#anyone who understands this stand up and say aye

[snootlestheangel]

Post-MW3 but Laswell had only faked Soap's death, all under the guise of it being the better thing to do.

Let Makarov believe he had actually killed one of the 141. He'd walk away from that thinking he had a small victory and wouldn't feel pressured to make his next move soon. Laswell wanted him to go into hiding, wanted the team to take the time to figure some things out.

She obviously hadn't anticipated the loose cannon of Captain Price, and him killing Shepherd threw a wrench in everything.

A few months have gone by, and Laswell gets a hit on some activity from Konni group. She tells the team they'll meet her informant there.

Obviously, there's a bit of a big blowout when they realize John 'Soap' MacTavish is the informant. Ghost takes it the worst of all of them, but he doesn't outwardly react. Not in front of Soap. But when they're alone with Laswell to ask her "what the fuck?" Ghost lets it all out.

He's cussing up a storm, saying it was all bullshit, that they should have been in on it.

"Who in this room knows what it's like to be dead better than anyone else? Bloody hell where the fuck do you think "Ghost" comes from?"

And Ghost doesn't ever talk directly to Soap or Laswell the rest of the time they're working on their latest Intel. It's upsetting to everyone, especially Gaz cause he isn't quite sure what the fuck has happened to his team. But Soap seems to be handling Ghost's cold shoulder pretty well, so Gaz keeps his distress to himself.

Finally, Ghost gets a moment alone with Soap. And Soap starts to leave, starts to give Ghost privacy because that's what Soap thinks he needs: some time and space to figure it all out in his head.

But Ghost stops him.

And the mask comes off, and Ghost slips away to reveal Simon. Simon who looks so small despite still standing over Soap.

And Soap is sorry, he's so sorry, Simon.

And he's begging for forgiveness and Simon has yet to say a word. So Soap falls quiet, lets the silence eat away at him as Simon stands there, jaw working as he thinks of something to say.

"I had lost you, Johnny."

It's such a quiet whisper, and it's so broken and it just stabs Soap through the heart. But he doesn't say anything back.

Instead he reaches for his Simon, reaches up to try and hold his head in his hands once again.

And Simon leans into the touch, allows himself a moment of softness during all this war. Allows this tender moment as he lets Soap hold him gently.

And it doesn't last long, doesn't need to. They're back with each other, in each other's hands, safe and breathing. That's all Ghost, all Simon, had ever begged for.

"The next time you die, I'm fucking going with you, you understand?"

"Of course, LT. You and me, aye?"

"Always."

#soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish

[bellawoso]

New Romantics

Alexia Putellas x fem!reader

really channeled my lack of knowledge for the football rules into this fic

Alexia had always sworn by one rule.

If she was to date anyone - which she was sure she wouldn’t due to her busy football schedule - she wanted to be with someone who knew football. Who knew the rules, and the players.

Alexia loved football, so honestly it made sense on her preferences, she did the want to bore someone with conversations of football which was a repetitive topic for her.

After one relationship with a girl who knew nothing of the sport Alexia adored, the midfielder decided she didn’t want to be with someone who wasn’t even interested in Alexia’s career.

Her ex’s failed flirting attempts at playing dumb of the sport did nothing to make Alexia laugh, it only irritated her more.

Alexia broke up with her after a week, she was suprised with herself for not have ending it sooner.

However, when Alexia met you in the stands of a Barcelona game that your friend had dragged you to, she was quick to break her one rule in dating.

———————————————————————

You had met your friend when he accidentally hit you in the face, whilst cheering in a secluded Barcelona bar after his team had scored the winning goal, your friendship quickly grew from there, you both had much in common, both going into teaching as you were quick to apply for a vacant job position at the primary school he worked at.

The only difference you had with him, was that he loved football, and you had never had any interests in watching people run up and down a pitch, kicking a ball for ninety minutes.

Therefore it was very safe to say that you were not a fan of football, you didn’t know the rules or the players, and unsurprisingly you were not aware that it was practically forbidden to wear white and gold in Barca’s home section of the stadium, your choice of white denim shorts and a gold tube top had recieved many dirty looks from all of the Barca fans you had passed.

As you and your friend arrived at your seats around fifteen minutes before the game was to start, a soft “ay dios mio” could be heard from the woman next to you.

You, who had no knowledge of the spanish language, only heard “dios” which you mistook for “dia”, and concluded the woman next to you wished you a good morning.

You responded with a smile “bon dia!”, to which your spanish friend translated to you that the woman said “oh my god” and reminded you that you accidentally wore the opposition’s trademark colours.

You missed the woman’s friend laughing, and settled on sitting down and shrugging your shoulders, honestly not understanding the big deal.

However, as soon as your die-hard Barcelona fan friend noticed you were sat next to world-class Barcelona players, he was quick to rush to get you a jersey from a store near the food and drink, with a promise to get you a tea.

Your friend came back quickly just as the game was about to start, throwing a blue and red top in your face, telling you to put it on now, you lifted up the top which caught the two Barca player’s attention next to you, and were met with a last name on the back you briefly recognised.

PUTELLAS

Alexia thought you were beautiful as soon as she saw you, experiencing a swarm of butterflies in her stomach and a light flush of her cheeks which didn’t go unnoticed by Jana next to her, who took to teasing the older footballer next to her.

The sight of her last name on your back did not help her case at all, and pushed all thoughts of you to the back of her head, her one rule making you completely off limits.

Being set with the hard task of sitting next to you in the match, Alexia was constantly subjected to your soft “huhs” each time the whistle was blown, and honestly the only words she had actually heard you say the entire time were “What’s going on?”

Until a Real Madrid forward made a tackle on a Barcelona defender in the box, and you shouted:

“Penalty!”

This recieved confused glances from surrounding Barca fans, and an elbow from your friend, and a snort of laughter from Jana who sat next to Alexia.

“She is very funny Ale, admit it!”

To this you gave her a look of confusion, and asked “Whats funny?”

The pure look of innocence on your face made Alexia hold back a smile as Jana explained that it was in Barcelona’s own box, so there would be no penalty as if there was it would be an own goal.

You quickly thanked the brunette, to which she gave you a cheeky grin and a promise of “anytime” in return.

It wasn’t until 10 minutes later that the flags for offside went up against Hansen, which had your friend shouting.

“Ref! How the fuck was that offside!?”

To which Alexia and Jana nodded in agreement, leaving only you yet again confused, with no idea what offside meant, your brain short circuited it to mean that the player went off of the pitch, making you agree with them.

“I know right! She didn’t even go off the pitch!”

Your exclamation combined with your friend’s Spanish cursing of you and your stupidness under his breath once again captured both Alexia’s and Jana’s attention, but this time even Alexia couldn’t help her laughter.

After their teasing died down, Alexia felt a bit bad for you, as you really did just have no idea what was going on, and took on the hard task of explaining what offside was.

Even if you were listening to the blonde’s soft accented words, you were still sure you wouldn’t understand what this “offside” thing was, except you were to enamoured with her beautiful features that you accidentally let all of her words go in one ear and out of the other.

You could only nod with a dopey smile on your face, as the blonde flashed you a knowing smirk.

The game ended 4-1 to Barcelona. You had zoned out, thinking of the gorgeous blonde next to you, debating whether to ask for her number or not.

Until you felt your friend tugging you up by your arm, saying that you needed to cheer instead of looking sad as if they had lost, as he teased that you might be an inner Madrid fan at heart, and joked he would disown you if you were.

You only gave him a lighthearted shove, you definitely didn’t deserve how he absolutely bodied you back, making you fall straight into the woman next to you.

Until you felt a pair of strong hands gripping your waist, you looked up to see the the blonde once again with a cocky smirk adorning her face.

“Careful, wouldn’t want you falling for me just yet.”

You were fast to push yourself off her and mutter a “gracias” in return, feeling your cheeks flush red.

It turned out that your friend had not wanted to come across as a crazy fan to the two players earlier, but was quick to whisper who they were in your ear, offering you a brief description of them, and telling you how he wanted their signatures before they left.

He leaned over you and tapped the blonde on her shoulder, and asked in Spanish if you could both have their signatures, to which they agreed.

When Alexia went to sign yours, she went against all the thoughts in her head telling her that you went against exactly what she wanted in a partner, and scribbled down her number on your jersey.

Alexia then leaned over to whisper in your ear,

“text me, I don’t mind teaching you some more football, as long as you agree to a date, in a better choice of clothing colours”

———————————————————————

A/N : I do actually have a part 2 to this planned out of meeting the team to watch a match or just you watching a training session and still not understanding, however first I am going to finish my Jana fic 🤍

#barcelona femeni #barcelona femeni x reader #woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #jana fernandez #jana fernandez x reader #mapi leon #mapi león #ona batlle #aitana bonmati #keira walsh #lucy bronze #Spotify

[jellycrusher]

Wolves and Lambs: Part 4

Alpha Max Verstappen x Omega fem!driver

Genre: Series, Omega verse, Enemies to Lovers, Romance, Eventual smut

Summary: Male Alphas are the ones who dominate motor sports all around the world, especially Formula 1. It is a well known fact. Females in general nor Female Omegas are never heard nor encouraged to join the sport since the 1950s. Well, up until now...

Word Count: 5.8k

Chapter's Premise: y/n finds herself trying to come to terms on who she is and how she avoided her heat for so long.

Parts: W&L masterlist / general masterlist

"You heard the doctor. You have to stop taking your suppressants for a while." Megan takes the prescription sheet from your hands and shoves it in her bag.

Both of you just came out from the doctor's office. Megan was meticulous in giving you a disguise just in case anyone is going to spot you. You put your head down and hide in your little canopy of protection, your Aston Martin hat. A bit obvious but it's the only one you have at the moment.

"I can't. If it comes during a race weekend, I'm dead." You reply as you walk side by side with Megan, confined by the hospital walls.

"Ay Dios Mio. Your constant intake of suppressants may be the reason why you haven't had your first heat yet at 25 years old. We don't know if there's gonna be negative side effects on your health." Megan tries her best to whisper under her breath.

"Hey, that's not proven." You halt in your steps and turn to her, lifting your head up to face her.

"But the doc says it may be a factor. You can't keep it hidden forever. It has to come sooner or later. If it comes biting your ass, don't come running to me for help."

"I don't want to be confined on what biology or society dictates me to be. I want to prove to everyone first what I can do and who I am." You continue to walk.

"I understand. I just don't want something bad to happen to you." She groaned.

"Fine. If I win a race, then i'll start tapering my dosage. I'll let it come when it wants to come."

"When you win a podium, not a race. Better odds."

"Fine. A podium."

You felt like you've been basking in the sun, warm against your skin. You didn't want to look at yourself. For every second after that encounter in the elevator until now that you've stayed frozen behind the door of your room, everything was silent.

Your body was fighting your mind. You didn't want this. For so many years, your family and friends, who knew what you really are, told you that we're all bound to meet our mate. We'll know when we meet them.

No. You don't want to. Maybe just not right now. Yes, it's romantic to see couples who are mated and are having the time of their lives. But what if they fell for another person before they met their mate? And what if they refuse their Alpha? What would happen?

Right now, you just want to succeed in this career first. Call yourself stupid for going against your biological desires but there's a lot riding on this. Your parents sacrificed a lot just to get where you are right now. You want to prove that Omegas can also achieve greatness. Female Omegas can also stand in the halls of the greats.

Maybe you're just stubborn. Meeting your mate wouldn't be the end of the world. If you give in, you won't lose anything. Maybe.

Maybe you're just overthinking. Maybe you're being too stubborn.

Max is not a bad person. You've said it yourself before. He is actually a decent guy. Well, just from your text messages but there were no deep conversations yet. You don't love him to see him as your mate. You might learn to love him but it doesn't feel right for your feelings to be swayed just because your biological desires him so.

You barely slept a wink last night. The inkling that bothered you for a few weeks now since the first race have just been confirmed, and the fact that Max left you a lot of messages that you haven't read yet made your mind in a state of disarray.

Megan barged in your room to wake you up. She even had to throw the covers off the bed and furiously opened the curtains, blinding you with the beaming sun. You groan hard as she pulls you out of the comfort of your bed.

"I can't believe this. We're late! Ay Santo Dios..." Megan continued to mention a lot of words that you were not familiar with as she looks at your commitments for the day from her phone screen.

It only took a few moments and the both of you are now on your merry way to the circuit with you being the driver. Megan was still very furious at you for you haven't given her a reason for your tardiness. At the same time, your phone was still blowing up from Max's messages.

"I've had it with your ringtone. I'll set it to silent." Megan pulls your phone from the center console and sees '50 messages' beside the name 'He Who Must Be Avoided At All Times' on the screen.

"It's fine, leave it." You're barely able to look at Megan because you had to focus on the road.

"Who's this? Is there a guy bothering you? Stalking you?!" she asks.

"No. Just leave it." With eyes still glued to the road, you try to yank the phone off her hands.

"Tell me. Is it a stalker?! 'Cause if it is, i'll kill him." She warned.

"Please no. Relax, it's not a stalker." You assured in a calm tone as she hands the phone to you.

"Y/N. If you're in a dangerous situation and you're not telling me, your mom will kill me." She appealed.

Well, that's not impossible. These two are overprotective.

"Megan..." You paused. Megan patiently waits for your answer as you drum your fingers anxiously on the wheel. "It's Max."

"Oh, Max... Wait, who's Max? from Red Bull?" Megan rambles. "Why? Did he do anything to you?"

"He did nothing. It's just.. He found out last night that I was an Omega. I've been avoiding his texts since then." You confessed, tightening your grip on the wheel.

"How? You were always careful."

"That's the thing. I was. I'm still on my suppressants." You gently scratch the surface of the wheel. "Remember when you told me how you met your husband? Your mate?"

"Yes." Megan now replied slowly, now under a notion at where the conversation is going. "Oh my god! Is he..?"

"I think so." you confessed.

Megan was about to shriek from joy but she stopped for she knew how you would respond. For her, it sounds romantic. For you, it's not. She can't count how many times your rejected the idea of having a biological mate. It wasn't against the law of anybody to love somebody else aside your fated mate but for your body to act against your will regardless of what you feel. That's what you dislike about it.

"I still have to talk to him about it. I can't have him blabbering to everyone on the grid." You added. "Let's take this one step at a time."

"You still have a race later. Better focus on that first." She replies as she takes off her seatbelt when you arrived at the car park in the circuit.

Megan hauled you to the team hospitality to prepare you for the drivers' briefing. When you arrived at the briefing hall, majority of the drivers were already seated and the team principals were standing around in a circle, chatting. You stood by the door looking for an empty seat to take when you saw Charles, Oscar, and Lando calling you to take the seat they reserved for you on the third row. Your feet took a few steps when a hand suddenly but gently caught your wrist.

"We need to talk. You've been ignoring my texts." Max urged, eyes dead straight at you.

"Max, not here. Later." You scan the room for any eyes or ears that might eavesdrop as you carefully remove his hand from you.

Max takes a second to compose himself then tugs his hand through his hair. "Fine. Sit with me then."

"I'll choose my own seat. Thank you." You replied as you walk away from him, not giving him enough time to add more. Max's hand hovered uncertainly as if to stop you but he lets his hand limp

You strut farther into the hall and the three men gave you space to stride along the third row to take your seat between Charles and Oscar. Max took an empty seat on the first row beside Checo. He can't help but steal some glances in your direction during the driver's briefing.

It was hard to ignore Max as well. One good thing that your incident with Max has caused is that his scent doesn't make you cower in fear anymore. Knowing the reason why the dynamics between the two of you had changed, you mentally slap your pheromone-disturbed self from inhaling his lingering scent.

His scent wasn't really distinct before. For you, it was associated with fear or something menacing, but now he smelled so crisp like Cotton and sweet like baked Tangerine. Being that close to each other gave you a chance to actually distinguish his scent. Just remembering Max's small sniffs on your neck makes your body squirm, in a good way. It was nice and comforting. But it also felt sensual.

Alpha smells so good. Let's smell him once more. You mentally slap yourself once more, shaking off the tiny voice from your inner Omega in your head.

"I heard from Lance that you're moving. Where will you stay?" Charles' voice took you out from your trance just as the drivers' briefing just ended.

"In Monaco. It being a tax-free haven sounds enticing." you replied in glee knowing that it was the Monegasque who asked you.

Noticing the other younger drivers to turn to you after hearing your response, it took a moment for you to remember that a number of them were living there.

Lando perks up, legs bouncing. He leans forward and peeked his head across Oscar. "Do you know how to play Padel?" you shake your head. "We'll teach you. We had been waiting for another member to join our little club."

"He just wants to have the bragging right when he defeats all of us." Oscar chuckled, arms crossed on his chest.

"He even almost made Max cry. Have some mercy on all of us, will you?" Charles adds, further teasing Lando.

"I'll tell you when I've settled in. Maybe a housewarming lunch or dinner sounds good?" You ask. Lando quickly taps Alex's shoulder to tell him about your new residence and a possibility of a new member for their F1 drivers-exclusive Padel Club.

"I'm going to tour you to some of the best places. You still owe me a car ride." Charles couldn't help but smile at you, already making up a list in his mind.

When the briefing ended, all of the drivers went their own way back to their hospitalities. At the corner of your eyes, you saw Max hurriedly stood up from his seat on the first row and was about to make his way towards you. He noticed the miniscule squirm your body did when your eyes met. You almost panic in your seat but he came to an abrupt stop when he saw Megan pull you away.

Max tried his best to look for a chance to talk to you, much to his dismay. There wasn't much time for each of the drivers to get to interact with each other, especially during race day. After some of his media commitments in the morning were done, he went to visit the Aston Martin hospitality. He comes up to the small ledge when he saw Lance chatting with some of the staff.

"Hey Lance." Lance gets up from his seat when he noticed Max and greets him with a one-armed hug and a double backslap. "Have you seen y/n?"

"I think Sky Sports has her for an interview, I think. You know, the usual." Lance replies as he sits down. Max groans go unnoticed.

"Do you know when she might be free? I need to talk to her." Max asks as he leans his hand on the ledge.

"Maybe after the race? Her schedule's so full today. Haven't even seen her stay here in the hospitality for more than 15 minutes. Megan even got her shooting a lot of content for our Tiktok account."

"Megan?" Max quirks up his eyebrow.

"Speaking of..." Lance chimed in as he spots Megan behind Max, about to walk inside. "Megan!" She stops and turns to Lance's direction. "He's looking for y/n." He points at Max and Megan's eyes follow.

Megan thought differently when she saw Max right there, comfortably leaning on the ledge. It was in her overprotective instinct to assume that Max might possibly be a snitch or asking anyone in the team regarding what you are. She walks up to Max and asked him to come with her, already walking away without waiting for a response. Max was confused at first but did not hesitate to follow behind.

Max and Megan comes to a halt in an empty corner in the paddock, away from prying eyes.

"What are you doing?" Megan snaps around and narrows her eyes at him, arms crossed on her chest.

"I was just asking for y/n." Max innocently confessed.

"Were you going to tell on her? I can't believe you." She leans forward as if interrogating the driver.

Max leans back, baffled by the sudden change in demeanor. "No. Of course not... Wait, you know?" He tries to whisper.

She tries to examine his face for a minute for any sign of a lie but relaxes when she felt that he was telling the truth. "Listen, Max. I know she's been avoiding you but I need her to be at her best today. She needs to be on that podium."

"Don't we all?" Max scoffs.

"No, you don't understand. I need her to be on the podium because her health is on the line. I've let her be stubborn for too long 'cause she's in love with racing too much but I finally had her to agree, at last. I don't know what's going on between the two of you but please don't distract her too much today." She pleads with a serious tone.

Max hated knowing that it wasn't his place to pry. All he wanted from you was answers but it seems that even more questions are piling up. What does she mean? Your health is on the line? Are you sick? Are you injured? How is it connected to you getting that podium?

His inner Alpha was trying to fight himself.

Our omega... She's hurt or sick. Ask for more information. No, we're clearly told to stay put. She's not ours. Isn't it clear that she's avoiding us? Than ask her directly. Let's smell her again. No. Just shut up. Stay.

"Understood?" Megan asserts herself, taking Max out of his trance.

"Yes ma'am."

Megan waited for a bit to see how Max would take their conversation but left quickly when she saw that people are now starting to crowd the paddock. Max stayed in that quiet corner for a few seconds before going out into the paddock. There he saw you, sitting just outside your team's hospitality with Alonso and surrounded by a few cameras and staff. Probably completing a challenge with your teammate. His eyes locked onto you, taking in your smile. It was invigorating for him to see you having fun.

He used to feel so foreign around you. When he sees you having fun with his friends, it irritated him. His face used to turn sour when Lando or Alex hype you up.

There was something about you that intrigues him. You weren't able to race with most of them back then. Charles was a bit familiar with you because you got to race alongside his brother. Oscar and Logan had only met you once or twice and they had raced with you in a few Grand Prix but usually a lot of drivers keep to themselves and stayed in their own garages.

Then there's the big elephant in the room. You were an Omega, no doubt. After the incident in the elevator, he did scour the internet after his haze faded when he got back in his room. There were only articles about you stating that you were an Alpha, your achievements in F2 and F3, and also the highlights of your racing career. No scandals, not much haters. There were no articles claiming you have a bad beef with any driver.

For a public personality, you kept pretty quiet. Maybe that's why no one has discovered your secret yet. But that would be an extreme feat. To conceal your identity. What about heats? The horrendous and taxing schedule of Formula 1 isn't really ideal for Omegas. He recalled when Lando had to deal with Oscar's heat every month. When they were still unmated, Lando had to tiptoe around Oscar and avoid him when his pheromones were on the highest setting. How the other drivers reacted to him when it came around race weekend. It took them at least 5 months to come to the truth that they needed each other.

It was a bit easier for Oscar because everyone knows that he is an Omega since the start. They knew they had to avoid him when Lando or Oscar gave them a heads up. It scares him thinking that it will be much harder for you but it was also amazing how good you hide it.

Questions for another day, he admits to himself.

You were having a blast going against Nando in a PR competition when you spot Max walking through the paddock. Your eyes met and it made you nervous that he might come up and wait for you but no, he avoided your eyes and continued to walk. Your eyes followed his figure, relieved but also worried. Fernando had to call your attention to continue the challenge.

Your PR and media commitments were finally done and then, there was the driver's parade. The crowds in the grandstands were almost full and it was deafening. Everyone was screaming each of the drivers' names when they were called and when it was your turn to be introduced, it was heartwarming to hear their warm welcome. A smile so wide painted your face as you greet the driver while stepping in the convertible car and sat on the surface of the rear end near the deck lid.

You waited for your car's cue to go but you see it got delayed. There were a slight commotion amongst the staff that were on standby on the track and they were pointing to something behind you. You turn around and they were checking the car behind yours that was supposed to be for Max. Apparently, the engine of his parade car won't start again.

Fernando's car already left way before you and also Checo's. The staff are now pointing at yours and you see that the people who were talking to Max assisted him to get off the car. They were ushering him to your direction. Someone slapped Max's car number onto the side of your convertible. You now realize that they're letting you and Max share a car so that this problem won't delay the program.

The car shook slightly as Max climbs up the convertible. Max sees you scooting to one side trying to avoid his eyes so he quietly sat down on the other side of the convertible's rear. Both of you started to wave to the crowd as the engine of the convertible purred. Max would steal a few glances when you're not looking. Your body was stiff and awkward, in contrast to what you were showing the crowd, smiling and waving.

"Relax. It's not like I bite." Max spoke up just loud enough for you to hear under all those noise. "Just concentrate on the race later or else, you'll be an easy target for these guys."

You snap your head around and glared at him. He had this smug smile while still waving. "They wish." You scoff.

With just a few words from him, you find your shoulders loosening up. Slightly offended by his insinuation but you knew that he was just riling you up. It was also surprising that Max didn't bother to disturb you since the briefing. You would be at shoulder's length but still, he'd just nod when your eyes met.

The drivers' parade ended quickly and every driver headed for their respective garages to prepare. You spent the remaining time training with your physio and getting enough rest. The last program was for the national anthem. You make your way onto the track and answered a few questions for a Sky Sports presenter who was roaming and interviewing some of the drivers. You stood behind a grid kid to take your place and kept quiet. Right before the anthem was played, you noticed the female grid kid trying to steal a look at you. You smile back at her and she quietly squealed as she swiftly face in front. When the anthem finished playing and as you follow the other drivers exiting the track, your grid kid raised her hand to request for a high five. You gladly pressed your palm on hers and the other grid kids also eagerly raised their hand as you pass by them, catching the attention of the other drivers and the cameras.

You find yourself gritting your teeth and hands clenching the wheel as you drive the car in your grid position at the track during the formation lap. You look up at the red lights above.

"It's lights out and away we go, here at the Jeddah Corniche Circuit! and it's Max Verstappen who takes the lead of the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix."

With a good reaction time, you were able to overtake three places from 15th. You were able to fend for your position well in those crucial first few laps of the race. You attacked, you defended, you attacked, you defended. It was a constant cycle.

Max, who had started in pole position, lost the lead to Charles on the third sector in the second lap, won it back by the fourth lap and slowly and methodically pulled away for his second win of the season.

It took you only eight laps to move into 10th place, and only eight more to rise to sixth. By the halfway point of the race, and helped by the fortuitous arrival of a safety car that allowed you to make up even more ground, you find yourself in fourth.

"Y/n had played down her chances of victory from the moment a broken drive shaft ended her qualifying early Saturday and left her in 15th place. But that did not mean she had any intention of staying in the back of the field. Look at her picking her way through the pack behind her with ease"

Your driving style was aggressive and clever, a total beast on the offence. The journalists have also made note of your tyre preservation prowess. They have published a few articles after the first race mentioning that with your pairing with Alonso this year, Aston Martin can gain considerable confidence that it will be regularly able to take on the red cars and the black ones fielded by Mercedes too.

At around lap 46, Ben informs you through the radio that Lewis who is in P3 at the moment incurred a 5 second penalty. With Charles on P2 just 2 seconds ahead of Lewis and you tailing behind just a second away, there might be a chance for you to end up on the podium at the end of this race. You just have to maintain the gap behind Lewis and also for Lewis to continue battling with Charles.

Ben: "So, one more lap y/n, just bring it home." Y/N: "Think something happened to my left tyre." Ben: "Ok, copy. So Sainz, 30 seconds behind, battling with Russell."

You peek at your front left tyre and it was starting to wobble. You may have hit something on the track, possibly puncturing the tyre.

Ben: "If you go Diff-Mid 12, Sainz 20 seconds and gap to Lewis is 2 seconds." Ben: "Now 17 seconds. Now 16 seconds."

The car was already slowing down and the left tyre was tumbling around on its rim. Ben was constantly updating you but you did not bother to respond.

Ben: "So use Strat 5. 10 seconds to Sainz and 3 seconds from Lewis." Ben: "7 seconds to Sainz. 6 seconds to Sainz." Ben: "Maintain this gap to Lewis. 4 seconds."

You've passed the last corner and about to go on the straight where the chequered flag should be when you saw Sainz closely tailing behind you. With your feet instinctively pushing flat out, your car zoomed past and hopefully closing the gap with Lewis in less than 5 seconds for P3 position.

Y/N: "Do we have it?! TELL ME BEN, DO WE HAVE IT??" Ben: "That's it, y/n! You've done it, P3! YOU'VE DONE IT! Wow, you've done it y/n." Y/N: "Was there a flag? I did not see it." Ben: "There was a flag. You've done it though. Just stop. You can pull the car over. We'll come and get you." Y/N: "Fuck that was close! Sorry for the profanity." Ben: "Yeah, I was about to say the same thing. That was a close call. Too close for comfort. But awesome work, mate." Y/N: "LET'S GO!!!!! BEN, WE DID IT!!!"

Your team radio is now being broadcasted across all tv screens worldwide. As Max and the other drivers complete their slow lap around the track after they've crossed the line, they catch a glimpse of you in the screens. Throwing your hands in celebration, still inside the cockpit. When you got out of the car at the side of the track, you knelt down and pats the damaged tyre aggressively as if thanking the car.

You had to do your best as not to cry from overwhelming joy. You felt like you won the race for P3 but you didn't. It was as if you were soaring through the clouds right then. The crowds at the grandstands were screaming your name, fireworks were setting off in the background. That was for Max, of course, but it couldn't hurt to imagine that it could be for you too.

You were picked up by a safety car and your car was towed to the parc ferme. When you got out of the car, Oscar jumped at the moment to wrap you in a hug, Lando following behind.

Warm and sincere congratulations, pats on the backs and helmet taps too, were sent over your way when you threw yourself to your team of mechanics and engineers who were waiting on the other side of the barricade. You took off your helmet and balaclava so you could properly breathe and to revel in the sounds of your victory.

You were the first one who had to do the post-race interview, followed by Charles in P2 and Max in P1. You couldn't contain your smile, choking on your words yet again.

"Y/n!" David Coulthard calls out your name in joy. "That was an amazing race. You had your maiden pole last race and now, your maiden F1 podium after just 2 races in this season. Could you tell me more?"

"With the information of Lewis' 5 second penalty, I had to give everything on the table. I've never had a race like that before. We tried to maintain the gap but also had to monitor Carlos behind as well. It was a team effort and I couldn't have done it without them."

"Your last lap had us trembling in our seats. You managed to bring home your car across the line in that state. How did you do it?" David asked with such enthusiasm.

"I don't know how I've managed to be cool in that period but I just... I had no choice. Survival instincts came over me and I've come all this way. I'm not gonna pull over and back off to let anyone drive pass. I was thinking 'How can I get there with taking as much risks as possible without losing the car altogether?'. I still can't believe I did it." You try to take a few deep breaths after you finished your interview, still reeling in from that feeling of accomplishment.

Max and Charles pats your back as the three of you walked towards the cooldown room. The huge screen showing the highlights of the race, including your tyre mishap and struggle to cross the finish line for P3. Charles hands you a water bottle and you took it, not peeling your eyes away from the screen. If you only had your phone, you would take a photo of the small pillar with a huge number 3 and a small screen playing your driver intro bit.

The three of you are now ushered to prepare for the podium ceremony. Your feet was quick to move after your name was called. The crowd roared with applause and cheers as you made your way up the podium. You stood patiently on your step as you hear Charles' and Max's name. Despite feeling a bit flushed due to the adrenaline from winning P3, your cheeks felt a bit cold as you place your hands on the side of your face.

Your race suit now wet from the champagne being sprayed amongst the podium placers. Charles and Max were having fun targeting you, spraying the champagne at your face. They both admired your blissful smile and eyes filled with euphoria.

"Champagne suits you. Congratulations y/n!" Max can't help but admit to himself that you were an excellent racer. Your expression softened when you heard him and it's like Max's heart skipped a beat.

"Thanks Max. Congratulations on winning!" As if the champagne rain slowed down, it was just you and Max. The stage lights made the champagne sparkle, trickling down on both of you. He never saw anyone be so ecstatic in getting P3 but you made celebrating look so beautiful and graceful.

You watched Max's face as he shared a smile with you but not a second later, you could clearly see the horror in his face as his body stiffen.

"Y/n, your nose." Charles cocks his head to the side of Max, inconspicuously pointing to his nose, prompting you to do the same. Your hand crept up to your face and it was met by a warm liquid oozing down your nose. When you swiped it off, you saw blood on your fingertips.

Max was quick to turn you around, shielding you from the cameras. You try to wipe your nose with your arm but the blood can't seem to stop.

"Are you okay? What's wrong? Do you want us to call the medics?" Max whispers in panic, still spraying the champagne at Charles and towards the crowd below as he shields you behind him. To the people below and in the crowd, it was as if you're just wiping the champagne off your face.

"Relax. It's just a nosebleed. This will pass." You whispered, still trying to wipe off the remaining blood. The sleeve of your green suit now tinted red. "What the heck, it's not stopping."

"Y/n, I think the cameramen are now noticing." Charles' eyes darted to the cameramen below and above.

"I've been a bit more anemic lately. I think that's why." You murmured.

"When Megan told me that your health is compromised, is this it?" Max leans to your side a bit, still facing front and waving to the crowd.

"You talked to her? What did she tell you?!" You glared at Max, surprising the two men.

"Y/n, Max, can you two talk about it later? We're still on the podium." Charles cleared his throat.

You slightly nudged Max away from you, not noticed by the crowd, while you pinch your nose and cover your face. Max can't help but stare in concern at your figure. His inner Alpha wanting to carry you and rush to medic's tent.

Then the ceremony ended.

"Y/n, come on. I haven't told him much, I promise. I just told him to leave you alone that day." Megan pleaded as she follows you while carrying a large box filled with your household items.

You open the door to let Megan in but you avoid her eyes. She darts across the empty unit, footsteps echoing along the walls, to place the box labeled 'Kitchen Items' down on the floor. You sighed, accepting defeat, as you drop the huge bag of items that you were carrying.

"Fine, but next time, stop telling him unnecessary information."

"Hey, your health was not an unnecessary information. I'm just glad you're fine now. I told you that your prolonged use of suppressants will eventually bite you in the ass." She rambled.

"Yes, yes. You gotta stop scolding me. It's been like a thousand times already." You groaned. "I got the podium and I'm on a suppressant detox. Happy?"

"Yes. I'm working on your schedule just in case it came early." Megan skips across the unit and stopped near the door. "I'll get the last box. You can stay here just in case the delivery company calls through the intercom." She exits the unit after you nod your head.

The empty huge apartment unit was now filled with unopened boxes. There were no furnitures yet but the anticipation of decorating your new home is making you excited. Wood and cured paint scent filled the air. It was relaxing for you but after a while, it's actually nauseating so you open the door to the balcony.

Coldness of the elegant granite greeted your arms as you lean against it. Your apartment is located in a spot overlooking the marina where you can spot plentiful yachts. With just a soft breeze, you could almost smell the sea. Even with your eyes closed, you could vividly visualize the city below you from its sound. The hustle and bustle of Monaco.

Closing your eyes for a few seconds made you yawn. You are still recovering from that horrific anemic bout during the podium ceremony in the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. The team had to recommend you to a local hospital for a check up and was just given a prescription. You took a flight out the next day and went straight to "Moving Out" mode. It hasn't been two days since the race but here you are, renting a luxurious apartment in Monaco, about to live your best life.

"Looks like you could fit a head in your mouth." You heard a familiar warm voice coming from above your balcony. When you opened your eyes, there was someone peeking their head out of their balcony and looking down below at you, apparently still yawning. You closed your mouth in embarrassment.

"Max?!"

"Hi neighbor!"

Next part: Part 5

Taglist: @laura-naruto-fan1998 @fanboyluvr @giffywiffy3408 @notyouraveragemochii @cmleitora @exotic-iris13 @topguncultleader @mirrorball-6 @barcelonaloverf1life @silscintilla @aquangxl @whyamireadingthis @imaddict

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #mv1 #mv33 #f1 x female reader #f1 x female driver #f1 omegaverse #f1 enemies to lovers #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x you #formula 1 #f1 romance #f1 drivers #f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #charles leclerc x reader #op81 #cl16 #lando norris #ln4

[psychedelic-ink]

𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑳 𝑨𝑩𝑰𝑫𝑬

** gif by the amazing @inklore who made this for me, love u bby thank you so much!!!

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

genre: smut, hurt/comfort

word count: 3.5k

summary: a retelling of the third episode but with you in it. Starts with Ellie reading Bill's letter.

warnings: spoilers for episode three, oral (giving), shower sex, piv, lots of emotions, hugging joel because he needs it, soft!joel

a/n: i'm still fucking crying tbh

“August 29, 2023,”

“If you find this please do not come into the bedroom. We left the window open so the house wouldn't smell. It will probably be a sight. I’m guessing you found this Joel. Because anyone else would’ve been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps hehehehehehe Take anything you need. The bunker code is the same as the gate code but in reverse. Anyway, I never liked you. But still, it's like we're friends. Almost. And I respect you. So I’m gonna tell you something because you’re probably the only person who will understand. I used to hate the world and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong because there was one person worth saving. That’s what I did. I saved him. Then I protected him. That’s why men like you and me are here, we have a job to do. And god help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. Use them to keep—”

Ellie’s voice trails off, making you look up from the corner of the wall your eyes were digging a hole in. She presses her lips together, eyes moving away from the heartbreaking letter. Joel’s eyes snap up, and without saying a word he snatches the letter from her hands and reads it for himself. You have the urge to come close and peer at the words as well, but you don’t dare. You zero in on his expression; the crease between his brows deepens, the corner of his lips pulling down. He swallows. 

“Stay here,” he croaks, heading to the door. 

It slams shut. Leaving you and Ellie inside, you turn to her, “What did it say?” you ask despite having a solid guess of what the answer might be.  

Ellie doesn’t look up. Her stance is relaxed but the tension tolling over her shoulders is visible. She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth and answers, “Tess,” she says. “Bill was telling Joel to keep her safe,” 

“Oh shit,” you whisper instinctively. Ellie nods. 

“My thoughts exactly,” 

You drop your bag, the sudden relief of it being gone making you feel lighter than ever. You know he’ll be mad if you try to talk about it. But you also don’t have it in you to leave him to wallow in his own self-pity. Joel is a protector. And from what you’ve heard, Bill was also one. Protector to protector. The message was abundantly clear and Joel had failed again and again. You hate to word it like that, but you know that’s what he’s thinking. He’s thinking about Sarah, about Tess. About Tommy who might be already dead. Now, he has to deal with you and Ellie. You, he found in Boston with Tess, covered in bruises and cuts, ration cards stolen and beaten to a pulp. 

You turn to Ellie one last time, she’s already staring at you, it’s slightly unnerving. “Wait here, don’t touch anything that might kill you. Stock up,” 

“Aye Aye Captain.” 

And you leave. 

The sun is shining, not a single cloud in the sky. Your eyes lock onto Joel as soon as you step over the threshold; his back turned, letter in hand, shoulders slumped. He looks around the neighborhood, then back down to the letter. He repeats the motion a couple of times as if he can’t believe what’s happening around him. You follow the path his eyes draw, looking around and back at him. You wonder if this neighborhood is similar to the one he used to live in. 

“Hey,” you finally call out, your voice sounding scratchy. Joel flinches, he crumples the piece of paper and stuffs it in his pocket. “Are you okay?” 

“We need to get out of here,” he answers, fingers tightening around the key, he heads to the garage. You follow. 

When the two of you are inside, you see his resolve finally starting to crack. He pops the hood open, looks inside, and slams it shut. Pressing his palms into the smooth surface, his head falls, body shaking with his every breath. Your steps are silent as you approach him, your eyes trail over the roundness of his shoulders, the dip of his shirt. 

You bite down the inside of your cheek, not stopping until you feel a sharp sting. Holding your breath, you place a hand over his shoulder, gently squeezing. 

He flinches, it’s the most minimal reaction, something you only felt because you were physically touching him. “Is this okay?” you ask. 

Joel nods, his swallow audible. “Yeah, it’s fine,” 

“Can I hug you?” 

He tenses under your fingertips. You don’t make a move until you feel the small nod he makes. “Sure,” his voice cracks. “If you want to,” 

Some part of you wants to ask ‘do you?’ but of course, you don’t. Of all the months you’ve known him, he’s never once verbally asked anyone for anything. If you give it, he’ll take it. Your hand smooths a path down his arm, the other rounding his waist. You take a deep breath as you press your forehead between his shoulder blades, you feel the steadiness of his heartbeat. 

Joel is still tense but less than before. Your fingers curl around his wrist, and your other hand lays right above his heart, nails softly biting into the fabric of his shirt. 

Much to your surprise, his hand covers your own, thick fingers lacing into yours. It gives you courage. It gives you hope. You press further into him, hug him with your entire body hoping that the warmth you provide is enough to soothe him, even for a second. 

“Sorry,” he grunts out, squeezing your hand, he brings it to his lips. His mustache tickles your skin, and he eases his lips into you, something between a kiss and a press of skin. “I don’t know what to do. I’m so angry all the time, there’s a weight on my chest that never leaves. You understand?” you nod and he continues. “I’m not like Bill. Not in the way he thought that I was. I’ve always been afraid—Even after…”

You feel him shaking his head, and your grip around him tightens. You do understand. You’ve felt it too, but he made it easier, help you lift that weight despite not being a man of many words, his presence gave you strength. 

You want to stay like this forever. Holding him, feeling him. He’s incredibly warm.

“I’m not strong enough,” he lastly says, whispering your name right after. “I can’t keep you or Ellie safe,” 

You feel the brush of lips over your knuckles. He allows you to cradle his scruffy cheek. It feels like a dream almost, which makes you acutely aware of how much he must be hurting right now. Your heart breaks. 

“You are,” you whisper, fingers moving along his beard. “We’re going to stock up, find Tommy, and get Ellie to the fireflies. Then we’re done. Maybe we can even come back here,” 

He scoffs, “How are you always like this?” 

“Like what?” 

“Hopeful,” 

“It’s because I have you.” 

You know he’s confused. You can feel it simmering under his skin, face heating up under your hand. He’s confused as to how something positive could be spurred from his existence. But it’s the truth. And he needs to hear it. He needs to know that it’s not only grief, and sadness, that follow his every footstep like a shadow. His strength gives those around him a chance to grow, a chance to be more human. Allowing them to live and relax while he carries the burden. 

His methods might be brutal, and the words he says might cut deeper than a knife ever could, but it comes from a place of a twisted sense of love. 

“We should head back inside,” he murmurs and pulls at your hand. “I’ll make the truck battery and we grab what we can while it charges,” 

“Okay,” you take a step back, already feeling the ache of not feeling him against your person. “I’ll go check on Ellie.” 

Joel doesn’t say a word, nor looks at you, he only nods. 

You still can’t fucking believe it. 

Hot fucking water. 

You’re impatiently sitting in one of the guest bedrooms, Ellie is downstairs, already taken her shower and Joel is still inside, a soft slow of steam slithering its way out of the cracks of the door. 

You sitting there and waiting for Joel to get out isn’t probably the most efficient thing to do but you can’t help it, you feel giddy. Your leg bobs up and down as you wait. The mere thought of having warm water rolling down your tattered skin makes your heart leap to your throat—

The running water stops and your eyes fly to the door. A couple of minutes later it opens. A wet, clothed, Joel makes his way through the steam. It looks mystical, almost. 

He stops when he sees you. 

“What are you doin’ here?” 

“Waiting to use the shower,” you grin, not shying away from openly raking your eyes up and down his body. “Looking good, Miller,” 

He rolls his eyes and pushes his hair back, your pussy bottoms out at the way his biceps bulge from underneath the flannel. “Well, I’m done now. Have fun,” 

Joel moves towards the door and you jump up barely in time to catch his wrist. He raises an eyebrow, eyes dropping to meet yours. His skin is still damp, if you were a cat you’d be purring by now. 

“Sit down,” you choke out. “I—fuck—This is hard. I want to—” 

“Don’t hurt yourself tryin’ to come up with words,” he teases and you look at him completely flabbergasted. Joel Miller actually sounds amused. It’s a goddamn miracle. He twists his hand so it’s him holding you instead, locking the door, he moves towards the bed, urging you to follow him as if this was his idea from the get-go. 

“What do you want?” he asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. You’re standing between his spread-out legs, a chill runs up your spine. He reaches out and touches your chin. “Tell me,” 

Instead of telling, you slowly sink down to your knees, fingers moving to unbutton his jeans. He spreads his legs wider as you tug them down, you trail your fingers up his thighs, feeling the soft hairs tickling the pads of your fingers. Joel’s breath hitches, muscles tensing under your touch. He’s semi-hard when you take him into your mouth. His hips buck up as you swallow, swirling your tongue around the head. 

He grows harder with every lick. Your chin strains as you attempt to swallow him whole. You manage to take only half of him, your eyes squeezing shut at the pressure.  Pulling up, you gasp for air. You kiss the side and flatten your tongue against it. Joel cradles your head, thumbs drawing slow circles, he guides you back down to his cock, pushing you further down. 

“That’s it,” he breathes out heavily. “Just a bit more, always so fuckin’ good to me,” 

He forces your gaze up, and his cock twitches above your tongue. You whimper at the way he caresses your skin, so tender, so gentle. “You are too good to me,” he repeats his words from before. “I want you to know that. I ain’t the best with words but…yeah. I’ll try to make right by you,” 

If it wasn’t for his cock in your mouth, you would’ve smiled. Your heart feels so full that it overflows, the muscles of your stomach taut as you sink down, taking him until you feel the soft curls against the base of your nose. Joel holds you there, flush against his pelvis, heavily breathing as you swallow around him again and again. Spit trails down the corner of your lips, nostrils flaring as it gets harder to breathe. 

When he releases you, you pull away with a pop, your lungs burning at the sudden influx of oxygen. You wrap your fingers around the shaft and start stroking him, he moans loudly, hips thrusting into your hand. 

“I want you to cum down my throat, Joel,” you purr. “Use me,” 

And he does. 

The more desperate he becomes, the more stifled his groans get. He thrusts into your mouth, the tip of his cock nudging the back of your throat. You can’t breathe, you can’t think. Joel fucks deeper into your mouth, balls heavy on your chin as his thrusts become shallow. Your eyes roll back, your consciousness teetering on the edge of blacking out completely. 

With a moment of desperation, you cup your mound, rubbing at your clothed clit. The friction isn’t nearly enough and you let out a moan around his length, the reverberations making his hips stutter. 

Joel spills down your throat with a grunt, he presses his molars together, rolling his hips into your mouth. You swallow greedily. He tastes bitter, but that doesn’t stop you from lifting yourself on your knees to push him deeper down. He hisses, cock pulsing between your lips. 

“Jesus Christ,” he slurs, head falling back. “Jesus fuckin’ christ,” 

He pulls you off with a sharp tug, looking down at you between heavy lids. “You good darlin’?” 

You slowly nod, lips parting with a soft sigh. Your mind is in a deep haze of lust, your body aching to be touched, to be filled. You want to say something, anything, but you’re lost for words. 

“Shit, alright come on— Up,” he grabs you by the arm, helping you to stand on your feet. You shoot him a confused look, which he answers promptly. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Is it alright if I help?” 

It takes you a moment to understand the question and answer, “S-Sure.” 

You stand in the bathroom naked with your arms crossed in front of your chest. Joel wraps his arms around you slowly, still hesitant to touch you. He rests his chin above your shoulder, his torso bare, you sigh blissfully at the skin-on-skin contact.  

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, moving his hand down your stomach. “I thought you were excited,” 

“I am,” you shudder when he drags his nose up the column of your neck, his lips following the path back down. 

“Do you want me to go?” 

You shake your head, “No.” 

He murmurs an ‘okay’ into your skin and gently nudges you forward so you get in. The tiles are cool and slippery. It feels absurd being in such a homey-feeling bathroom after so long. It smells like lavender. 

You stand there, too stunned to move until Joel joins you. He stands behind you, leaning over, naked body pressing into yours, he turns on the faucet, playing with the degree of the water until it pours warm over your skin. 

“How’s that?” he mutters. 

“Good,” a giggle falls from your lips. “It feels so fucking good. Unbelievable,” 

Joel starts washing your body, the touch of his hands has fear behind them. A fear that you might vanish at any second. His fingers trail over every inch of your skin, exploring every curve and valley. You close your eyes, relishing in the sensation of having him this close. He washes your hair, taking his time, massaging your scalp. He moves down to your back, running his hands over your spine, kneading out the tension from your muscles.

His hands move to your front, lingering over your breasts, sending shivers down your spine. He takes his time, leaving no spot untouched. The water cascades over your bodies, swallowing you and hiding you both from the tainted world outside. Wet lips trail the slope of your shoulders, fingers slipping between your folds. He drags them between your slit, circles your aching clit, and repeats. Your head falls over his shoulder, your soft moans drowned by the sound of water. 

Joel holds your chin and turns you until you’re facing him, he closes the distance, molding his lips into yours. His wet tongue follows the seam of your lips and you open up for him, he moves his tongue over yours, licking the inside of your mouth. He swallows your moans and whines as you start to grind down against his palm. 

His tongue presses deeper, and your legs tremble. He grinds the heel of his palm into the sensitive bundle of nerves, groaning into your mouth when slick gushes into his hand. His cock lays above the curve of your ass, hot and hard. 

He grinds into you, his cock pressing insistently between your cheeks. His hands grab your hips, pulling you closer to him, and his mouth moves across your shoulder and neck. His lips find your ear. 

“Is this okay?” he asks, his breath heavy and hot against your neck.

“It is. I want to feel you Joel, every inch of you,” 

His hands reach up, cupping your breasts, massaging gently. His thumbs circle your nipples and they harden beneath his touch, your breath catching in your throat. You roll back into him, your body craving more of his touch— of him.

Joel’s hands move down your body, his fingers tracing every inch. “Turn around for me,” 

You move without hesitation. He takes a step back, letting his hands trail over you. You take a step forward, closing the gap between you and he takes you in his arms, his mouth finding yours. His tongue slips between your lips and you moan into his mouth, lost in him. 

You allow your own hands to explore his body as well. He’s firm, arms strong and thick, hips narrowing as your fingers trace a path down within the water droplets that cling to his skin. 

Affectionately, you caress his stomach. You gently press the pads of your fingers into the soft flesh, loving the way his chest heaves. 

The water continues to pour down, creating a soothing background noise. He pushes his cock between your legs, moving through the slickness and sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

You move together, bodies entwined and breaths mingling. He lets out a low moan as you press your hips against his. His hands move to your back, his fingers tracing the line of your spine. He pulls you closer, his lips claiming yours again and again and again— He moans as he fucks your thighs. The bulbous head of his cock catching against your clit, the corners of your vision fade to black. Your head buzzes.

Joel continues to roll and grind, cock slipping between your legs with ease. During it, he slips into you, stretching you enough that the pain easily bleeds into the pleasure. He holds you, cock twitching as your flutter around him. You’re dripping and making a mess of him, he feels it. You know that he does by the way he bites into your skin, his growl vibrating across your body. 

“You’re so fuckin’ wet,” he says, licking the water off your skin. “Feels so good inside—Your pussy feels so fuckin’ good. I don’t think it’ll ever be enough,” 

“S-Shit Joel,” 

Your breath hitches in your throat, your hips meeting his with each thrust. He holds your gaze, fucking himself deeper, harder into you. Pleasure licks the bottom of your spine, heat rolling in your stomach. The water washes away the sweat but you still burn. Joel’s hand moves up to the back of your neck, his hand big enough to press his fingers into both sides of your throat. 

You nearly go limp at his hold, knees bucking at the pressure. But you trust him, and you aren’t at all surprised when he keeps you up, pounding into you as his lips slither down your neck. 

He moves his hand lower, skimming down your stomach and cupping your sex. His thumb circles your clit, and you gasp as wave after wave of pleasure wash over you. 

You’re teetering on the edge, ready to come undone, when Joel suddenly pulls out. His fingers don’t stop, pinching your clit. You cry out his name as your orgasm rips through you, he holds you close as your body jolts. Your body is left confused, empty, yet still clenching as if Joel’s cock is still inside. 

It’s so intense that tears roll down your cheeks, pleasure ripples over your skin, unfiltered whimpers falling from your lips. Your gaze drops to his cock, your eagerness to please loud in your mind. You notice that he’d already came, seed mixing with the water. 

“I got you don’t worry,” he mutters, lips brushing your forehead. “You’re alright, you’re with me,” 

You blink up, eyes finding Joel’s. A lazy smile spreads across your face, the water beating over your skin now cold. “Was that good?” you ask, kissing the bald spot on his chin. 

“You know it was,” when you give him a knowing look, he sighs. “It was good, thank you, darlin’” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” you grin, hands moving up his arms. “Now let’s get cleaned up one last time and get the hell out of here.” 

#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #hbo the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader

[hannshines]

I love how they are giving Spanglish tutorials for writing and making a more realistic Miguel O'hara in fics.

And it's funny because they're right in saying that it's not just saying random words in Spanish, it's literally putting certain sentences and almost repeating the same thing but in English or more than repeating it is saying something else that reaffirms what you said in Spanish, if you want the other person to understand you well if they don't speak any Spanish at all.

But apart from that, the truth is that not much happens, obviously what will stand out the most in Spanish words and actually in anny kind of language are the expressions

If you are an English speaker but you moved to Mexico and now you speak Spanish almost all the time, the typical expressions that you used to say in the United States or wherever you come from will not go away so easily.

A good tip is to think in that way, if you were that character with a nationality or your parents are from another country and you speak that other language constantly, how would you speak? And what are the expressions you would still use un your language?

They handle that in the film in a decent way, because for example all the expressions that Miguel says in a sarcastic, desperate way and whispers to himself he says them in Spanish (giving you to understand that he is very familiar with the language in the sense of speaking it, so much so that he continues to use some phrases).

That unlike Miles who has a mother who speaks Spanish, he has spoken English all his life and although he is used to his mother's Puerto Rican Spanish (he understands her when she speaks some things) in reality he doesn't speak it, because he never had the need to speak spanish or to express himself with phrases in another language other than with his mother (if that were the case).

And considering Miles' mother, she speaks more fluent Splanglish and her accent is still quite thick, has anyone seen Sofia Vergara in Mother Family? She's literally Gloria

And here comes in also knowing the different expressions for the different Spanish speaking countries which would be almost the same as with American English and British English.

It is not the same to use expressions in Puerto Rican Spanish (which is what Miles' mother should use) to mexican expressions (which is what Miguel should use) to expressions in Spanish spain or other Spanish-speaking countries (which, as strange as it sounds, is what Miguel uses in the film and Miles uses in the short conversation he has with Miguel, calling him "tío")

And honestly it's not a complaint, because I adore Oscar Issac and maybe I understand a little bit about the accent and the words because my man is from Guatemala.

But again is not the same to say "automóvil" here in Mexico, the word means the same thing but here in Mexico we don't use that word much to refer to a car, we call it "carro".

There are words that do become common i'm diferente countries, but back to the expressions.

"Ay coño" is not a Mexican expression.

Yes in Latin America because is it used in other countries and in Spain, but here un México that word is used but almost nothing and not for the same, there are more expressions that are used in Mexico, that somehow I understand that it will not be used, I consider that the common Mexican expressions, the real ones, are very rude and vulgar, but that in some way characterizes us.

I was waiting for Miguel O'hara to say something stupid like "Me está llevando la chingada" (which means he's fed up with every situation and can't take it anymore) because it seemed that at some point the man couldn't take any more with a "mocoso" (brat).

Someone made a post with some expressions and words in Spanish, it is very good sincerely, I hope you see it, but if you want to enjoy a good movie in the dubbing is full of Mexicanisms, see Shrek in Latin American Spanish.

In the Hangover movie the dubbing uses expressions that would be used here in Mexico, if you want more rude expressions with the Spanish dubbing.

But remember that if you want to base it on a movie, all the dubbing should be Latin American which is the closest to Mexican expressions.

In fact that's a problem with Latin American dubbing, as it's mostly done here in Mexico they try to make it global for Latin America but they tend to put in a lot of Mexicanisms that are not understood in other countries but that kill us in mexico.

#miguel ohara #miguel x reader #spiderman #spanglish #mexicanismos #spiderman across the spiderverse #satsv #spiderman 2099 #fanfic #writting tips #idk i love mexican expresiion #mexico

[foreveranevilregal]

Encantober Day 20: Vision

*trigger warning for pregnancy mentions and brief description*

Voices floated through the kitchen.

“Ay, I can feel her kicking.” Pepa laughed.

What? Bruno didn’t understand what was going on. Usually he tried not to eavesdrop (he said tried; he didn’t always succeed), but he had to know what was going on here. Shifting his position, he was able to peer through the small crack in the wall.

Pepa was in the kitchen with Félix, her hands resting on…her belly? Was she pregnant again? Now Bruno didn’t claim to be an expert in math, but if they were still the same age, and he was pretty sure they were, wouldn’t that be impossible?

“How do you know it’s a girl?” Félix teased, wrapping his arms around Pepa from behind.

“A mother can tell,” Pepa said smugly.

“Well what if it’s a boy?”

Pepa scoffed. “There’s no way the baby is a boy.”

“You know this for sure?”

Pepa glared at him. “I can’t know for sure. Not the way we did with Lola and Milo. But…I have a feeling she’s a girl.”

Félix held up his hands in defeat. “If you say so, mi vida.”

“I do say so.” Pepa bustled around the kitchen, putting away groceries. She must not be very far along, Bruno observed. She’d gotten huge with the other two. In fact, Bruno had actually wondered if she was having twins when she had Camilo. Looking back, he deserved that slap.

His cheek smarted from the memory. As much as it had hurt, at least he was still part of the family then. Almost five years had passed since his…unceremonious departure…and not a day went by that he didn’t miss them.

“I know it might be a bit early to think about this, but do you have any ideas about names?” Félix had caught Pepa in his arms, swaying her from side to side.

She hummed contentedly. “I have a few. But my favorite is- what about Antonia? After your mother?”

Félix beamed. “I love it. And I’m sure mamá would be honored.”

Pepa smiled at him brightly. “All right, I’ll be right back. Your daughter is playing fútbol with my internal organs.”

Félix chuckled. “Bet she’ll be a hell of a player one day.”

“She better be, with all the practice she’s getting!”

Their voices petered off as they left the kitchen, still basking in the glow of their happiness.

Bruno sat there, stunned. He couldn’t believe it. Pepa was having another baby- he’d have another niece or nephew! -and he wasn’t around for it. When she’d been pregnant with Dolores and Camilo, Pepa had consulted him for a vision to learn the sex of the baby, so she could pick out a proper name. Aside from his sisters, Bruno refused to have this kind of vision for anyone else. Four nieces and a nephew later, and babies still freaked him out. But he loved his family.

The thoughts plagued him for the rest of the afternoon. Pepa had been so sure she was having a girl. Was she right? In Bruno’s experience, her predictions were as good as the weather forecast: only right about half the time. So was he getting a fifth niece? Or would there finally be another Madrigal boy?

He couldn’t help it. He must have been focusing too hard on the question. His eyes flew open, glowing green, as he froze, watching the vision unfold before him.

There was a little boy. He looked about five, Bruno would guess. He had dark skin and eyes, and a mess of curls sticking out all over his head. Was this Félix as a kid? Why would he see that in a vision? No, that wasn’t quite right…his eyes were big, and they sparkled like Pepa’s when he smiled. And he smiled a lot. He was standing…in front of their casita, playing with…if Bruno didn’t know any better, he’d say it was a teenaged Julieta. But Julieta didn’t wear glasses. It had to be Mirabel, who even at five had been the spitting image of her mother.

She looked so beautiful and grown up. Bruno almost choked up seeing it. So if that was Mirabel, this had to be the new baby.

Bruno let out a laugh. Ha. He knew it wasn’t a girl. Pepa only said that because she didn’t want to deal with another baby boy. She’d always said that girls were easier to raise, pointing out their nieces and Dolores. But Bruno wasn’t sure if that was true. Camilo just had a lot of energy and hadn’t learned how to channel it yet. This new kid seemed…calmer somehow.

Suddenly, the vision changed. Cracks appeared on casita, spreading the way they had in that fateful vision that led to his banishment. To Bruno’s surprise, the kid transformed into a toucan, taking flight. Mirabel clung to his feet as he flew around the house. Wherever they passed, the cracks were mended. Finally, he set Mirabel down and landed, instantly turning into a jaguar. Jaguar-kid stalked proudly in front of casita with Mirabel on his back.

The image dissolved into a blur. Bruno blinked repeatedly, shaking his head rapidly. That had been…bizarre, to say the least. His question had been answered- Pepa would be having a boy. But so many new questions sprang up in his head. What was that whole bit where the kid turned into animals and took Mirabel for a ride? And the cracks on the house…was this vision somehow connected to the last one he’d had as a rightful inhabitant of la casa Madrigal?

Bruno shook his head, nonplussed. He guessed this was the kid’s gift. Pepa’s third kid would be able to turn into animals. Sure. Why not? Pepa already had one shapeshifting kid. What was another? Aside from an enormous headache for Pepa, that is. It was bad enough keeping track of a kid that could look like anyone. Imagine having another that could look like anything.

Well, he thought with a pang, that would be Pepa’s problem, not his. Since he hadn’t had any visions predicting his triumphant return from disgraceful exile, he figured he’d be in the walls for the rest of his life; watching his family go through life without him.

Pepa would be so crushed to find out she was wrong. But, on the bright side, Antonio would also be a great name.

#bruno madrigal #pepa madrigal #felix madrigal #antonio madrigal #mirabel madrigal #encantober #encantober 2023 #vision #pepa x felix #felix x pepa #tw pregnancy #fun fact: jaguars symbolize protection and need for change #foreveranevilregal writes #writing encanto #two prompts in one day? inconceivable!

[gunilslaugh]

hi!! i js wanna say i'm obsessed with your work it's SOO good! i wanted to ask if you can make a fic or a one shot ab yandere jungsu or gaon trying to win over plus sized reader(fem or gn idc!) like they have been bsfs for a long time and they can't stand seeing the reader being with anyone but them? and it's a bonus if they're obsessed with the readers body(NOT SUGGESTIVE like in a fluffy way & sry if i'm asking for too much TT) only if you're comfortable and i am a new anon! >< thank you!

Welcome new anon! I'm not comfortable writing yandere, so I left that part out I hope you understand. Hope you enjoy reading your request still :)

Kim Jungsu

Summary: Jungsu has been your best friend for many years, but he wants to be more.

WC:~1.3k

Warning:grammar

  -Plus size reader (it’s barely mentioned though, I wasn’t quite sure how to write it sorry)

photo not mine credits to owner.

Kim Jungsu is your best friend, the person you spend most of your time with. Currently the two of you were in your room, sitting opposite to each other on your bed playing a card game. Your phone went off with a message notification. You looked over seeing what it was. It was a coworker from work asking if you were doing anything next Sunday. 

“Who is it?” Jungsu questioned, setting the cards in his hand down. 

“Just a coworker,” you answered, turning your attention back to the card game. Deciding that would answer them later. 

“Shouldn’t you answer then?” He pressed. You placed a card down, making it Jungsu’s turn.

“It’s not about work. They can wait,” you say. Jungsu grows curious about why they’re messaging you then if it’s not about work. “Your turn,” you tell him. Jungsu snaps back from his wandering thoughts, picking up his sat down cards and taking his turn. He couldn’t really focus on the card game though, too curious about what your coworker wanted. 

“What did they want then?” He breaks, needing to know the answer. 

“Aren’t you nosy?” You joked. “They just wanted to know if I’m doing anything next Sunday,” you told him.

“I’m your best friend, it's my job to be nosy. What if they’re trying to replace me?” Jungsu defended. You laughed at his ridiculousness.

“Jungsu, what are you saying? No one could ever replace you,” you state. 

“They better not,” Jungsu once again puts down his cards, but this time he has no intentions of picking them back up again. He climbs over now sitting adjacent to you. 

“Aye! What are you doing? We’re supposed to be playing,” you say. 

“I don’t want to play anymore,” he pouted, leaning over to place his chin on your shoulder and wrapped his arms around your middle. His fingers play with the hem of your shirt, ghosting against the skin there. Jungsu was always clingy, he loved touching you, cuddling with you, platonically. At first his touches made you feel self-conscious about your body. Specifically the fact that you were on the heavier side. You know Jungsu never judged you for it, but others did and it left you feeling bad some days. However, Jungsu was always there to tell you to not listen to those people. It’s your body not theirs. That you should only change if you want to, not for others. He loves you no matter what.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jugsu, what looks better? The pants with this blouse or the skirt with this blouse?” You asked for Jungsu’s opinion. Holding up the pants and skirt.

“What’s this outfit for?” He checks. 

“Remember that coworker who messaged me asking if I was free Sunday?” You questioned. Jungsu nodded. He felt a pit begin to grow in his stomach, suspecting that he didn’t like where this was going.

“Well he asked me out on a date and I said yes!” You said excitedly. Jungsu was right, he didn't like where this was going at all. Jealousy began to bubble up in his stomach. He liked you for years. He always looked out for you, was there for you, took care of you. Granted he never confessed his feelings to you with words, but how could you be so blind to not see his love for you through his actions. His hugs that lasted a little bit too long. The way his hand often found its way to your own or found itself rested on your thigh. How he memorized all your drink orders, favorite foods, movies, t.v. shows. He would drop everything and run to you the second you needed him. 

“The pants,” he answered mouth feeling dry. Did you not once think that he might like you? 

“Thanks,” you smiled, heading into your bathroom to change. Jungsu decides that he needs to up his game. To win you over, so that you’ll never think about going out with another guy. He wants you to be his girl. 

“So when’s your date?” Jungsu quizzes, hiding the jealousy inside of him.

“Seven,” you told him, beginning to go through your accessories. Jungsu looks at the time, six o’clock, which means you’ll be leaving soon.

“I guess I should be heading out then. Have fun on your date,” he lied through his teeth. He hopes that it doesn’t go well. It going well is his worst fear. “Call me if you need anything,” he added. 

“I will thanks again,” you say. Jungsu leaves, making his way back home. Hoping that when you talk to him tomorrow you'll tell him that your date didn’t go well. He can’t even sleep because of the thought of you being with someone else.

The next day Jungsu and you arrived at a cafe for lunch. 

“So how was your date?” Jungsu asked teasingly, raising one eyebrow. Making his true feelings. 

“It was nice, but I don’t think we actually suit each other. There wasn’t really anything there,” you tell him. Jungsu feels relieved. The jealousy that was living inside of him vanished. Now all he needed to do was win you over.

“Unlike us,” Jungsu played flirtily. His comment caught you by surprise. He never outwardly flirted with you before. Yes he was affectioned and maybe the way he traced lines over skin could be viewed as more than friendly, but it was never like this. 

“Yeah,” you chuckled lightly. “Unlike us,” you repeated the words, wondering what exactly they were supposed to mean. 

Jungsu has been increasingly flirty ever since that lunch. Instead of just holding your hand he would now press soft kisses against your knuckles too. The action made your heart flutter, but you were unsure if it should. Did Jungsu have romantic intentions behind this or was it just more platonic affections? He’d also sit so close next to you that your legs would touch. Lately it seemed like he found a way to constantly be touching you. He did more things for you too. For example, he would open every door for you that he could. Jungsu would also open your water bottles before handing them to you. He started picking you up from work, which led to your colleagues thinking that he was your boyfriend.  

“Jungsu,” you called his attention. The two of you were walking back to your house after spending the evening hanging out together. Your fingers were laced together, lightly swinging back and forth as you both walked.

“Yeah,” he responds, looking over at you. You looked at your linked hands, pulling them up.

“What does this mean?” You asked. 

“Have you finally noticed?” Jungsu returned. Stopping in his tracks causes you to pause with him. “Y/n I’ve liked you for a really long time. I fell for you only a few months into our friendship,” he confessed. This new information took you by surprise. Every now and then you did think about dating Jungsu. He was basically the most perfect boyfriend could ask for, but you didn’t think that he would’ve liked you back. Thinking that all his affections and actions were just platonic. “After you went out on that date with your coworker it made me realize that I don’t want to lose you. I want you to be mine and I want to be yours,” he continued. 

“I want that too, Jungsu,” you confessed. “I just never thought you’d view me as anything more than a best friend,” you revealed. 

“How could I not view you as something more?” Jungsu laughed. “You’re all I could ever want,” he stated. 

“You’re all I could ever want to,” you smiled. 

“Then will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?” Jungsu asks. 

“Yes,” you say, nodding your head with a bright smile. Jungsu engulfs you in a hug. He pulls away only to press a kiss on your cheek. The two of you then continue your walk back home, happier than ever to be each others.

#xdinary heroes #xdh #xdh imagines #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes imagines #xdinary heroes x reader #xh jungsu #jungsu x reader #kim jungsu #jungsu

[the-blue-marshmallow]

How a certain scot made Ghost be Simon for once.

Enjoy geography thoughts (cuz who needs to learn about terrorism right?(certainly not me))

Simon Riley, better known to the living world as Ghost, enjoys his personal space very much. it is his, one of the first and only things in life that are safe from anyone else, thst will never be taken away from him. 

Ghost is protective of his personal space.

 The mask, the gloves, the dark clothes that cover every inch of pale, scarred skin protect him from gazes. Because his personal space isn’t just half a meter of air around him. No. it is Simon, it is his insides, the part of personality he closes off and protects even from glances in fear the wrong pair of hands will harm it. Stain it. Make it not his anymore.

Closed doors, chairs leaned against walls and tactical positions near the doorways are the things that protect Ghost physically. Keeping him safe from people behind him, in front of him, next to him, everywhere. Those are the things that keep him from suffocating just because some unsuspecting rookie is making tea next to him in the kitchen, standing just a little too close for comfort.

So you can probably understand, dear reader, the fear and confusion that wiggles straight through his soul and rips out of hus chest with a choked back laugh. A fear of his own reactions.

Because, damnit, he should noit be letting that damn scot so damn close. He shold not be letting the man stamd behind him, bounce around as the younger man explains some new explosive he made with shampoo and damn toothpaste, sneak into Ghost’s room with a warm cup of tea.

He shouldn’t be letting Soap wiggle into his heart, into his damn soul and mind, occupying every free space in his thoughts and then making room to occupy more. He shouldn't be concerned on missions if the damn walking bomb is okay, if he’s even alive. He shouldn’t be thinking in the evenings if maybe Soap is still in the common area, if he could pull the man outside for a smoke just to escape his insomnia and nightmares.

But here he was, chatting with Soap over comms as the man finished up some solo intel mission. An easy one, of course, but Ghost still needed to hear the man, still needed to reassure himself he was okay.

“What has two legs and bleeds?” Ghost says into the mic and twirls a nail Soap had given him on one of their missions together.

“Ay swear Lt, I’m scared to be scared.” Soap’s voice comes over the headphones Ghost was wearing, sounding exasperated and completely okay.

“Half a dog.”

“Welp, I was right. Tell, Lt, you still got that tea with what was it… Blueberries?”

“Raspberries.”

“There it is. Raspberries. it’s pissin’ it doon ‘ere, i swer. I’ll need some tea or I’ll be sick.”

“Heavens help us, sick Johnny? Sounds like hell.”

Johnny’s raspy laugh came through the comms, sounding more like he was choking.

Simon stands up with a fond little smile, the expression hidden behind his balaclava only for his heart to know about. The man walks to the kitchen by the communal area to reach into one of the cupboards and take out his meticulously hoarded tea.

As the tea brewed and Johnny babbled on and on about chemicals while the helicopter brought him back, Ghost let himself feel a little warm. A little tingly, fuzzy feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He didn’t think Ghost was able to love. Not with all the layers and layers of clothes and protections keeping his insides safe.

But Johnny had a talent for wiggling into spaces he shouldn’t wiggle into. He would find a space, find a crack, and if he couldn’t, he’d make his own with loud jokes and little touches. He’d push his way into Ghost’s soul, through his armour, and make a little nook for himself right next to Simon.

He would remind Ghost to let himself be Simon from time to time. Unlike Ghost, Simon still knew how to love. He knew how to love Johnny, because he already did.

It already was as easy as breathing, even with all the armour constricting his lungs. Because Johnny took the restrictions apart and finally let him *breathe*.

#simon ghost riley #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish #worms in my brain #not beta read we die like me rn #my poor poor man #i wanna put ghost in my pocket and feed him little chocolates

[renee-writer]

The Heart Don't Lie Chapter 78

A/N Most of this chapter is the always amazing work of @omgbarbiegurl . Give her some love y'all.

AO3

A woman ran through the woods in a mad run, tugging her child behind her.

“Come on dear, we’re almost there!”

 

Fear was the driving force behind her midnight run, not normal fear, but pure unadulterated terror.

 

She turned quickly and then ran toward a hill.

 

“Mama Bees!” The child shouted.

 

“Yes darling, Bees. They will help us, don’t worry.”

 

Once the pair made it to the top of the hill, she looked out over the tops of the trees.

 

She could see light blooming in spurts. Their pursers were quickly coming upon them, she had to act now, or it would be the end of both of them.

 

She tugged the necklace from around her neck and wrapped it around her child’s neck.

 

“When you get to the other side, you tell anyone that speaks to you that you want to see Dr. John Morrison. You say that name over and over, nothing else, just that name. Do you understand?”

 

“Mama-”

 

“Shush! Repeat that name.”

 

“D-D-Dr. John Morrison.”

 

“Yes, his name is Dr. John Morrison. He will help you; just show him the necklace and tell him my name.”

 

“But you’ll come too!”

 

Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I’ll be with you, even if you can’t see me.”

 

She looked over her shoulder. It had to be now.

 

With a cry, she shoved her child against the large stones, not flinching when he disappeared.

 

“I love you darling.” She whispered softly as a large crowd descended upon her.

 

 

The child woke up at the bottom of a hill, a large man was standing over him.

 

“You alright there?”

 

The child blinked his eyes.

 

“Dr. John Morrison.”

 

“Who? What? Just say still, I called for help. You’ll be okay.”

 

“Dr. John Morrison.” The child mumbled as his eyes slid shut again.

 

He woke up again in a strange room with a woman in white fussing over him. There were strange and loud noises surrounding him.

 

The woman in white smiled at him.

 

“Hello sweeting, welcome back.”

 

“Dr. John Morrison.”

 

“Oh yes, you have been saying that name for a bit. He is coming, might take a bit but he is coming.”

 

“Dr. John Morrison, he’ll help.”

 

“Indeed he will poppet.”

 

The man known as Dr. John Morrison arrived a bundle of nerves.

 

He had no idea why a random young child was asking for him.

 

Unless it was something related to the…incident a few years back.

 

But it couldn’t be.

 

The ends of the Earth had been searched, and a trace had never been found.

 

But now…

 

He took a breath as stepped into the room that he had been directed to.

 

He didn’t speak, just stared.

 

At the child that seemed to be expecting him, waiting almost.

 

John smiled.

 

“Hello there, I’m Dr. John Morrison, you have been asking for me.”

 

The child nodded.

 

John stepped into the room and to a chair.

 

“And you are?”

 

The child smiled.

 

“Mathieu Andrew Morrison.”

 

He is dreaming about the past. A sigh at seeing his mama again. It is so real he can smell her scent, a type of floral, almost rose smell. He wakes gasping, understanding the message. He needs to talk with his father.

 

“You love her?” Andrew nods.

 

“I love her very much. More then I ever imagined loving anyone.”

 

His father smiles. The lad had been a shock. This son that he searched high and low for, not thinking to look in the past. Hearing his haunting tale and how his mama meet her end, it twisted his gut and made him more determined to see to the lad, protect him. Love now, that is one thing he can’t protect him from.

 

“The lass feel the same?”

 

“Aye father, she does. I know I am not her first love but I want to be her last.”

 

John smiles. Despite his rough start, the lad turned out brilliantly. Smart, sweet, compassionate, strong; he is all he can ask for in a son.

 

“Brilliant. Then you must tell her. Everything.”

 

“Father, I worry she will think me insane.”

 

“If she is the right one, she will accept it and you. You cannot enter into a marriage under the shadow of a secret this big.”

 

He knows he is right.

 

He had to tell Rose the truth about himself, it was just simply plucking up the courage to do it.

 

He didn’t want her to think he was crazy, or accuse him of putting on some show.

 

It was his Father that gave him the final push he needed.

 

“If you want to build a life with her, it can’t be on a foundation of lies. If she truly loves you, truly, she will accept all of you.”

 

It didn’t make It any easier though.

 

He decided to tell her as they sat in the Great Room at Lallybroch.

 

They were just having Tea and chatting when he set down his Teacup with a clang.

 

“Whoa easy there, that was my Great Great Grandmother’s Fine Bone China. Legend has it, she buried it away so the English couldn’t get it after Culloden. Then couldn’t find it, so she practically ripped the property up digging for it.”

 

“Clearly she did.”

 

“Nope! According to Legend, my Great Grandfather stumbled across it when he was just a wee laddie. He thought it was treasure and buried it under the house to find it again, and never did. Grandda was the one that finally found it when he decided to build a barn and had to dig up the area. Found it in the brown canvas bag tied up with rope to look like just a sack of something or other.”

 

They both laughed and he took her hand.

 

“What’s on your mind?” Rose asked gently.

 

“I wonder…would you ever want an engagement ring?”

 

“Hmmm, that would depend on who was offering.”

 

“If I should?”

 

“Then it would depend on the ring.”

 

“I want to offer you one, but before I do, I need to tell you something.”

 

“O-kay.”

 

Andrew cleared his throat.

 

“Well when I was a little lad, my Mam took me on a trip. We climbed this huge hill and all I heard were these loud noises, cries of pain and sorrow almost. The next thing I knew, I was falling down a hill. When I got to the bottom; my Mam picked me up, made sure I was okay, and then said: ‘This is our new home. People are going to seem strange here, pay it no mind and say nothing.’ So I didn’t.”

 

Rose sipped her Tea.

 

“Go on.”

 

“So we walked to this little town, maybe an hours walk from the stones. My Mam got a little Cottage and we lived there happily for a long time until she was accused of being a Witch. Then she ran with me…told me to ask for John Morrison…shoved me against these stones…found myself in a strange room…and then met Dr. John Morrison, my Father.”

 

Rose had not said anything, just sipped her Tea.

 

When he was done, silence filled the room, the only thing breaking it was the ticking of a Grandfather Clock from the hall.

 

Rose set down her cup and looked at him, an unreadable look on her face.

 

“Your Mother’s name, was it Laura?”

 

Andrew frowned. “Yes why?”

 

She didn’t answer, simply grabbed his hand, and drug him up the stairs to the second floor.

 

She took him to the end of the long hallway where dusty portraits sat on the wall.

 

“Give me a boost.” Rose ordered.

 

Andrew didn’t hesitate, he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted.

 

“I know you’re here somewhere, come on. Ah ha!”

 

She grabbed a portrait down, and when Andrew lowered her down, she shoved it in his face.

 

“Is this her?”

 

Andrew took a step back, blinking.

 

His Mother’s shy, sweet smile looked at him from the clearly antique painted portrait. In a brass name tag along the bottom of the picture was the name: Laura Ann Morrison.

 

Andrew nodded. “Y-Yes.”

 

“Come with me.”

 

She grabbed his arm and yanked him down the hallway to a door on the left, still holding the portrait.

 

Rose didn’t knock, or stand on ceremony. She simply opened the door and stomped in.

 

“Daddy, we have to talk.”

#my writing #outlander fanfic #the heart don't lie #chapter 78 #omgbarbiegurl and I's chapter #jamie and claire #outlander fandom #cannon divergence #modern au

[sollucets]

congratulations on your follower milestone!! You deserve it! I would love to also request something from the touch prompt list for aye and akk? 50. putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up screams Akk and aye to me..

hi nonny!! thank you very much for the prompt & ur well-wishes

this is set in-canon, specifically in the back half of episode 10 pre-protest. i think there's room to imagine a few extra days of secret boyfriends akkaye, and if there isn't, too bad, i want to. nearly 1k again bc it got out of hand

💜

The days between their first suspicions that the protest will be outside school and that weekend are tense. Very few people are acknowledging it out loud for fear of retribution; only in closed meetings and on social media does anyone dare to say anything at all is going on. Just another invisible threat to hang over all their heads. 

Akk leaves an after-school meeting with a frown on his face, stopping in an-abandoned-at-this-time hall outside the student affairs office to check over the hashtags. He’ll probably get away with being seen using his phone if he just says he’s doing his duty, but he doesn’t want to bet on it. 

So it’s understandable that he’s on edge enough to make an undignified shrieking noise when he's grabbed by the wrist and pulled around a corner into a smaller, connecting hallway. 

"Ayan," he hisses, because who else could it be?

Grinning, Aye runs a thumb over Akk’s pulse point before dropping his wrist in favor of leaning against the wall next to him, looking up through his eyelashes. He’s in his usual sweatshirt and somehow looks just as put-together as always despite it. “You know you’re not supposed to be using that, head prefect," he says, voice only slightly lowered in deference to their location. 

"What do you want," Akk demands in a whisper, checking back and forth down the hall. No one's here, but that doesn't mean anything; it may be after classes, but there are still staff and other students with late clubs around who might easily pass through here. He straightens his back nervously.

"To see my boyfriend," Aye says innocently.

That word still sounds so strange and precious coming out of his mouth. Akk rallies after a second. "You saw me in class multiple times today. Try again."

"To really see you," Aye amends, tilting his head coyly and reaching out to flip the hem of Akk's uniform jacket between his fingers. Something seems to shift in his face when he adds, "You look stressed, Bigfoot."

Akk's jaw clicks, and he sighs, leaning back against the wall too. The brick is uncomfortable even through the layers of his clothes, and he wants to reciprocate, to mess with Aye's hair or tell him the whole horrible truth or hold his hand, but the hall is only so empty for so long. "You always say that."

"You always look stressed. Can't I worry?"

He wishes he wouldn't. It's too much, sometimes, the guilt of it. "I'm fine, Aye."

Aye's dark eyes, always too-seeing, follow him as he shifts uncomfortably where he stands. “I don’t believe you,” he says quietly. 

Closing his eyes to get away from that look, Akk lets himself be honest: “I don’t expect you to.”

A hand brushes his for a second, warm and familiar, and then two hands take his face between them and squeeze. “Stop that,” Aye says as Akk’s eyes fly open and he jerks away. “You look like Singto when the treats run out.”

Akk has no idea what his expression is doing, but it must be hilarious, because Aye snickers unashamedly at him. "That's a better face."

Without much success, he tries to stop the corners of his mouth from curving up. He’s always at least a little out of control around Aye, honestly, and it should scare him even more than it already does, but— when Aye’s smile looks like that, all bright and teasing and blinding, what can he do? What could anyone expect him to do?

"And that's even better," says Aye, tone self-satisfied. "Show me that all the time, okay?"

"Shut up," Akk grumbles, the effect ruined by his obvious grin. He puts a hand up and actively pulls the corners of his mouth down.

"Don't think I will," Aye tells him, eyes sparkling. "The results are just so good. You're so cu--"

Akk takes the hand at his own face and slaps it over Aye's mouth, finally managing a proper glare. "Don't," he says pointedly. "I'm not."

Aye raises both eyebrows and wiggles them obnoxiously.

"You are very much the only person that thinks that," Akk tells him. He's surprised Aye hasn't licked his hand yet. "Most people actually take me seriously, you know. You could do that too. It wouldn't even be hard."

Aye says something muffled that sounds suspiciously like you don't want me to, and Akk rolls his eyes, laughing a little. "You're too full of yourself, really. You—"

Over Akk’s fingers, Aye's eyes go comically wide, and he shifts enough to slap his own hand over Akk's mouth just as the sounds of footsteps pass them in the connecting hallway, the murmur of a conversation identifying the people having it as teachers heading towards the offices.

Both of their hands over each other's mouths, their gazes lock for a long moment as the sounds fade away. Akk doesn't even breathe as Aye's fingers shift.

When it's quiet again, they both drop their hands, staring.

Then Aye cracks, his lips twitching, and Akk stifles a laugh of combined relief and sympathy with all his strength in turn, face scrunching up as he shakes his head. So stupid, and so close to being caught. He even still has his phone in his hand. He’s about to murmur something along those lines when his entire train of thought is derailed. 

Aye brings the hand he'd used to cover Akk’s to his own mouth and silently presses two fingers to it in a smiling kiss. When all Akk can do is stare, transfixed, he draws a little closer and whispers, “You can have a real one if you let me walk you to your dorm.”

Like I want that, Akk wants to say, to fend off the way they both know he does. He shakes his head, ruefully this time. “We shouldn’t leave at the same time,” he says very softly, an apology. “I’ll — see you later?” 

Aye’s smile goes a little plastic for a moment, pained, but he doesn’t push it. “I’ll call you. It’s a promise.”

#the eclipse #akkayan #my fic tag #arbitrary milestone prompts #(still taking those! i have lots of eclipse in my inbox lmao) #episode 10 my beloved #i write so much postcanon akkaye that i always forget just how much i'm. Love. this particular dynamic #couldnt get the hand over mouth —> finger kiss out of my head. :’) #also! akk pov is so beloved to me. he's so dumb #no baby. aye is not the only person who thinks you're cute

[simmeons]

while getting text for answering an ask i found a hidden vamp/priest short story/one shot that was actually.. pretty good! so, eat up my pookies

"What do ye do during the daytime anyways? I mean, other than sleep."

The vampire paused.

"I do not do much else."

"Okay, okay. What about during the night? What then?"

"Whatever comes to my mind first, I suppose."

I cross my arms and my legs, getting comfortable with the man sitting next to me. It's dark out, the both of us sitting alone in the church. I never understood why this vampire was so interested in this place, considering it's a holy place. But here he is, spending his precious night talking to me.

"That's not much of an answer." I frown.

"I answered you, did I not?"

"Aye, ye did. But can't ye be specific? I mean, do ye go out to parks or something? There's no way anyone would be out at a park during the night." The vampire is quiet for a moment before speaking up calmly.

"I have not considered that yet." His deep blue eyes look at me, his hands are placed politely on his lap. He's all pristine, sitting straight and hair all done neatly. He reminds me of a porcelain doll.

"Tell me how it goes when ye try it."

"I shall."

That answer makes me smile, the corners of my mouth curving slightly. I see how he doesn't smile, but his facial features seem to relax. He's never smiled, or shown a lot of emotion really. It was creepy before, but now I've come to appreciate it.

"Well? What do ye do then? If it's not going to parks, and whatnot." I'm not trying to force an answer out, but I can't deny the yearning to learn more about him.

The vampire looks away from me, and I can metaphorically hear the gears turning in his head. Everytime I ask him something he'll look away from me. I don't understand the meaning behind this odd little mannerism, but I don't mind. It's cute.

"Sometimes I will just "hang out" in the woods." The vampire turns to me as he speaks, doing air quotations while saying "hanging out". I know he doesn't completely understand human lingo, and it's sweet he's trying.

"Are there other vampires there to talk to?"

"I have not met another vampire in those woods, so no."

"Isn't that kinda lonely?"

He shakes his head. Well, if I was the only vampire in this town I'd be lonely. Who else can I talk to about my vampire problems?

I hear the slight chirping of birds, and I turn around. The sun is starting to rise, the animals of the village waking up.

"The sun is rising," I say aloud.

"I see that."

I turn back around and see the vampire standing up from his spot and I feel a sense of sadness.

"What do ye sleep during the day?" I blurt out, which makes the vampire rasie a eyebrow at me. "No- I mean, are ye safe? Do ye have a safe place to sleep from the sun?"

He hesitates. I can see it in his body stance, the way he seems a bit more defensive.

"I manage."

I've only known this vampire for 2 months, and I know I shouldn't be feeling this way over a creature of the night- but I feel worried. I'm worried if he is completely safe from the deadly sun, I'm worried if I won't get to talk to him tomorrow.

My eyes drift to the floor, looking at my boots. I want to help him, but is that too weird? Am I coming off too strong? Certainly not, I'm helping a friend! There's nothing wrong with that. Aside from how the church may feel about this..

"Ye can stay in my house today," I bring my eyes up from the floor to look at the vampire. I'm surprised to see his human arms are no longer there, but a huge pair of bat wings. You know what? Just don't question it, Monty. "If ye want to, that is."

The vampire places his "hands" on his hips, the bat wings bending slightly, little bat claws grip his clothed hips. I feel a sensation crawl up my neck like fear, but it's confusion. It stays there like a thought in the back of my head as the vampire looks at me, before it warms into something more of acceptance.

"I suppose I cannot deny your.. kind offer."

"Really?"

"Please do not make me repeat myself."

"Right, I apologize. I'm just surprised," My legs bend and move as I get up from the wooden bench, putting my hands together in front of myself like a polite priest. "I'm glad ye'r accepting nonetheless."

Now a new problem. Just how am I going to get him to my house?

We're both silent. I know he's waiting for me to speak, so I pull some words and thoughts together.

"Just how big are ye as a bat?" I've got a few ideas, but I really need his cooperation.

He blinks at me a few seconds before speaking. "About 3 inches."

3 inches?!

I would've thought such a tall and menacing vampire would be one of those big, large scary bats. Not something that could fit in your hand.

"Uhm.. well," I pull through my small bout of shock to pull back a flap of my priestly uniform. "Ye can hide here. I don't trust just holding ye in my hand. Light could still seep through."

"I appreciate your thorough concern." I nod, holding out my hand. The instructions are clear. I stare for a moment, but he's not doing anything.

"Are ye going to transform or..?"

He frowns. "I was hoping you'd look away."

Oh. I didn't consider transforming to be embarrassing to a vampire.

"Right, I apologize." I turn my head and close my eyes, but I keep my hand out. It's all quiet for a moment or two, and then I feel it.

There's a small amount of weight on my hand, and it's furry.

Opening my eyes I look down and see a small bat looking up at me. It's possibly the cutest thing I have laid eyes on, the small claws wrapped around my fingers for support. Its little eyes are staring up at me, ears swiveling around and listening.

I can't fight the urge to bring my other hand up, pointer finger out, brushing the soft back of the animal.

It's incredible. Rough fur, but it's pleasant all the same. The tiny bat makes a small noise though, and I see that as a snarky remark from the vampire. I should've asked his permission to pet him, but he's too adorable like this.

"Sorry, ye'r just too cute." I whisper sweetly, but the bat doesn't seem very impressed, if they can even look impressed. It makes the same noise and clings to my hand, moving down it slightly. "Ah-ah, I got it."

I bring my hand up to my chest, pulling the flap back again. The little bat crawls off my hand and onto my clothing, little claws digging into the fabric. The little nails dig somewhat into my skin, but it's too much of a small pain to be angry about. I let the flap go, and the bat is covered up.

"Hang on tight, laddie." I get a teeny muffled squeak back.

I make sure to not walk too fast out of the church, making sure to lock the doors behind me. Thankfully my house isn't too far from the church, Father John made sure his students' needs were met and what not. The sky is a deep purple, orange and pink, truly beautiful. I feel bad that the vampire doesn't get to see the Earth's beauty such as a sunrise. I'll be sure to find a way.

I tried to keep a small conversation with the tiny bat, even if it was one-sided. I told him about how pretty it was outside, thinking maybe it would help the walk be less boring.

"Lots of warm colors. Sunrises are always very pretty." I spoke softly, keeping a hand on the front of my chest to make sure the flaps of my uniform don't open and harm the bat. "I'm sure one day I'll get ye to see it."

I could've been imagining things, but I swear I felt the bat snuggle closer against my body. It makes me feel.. warm, happy, all inside my body. It feels good.

—--

I fumble with my keys slightly before opening the door. The door creaks slightly. I need to fix those hinges.

"Alright, we're home." Tossing my keys on a table next to the door I close it behind myself. I don't get a peep from the bat.

I open my flap to see if it's okay, the lack of response a little worrying. But, I'm relieved to see the small creature's eyes closed, face pressed into my shirt.

I waste no time getting to my bedroom, the only one in the house. Closing the blinds and shutting off any lights in the room I sit down on my bed. The bat needs to get off me, but I'll feel horrible to wake it up.

My hand goes to the small bat, touching it again. Still soft.

"Hey, I need ye to wake up." I pet it again, feeling the small furry cheeks. That does it, the little creature opens its eyes, turning to look at me. "C'mere."

It listens, moving to my hand. I move my hand to my pillow. The small bat crawls off my hand onto my pillow, getting situated again.

"That's better," I sigh and smile. I grab a blanket and lay it out on the bed, tugging it slightly up to gently cover the bat up. It seems scared or confused of the blanket, squeaking at me and moving away. "Hey, it's okay. It'll keep ye warm."

It stops trying to get away, beady eyes looking up at me. I pull the blanket over the small thing, covering its body.

I'm relieved to see as it seems to relax, little hands adjusting to hold onto the pillow more, closer to its body like it's getting comfortable. After a few seconds, it's eyes close, ears twitching a little more before they still.

I can't help but smile, and I have to bite my hand to repress a loud squeal fighting in the back of my throat. I didn't know how the vampire could be any cuter, but seeing him as a little bat tucked in on my pillow is definitely one way.

#not proof reading this so hate past me for it

[lisutarid-a]

[Gakuen K] Yatogami Kuroh Route Translation

Self-training

LIST OF CHAPTERS

[Translation under the cut]

Neko: Ya-ay! Wagahai out of two!

Saya: I lost again…

Shiro: Haha. You're not very good at playing cards.

Saya: Uhm, maybe you're right. I wasn't aware of it until now…

Saya: It's so frustrating. Do you have any tips for playing cards?

Shiro: It depends on the content, but of course, each has its own tips.

Shiro: For example, in the case of Old maid. You have a "habit" of not changing your expression.

Shiro: I think it's because you don't want others to realize the cards in your hand, so you're concentrating too much on facial expression and very careless with your hand.

Saya: Hand?

Shiro: When your opponent focuses his attention on the Joker, your pinky moves slightly. Once they notice that, anyone can beat you.

Saya: Anyone…

Shiro: Neko-chan knew that too?

Neko: Nah, I didn't. Wagahai intuited.

Shiro: I guess Neko is sensitive to people's emotions. I wonder is she somehow know which one you don't want to take.

Saya: Ahaha…I don't think I'll ever beat you two.

Saya: …Oh no, it's this late already. I'm going home. What about you, Neko-chan?

Neko: Wagahai still playing cards!

Shiro: That's what she said. Be careful on your way home.

Saya: Uhm, see you tomorrow!

Saya: (Club activities are fun, but I have to think about my ability, too…)

Saya: (It's a special school, maybe there are books about abilities in the library)

Saya: Huh, that one over there...

Kuroh: …

Saya: (Kuro-kun…)

Saya: (Kuro-kun didn't come to club activities because he wanted to prartice in sword swinging?)

Kuroh: …

Saya: (He looks so serious…He seems to be very focused)

Saya: (It would be bad to interrupt him. I gotta go…)

Saya: …!

Saya: O-ouch…

Kuro: Who is it?

Kuroh: You. You're still in the school?

Saya: I'm just on my way home right now. But I fell down…

Kuroh: You fell over on such a flat surface…? All right, give me a hand. Can you stand up?

Saya: Uhm. Thanks, I'm sorry.

Saya: You didn't participate in club activities today because you wanted to do some sword swinging?

Kuroh: That's right. When I go to club activities every day, I can't do self-training at all.

Kuroh: Fortunately, participation in club activities is not mandatory. Sometimes I train like this.

Saya: Training…Is Kuro-kun's ability related to the sword?

Kuroh: No, this is a physical and mental training, it's not directly related to ability.

Saya: I see…It's not related to your ability…

Kuroh: Are you worrying about your ability again?

Saya: Uhm…Kuro-kun told me there's no need to rush, so I thought I'd take my time and think about it.

Saya: I don't know when and what will happen. I'm still scared.

Kuroh: …You are more confused and worried about your ability than I thought.

Kuroh: What do you think of Shiro?

Saya: Hmmm. I think he's a kind guy, but there are still many things about him I don't understand.

Kuroh: Yeah, he's a lazy, sloppy guy who you often can't tell what he's thinking about, but…

Saya: (T-that's not what I said…)

Kuroh: He has a good eye for people.

Kuroh: Perhaps he invited you to join the Silver club because he thought you could take that power in the right direction.

Kuroh: … I don't know if that's grounds for saying "Don't worry".

Kuroh: … I and Shiro both believe that you can master that power. So you, too, must believe in yourself.

Kuroh: Winter will eventually turn to spring, and night will eventually turn to morning. Flowers will one day sprout and bloom. Everything needs the passage of time.

Kuroh: There is no need to rush. Spend each day in good health and a desirable future will surely come to you.

Saya: Kuro-kun…

Kuroh: Oh, that's bad. Is it that late already? The supermarket's time sale is about to start.

Saya: Eh…Kuro-kun, are you going to the supermarket?

Kuroh: Uhm. Cause I'm cooking for myself. Well then, if you'll excuse me.

Saya: Ah, wait. I'm coming with you! I want to buy supper.

Kuroh: Well, then, let's hurry up. Today is a special sale day for root vegetables! Ready meals and such should be cheaper too!

Saya: Ah, Kuro-kun! Wait for me!

[Prev chapter][Next chapter]

#k project #gakuen k #gakuen k wonderful school days #otome translation #yatogami kuroh #isana yashiro #neko

[doublel27]

let me be the one at day's end - T - 4.9K

TK/Carlos, Carlos & Andrea - 3x14 Coda/Deleted Scene, mother-son relationships, emotional hurt/comfort, mentions of gun violence, anxious/worried carlos, established tarlos

How Carlos finds out about the shooting incident and the aftermath that follows.

Read on AO3

As far as summer days in Austin go, today is fairly close to perfect. The heat is holding steady at 95F with a decent humidity. It’s actually nice enough to be out at the farmer’s market. He was off his shift early enough to pick up his mom and head over to get some supplies for dinner.

Carlos sighs as his mother goes another round with the vendor over the price. “Ma, do you want the jicama or not?”

His mom tsks loudly and spears him with a look. “I’m just saying it’s highway robbery.”

“What are you gonna do? Report them to Dad?” Carlos asks her, amused.  

His mother sends him her sweetest smile, the fake one, that’s beyond dangerous. “Why when I have a cop right here?”

The vendor’s eyes go wide and Carlos’s hisses, “Mama, stop.” 

As proud of his job as he is, Carlos understands that for many people cops are a dangerous gambit. Especially people who look like his family and that of the vendor. Carlos hands over the cash and the jicama ends up in the bag with the other vegetables. “Thank you.”

As they move on, his mother weaves her arm through his, just like she would have done with his father. 

“She could have gone lower.”

Carlos shakes his head with a laugh. “You got them for half-price, Ma.”

“The art of negotiation is lost on people these days.”

Carlos hums and pats her hand as they make their way through the market. They hit a few more vendors and his mother manages a few more discounts as she stocks up on microgreens his father will just complain about and yams. In the end, they’ve both collected enough for their respective dinners tonight and the rest of the week. Carlos pauses at the edge of the parking lot to fix the produce. He kneels to begin the reorganization.

“Thank you for being willing to take your old mama out to go shopping.”

Carlos looks up at her from where he’s rearranging the various produce items in the bags so nothing gets crushed. “You’re not old, Mama.”

Her hand runs over his hair as he bends again to finish making sure the microgreens are at the very top.  “My baby is twenty-eight. I used to think I was very grown up at twenty-eight.”

“You were married and had Rosa and Lourdes,” Carlos says, invoking the names of his oldest sisters. He stands, lifting the bags again. He grins at his mother, very glad neither of them are anywhere near the farmers market. “I mean, they’re enough to make anyone feel old.”

She laughs, a warm and rich sound, and Carlos is greeted with a soft elbow in the side as she weaves her arm through his again. “Aye, that’s my line. So, how are things going?”

“Good,” Carlos answers, quick and reflexively.

His mother sighs deeply and brings her free hand to her forehead. “Dios mio, you’re just like your father.” 

Her tongue clicks softly. “How is TK?”

Continue on AO3

#tarlos fic #911 ls fic #911 lone star fic #tarlos #carlos reyes #tk strand #andrea reyes #tk/carlos #carlos & andrea #doublel27 writes #911 lone star #episode coda #911 lone star 3x14 #911VerseFic #tuserlaney

[swiftyangx12]

Sniper Training [Valorant SNL Parody #4]

[Synopsis]: Gekko & [A/N] get sniper training by an instructor who may have a little problem.

[Gender Neutral Agent!Reader]

[A/N] = Agent’s name/Call Sign

[TW]: Some cursing.

[Valorant HQ, Shooting Range, 10:30 a.m.]

Instructor: Aright, you newbies! You trained ten weeks for this moment. You want to be great agents?

Gekko & [A/N]: Yes, sir!

Instructor: You think you got what it takes?

Gekko & [A/N]: Yes, sir!

Instructor: Now hear this. You do not fire your weapon, until you hear me give the exact order. Human life is at stake, and you need to be 100% certain before you pulled that trigger. Hundred percent, is that clear?

Gekko & [A/N]: Yes, sir!

Instructor: Locked and loaded!

Gekko & [A/N]: Locked and loaded, sir!

Instructor: Do you have a lock?

Gekko & [A/N]: Yes, sir!

Instructor: Are you loaded?

Gekko & [A/N]: Yes, sir!

Instructor: Then, “tee da shaaa!!!”

Gekko & [A/N]: *Looks up from their scopes and at the instructor* *Both bewildered*

[A/N]: Excuse me, sir?

Instructor: “Tee da shaaa!!!”

Gekko: What?

Instructor: Stand down, both of you. *Rolls over to Gekko’s side*

Gekko: ¡Ay!

Instructor: *Hovers over Gekko* Where are you from, agent?

Gekko: Los Angeles, California, sir.

Instructor: L.A. native.

Gekko: Uh-huh.

Instructor: Well, you better show me what you got, and “tee da shaaa!!!”

Gekko: Excuse me?

Instructor: *Moves closer to Gekko’s face* “Tee da shaa…”

Gekko: I’m sorry, sir. Can you make that order clear? I wanna be sure I’m hearing you right.

Instructor: Then stand down. *Rolls over to [A/N]’s side and hovers over them* What about you, agent? You want to be a great agent?

[A/N]: Yes, I want to protect my home world, sir!

Instructor: You ever sit alone in the dark and let your mind take control of your soul and try to play god?

[A/N]: *Confused by the whole ordeal* I’m sorry?

Instructor: Yes or no, agent?! Are you god? I’ll give you a hint. You are.

[A/N]: Uhh okay.

Instructor: Now, agent! *Leans closer* “Tee da shaaa…”

[A/N]: Excuse me?

Instructor: Oh. I’m sorry. Do-you-need-me-to-enunciate?

[A/N]: Yes I do, sir.

Instructor: “TAE. DA. SHA!” “TAE. DA. SHAAA!!!

Gekko: We can’t understand your order, sir.

Instructor: *Rolls back to Gekko* What the hell did you say to me?!

Gekko: Nothing, sir!

Instructor: But it sounds like you said something.

Gekko: No, sir!

Instructor: Alright, but don’t move. I got to use the John. *Rolls out of scene*

Gekko: *Looks at the instructor and back at [A/N]* He sayin’ “take the shot”, right?

[A/N]: I don’t know. Why is he saying it like that?

Gekko: No idea. It has got to be a test of some sort.

Instructor: *Rolls back in scene*

Gekko: Oh!

Instructor: *Hovers over Gekko again* False alarm! I didn’t have to go. I’m just lying on my bladder weird. What did I miss? Did anyone “tee da shaaa…”?

Gekko: No, sir.

Instructor: Locked and loaded!

Gekko & [A/N]: Locked and loaded, sir!

Instructor: Alright!

Gekko: What?

Instructor: *Hovers over Gekko and rolls over back to [A/N]* *Lies next to them* Alright, agent. Now, I’m just gonna put my hand on the small of your back.

[A/N]: *Feeling uncomfortable* Get your hand off of me before I rip it off.

Instructor: *Retracts his hand back* You know what you can do.

[A/N]: *Getting irritated* What’s that, sir?

Instructor: “Tee da shaaa!!!”

[A/N]: Are you telling me to take the shot?!

Instructor: I’m telling to “tee da shaaa!!!” Now, hold your fire and “tee da shaaa!!!”

[A/N]: Oh my god! Should I hold my fire or take the shot?!!

Instructor: Hold your fire and “tee da shaaa!!!”

[A/N]: What the hell?! This is messed up!

Instructor: Then stand down! *Rolls back to Gekko* Locked and loaded!

Gekko: Locked and loaded, sir!

Instructor: Good. God, you must be addicted. *Hovers over Gekko more* Of doing squats.

[A/N]: Get the fuck off of him!

Instructor: *Moves back in his original place* Locked and loaded!

Gekko: Okay.

Instructor: Enemy target is 70 meters.

Gekko: I got a lock.

Instructor: Do you?

Gekko: Yes, sir.

Instructor: Are you sure?

Gekko: Yes, sir!

Instructor: Then “tee da shaaa”, but hold your fire!

Gekko: *Mildly irritated* Are you tellin’ me to take the shot, sir?

Instructor: What part of “hold your fire” and “tee da shaaa” don’t you understand, boy?

Gekko: All of it, sir!

Instructor: Just take the damn shot, agent! Hold your fire and “tee da shaaa”!

Gekko: I should take the shot?

Instructor: “Tee da shaaa”! Hold your fire! “Tee da shaaa”!

Gekko: I’m taking the shot!

Instructor: “TEE DA SHAAA!”

[BANG!]

Phoenix: OW! Who the hell shot me?!

Instructor: Oops.

Gekko: *Now angry* Oops? You told me to take the shot!

Instructor: No I didn’t. I told you to “tae da sha” and it’s been a slang for “stand down.”

[A/N]: But you also said “stand down.”

Instructor: Yeah, I’m inconsistent.

Gekko: WHAT?! What the hell is “hold your fire”?

Instructor: I don’t know. It’s some voodoo chant I learned in Honduras.

Gekko: WHAT?!

Instructor: Now gets “gwo o’ here”! *Rolls out of scene*

Gekko: *Looks at [A/N]* What?

[A/N]: I’m reporting this to Brimstone for having an incompetent idiot as our sniper instructor.

[Reblogs help creators and creates for more content]

[Tagged]: @hhurric4ne @radianights @l0serloki @mrssabinecallas @theladyheroine

#Youtube #Valorant #Valorant Gekko #Gekko #Mateo Armendáriz de la Fuente #Valorant Scenarios #Valorant x reader

[theyungihven]

Love is friendship • wooyoung

pairing : wooyoung (rahul) x reader (anjali) word count: 1.6k+ genre: friends to lovers, fluff synopsis : being bestfriends with the college's heartthrob is all fun until the principal's daughter arrives from London and his attention is devoted to her based on kuch kuch hota hai

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taglist : @riboism @fireheaurt @xddjoong @seongwin @fictionlover100 @davoraciousreader

Being best friends with the college heartthrob added more responsibilities on your list for college survival, and the most important one is helping him not get into trouble. That might be the hardest, but dealing with his flirty playboy ass is the impossible, alongside saving that boy from writing his exams again each semester. 

Not to mention the amount of girls you swept right off his hands by knocking some sense into them is amazing but they still go back to him. In conclusion, you don't get paid enough to deal with him and it is definitely not what you were expecting from uni life.

You glance at your wrist, it’s a quarter past nine but he’s not here yet when you decided on meeting up sharp nine in the morning. Giving up on your lazy best friend, you start your warm-up by stretching but it is interrupted by a rather unexpected presence.

The metal door slams open, echoing in the empty basketball court as it startles you, and there he stands, under the door frame with the duffle bag slug across his shoulders. His raven hair is parted as usual, slick with gel as they fall over his eyes, and his face sports the cheesy grin which you hate the most. Presenting your best friend, Jung Wooyoung; the campus flirt who never got laid. 

“You’re late again” you call him out, resting your hands on your waists as you complain while he walks in, fingers trailing along his raven hair. This isn’t a new scene, and you’ve got used to it by now.  He walks in late every day, then throws a tantrum and ends up losing the game after promising not to, followed by him sulking for 10 mins before flirting with girls around the campus. Welcome to your oh so easy daily life!  

“You know, not everyone can wake up early.” There he goes again with his numerous excuse. Will he ever run out of them? I don't think so! Placing his bag by the bleachers and sweeping his fingers through his long locks, he flashes his not-so0 adorable grin at you. As if it’ll work on you-oh wait- it does?

“You can’t wake up early, or were you scared?” Tearing your mind apart from your not-so-possible fantasies, you question him as you pick up the basketball and start dribbling it. What’s with wrong with your heart today? It's acting so weird. Stay in your place dear heart for fuck's sake please.

“Aye, you know, Jung Woo young doesn’t fear anyone.” he replies arrogantly, as always, and you swear you’ve heard the line slip off his lips a hundredth time now. It does nothing but flare up your anger. Woo and his infamous attitude, which other girls love but you never did and never will, not in this lifetime. Or… NAH, don't even think about it.

“Woo young doesn’t fear anyone” you mock him by copying his cocky tone, practising your hoops as you throw the ball into the basket.  “But loses to his best friend every day” In it goes and you flash him his cheesy grin back. All he does is chuckles at you. Are you a joke to him? 

“Using me as an excuse to skip practice today?” he says lowly as he grabs the other ball and dribbles it around the court. His eyes stay on your figure, devoid of any emotion. It is hard to read him, understand his intentions, and it just frustrates you further. 

“What the use, anyway? You lose every day.” you sigh, eyes prying on him as he passes you the ball.

 “I won't lose today” he says, titling his head to the other side. He knows that he’ll lose again. But there’s a glint of mischief in his eyes which raises your suspicions, what exactly is he up to today?

“You say that every day” 

“We’ll see” Then it begins, a 10-minute game of who scores the most which you almost win but Woo young bags your win by pushing you aside in the last round. Bastard.  

“If you can’t play, at least don’t cheat.” you whine as you get up from the floor and throw the ball in his direction, which he luckily dodges.

“Aye, don’t call me a cheater, okay.” he says as sweat drips down his forehead while he checks his handsome face for any injuries.

“That’s what you are, cheater, cheater cheater” you shout at the top of your lungs as anger gets the best of you and your voice echoes between the walls of the basketball court. He seems pissed with your behaviour as his eyebrows arch but he’s the cause of it all.

“Don't call me a cheater” he mumbles, picking up a towel from his duffle bag and wiping off the sweat dripping down his face.

“At least I’m not like those girls who stick to you all day.” you say and he turns around only to slip off his shirt in your face. Not wanting to create any misunderstanding, you turn to the other side and he giggles at your actions.

“I don't like jokes” he mutters lowly under his breath but you catch his words.

“I don’t like you” you say as your romantic feelings get the best of you, heating up your face. You bid your goodbyes, rushing out and not even grabbing your belongings. 

As if this day couldn’t get any worse, why does it have to be friendship day today? You curse under breathe as you curl up your fists and walks towards today’s first class. “You know, I’m the first girl that Woo young gave this friendship band.” you hear a girl whispering and you swore you’ve heard others say the same thing around campus. How can they be so dumb?

“You know, you’re the first girl I’m giving this friendship band” You hear his familiar voice and upon turning around, you see him tying a friendship band on the girl’s wrist. Flirt.  “Oh wooyu” the girl coos at his sweet words and you couldn't help but gag at the scene. Picking out the bands dangling from his back pocket, you flash them in front of the girl’s face and he sighs 

“Wooyu~” you call him in the sweet tone the girl had just used.  

“You don’t have to fucking ruin everything!”

“You cheat, you liar” the girl leaves the scene upset over whom, the campus flirt? God-

“When will you leave these poor girls alone?” you ask him, leaning against the staircase.

“I just have fun with them because I didn’t meet ‘her’ yet.” he says nonchalantly while pretending to think something. You follow him when he stands up straight and starts walking towards class.

“Who’s her?” you ask him as curiosity arises in your mind. Honestly, you’ve never known his type.

“When you see her, something happens…”

“What happens?”

“Something happens in your heart”

“What actually happens?” at this point, you were ready to smack him with your bag because you’ve walked downstairs into the hall and he still hasn’t introduced you to the woman of his dreams.

“Kuch kuch hota hai (something happens), you wouldn’t understand.” You smack him with the textbook in your hand, and he winces at the pain. “Hear me out. When she walks, everyone’s eyes are hooked onto her and when she stops, time freezes” the typical woman of everyone’s dreams. Nothing different…. 

“Her, her, her, what will you do if you finally meet her?” you stand in front and ask him but you sight someone behind him. The dean’s daughter. 

“I’ll bow and spread my arms in front of her and say ‘hey whoever you are, I love you’” Woo young says as he acts out the whole because one melodramatic dude and crashes into the dean's daughter. He glances up at her, but his eyes stay on her, not shaking an inch, and you start to panic.  “I love you” he says lowly, in the tone he used on you earlier this morning.

“Sorry” she is taken aback by his sudden confession as stays frozen in her stop. You know that means? Y/n to the rescue, to save the dean’s daughter and your best friend’s image.

“Don't be, I love you” he replies, as he stirs around her with dreamy eyes. Did this boy fall in love with someone her met not more than a minute ago? Is it love at first sight? Wait, is that even true?

“Excuse me” 

“Tinaaaa” you drag the poor girl away to save her but Woo young follows you both… and he does for the entire year.

The first class of the day has your anger flaring up right through your head as woo young lets Tina take your seat behind him in English class.

“So class, today we will be reading the infamous work of William Shakespeare, Romeo, and Juliet, based on two lovers. Can someone explain what is love? Wooyoung, why do you try?” says Mrs. Briganza, your English professor as she flips through his course material. 

“Love, love, is friendship.” Woo young trails upon his words. When you hear them, your mind trails along memories as your heartbeat fastens. Felling sick at your emotions piling up, you excuse yourself from the class and return to your room. All along you had been in love with your best friend and you didn’t even realize. You’re the actual fool in all of this mess. Well, who doesn’t fall for a flirt? You did too, there's no escaping from it. 

The following days you’re deprived of his attention which he gives to Tina, it burns you with jealousy. Can’t things be like they were before? You’ve tried everything to get his attention, dress up more feminine like Tina, wear makeup like Tina, yet he doesn't even bat an eyelash at you. The rumour about him sneaking into her bedroom to profuse his love for her was enough to break down in tears. You couldn’t stand another minute with her cuz he’d always bring along her, whom you despise the most.

One thing led to another, and now you were boarding the train to your hometown in the middle of your final year at college. There was no other alternative, you couldn’t stand your best friend and his lover for another 6 months without choking up in tears. “Y/n, please don’t go.” those are the last words you hear as your train departs. Woo young, he never cared. He threw a tantrum again, as always.

#jung wooyoung #kflixnet #wooyoung smut #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #atz #mingi #choi san #yeosang #wooyoung #jongho #seonghwa

[happy-emmdings]

Sins of Our Father

on AO3

Tags: gen, half-siblings, patricide, implied/referenced child abuse, redemption arc

Summary: Killian pays a visit to his younger half-brother the day after the Nautilus incident in hopes to affirm their reconciliation. Liam demands answers and Killian reveals more than Liam ever imagined he would learn about his father's past.

Set the following day after episode 6x06 (Dark Waters)

Word count: 2 128

Author’s note: I felt like these two needed to talk🤷‍♀️

Killian knocked on the door and took a deep breath as he waited to be invited in by the voice of his brother, whose face still didn't match his name in Killian's head. He was a little concerned when he found him still in the hospital. As if he hadn't hurt the poor lad enough, he managed to knock the lights out of him just after he swore not to fight him. But he hoped the sharp edge of a knife pressed against his throat counted as an extenuating circumstance. Enough blood has been shed between the Joneses. Maybe he could find a way to mend some wounds for a change. He still felt like he owed the young man an apology. Deep in the darkest corner of his heart, he still believed he had killed a man that could never really love anyone, no matter what comforting lies he poured into his son's ears. But that didn't change the fact that he had made an innocent boy an orphan and once again, a boy named Liam Jones had to pay for his father's sins. He kept asking himself if it made him worse than the man, he spent his whole youth despising.

"Come in," an impassive voice invited him to enter.

"Hello, brother," he tried to smile at the man sitting in a chair by the window. Liam gave him a fleeting glance and turned his eyes back to Nemo, who was sleeping in a hospital bed next to him.

"Hello," Liam responded with only a hint of coldness.

"I... came by to see how you were doing. I didn't hit you that hard, did I?" Killian raised an eyebrow.

The mood in the room was murkier and heavier than he expected. Something told him there was still a long road to travel from sparing someone's life to accepting them as a brother.

Liam snorted. "I'm fine. I'm staying here with Nemo until he gets well."

"Right."

"Do you... want to sit?" Liam frowned at him, as he was just standing there, unsure of how welcomed he was.

"Aye," he cleared his throat and settled in a seat next to him.

"So..."

"How are you doing?" he attempted to initiate a friendly conversation. Suddenly, he had no idea what he was going to say to him. And the distant, cold attitude wasn't making it any easier.

"I already said I was fine," Liam said flatly.

"Aye, you did. Sorry."

He wanted to get to know him. But when he looked at him all he saw was a stranger that has only now decided to let him live. He tried to call him Liam in his head, but the dissonance between the name and those scornful eyes and cold voice made his head hurt. It was all his fault, he knew. He deserved every speck of that disdain for ruining this lad's life. Apparently, it was a curse to be his father's son.

"What do you think about Storybrooke? Curious place, huh?" he tried again.

"Here's what I don't understand..." Liam turned to him with a flickering hint of bottled anger and it didn't seem like he was going to ask him about the world without magic. "Pirate or not, how could you have done that? He was your father just as much as mine. How could you have killed your own father?"

Killian's heart tripped and picked up its pace as if it wanted to run away from that question. He looked down at his hand and hook in his lap. Suddenly, they felt numb and heavy as if they were both made of metal.

He remembered his hand thrusting the knife in his father's side in a mockery of an embrace, a fitting way for them to part ways. He remembered his father's hand reaching for him as he sank to his knees. He remembered recoiling from it as if that hand's touch was poison and dirt. He remembered his father's face as he used his last words to try to raise a son he had irrevocably given up so long ago. The audacity. He had looked away from those glassy eyes thinking those are crocodile tears.

"I killed the man that sold me for half of a boat," he answered quietly. His throat has become rough from trying to swallow down all the pain the memory of his father dragged behind itself like a ball on a chain. Wetness blurred the edges of his vision.

A strange silence fell between them. Killian glanced up at his half-brother to meet his narrowed, perplexed eyes.

"Sold you?" Liam repeated as if he thought he heard him wrong. He shook his head like it made no sense to him and stared at Killian like he was lying. Like he was spinning some crazy tale.

"Wh- what... What would one do with a half of a boat?"

"Nothing," Killian scoffed wryly, "that's why he paid with two sons. Did you know? That you were named after him?"

"Who?" The lad's confused frown deepened.

"Liam. My older brother," Killian explained.

"I was named... after an older half-brother I didn't know I had?" he raised his eyebrows as he tried to process the new information. Then a quiet question flickered in his eyes. "Is he-"

"In a better place," Killian said firmly. He hoped the melancholy in his voice wasn't as audible as it felt. At least now he knew for certain that it was true, he told himself. At least he got to say goodbye. Now that he had witnessed Liam reaching well-deserved eternal bliss, he could stop missing him. He sighed. He wished they had phonebooths in Elysium too.

"Damn, he got so little of life," he whispered to himself.

Liam took a moment to absorb that and then he shook his head again, as if trying to clear his confusion.

"I still don't understand," he said. "How could he sell you?"

"I wonder to this day," Killian remarked with an old, weary bitterness.

Liam continued to stare at him and he realized the nature of the question was a little different that he thought.

"Oh, you mean the specifics?" he lifted his eyebrows.

Whatever glorified illusions about his late father this Liam had, were fated to clash irreconcilably with the story Killian was about to relay to him. He felt like he was back on that ship the night when a storm raged around them and put all the lanterns out, the night his childhood and his innocence were sold for such a lousy price. He had to tell yet another brother that their father was the kind of man that would sell his children and never look back.

He kept it short and simple. There was no need to describe the depths of despair the little boy he once was had touched that night. And yet, it poured out in the tone of his voice like a flood as he recounted the events of that fateful night.

He made sure to praise his older brother and give him credit for never leaving his side, even when he could have. He admitted that he probably wouldn't have survived long without him. That he probably wouldn't have had a reason to.

To not end the story on such a depressing note, he added that thanks to Liam, they eventually managed to seize their stolen freedom, though he omitted the part about deals with the devil.

When he was done, there was something disturbed and broken about the way his younger brother looked at him.

"But how... what..." Liam fumbled. "There must have been some kind of a mistake..."

At those words, Killian frowned at him perhaps a little too harshly. He had spent so long trying to believe just that as a little boy. Though he knew it was just disbelief, it felt like salt in the wound.

"I'm sorry," Liam shook his head. "I just can't believe he did that. My father... Was he... was he going to leave me behind? That night when he said we were going away?"

"He said he wouldn't," Killian conceded. "I'd sooner believe the devil's word than his. He told me I should be a better man. I- I just- I couldn't... Your name... I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Now I feel like I didn't know him at all," was all Liam said.

Killian put his head in his hand and closed his eyes.

"I'm sorry." It came out as a broken whisper.

"Why did he name me after a son he abandoned?" Liam asked, his voice strangely hollow.

Killian had asked the same question back then.

"He said it was to honour him," he muttered. For the lad's sake, he tried to keep scorn out of his tone.

"However flawed father's idea of honour and making up was," he added to offer some consolation, "it is a good name. You can bear it with pride. You were named after an honourable man. A true hero at heart. I wish you could have met him."

"I wish so too," Liam nodded. "Tell me more about him," he added softly.

Killian smiled. That he could do. With his words and memories, he painted a vivid picture of the noble, loyal, caring man that had been his light in the darkest days of his wasted youth. He spoke of a loving brother, a good captain and a tragic hero. In his reminiscing, his late brother's presence filled the room like the sun's warm light breaking through water surface. A heavenly light from another world. The younger Liam listened to him intently, yet Killian felt like he couldn't quite convey what his older brother meant to him through words. Every tale fell short of what he felt when he told it. Perhaps that love couldn't be explained. Perhaps it was for him and him only to keep and treasure in his old heart, a hall of fame for the lost heroes he had known.

"I don't know why I imagined you so heartless," Liam said quietly after a brief (this time more comfortable) silence that followed Killian's reminiscing. "You speak of your brother like he was a saint."

"He wasn't but... he came close," Killian smiled.

Liam shook his head in amusement. He examined him with thoughtful eyes again. Killian could feel the icebergs around the young man's heart starting to thaw.

"So... you have a son now?" Liam asked.

"Sort of. Almost. I hope," he said, looking down with a quiet chuckle. "I am not sure what I am to him right now, but he is a son to me."

"You'll have to elaborate on that."

"I hope to be his stepfather one day," he explained. "He's the son of the woman I love."

"So, you did find a family in the end."

"I did."

"I'm glad. It's what Nemo wanted for you and... I want it for you too."

"Does that mean..." Killian looked up at him hesitantly. "Can you forgive me?"

"I think I can, Killian," Liam sighed. "I surely don't want to kill you anymore," he said with a smirk.

"I'm sorry I made you pay the price of my grudges," Killian apologized sincerely. "I want to break that cursed cycle. Vengeance makes grand promises but in the end it leaves you drained and still broken and wishing you had dug a grave for yourself as well."

"Do you regret it? Killing our father?" Liam asked quietly.

"I do," Killian said and it was the truth. Despite all the scars in which his father's betrayal remained scrawled on his skin, despite all the sleepless nights and hopeless days... he found deep regret in his heart for what he had done. In the end, wounds could never be healed by creating more wounds. It took him way too long to learn that... to accept that.

Liam nodded. It wasn't going to give him back the lonely, lost years he had spent drowning in spite, but hopefully it was enough to help him find peace. However, coming to terms with his father's appalling past was something new to struggle with.

"I want to break the cycle too," he said.

Killian put his hand on his brother's arm in a gesture of gratefulness. Something quiet and promising passed between them, an acknowledgement of truce.

A few moments later, Killian stood up.

"Tell Nemo I said hello."

"I will," Liam nodded. The name still didn't quite fit. But at least it didn't hurt as much anymore.

"Take care... brother," Liam murmured when Killian opened the door. He glanced back.

"You too."

He wasn't quite sure whether he imagined it or not, but he thought he caught a glimpse of a smile on Nemo's sleeping face.

#ouat fanfic #killian jones #brennan jones #liam jones #liam jones 2.0 #the jones family #once upon a time #ouat 6x06 #nya writes