposed. "What're you doin'?" Crowley made grabby hands at the iPad Aziraphale had brought over with him.

Aziraphale handed over the iPad without even one thought, much less a second. "Oh, I was just waiting for you to wake up, really."

"...Angel." Crowley had zoomed out on the picture (with a completely unsurprising lack of propriety) and was now staring, frozen and much more awake, at the drawing of himself. "You aren't going to post this on Tumblr, are you?"

Aziraphale laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of that, despite the ripple of shock Crowley's tense tone had caused him. "Come, now. When have I ever posted a drawing of you, my dear?"

"When have you ever made a drawing of me?" Crowley retorted. He waved vaguely at the screen, accidentally sparing Aziraphale from having to answer. "I don't mind being old, but I don't want the world knowing my boyfriend thinks I'm old." His frazzled waving turned a little more flaily.

"Crowley..." Aziraphale gently took the tablet back from him and set it down on the floor so he could take Crowley's hand in both of his. "I assure you, I'm not the kind of artist who spends my time drawing things I don't think are beautiful. And that includes every detail I put in."

Aziraphale would have hoped that was obvious, really. The strands of hair he had drawn weren't brittle grey; they were molten silver. They caught the light like a precious metal woven like a ribbon into cinnabar-red hair. Crowley could have been a queen, fallen asleep after a long day in her finery. He could have been a fae whose very essence was beauty, sleeping with no fear that it would be stolen away because it couldn't.

He could have been an ordinary man, who was so deeply, truly loved that even his grey hairs seemed to shine like the soft gleam of a newly-forged star when they caught the last strong beams of afternoon sunlight shining in through the windows.

Aziraphale hoped Crowley could see it, too.

Crowley made a grumpy noise. "I still don't want it on Tumblr. — Not that I can tell you what to do with your art, but—"

Aziraphale interrupted him with a warm smile. "I don't want it on Tumblr, either. I drew this just for me."

"...really? Even though...?"

"Just for me," Aziraphale whispered in confirmation, his eyes seeking out Crowley's and saving him from having to finish that sentence. "I've only ever drawn you for me." I love you to the point of creation, his heart sang. It wasn't quite how that quote went, he knew. It was the only way it had ever gone, for him.

"Hn..." Crowley shifted to look at the iPad where it lay down on the floor. "I suppose... Well. Despite the subject matter, you drew it well, at least."

"Well, thank you for that," Aziraphale jibed back lightly, completely devoid of malice.

"Ngh, you can't blame me for feeling self-conscious about my greys when you haven't got any."

Aziraphale let out a huff of a laugh. "Oh, Crowley."

"What?" Crowley looked defensive, then abruptly switched to looking shrewd. "Wait. Do you dye them??" He leaned forward eagerly, like this was taboo knowledge.

"Oh, where was that compliment two decades ago? No, not at all. Do you know how long I spent getting over feeling self-conscious about them, and now for you to not even realize I have them?"

"No way. You've been holding out on me!" Crowley's eyes had a light in them that Aziraphale had seen sometimes — the look of someone who has been wanting something very much and thinks he's just figured out how to get it. Aziraphale drew back instinctively in trepidation. He had no idea what Crowley could possibly be wanting, though a fluttering feeling in his chest suggested that it was, in some way, him.

Ridiculous. As if they hadn't had sex already.

"I'm going to go get dinner started."

Crowley let out a whine that cut off abruptly enough that Aziraphale suspected he actually hadn't intended to make it.

Aziraphale paused. "What?"

"Ehhh... just envious, s'all."

Aziraphale took a moment to muse about whether Crowley knew the difference between "envious" and "jealous" and decided, firmly, that he had faith that he did. "Of what?" he asked with an incredulous laugh, since he still had no idea what "envious" could possibly apply to here.

"Negghhh, you've gotten to play with my hair enough to know I have greys, and I haven't gotten to touch yours once."

Aziraphale blushed darkly at that, remembering some choice occasions in which Crowley had gripped his hair tightly enough to hurt. He cleared his throat and opted not to mention them. "That feels much more like your fault than mine."

"Just... tryin'a respect your boundaries, angel."

"Why would that be a boundary?" Aziraphale asked, baffled.

"I asked for it and you haven't."

Aziraphale didn't quite remember it that way, but it was a fair enough interpretation from Crowley's point of view, he supposed. "Well, no. It sounds perfectly nice, but I'd hate to bore you with it. I know you're much more fidgety than I am."

"Not bored," Crowley insisted, his eyes urgent. "Never bored when it's you, angel. Siddown."

Aziraphale laughed breathily. "Too late. I'm already up to cook dinner."

"Angel."

"You'll just have to wait," Aziraphale teased in a singsong lilt, casting a smile back at Crowley over his shoulder.

Crowley flung himself back on the couch with an impatient whine, leaving Aziraphale feeling very smug about his attempt at whatever the romantic equivalent of foreplay was. Crowley sounded very much like he was being left with blue balls. "Bastard."

"Only as much as you deserve, my dear," Aziraphale sang back as he went into the kitchen, acutely aware of Crowley's eyes following every step.

—

It wasn't really in question, at all, that Aziraphale would end the evening snuggled on the couch with Crowley's hands in his hair. There was also no question that he'd enjoy it thoroughly, and he also knew it wasn't the kind of thing that was likely to lead to anything more. So, instead, he just relaxed into it and let his thoughts drift.

"...do you really think I'd mind if my red fox turned into a silver fox?" he mused. The thought was languid, easy, relaxed. Crowley spluttered in incoherent surprise anyway, and Aziraphale laughed softly. "Yes, I know. There's a reason I'm not the writer of the pair."

"Y'are, though. Don't think I've forgotten that you are."

Aziraphale blushed a little at that. "Oh."

Crowley's hands resumed their meditative motion through Aziraphale's hair. "But... yeah. I'd rock it, wouldn't I?"

"You would," Aziraphale murmured with a smile. "And I'm quite looking forward to seeing it someday, my dear."

#good omens #ineffable husbands #bnf au #fanfiction of fanfiction #my writing #not actually about asexuality but let's be honest that hair-petting scene was my kind of ace #apologies for any misrepresentation about watercolors #seriously bilvy come get your middle-aged men and their middle-aged-man problems out of my head #and be aware that if you leave time between posting future chapters then i might have to write more and nobody wants that

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cordeliawhohung · 2 months

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Soft Spot - Part 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part thirteen of "soft spot"

taglist | playlist | dissection links

it's hard to clear your mind with so much smoke

warnings: soft and fluffy, domestic simon, slight anxiety, shitty cliffhanger

wc: 3k

The music that poured through your window was different than usual.

Normally your downstairs neighbor would play previously recorded songs through whatever stereo system they had set up in their room, but this sounded more vibrant. Their taste in music was good, so you never had much to complain about, and oftentimes you found yourself opening your window just to have a bit of background noise. What made this time so different was that, for once, it was live music. A guitar. By the sounds of it, they hadn’t been playing for very long, but you weren’t one to judge someone trying to learn. Though their plucking wasn’t good, they had a few strummed chords down pretty well, and by the sounds of it, they had found a progression they really enjoyed.

Those repetitive chords, along with Boo’s purring, accompanied you as you worked in the nursery. It had taken you a while to get the damn cat to calm down enough that he would stop attacking the clothes while you folded them, and he had properly curled up by your feet. While your son’s due date grew closer, he still made no signs that he was showing up anytime soon, which was both intimidating and comforting at the same time. You tried not to think too much about the prospect of giving birth those days, as you found all it really did was raise your anxiety about the whole predicament. Instead, you did your best to distract yourself with little tasks. Simon was a good help too, whenever he wasn't busy ogling at your swollen stomach, anyway.

You busied yourself with laundry that morning while you attempted to hum along with whatever tune your neighbor had composed. This laundry was different than any other you had done before as the clothes were significantly smaller than you were used to. You didn’t feel comfortable putting your son in unwashed clothes, as you didn’t even want to think about what sort of infections he could get had there been something on the fabric, and since he was about to show up any day, you figured you’d get that out of the way before your hands were too full otherwise.

That morning, you had washed roughly seven blankets, a handful of fitted sheets, and about half the world's stock of infant onesies. Most of them were thanks to Johnny, naturally, as he was really the only family you and Simon had. One of them had the words “I’m da bomb,” written on the front, which Simon informed you was extra ironic as Johnny was the demolitions expert. The onesie that had really gotten you was the one that said “World’s greatest nephew.” You cried upon seeing it — damn pregnancy hormones — even though Simon said it was tacky.

The most useful thing you had been gifted was a whole stack of diapers that had a wide age range, and would certainly last your son at least a year. Most of them had been from the office, actually. Or, at least that’s what they claimed. You had a sneaking suspicion it was actually from someone higher up the chain as an attempt at an apology for Sallow’s behavior on your last day. You did your best not to think about that instance too much, yet it always managed to wiggle into your brain somehow. His biting words, that look on his face as if he had won. Part of you wondered what ended up happening to him. Another part didn’t really care.

“Sure you don’t wanna take a break?” Simon spoke up from the doorway.

Halfway through folding a onesie with construction trucks on it, you looked up from your work. Simon was just about as restless as you were since going on leave, and unfortunately for you that meant he spent most of his time checking in on you as if you were a feral old lady. Chuckling, you turned your attention back to folding.

“It’s laundry, not hard manual labor,” you quipped.

“You’re supposed to be relaxing,” he countered.

“There’s a difference between relaxing and bed rest, and I think bed rest would make me go insane right about now,” you sighed as you tossed yet another folded onesie into the pile with the others.

“You’ve been fussin’ over the nursery since this morning,” Simon said.

“Is it not still morning?”

“It’s one, sweetheart.”

Blinking away your surprise, you looked at all the clothes that surrounded you. Your nursing chair was quite comfortable, even in your changed state, and it was quite easy to pile clothes and other items high in the hampers as you worked mindlessly. Normally it wouldn’t have taken you so long to do laundry, even with the large amount of clothes you sorted through. Perhaps you had the lethargy of pregnancy to thank for that.

“Oh,” you said simply.

Chuckling, Simon crossed the distance of the room and took your busy hands in his as he knelt in front of you. His hands seemed softer those days, and void of cuts and bruises. It wasn’t just the paternal leave that did that, as you two had only been off of work for maybe two weeks at that point. He hadn’t been deployed on a mission ever since he found out you were pregnant. Perhaps you had John to thank for that. You made a mental note to send him a nice box of cigars.

“Have you eaten?” Simon asked.

“Not since breakfast,” you answered.

A simple squeeze of your hands was all that was needed to prompt you up, with Simon’s assistance of course. He always asked questions like that. If you had eaten or drank any water. Said you would need to keep prepared in case you went into labor. Said you would need to keep as much of your energy as you could. Not even ten minutes later, the two of you sat next to one another, eating quickly slapped together sandwiches while you sunk into the couch in the living room.

Music continued to pour through the open windows, yet it sounded like your neighbor had given up on practicing for the time being. Time moved at a snail’s pace ever since you went on leave, and the music only seemed to exacerbate that. You lived in a limbo — a place frozen in time where the only thing you seemed to do was prepare for something that felt like would never come.

Once you finished eating, you leaned back into the couch with a heavy sigh. Every atom that made up your body buzzed with restlessness. Your feet began to tap against the floor, knees shaking with the force, and your gaze turned to the window. Fat clouds hung in the sky, but it didn’t smell like rain. If anything, you could nearly make out the scent of the tulips your next door neighbor had growing on her balcony.

Simon reached over and snatched your plate from your lap, drawing your attention back over to him. He looked at you with a raised brow as he caught sight of your bouncing legs, and you quickly ceased your movement with a huff. Chuckling, he stood up from his spot before wandering off into the kitchen to take care of the mess, and you groaned as you looked up at the ceiling.

“I’m going crazy,” you whined.

“That’s what relaxin’ is, sweetheart,” Simon quipped.

“It’s bullshit is what it is,” you countered. “Sitting around, just waiting for this kid to come like we’ve got some welcoming party set up. I wanna… do something.”

Simon paused as he came back into the living room, shoulder leaning against the doorway. “Wanna go for a walk?”

“What, like I’m a dog?” you teased.

He shrugged. “Your words, not mine.”

A heavy sigh passed your lips as you rolled your head to the side. You hated the stares. You hated the comments and the lingering eyes and the quiet cooing you received while out in public. More often than not you were looked at like a walking enigma rather than a human being. Rather than a mother. Is that what it meant to become a mom? You’d just turn into some spectacle? Is that all you had ever been from the start?

“Sure,” you finally responded, “could walk around the park or something.”

That was that. The lift made heading to the bottom floor an easy feat, and once you were settled in the passenger's seat of Simon's car, the two of you were headed off to the nearest park. A gentle breeze toyed with the clouds in the sky and the budding leaves on the trees, and its aroma was intoxicating. Usually there was more rain in the spring time, but you were glad that you had been spared from it that day.

You weren’t the only people who figured it was a good day to go for a walk. Plenty of other citizens filled the park as children bounced around on playground sets and adults settled down for impromptu picnics. Their laughter filled the air with ease, and its sound felt warm on your ears. It wouldn’t be much longer until you heard that sound more often. Or, at least you hoped you did. You were sure there would be plenty of screaming well beforehand.

Simon helped you out of the car, face still shrouded with his mask, and the two of you quickly set off on the paved path that weaved throughout the grass and trees. Shadows dotted the land around you as thick clouds traversed far overhead, yet for the most part the sun warmed your skin as you walked. It was awkward walking and carrying around so much extra weight, yet you had gotten fairly good at pushing through despite it. With Simon’s hand in yours, you hardly thought too much about the weight anyways as you were more concerned with the feeling of his skin against yours.

“So,” you spoke up once the two of you had walked a fair ways down the path, “the mask. Still plan on wearing it once you’re officially done with work?”

“Maybe,” he pondered.

“Seriously?”

He shrugged. “It’s so ingrained with me that the tyke’ll probably come out wearin’ one.”

Your chuckle shook your body so much you felt your son protest inside of you with a swift fit of kicks. He had grown less active as of late, but as far as you knew, that was pretty normal. Still, you wish he had picked up energy a bit more. By the sounds of it, if he didn’t arrive by next week, your doctor planned on inducing you, which was a whole nightmare on its own.

“As long as he’s got a better sense of humor than you, I think we’ll manage,” you teased.

“My sense of humor is fine.”

“Uh huh.”

A fit of giggles snagged your attention as a small group of kids swerved around you and Simon. A bright yellow football spun out in front of the two of you as they kicked it among themselves, making sure to use a flourish of kicks to show off. It seemed as if their game had gone out of bounds, and they elbowed one another as they fought to get it back towards the field. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them and their stubby legs kicking the ball as they ran as hard as they could.

It was strange to think you’d have to care for someone like that. Sure, your son would start off small, but everyone always said they grew up fast. It was times like that when things seemed to move faster than normal. Everything always seemed like it stood still until you turned around and saw how far you had come, yet something about that moment made things feel like the opposite. Everything else passed by you so quickly, and you were stuck with your feet in the ground.

Fucking pregnancy hormones.

Before you could get lost any further in your mind, you gave Simon’s hand a full squeeze, as if demanding his attention. He hummed in response, eyes carefully flickering to you before landing back on the path before you.

“We still have to decide on a name,” you reminded him.

“If we had it Johnny’s way, we’d name it after him,” Simon humored.

A smile pulled at your lips as you remembered his comments. You’re naming him after Uncle Johnny, aye?

“I’m not naming our son John. That’s such an old man's name,” you countered. “I’m pretty sure anyone with that name isn’t ever born. They just sorta sprout into existence as a full grown man.”

“We could always name him Arlo,” Simon said, the grin evident in his voice.

“You’re a fucking dick for that one,” you hissed quietly enough that the kids around you couldn’t hear.

Simon’s grin erupted into a chuckle, and you bathed in the way the warm vibration of it washed over you. Simon always felt like home to you. Patched up and barely holding together by the seams at first, yet his foundation was the only one you had come across that wasn’t cold and dead. His laughter always reminded you of that — that you were safe and warm with him — even though he tried to hold it back more often than not.

“We’ll figure it out eventually I suppose,” you sighed.

Even with the steady breeze, the heat of the sun ate away at your skin like a beast. While it felt nice at first, being out in nature and airing yourself out, you could feel your skin perspire uncomfortably, forcing your clothes to stick to your body like a cage. You wiggled your hand out of Simon’s grasp as you wiped your sticky hand on your pants. Being sweaty was always uncomfortable, but it was twice as irritating when you were so far along.

“Wanna take a breather?” Simon prompted.

You looked up at him with narrow eyes. How he managed through the thick heat in that dark mask of his was beyond you, and in some sort of way you were a little jealous. Though, you supposed he had earned that right. You were sure he had gone through environments much warmer than London with clothes significantly thicker than his civvies.

“Sure,” you said eventually, giving in.

A few paces ahead sat an unsuspecting bench. It was one of the annoying metal ones that had no curve for comfort, yet you knew Simon was right. A breather would do you some good, and you shouldn’t push yourself anyway. The moment you lowered yourself onto the bench, you leaned all your weight back with a sigh. However, Simon stayed standing, despite the fact there was plenty of room for him to sit with you.

“I’ve got some water in the car, if you need it,” he offered.

“Might be a good idea,” you nodded.

Simon paused as he glanced around as if assessing the area for threats. You weren’t quite sure what threats there were to be found in London, but you were certain you would have been fine in a park in broad daylight. Simon seemed to come to that same conclusion, and he quickly waved a finger at you as he took a step back.

“Stay put.”

After giving him a half-assed fake salute, you watched as he strolled back down the pavement towards the car until he was well out of view. Another sigh left your throat as you allowed your eyes to rest and soak in what little nature surrounded you. Birds sang to one another in the trees, but the crashing harmony of the seagull’s call created an aura of dissonance. It was some sort of external struggle you weren’t allowed to be a part of.

At that moment, everything happened at once. The cars driving along the street. Children screaming and giggling. Clouds rolling overhead without a care in the world. A bee flying towards a dandelion. You could smell the sunshine warm the earth with an enticing aroma. Everything existed all at once, all together, with you right in the middle of it. It was perfect. Everything humming in tune with one another. Weaving together to hold you tight.

It stopped when you smelled the smoke.

That nauseating aroma was strong enough to nearly make you hurl right there in the center of the park, yet you managed to hold it together. It took a sharp breath and a thick swallow to do it, but you refused to embarrass yourself that way. You hated being vulnerable in front of others. As your eyes flickered back open you could make out the faint sound of rustling grass. It was leisurely. Soft. Like someone couldn’t bother to pick their feet up fully as they walked.

Your mistake was simple. You looked up. You looked up and you locked eyes with the man who walked by, and you swore that in that moment you would fall apart. And you wanted to. Wanted to crumble into dust so that he would never lay eyes on you again. Yet you were forced to witness the way his lips curled into a smile around his cigarette as if he had any right to be friendly towards you, and you wanted to scream. You wanted to scream further still as he changed course and made a beeline straight to you.

“Holy shit,” he muttered.

You hated his voice. Hated the way words rolled off of his tongue. You wished his tongue would turn to stone, or worse, so that he would never have to poison anyone with his words ever again. His chuckle came as a terrible scratch against your eardrums, and you tried your best not to grimace, but you couldn’t even do that much.

He exhaled his last lungful of smoke before he took the butt out of his mouth and tossed it onto the pavement. The sole of his boot crushed it like it was nothing but a bug underneath his weight, and while you could hear its contents smearing on the ground, you still couldn’t look away from his face. A desert-like dryness plagued your mouth, and you tried your hardest to get your tongue to move, but every time you swallowed it felt like pins were stuck in your throat.

Years. So many years and still, you were nothing but a scared little girl.

“What?” he questioned facetiously. “You’re not gonna say hi to your dad?”

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soft spot #f!reader

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