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soaps-mohawk · 2 months

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 15: Bonnie

Summary: Your heat is over and your pack has moved on with their lives, settling back into the familiar routine. Except, some things have begun to change, and you're not entirely sure if its for the better.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7456 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, oral, handjobs, overstimulation, P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, switch Johnny, Johnny's lingerie kink, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, mention of nightmares, brief talk about killing and violence, insomnia, fluff, and of course a bit of angst

A/N: This chapter was an absolute bitch to write. I'm not kidding this was a nightmare. I'm happy with the changes I've made though, and how things are progressing. We've made a little bit of a time jump here, but not much. I think I'm getting sick so, posting the chapter before I inevitably pass out again. Oh, and Happy Easter everyone that celebrates.

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

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Your eyes fly open as the alarm blares. They burn as you squint against the bright phone light. An arm reaches over you, the warm skin sliding against your back as he fumbles to turn off the offending noise.

You let out a quiet groan as you catch the numbers dictating the time on the screen before the phone is placed back on the nightstand. “‘S too early.” You grumble, rubbing at your crusty eyes.

“Go back to sleep.” John murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before he shifts, climbing over you to get out of the bed. He tucks the blankets back around you before slipping into the bathroom.

You won't go back to sleep. The last time you'd glanced at the time on your phone had been two hours ago, at 2 A.M. You’ve been awake most of the night, as you have been the last couple nights. You haven't been sleeping well. It was like your heat opened a floodgate and now every time you close your eyes, you're transported back into the past, back when you were a child. Back when things weren't fine.

You've started trying to avoid sleep, waking constantly during the night from nightmares or from your brain’s own fear of them starting back up. It’s only been a week since your heat ended, and yet you feel no more rested than you did coming out of it. Nothing you’ve tried has worked, not even staying awake until you inevitably pass out prevents your subconscious mind from pulling up the horrible memories of your past.

Even sleeping next to your alpha hasn’t provided any comfort for your mind. His presence isn’t enough to quell the fear in your mind that the nightmares might come back, that the memories might surface.

Even he can’t protect you from this.

You close your eyes as the bathroom door opens again, pretending to sleep as John dresses for his morning workout. He’s quiet, near silent as he moves about the room. It’s almost terrifying how quiet they can be. Though, you suppose, if your survival depends on it, it’s a skill you’d spend plenty of time honing.

John grabs his phone from the nightstand, running a gentle hand over your head before he leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. You lay there for a few minutes, trying not to let the guilt eat you alive. You should tell them you’re struggling to sleep, that your mind is plaguing you with memories from your past, but you’re afraid of what they might think of you. You’re not the perfect omega, you’re not as whole as you might seem.

You’re held together with duct tape on the inside. They already have enough to worry about now, they don’t need the weight of your misery thrown on top of the loads they all carry.

You let out a long breath, turning over in John’s bed. You press your face into the pillow, inhaling the imprint of his scent on the fabric. It’s still warm where he was laying, and you shuffle over into that spot, letting your body go lax as you imagine him still there with you, arms still wrapped around your body. You want to bury yourself in his arms, press against his chest until you sink into him and become one.

Only then, perhaps you can feel safe enough to sleep.

You press your face further into the pillow, every inhale filled with John’s scent. It lulls you into a daze, the hypnagogic stage between sleep and wakefulness.

You jolt as a hand touches your arm, calluses smoothing over the bare skin. You blink your eyes open, letting out a quiet groan. It’s light outside now, the room bathed in white light instead of the yellow tinge of the nightlight John had bought for his room for you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” John says, gently squeezing your arm. He’s already dressed for the day, hair still damp from the shower. You hadn’t even noticed he’d returned.

You roll over, rubbing your eyes. “‘S fine. Didn’t even know I was asleep. Breakfast time?”

John hums, leaning over you. “Almost. You’ve got time to get ready.”

You blink up at him blearily, your mind still trying to wake up completely after your short nap. You stare up into his eyes, getting lost in their blue depths. You feel like you could swim in them, his deep earthy scent drawing forward memories of camping and swimming in the lake. Memories you could pretend were happy, memories not tainted by fear and grief.

“Christ,” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours. “So fucking beautiful.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, your lips moving against his as you kiss. You trail a hand up his arm, sliding it to his back. His shirt is soft, thin enough that you can feel the muscles in his back as you smooth your hand across his shoulder blades.

“Wish I could stay here all day.” He murmurs, his face pressing into your throat. You tilt your head for him, a quiet groan rumbling through his chest at your sign of submission. He sighs, pressing his nose against your scent gland for a moment before he straightens back up. “Got a job to do.”

You let out a groan as you stretch, arching your back. “Fuck your job.”

“I’d much rather be fucking you.” He says, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip before he stands up, grabbing the shirt you’d worn to slip into his room last night off the floor. It’s one of his, one you’d stolen from his laundry hamper while he was in the shower. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that.”

You grin, pushing the sheets down before sitting up on the edge of the bed. You rub your eyes tiredly, stretching again before pulling on his shirt, slipping your slippers on. You pad back to your room, changing into more appropriate clothes for breakfast. You’ll be left to your own devices again afterward as the guys return to their normal training schedule. You won’t be napping this time, though, you fear. Instead you’ll be looking for ways to keep yourself awake.

You and John walk hand in hand to the mess. It’s been a while since you’ve been inside of it, and you find you’ve grown to miss it a bit. You don’t miss the stares, the looks that pass over you and your entwined hands as John leads you to the line to get food. It’s like they know, like they all somehow witnessed what had transpired over the last couple weeks, like they had all been spectators to it.

John makes your tray for you again, carrying it to the table where the others are already seated. You take your normal spot next to Kyle, both him and John sitting closer to you than before. Perhaps they were picking up on your nervous energy, but even Johnny and Ghost seemed to be sitting closer. You cast a glance between them before digging into your tray. Something had transpired, but you’re not quite sure what.

You might never get to know.

It’s quiet as you eat, the coffee bitter and watery, but you don’t care. You’ll suffer anything that might give you a boost of energy to make it to lunch without falling asleep.

Johnny walks you back to the barracks after breakfast is over, his arm around your waist as you take your time crossing the courtyard. He’s oddly quiet compared to how energetic he usually is this early in the morning. Something must have happened to make him silent.

“Johnny?” You ask after a group of soldiers jog past behind you.

He hums, looking down at you. His eyes are still bright, but his brows are slightly furrowed.

“Is everything alright?” You ask carefully, not wanting to risk pushing any buttons.

“Aye.” He answers after letting out a sigh. “Jus’ an incident in the gym this mornin’. Nothing ye need tae worry about.”

You raise your brows at him, silently conveying your desire for more information, if he can give you any.

“Just some alphas talkin’ shite, like they do. Callin’ ye the 141’s whore. Askin’ if we all take turns or if ye let us all go at once.” He says, his tone practically seething as he leads you into the barracks. “Simon reminded them of their place.”

You can only imagine how that went.

Despite their obvious tension at the jabs made at you by the other alphas, you don't feel as angry as you probably should. Being called a whore was a bit demeaning, but part of what was said wasn't entirely wrong. Perhaps it's just some leftover hormones surging from your heat, or maybe being claimed has shifted your feelings towards your packmates, but the idea of being shared by them has warmth spreading through you. The mental images piecing together in your mind of taking them all at once would probably make the alphas that made that jab at you blush furiously.

“Johnny?” You ask, turning to him when you reach your door.

“Aye?” He stares down at you, his blue eyes soft as they gaze down into your own.

“I, uh, I wouldn’t mind if at least part of what they said was true...” You sink your teeth into your lip. “You...uh...you’ve been waiting for a while...for your turn.”

He gulps, shifting slightly on his feet. You can’t tell if he’s nervous or excited or something in between.

“Well, I’ve been officially cleared to partake in more...strenuous activities..”

“Christ.” He breathes, crowding you against the door. For a moment you’re worried he might just do it right here, right now, but instead he leans in, close enough you can smell the coffee he had with his breakfast. “I’d love that, kitten.” He bites his own lip as he stares down at yours. “Let me know, and I’ll be ready for you.” He leans down, closing the short distance between you as he kisses you.

You lean into him, kissing him back. It feels like the first time you kissed him, except you can feel the hunger, the restraint behind this kiss. You can feel how much he’s been holding back, how long he’s waited to finally have this moment. To think of anyone desiring you in such a way makes your head spin. He wants you for you, not what you can do for him, not what you can give to him. Not even just for what’s between your legs, even if that’s what you’re going to do.

He wants to be with you because you’re you. He doesn’t have to, he could choose not to, but he does.

He pulls away, staring down at you. His eyes are darker now, speaking promises of what’s to come. “When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.”

“You're tired.”

You blink, your gaze snapping to his face. You had been drifting thoughtlessly, quite enamored with a single spot on the floor. You're not sure how long he let you stand there, empty-headed and practically dozing upright.

You rub your eyes, trying to force your brain back to awareness. “It's early.” You give the excuse, toeing off your shoes. “Been a while since we've done this.”

“You're going to have to work extra hard to gain it all back.” Ghost says, pulling off his sweatshirt.

Your eyes are immediately drawn to his arms, the strength in them, the tattoos on his skin. You bite back the desire to move closer, to get just a glimpse at one close up. You want to sit and trace them, hear the story of every single one. You want to push his sleeve up, watch the way his muscles bulge and flex, see how far his tattoo goes up his arm.

You snap yourself out of your thoughts, moving onto the mat before you do something embarrassing like starting to drool. You watch him as he stands at the edge of the mat, brown eyes taking you in as you stand there. Something tickles in the back of your mind, a hint of fear, the sense of sudden danger prevalent. What would you do if he suddenly ran at you? Try to dodge and make it to the door? Where would you go? The med center again?

“Easy.” He grumbles, sensing your obvious tension.

Your gaze snaps back to him, his posture relaxed as he stays still. “I'm putting a lot of trust in you.”

“I know.” He says, standing almost as still as a statue. You wonder how he can possibly be so still, but you suppose it's something he learned to do. “I should never have broken that trust in the first place.”

Your eyes widen, brows lifting as you stare at him. You didn't expect such a straightforward apology from him. You haven't really gotten one, until now. You hesitate as you stand there in silence, Ghost obviously waiting for your response.

“I don't know if I can forgive you.” You finally say.

“You shouldn't.” He shrugs, his gaze shifting to the wall behind you. “Even if you weren't really in danger, it was still a dick move.”

Your eyebrows raise even higher. “An apology and admitting you were a dick? Should I be worried?”

He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Consider it an offering of amicability, for Johnny. I know you two are getting close, so inevitably we're going to find ourselves around each other more often than we have previously.”

“Well, I suppose I could accept that.” You say, shifting on your feet. “I don't think you could convince Johnny otherwise.”

“Hardly. He wouldn't listen anyway.” He finally moves, shifting on his feet. “You gonna put your hackles down so I can approach?”

You take a deep breath, relaxing the tension in your body. You don't really have a reason to fear him, despite what he did. He hasn't given you a reason to fear him since then, and he's even gone so far as to apologize in his own way. John wouldn't have allowed this to start again if he didn't trust Ghost not to do something that might put you in danger.

John trusts him, so you should be able to as well.

Ghost slowly approaches, your eyes watching him carefully until he's directly in front of you. You stare up at him, holding his gaze. You wish you could see the rest of his face on the off chance it might give you a hint at what he's thinking and feeling. You wonder if that's partially why he wears the mask.

Ghost holds out his hand and you place your own in his. It's so much bigger than yours, his long fingers engulfing your wrist as he wraps your hand. You could probably do it yourself by this point, but you like making him do it. You like the way his hands hold yours, the roughness of his skin against your own.

He starts out reviewing things you already know. Punches, kicks, dodging. It doesn't take long for you to get back into the groove of things, moving like it hasn't been nearly a month since your last training session. You notice the fatigue faster than you had during your last session, but you expected that after almost a month, paired with your heat two weeks ago.

“Now, punching and kicking will only get you so far in a fight.” He says, giving you a moment to breathe. “Almost all fights are going to end up on the ground. Even if your goal is disarming enough to escape, the chances of you and your opponent ending up on the ground is highly likely.”

He swipes your feet out from under you before you can even blink, nearly knocking the wind from you as you land on the mat on your back. He’s on you quickly, dropping to his hands and knees over you. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him above you, his hulking form seeming even larger from this angle. Your mind begins to run wild, imagining all the things that could happen in this position.

“Focus.” He grumbles, arms flexing as he presses his hands into the mat where they rest on either side of your head. “You don’t want to be in this position in a fight. You’re too vulnerable.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. You are vulnerable like this. Even with him, someone who doesn’t want to hurt you, it would be so easy. Your head begins to turn, your gaze leaving his as instinct begins to take over.

“No.” He snaps, gripping your chin to turn your head back so he’s looking in your eyes. “You do that in a fight, you’re not going to see the other side.”

You gulp, trying to ignore the warmth of his fingers on your face, the firmness of his grip as he keeps you from showing submission to him. That’s not why you’re here. He’s right. If you do that in a fight, it’ll be over before you even have a chance to run.

“Your legs are far stronger than your arms. Use them to your advantage.” He says, showing you how to get him into the right position to flip him.

You know he’s helping you as you flip him onto his back. If he really was fighting you, you’re not sure you could have done it, even if you managed to land enough of a hit to disarm him. You wind up on top of him, sitting on his stomach. The position doesn’t help your racing thoughts, and you pray you can keep enough control over yourself so you don’t make it obvious.

“Use your legs to pin my hands.” He directs you. You shift your knees slightly, trapping his hands against the mat. “Good.” He says, laying still under you. “You can’t hold a bigger opponent down here for long, but that’s not the point. This gives you a moment of opportunity to go for the face or the neck. Stun them and that gives you a headstart. If you have a weapon available, then you have one less person to worry about chasing you.”

You gulp at his words. It hadn’t even crossed your mind during your training. He had said it so simply, so easily. You suppose it is to him, after years of doing it, after countless moments where it’s his life or theirs. Is that what he tells himself? Is that how he rationalizes it? Is there so much blood on his hands now that killing is as easy as breathing?

You wonder how they all rationalize it. They all have blood on their hands, they all have killed, and will kill again. Every time they leave and come back, it’s with more blood, more nameless faces on the list of lives they've taken, all in the name of the greater good.

Is violence and death really the path to the greater good?

“What?” He asks, sensing your inner turmoil.

You sit back on his stomach, your body rising and falling with his even breaths. “I don’t know if I could do it.”

He tugs his hands from beneath your knees easily, resting them on the mat next to your legs. You can feel his fingers twitch as the blood rushes back into them. “You might not have much of a choice.” He says, holding your gaze. There’s a softness in his gaze you have never seen before. “Sometimes it’s the only choice. If they’re attacking you, they’re better off dead. Even if their goal is to take you alive, the things they’ll do to you.” He shakes his head.

He’s speaking from experience. You know he’s seen things, witnessed the brutality omegas are subjected to at the hands of the worst kinds of alphas and betas. He’s watched omegas die in front of him while he’s sat helpless.

His hand lifts, cupping the back of your head to pull you down closer to his face. You catch yourself with your hands on either side of his head, fighting the urge to tense your shoulders. His hand doesn’t move from the back of your head, his fingers not even twitching as he holds you steady.

“If they’re willing to do it to you, how many others have been on the receiving end? If you’re not willing to be the last, how many others will come after you?” He says, his gaze intense as he stares at you. “I hope you never have to, but you always have to prepare for the worst.”

He holds you there for a breath, staring up into your eyes before he releases you, flipping you off of him and onto your back on the mat. He pushes himself up to stand, staring down at you as you lay there, catching your breath and thinking over the last few moments that transpired.

“Come on. It’s almost time for breakfast.”

It’s quiet in the rec room. The TV is off for once, only the hum of electricity and the occasional turning of a page the only sound breaking the silence. You and Ghost are the only two in the rec room, both of you relaxing silently as you read. He’s in the chair as usual, and you’re stretched out on the couch.

You’re only halfway paying attention to your book, still thinking over your conversation with Johnny earlier, and what transpired in the gym during your training session yesterday. You know how much Johnny wants to be with you, and you're more than willing to go that far with him. You like Johnny, more than just as a packmate. It's hard not to fall for him with his confidence and his playful demeanor. You know he's been desperate to take things to the next level too.

All he's waiting on is you saying the word.

He will never force you into it. He'll impatiently wait for you to go to him, to tell him that you want it. All jokes and teasing aside, you know he'd never make you feel like you were being forced into something.

The thought makes you want to cry.

“Pull his hair.” Ghost’s voice cuts through the silence, nearly making you jump.

You lower your book so you can see him, eyebrows raising in surprise at his words. “What?”

“When you finally fuck Johnny, grab him by the mohawk. He likes it.” Ghost says, not even looking up from his own book.

You stare at him wide-eyed, wondering for a moment if he can read minds, or if you’re just not quite as subtle as you think you’re being.

“I'll, uh, keep that in mind.” You say, lifting your book again to hide your blushing face.

The room descends into silence once more, the two of you continuing to read as if nothing had happened, as if that conversation hadn’t transpired. You wish it felt that way in your mind, though. The mental images Ghost’s words have drawn up drowning out the words on the pages that you’re trying to read. You’re trying not to get worked up further, but you can’t help it. After your training session and the thoughts that had come to mind with Ghost, and now these new images of Johnny, you’re sure your scent has begun to sweeten with arousal.

You need to rectify this, and fast.

You knock on the door, shifting nervously on your feet. Your hands have disappeared in your sleeves, the weight of your phone in your pocket the only thing keeping you from floating to the ceiling and dissipating into the air from the anxiety.

Your stomach nearly drops from your body as the door swings open, Gaz standing there in his full glory.

“Everything alright?” He asks, staring down at you with those big brown eyes. “You look nervous.”

You swallow the nerves, nodding in response. “Yeah, I just...wanted to talk to you for a minute.”

He steps away from the door, brows still pinched in worry and confusion as he motions for you to enter. You brush past him as you step into his room, taking a look around. You haven't been in his room before. It's slightly smaller than yours and John's, and it doesn't have a private bathroom. There's artwork up on the walls, and a couple of plants on his desk, along with a few personal belongings. It's neat and tidy, not that you expected anything less.

“What did you want to talk about?” He asks, turning to face you after closing the door.

You take a deep breath, calming the nervous twist in your stomach. You shouldn’t be nervous. It’s a natural thing to bring up to packmates. You blame it on the fatigue from your lack of sleep putting you on edge.

“I wanted to ask you something.” You start, staring into his big brown eyes. They’re so beautiful, so expressive as they stare down at you. “Johnny and I...we’re going to...sleep together soon and...I just wanted to make sure that was okay? In case maybe you wanted to go first?”

Kyle’s lips slowly lift up into a smile as you stare at him nervously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “He’s been an absolute tosser since before your heat, and he’d only become utterly unbearable if he didn’t get to go first.” He steps up closer to you, grinning down at you. “For the sake of everyone’s sanity, I don’t mind being patient. Besides,” He leans down, his breath fanning your ear. “I at least know what you look like naked, so I can occupy myself while I wait.”

Your face burns with warmth at his words, a shiver running down your spine. He’s not wrong. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, lost to your heat, naked and stuffed with John’s knot. Your brain flashes back to the start of your heat, the feel of his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your pajama pants. You swallow thickly, meeting his gaze as he pulls back.

“Enjoy your time with Johnny, love.” He slips his hand into yours, lifting it to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready.”

You feel a bit out of breath as you leave Kyle’s room, and you’re sure your scent has sweetened with arousal and excitement. You might have been tempted to just jump Kyle’s bones right now, had it not been for your desire for Johnny, and your commitment to letting him be first again. You know Kyle’s right. You’d never hear the end of it if Johnny didn’t get the chance to be next in line.

Now you just have to find him and tell him the good news.

“Ye look nervous. Are ye nervous?”

“I mean, this is a big step...” You say, wrapping your arms around Johnny’s neck as he shifts you into his lap. You try not to think about how strong he is, how easily he moves you.

“Ye don’t have tae do this, if ye don’ want to.” He says, looking down into your eyes.

“It’s not that...” You say, shifting in his lap. “It’s more...there’s no going back after this.”

He wraps his arms tighter around you. “If I didnae want it, I wouldnae offer. Yer a fucking stunnin’ omega, kitten. Would be crazy not tae want ye.”

Your cheeks warm at his words, your gaze dropping from the intensity of his own. His stubble tickles your fingers as you trace the line of his jaw, working your way towards his lips. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip as your fingers trace the jagged scar on his chin.

“Just...go easy on me? At least this first time?” You say, tracing his lips with your fingers.

“‘Course, kitten.” He says, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. “Wouldnae want to scare ye away.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the implications of his words, your stomach fluttering with excitement and a hint of fear at what he could possibly be alluding to. His hand lifts, gently grasping your chin, tilting your face slightly. He closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours.

“Don’ worry.” He murmurs against your lips. “Take good care of ye.”

You hum against his lips, tasting the chocolate he’d been snacking on when you sought him out as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand leaves your chin, sliding down your throat to rest right at the base of your throat, fingers splayed across your clavicle. His thumb rests right on the edge of your mating mark, the pressure making you shiver.

Johnny pulls you tighter against his chest, your arms wrapping around his neck. He moans against your lips as you shift against him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your ass. It’s not the first time you’ve felt it, but this time it’s different. This time you’re going to do something about it.

“Fucking christ, take ye right here on this couch, if I’m not careful.” Johnny groans, nipping at your bottom lip.

“Then best take me to bed, Sergeant.” You say, pulling back slightly to give him what you hope is a sultry look.

The groan that’s pulled from his lips is downright salacious, something flashing in his eyes as you call him by his rank. He curses, tightening his hold around you before he stands, maneuvering you so you’re tossed over his shoulder. You let out a squeak of surprise that’s quickly replaced by giggles as he packs you down the hall to his room.

He sets you on your feet once you're inside, closing the door. You look around his room, surprised to see it full of art supplies with drawings and paintings all over the walls. You stare open mouthed, taking it all in. It's messier than John and Kyle's rooms, though there's still a sense of order to it. A chaotic order, but you suppose that explains Johnny perfectly.

“You draw?” You say, studying the art on the walls.

“Aye,” Johnny says, coming up behind you. “In my free time.”

“I didn't know that.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “They're beautiful.”

“Thank ye, kitten.” He wraps his arms around you from behind, reminding you of why you came in here in the first place. “Not quite as beautiful as you.”

Your face warms at his compliment and you tilt your head back, staring up at him. “You're such a charmer.”

“Try my best.” He grins, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “Promise I'll show ye my drawings later.”

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck. “I know. You're desperate.”

“Been waitin’ weeks for this, kitten.” He groans, grinding against you.

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You tighten your grip around his neck, jumping into his arms. He manages to catch you, stumbling half a step back as his hands grip your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, lifting yourself so you’re face to face with him.

“Christ.” He groans against your lips, walking forward until he reaches his bed.

He drops you on your back, your body bouncing on the mattress as he settles on his knees over you. His eyes have darkened as he stares down at you, your stomach twisting in excitement. Warmth has started to pool between your legs, your scent sweetening with arousal.

Johnny’s hands are rough as they slip under your shirt, tugging it up over your head. He groans, eyes fluttering as he realizes you’re without a bra underneath. He curses quietly, something you can’t quite understand as his hands immediately close around your breasts. Your lips part as he squeezes the flesh in his hands, leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. You gasp at the sensation as his lips close around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he’s a man starved.

Well, you suppose he is.

He has been waiting for quite a while for this opportunity. Something about it makes your brain tingle, arousal pooling in your stomach at the thought of someone desiring you that much.

It’s not just him, though. Three of the four members of your pack have expressed their desire for you in such a way. The thought makes your head spin. You’re just a simple omega, and yet, here they are going half crazy over you.

Johnny releases your nipple with a pop, shifting so he can give the same attention to the other one. Arousal continues to pool between your legs, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. You drag your fingernails across the back of his neck, a shiver wracking through his body, his hips grinding down against your thigh.

“Fuck,” He gasps, releasing your nipple to stare up at you.

You repeat the motion, dragging your fingers slower. His eyes roll back, hips grinding harder against your thigh. He’s so sensitive, you think, pushing your thigh up against him. He lets out what can only be described as almost a whine, rutting his hips against your leg.

“Fuck,” He curses again, pushing himself back up onto his knees. “Tonight is about you, kitten.” He takes a deep breath before slipping his fingers under the waistband of your pants, tugging them down quickly and tossing them on the floor next to your shirt.

He sinks his teeth into his lip as he stares down at your panties, one of the pairs he got you on your shopping trip before your date with John. You had changed into them specifically for Johnny, remembering how excited he’d looked when he bought you five pairs of the lacy garments. He groans quietly as he runs his fingers over your lace covered skin, slowly lowering his fingers between your thighs. He glances up at you, meeting his gaze and you give him a nod before his fingers dip lower, trailing the wet spot on the lacy fabric.

You part your legs more for him as he rubs you through your panties, quiet moans leaving your lips at the feeling of the friction from the fabric. His eyes are still on you, glued to your face as the pleasure begins to build just from his touch. You buck your hips against his hand, searching out more. More pleasure, more of his touch, more of him.

“Look at ye, needy little thing.” He groans, his thumb dragging up your slit until he finds your clit, slowly circling it through the fabric. “Barely touched ye an’ yer cunt’s already soakin’ yer skids. Fucking sweet little thing, so needy for me, aren’t ye?”

You push yourself up onto your elbows, staring down at him. “Are you going to sit there and run your mouth all night, or are you going to fuck me?”

He grins wickedly at you. “I’m just gettin’ started, kitten.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee before trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His thumb continues to stroke you through your panties, applying more and more pressure as he gets closer and closer to your center. He whispers out a curse as he shoves your panties to the side, revealing your glistening folds to him. He leans forward, warm breath fanning your slit before he closes his mouth around you.

You gasp at the sensation, dropping back onto your back on the bed as he drags his tongue through your folds, flicking it across your clit before he closes his lips around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he did your nipples earlier. Pleasure shoots through you as he eats you like a man starved, slurping away at your pussy obscenely.

“Fuck, Johnny!” You gasp, legs trying to close around his head, but he holds your inner thighs, keeping them spread.

You’re not going to last very long, not with him alternating between sucking at your clit and swirling his tongue around it like that. He’s done this before, and you can’t help the momentary spike of jealousy at the thought of him between any other omega’s thighs now that he has you.

“Gonna cum!” You whine, hips bucking against his face.

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess all over my face?” He groans.

You curse, your back arching as he continues to work you up, hands fisting his sheets.

“That’s it.” He groans against your clit, dragging his teeth over the sensitive bud. “Be a good omega for me.”

You cum with a cry, soaking his chin as he continues to tease you. He laps at your juices, not slowing any as he works you through your orgasm, even as you begin to shake with overstimulation.

“I-I can’t.” You gasp, the burning feeling starting to pulse through you as he continues to suck at your clit. It’s quickly becoming too much, the feeling overwhelming you.

Ghost’s words flash through your mind at that moment, his suggestion yesterday while you both spent time in the rec room reading. You reach down, sinking your fingers into Johnny’s mohawk, gripping the short strands. He lets out a groan as you tug, pulling his face from your pussy finally. His chin is glistening with your release, his tongue darting out to lick your juices from his lips.

He follows as you tug upwards, drawing him away from your pussy. He crawls up your body until you’re almost face to face, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

“I said that’s enough.” You say, slightly breathless from your orgasm, but you put as much authority in your tone as you can manage.

“Yes ma’am.” He practically whines, the muscles in his arms flexing as he sinks his own fingers into the sheets around you.

The sudden shift in control has something buzzing in your brain, the back of your neck tingling. You’re an omega. You’re not supposed to be in control, and yet, here Johnny is, practically folding in front of you. A thrill shoots through your veins at the thought of what you could make him do, what lengths he’d go to for you simply because you have him in this position.

“Take your clothes off.” You say, releasing his mohawk.

He sits back without complaint, tugging his shirt over his head. You take him in, the hard lines of his muscles, the dark hair on his chest, the line disappearing under the waistband of his pants. You lick your lips as he undoes the button on his pants, undoing the zipper before tugging them down with his boxers.

His cock is hard and practically standing at attention as he kicks his pants off. He’s slightly smaller than John, but not by much. Your pussy clenches at the thought of him inside you, but you’re not ready for that quite yet. You guide Johnny back up to your face, pressing your lips against his. You can taste yourself on him, making him groan as you lick into his mouth.

You guide him onto his back, trading places with him. He settles beneath you, his hands lifting to your hips, but you push them back as you pull away. You smirk down at him for a moment before you move, changing your position so you’re facing away from him. You trap his hands against the bed with your legs like Ghost showed you, sitting yourself on his taut stomach. He has a clear view of your ass still sporting your lacy panties, your wet folds pressed against his skin.

“Simon show ye that one?” He asks, flexing his hands under you. He could easily overpower you and free himself, but he doesn’t.

“Uh huh.” You say, wrapping your hand around his cock.

“Hells bells, what are you two gettin’ into during trainin’?” He groans, obviously starting to picture the lewd things you and Ghost might be doing. You wonder how he’d react to seeing you on top of Ghost like you were yesterday.

“He’s just teaching me how to defend myself.” You say, slowly pumping his cock. “I’m finding there’s not much of a difference between fucking and fighting.”

Johnny lets out another groan, but you’re not sure if it’s because of your words, or your hand on his cock. You continue to pump his length, feeling the softness of him in your hand, squeezing gently to feel the vein running along the bottom side. Johnny lets out a choked groan, hands twitching again under your legs.

“Fuck, I cannae last much longer.” He gasps desperately, his length twitching in your hand.

Pearly white beads of precum have begun to slip from his tip, and you can’t help but lean down and drag your tongue across his head, gathering some in your mouth. He lets out a whine that rivals ones of your own, his hips bucking as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm.

“Please, kitten, let me cum inside ye.” He begs, pulling his hands free from underneath you so he can grip your hips.

You pull away from his cock, sitting up on his stomach. He’s panting, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. You shift yourself again, turning back around to face him. His eyes are hooded as he stares at you, pupils blown with lust. His lips are parted as he pants, sweat beading on his forehead from the strain of holding himself back. You push yourself back until you’re hovering over his cock, pulling your panties to the side with one hand, grabbing his length with the other.

You groan as you sink down onto him, bracing yourself with a hand on his stomach as he stretches you open. His hands settle on your waist, squeezing your hips as you work yourself down his length.

“Fuck,” You breathe, pressing your hands against his abs as you sink down completely onto his cock, your hips flush with his.

“So fucking tight and warm,” He groans, his grip near bruising around your hips. “Fucking feel fantastic, kitten.”

You slowly begin rocking your hips, using your hands on his stomach for leverage. Your toes are curling already from this angle, the tip of his cock brushing that spot deep inside you with every rock of your hips. Small whines and whimpers leave your lips as you fuck yourself on his cock, squeezing your legs around his hips. They’re shaking already, and you know you won’t last long in this position.

Johnny seems to notice that as well, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to guide your movements. You’re starting to sweat from the effort, your thighs burning, but it feels too good to stop. You’re getting close again, the stretch of him inside you paired with the high of having such control over him just a few moments ago driving you closer and closer to the edge.

Johnny pushes himself up as your movements begin to slow, wrapping his arms around you to shift you in his lap, laying you down on the bed facing the footboard as he slots himself over you. He takes over, thrusting into you, setting a frantic pace. Your head falls back as he pounds into you, your back arching as he folds his body over yours, pressing his face into your neck.

“Gonna cum for me? Need tae feel ye squeezing ‘round my cock.” He grunts, nipping at the skin of your throat.

You let out a whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. “Just like that.” You pant, squeezing your legs around his hips. “Don’t stop!”

“Yes, ma’am.” He groans, continuing to rut into you like your pussy is the only thing that can save his life.

You practically see stars as you cum, squeezing around his cock as pleasure jolts through your body like electricity. Your hips buck against his, grinding together like some sort of forbidden dance as he’s forced into his own orgasm by your walls squeezing around him. His hips stutter before he stills, warmth spurting into you as he cums. You hold him there, his body trembling with yours as he groans into your throat.

“Fucking hell.” He moans, starting to shallowly thrust into you. He’s still hard, his cock dragging through your sensitive walls as he continues to fuck you despite having just orgasmed. “Never gonnae tire of this sweet cunt.”

He probably won’t, you think as he continues to slowly thrust into you again.

You’re in for a long night.

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse #john price x reader #captain price x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gax x reader

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scudslut · 3 months

Text

Sins and Honey Flavored Sweetness

daryl x fem!reader

wordcount: 4.7k

warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut under the cut, perv!daryl (not really, he just has a lil crush), male masturbation, unprotected p-in-v, oral f!receiving, mutual pining

a/n: i have never written something so descriptive ohmygod. do be warned lol, hugs and kisses byeee <33

Daryl knew there were unspoken boundaries when it came to you.

A thin line of loose salt, that whispered to him. Beckoned him huskily to dust his fingers through and have a taste, but daunting enough for him to keep his soles rooted in the dirt, salivating from a distance.

It wasn’t because you were already spoken for in any way; if anything, you kept your romantic interests simmering farther on the back burner than he did, which spoke volumes in itself. Or because you were younger than him, a couple of years wasn’t anything to turn a nose up over, especially nowadays.

It was, however, the place you held amongst your people. You were like bright, shiny gold within the group, dared not to be corrupted or led astray. The heart that kept everyone’s beating, even in the darkest of times, soothing hope into the atmosphere with your infectious smile.

Oh, and you were Rick's younger sister... which he hated to admit, only tempted him more. And he wasn’t quite sure as to why.

He’d mulled it over too many times to count, noting everything about you that allured him so intensely.

He liked the contrast between you two; like sun rays peeking through the clouds after a mid-summer storm. You were soft, fresh as clean linen and he was dark, brooding. He often fantasized about taking that sweet innocent nature of yours and painting it with his essence. He knew it was wrong and constantly shamed himself for having such perverted thoughts about his best friend's sister. But, god, how could he not?

Not when you pranced around him daily, teasing him with your velvety, feminine voice and kind touches. Touches that sent brisk shivers down his spine, sure to leave him breathless and bothered — another thing he secretly liked. You were addictive in that sense, he’d distance himself the minute he felt the familiar rush coursing through his veins and then crave it immediately once it was gone. A drug he couldn’t help but relapse from.

And it didn’t help that you were always so keen to assist him, doting on his every injury or problem with such gentle attentiveness and sincerity. That might be what he liked the most. It was fascinating how pure you remained in a world so plagued, always ready to nurture. It soothed a deep, restless, and scarred part of him, finding solace in it.

He'd come to learn you were like that with everyone though. So, he found himself grappling with things to deter your attention his way, playing dumb and clumsy just to have your sweet scent fill the nearby air. He felt like a horny teenager with a hopeless crush. It was absolutely ridiculous and yet, here he was once again, feet dangling off your kitchen counter as you searched the cabinets for some aspirin to aid in his 'headache'.

It wasn't a complete lie per se - his sensitivity to light gave him troubles quite often but, whether it was enough to complain about or not, could be debated.

Nonetheless, he sat for you patiently, listening to your quiet humming as you searched about. He loved when you did that, singing your soft melodies under your breath mindlessly. It was such a girly thing to do, but it was comforting in a way, an airy blanket warming the silence.

"Ah, here it is!" drew him out of his thoughts, and he cast a glance at your bright smile of accomplishment. You popped the cap open swiftly, shaking out 2 little white pills, and handed them over with a glass of water.

“Let me know if you need any more. They should kick in soon, but I know how tough migraines can be,” you soothed, your sympathy never faltering. He bowed his head quickly, not wanting you to see the flash of guilt that surely crossed it. "Thanks," he mumbled as he tossed his head back, swallowing them both with a shivered grimace.

Wiping the water droplets from his chapped lips, his eyes found yours again and noticed a small smirk hidden in your features. “What?”

You let out a chuckle, reaching for the glass he held to wash, “Oh nothin’... just don’t think I’ve seen you cringe like that before, is all.”

His brows furrowed at your statement, “So?” he questioned further.

“Walkers, blood, rotting flesh… never. But an itty bitty pill?” Your laugh grew louder, finding the situation even more amusing as you explained it to him. “Whatever,” he scoffed, hopping off the counter with a smirk. He knew you would be expecting him to leave after that, you had helped him with his ‘issue of the day’ and there was no reason to linger any further. But he did.

Daryl scanned your frame as you washed the few dishes that were in the sink, chewing on his thumb habitually. You wore a white, long-sleeve shirt with a faded band logo printed on the front and some beaten-up blue jeans that seemed to cup your ass perfectly.

His mind wandered before he could stop it, imagining how soft and warm your skin must be underneath all those clothes. How soft and warm your hands would be wrapped around him, or better yet, your pretty lips taking him deep with a moan. He felt his own jeans tighten slightly and quickly diverted his gaze to the floor, clearing his throat as if it would erase those thoughts from his brain.

“Something else you need, Daryl?” You glanced over your shoulder, wrists deep in soapy water.

“Nah, uh, thanks. I’ll see ya later,” he said and beelined for the door praying to god you didn’t see his flushed face and half-hard cock poking through his pants. He was so fucked. Couldn’t even look at you anymore without sprouting boners and picturing you on them, milking him greedily.

He rushed down the porch and across the lawn, bursting into his shared house with Carol just next door. He didn’t even glance toward the kitchen to see if his friend was home, desperate for a cold shower to level him out. The house was dead quiet anyway, leading him to assume Carol was out for the day.

"Such a fuckin idiot," he cursed himself under his breath as he made his way down the stairs to his room. You probably knew honestly. Could tell how pathetically bothered you got him, and just put on a friendly face to keep from embarrassing him.

He left the bathroom door open in his distress and hastily shed his clothing, stepping into the tepid water. Immediate relief flooded his senses, feeling the cool stream wash away the sweat and grime the day had caked on. Pouring some homemade soap he was given into his hand, he scrubbed at his skin, determined to rid himself of your previous interaction along with the dirty thoughts that plagued his mind. He shouldn’t be thinking about you that way, it just wasn’t in the cards.

For starters, you would have to want him too, (which he knew would never happen), and even if you did, how the ever living fuck would he explain that to Rick?

‘Oh hey Rick, I have a massive hard-on for yer sister, you okay with that?’ Fuck no. Just thinking about that conversation had him cringing in awkwardness and he shut the idea down instantly.

But there you were still, invading his thoughts with your dreamy laugh and perky attitude. Why did you have to be such a goddamn tease?

He leaned forward, resting his hands on the wall trying to regain some composure. He gulped down deep breaths of moist air, willing his body to calm itself down, but it was fruitless. The image of your body, pushed up against the wall under his hands, wet and flushed, bubbled to the surface. He groaned. Daryl knew what he had to do. It wasn’t the first time he had gotten off thinking about you, and he damn well knew it wasn’t gonna be the last, but it still felt wrong each time, pumping his cock when you were just next door. His body craved the relief though, relief only indulgence could satisfy.

He hissed as he dragged his fingers along his shaft, gripping at the base and beginning to pump slowly. He was painfully hard at this point, each squeeze raking shivers over his damp skin while he choked out quiet moans. With his opposite hand, he flicked the water to a warmer setting, pitifully hoping the heat and steam would resemble something close to your body against his. God, if only you were here.

He sped up, swiping his thumb over his sensitive tip with each pass, sending jolts throughout his body. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned deep and husky, not a care for the noise filling the empty house.

You were there, clear as day in his mind, moaning along with him as he pounded into you, cunt gripping him like a vice. Your breath was hot and pitchy against his ear as you begged him to fuck you harder, to go faster, to cum deep inside you. His cock twitched at that, he was already so close.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he whined, humping erratically into his long-forgotten hand. The muscles in his stomach quivered in bliss as he stroked himself, lost in his detailed imagination. You were cumming, trembling around him in languid spasms with his seed spilling out of you, and Daryl was over the edge, tossing his head back moaning your name as he unloaded, letting the steamy water wash it away.

It took him a few minutes to recover, catching his breath slowly and trying to avoid the guilt that would soon be settling in. What would you think of him if you knew what he did behind muffled walls? How he thought of you in such dirty ways, when you’d only ever see him as a dear friend. He wondered what you might be doing now. Traipsing around your cozy home, oblivious to his rapid, lustful heart meters away.

The water was beginning to run frigid and he let out a defeated sigh. Absentmindedly, he reached past the curtain for a towel and stepped out, drying his hair off roughly and then wrapping the towel around his waist, turning to the bedroom for fresh clothes and much-needed sleep. His mind ached to be thoughtless, consumed by the abyss of unconsciousness.

He should have known the world stopped playing fair long ago.

In a single moment, his heart stopped and his stomach dropped to the fucking depths of hell.

There you stood, feet frozen to the floor with his crossbow in hand, like he willed you into existence. He stuttered, his mouth opening and closing like a blubbering fish. He was sure his eyes were the size of saucers, he could feel them ready to pop out of his skull and run away. There was no fucking way this was happening.

Several beats passed. The silence deafening between you both and for a moment, he honestly debated stepping back into the shower. Pretend you were a figment of his tortured imagination and just hope you’d go away. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d seen ghosts.

“You uh- you forgot your crossbow when you rushed out today,” you finally broke the silence, solidifying your genuine presence. He glanced down to the bow and then back at you, lost for words. Did you hear him? He moaned your goddamn name, quite a few minutes ago though… had you been standing there long? Were you angry?

His racing thoughts were interrupted when you stepped towards him, leaning the bow against the doorframe and moving closer. Instinctively, he took a step back, “Thanks,” he replied shakily, but you kept moving closer. He noticed your gaze then. It wasn’t on his face, but on his abdomen, at the hem of the damp towel hanging off of him. Your eyes had a gleam to them. Something dark and lustful.

No. Surely, he was reading you wrong.

“Daryl,” you spoke, and he audibly gulped, nervousness and absolute embarrassment flooding his system, “is there something you need to tell me?”

He didn’t answer you, instead deciding to burn a hole into the floor with his shame. He couldn’t look at you. You knew. You had heard him and were teasing him about it and here he was, a coward who couldn’t even admit to it. And you had every single right. He crossed that salty line years ago, with his first sinful thought about you. Feasted on it, deluding himself into thinking all was okay as long as his actions didn’t physically involve you.

He barely registered your advances when he finally raised his head. You were so close he could feel the heat of your breath against his burning skin, the luscious scent of vanilla and pine filling the air.

“Can I see?” you asked quietly.

He nearly choked on his own spit. Your hand was skimming along his stomach lightly, suggestively toying with the towel that covered him up. “Huh?” His mind was blank.

“Can I see you?” you repeated, and all he could do was give you a curt little nod, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to just yet, but rendered acquiesced. Your hand pulled at the fabric softly, letting it drop to the floor revealing his manhood to your hungry eyes. Nothing was making any sense. Surely, you did not feel this way too. Surely.

There were those whispers again. He shouldn't have let you do that. He should be recoiling, shielding himself from your gaze but he was statuesque, like you had drank the life out of him with one simple look.

"Were you thinking about me touching you?" Like you had to even ask. The answer was written in plain sight, right there on his forehead and in his bashful eyes.

"M'sorry, I-" he had no clue how to even begin this kind of apology, remorse coursing through his veins rapidly. The dots weren’t connecting, not yet. "I know it's wrong, I shouldn't have-,”

And then he felt you, pressing your lips against his softly — timidly as gentle hands feathered across his waist, coaxing him into you. Your kiss was buttery, lips so smooth and sweet he wanted to drown in them. You tasted like fresh honey and vanilla ice cream, hints of minty toothpaste caught on your tongue. It was intoxicating to say the least, swarming his brain with a muted buzz and he whimpered, much to his surprise, melting into your touch quicker than he would like to admit.

“Y/n, y/n, nah we can’t,” he heard himself say as he came to his senses slowly, but he wasn’t pushing you away. Why wasn’t he pushing you away? You couldn’t, right?

“Please,” you whispered against him, low and sultry. Who was he to deny you? God Daryl, get a grip.

“Y/n, no,” he repeated, allowing his tone to take some authority even if that was the last thing he truly wanted. You stepped back from him then, a hurt expression painting your features and he felt his heart squeeze. “Why?”

His brain was scattered. This felt like a nightmare; another cruel joke sent his way to haunt him for the rest of his life. There just always had to be a price, didn't there?

"He doesn't mind, you know?" you whispered and his eyes were on yours instantly. You traced soft shapes across his stomach, sending those shivers down his spine and effectively turning him into putty.

"What’re ya talkin' about?" He needed to regain his composure, he could barely breathe with you this close, eyes raking his naked frame with desire.

"Rick... you and me. He doesn't care," you stated, "thinks it's cute actually... my crush on you."

Your crush on him?

"He trusts you, Daryl, with everything. You're pretty much the only person he would want me to be with." He hadn't thought of it that way, only ever assumed voicing his attraction to you would result in his head on a platter, or his dick… or both.

You began peppering his neck with small kisses, trailing them down his chest and over his puffy nipples. He hissed when you nipped at one, licking over it after, soothing the burn. "Ya sure?"

You nodded.

"Ya sure ya want me?" he asked dubiously. His question was answered when you grabbed his hand gently, guiding it inside your cotton underwear, letting his calloused fingers trace your soaked folds. He could have cum then and there, spreading your slick up and down between his fingers like it was liquid gold. Fuck me.

"This all fer me?" he panted, succumbed to a state of disbelief at your evident arousal. You were so wet around his fingers, pulsing and bucking slightly with each feathered stroke. "Were ya listenin' ta me?"

Hair fell over your face as you nodded sheepishly, gazing down to watch his fingers massaging you. You bit your swollen, cherry-red lip, “Couldn’t help it, you sounded so- so good.”

Now that... that got him going. Imagining your pretty cunt dripping in your panties, listening to his gasps while he fucked himself to the thought of you. Who knew the golden girl would be so naughty?

Daryl felt his confidence build, watching you fall apart for him from such simple touches. The last wire holding him back snapped and he needed more. He had waited for this moment for so fucking long.

You whine as he retracts his hand, only to be completely shut up when he places the thick digit on his tongue, sucking greedily and sloppily. It was better than he ever could have imagined, similar to the honey of your lips but so much more sweet. He went back for seconds. And thirds. Until he was dropping to his knees, deciding to lick the goddamn plate clean.

You enveloped him in the best way possible, lifting one of your thighs over his shoulder as he tugged on your tight jeans, pulling them down enough to fit his head. His tongue pressed flat against your clothed pussy, and he sucked, tasting a mixture of your sweetness and residual laundry detergent on his tongue. His moans burned the back of his throat, desperately trying to hide them but you weren’t having it, tugging on his chocolate locks for more. “Don’t do that. I wanna hear you, honey.” Good lord. He silently thanked each lucky star of his that the house was empty before emitting a guttural groan between your thighs. If this was all he got from you, a little taste of the sugar you were made of, he would die a very happy man.

He took your clit between his lips, rolling it with his tongue. Your underwear was so wet with your arousal and his spit that it was practically see-through, just calling for him to pull aside. “Please,” you gasped.

“Hm? Wha’s that?”

He’d heard you just fine. He wanted to hear you again, and again. He was greedy and you were so damn sinful, “Please, need them off, need you.”

So, he complied, as any sane man would, shimmying them down your hips as he sucked and nibbled each inch of newly exposed skin. You watched him intently with half-lidded eyes, rocking slowly to let plush skin engulf his senses like a cloud. He felt you playing with his messy hair, taking small strands between your fingertips and moving them behind his ears to see him better. The gesture struck something deep within him. You were so kind, so focused on this moment and him, he’d be damned if he let it continue on the hard damp floor of his bathroom. No fucking way.

He stood abruptly, catching you off guard. “Bed,” he muttered, capturing your lips again in a haste. He couldn’t get enough. He didn’t want a minute to pass where he wasn’t tasting some part of you. Any part of you. Sweet, sweet honey.

You led your bodies backward till your knees hit the mattress, wasting no time as you crawled up to his pillows, taking him with you.

This moment right here, this feeling… he wanted to bottle it up. Freeze time and just stare, immerse himself into every tiny detail. It felt almost criminal to continue. You were a vision, panting and squirming beneath him; so much electricity and anticipation bouncing between your yearning bodies. Could you really want this just as much as he did? Was he truly that oblivious, all these years? Whatever that answer may be, he wasn’t gonna fuck this up. Not with you.

Your hands on his face coaxed him back to reality, molding into your touch like clay. Eager lips chased his as he pulled your shirt off and as much as he wanted to freeze time and memorize each freckle of you, the more skin each other touched the more obscene the kiss became. An unartistic jumble of spit and hands and moans and thrusts.

In all the time spent pining silently for the other, you both could care less about grace.

No, he needed to hear you. Listen to every octave of moan you had in you, all at once. He needed to know each and every spot that had you whimpering and begging, this second. If time did decide to stop at any given moment he needed to have you, be you, feel everything you had to offer, and soak in it till his skin pruned.

His lips sucked and bruised their way down to your navel, and then past, kissing up your folds with lustful intent. The sounds you made above him had him seeing stars and he wanted more. His tongue slipped past your lips, finally diving into the hive of your sweetness, rolling his tongue languidly over your clit. Your hands were everywhere around him, fisting at the sheets, the pillows, and then his hair as you desperately tried to push him closer. He didn’t mind. He’d gladly suffocate between your thighs, a death he’d welcome compared to the ones he fought from outside every day.

He dove lower, smoothing his tongue over your entrance but not delving past quite yet.

“Daryl,” you gasped above him.

Looking up between your legs, he caught a glimpse of your face tossed back in pleasure and he groaned, having to ground his hips into the mattress below to relieve some pressure. “What d’ya need, sweetheart?”

He’d give you anything. The moon if you asked for it — anything to keep those pretty sounds coming from your lips. “You, you, please you.”

“How so?”

He knew he was teasing you. He’d drawn back from your glistening slit, pressing little pecks everywhere that he could reach. Your hips, your pelvis, the little crease between your thighs and your cunt. That spot drew a deep moan from you, so he focused on it, sucking and licking till it was bright red and your hips were rolling so violently he wasn’t sure how he kept his lips on you.

“In, please,” you choked out, tugging him by his shoulders to move back up. He wasn’t done yet.

“What? Ma fingers?” he toyed further, continuing his kisses everywhere but where you wanted him. “Hm?”

He brought his thumb up to your clit, pressing lightly at first, rubbing lazy, torturous circles. His lips were on the inside of your thigh, so close to your entrance but seemingly so far. He knew you wouldn’t take much more of this, you were practically sobbing above him blubbering nonsensical curses about how much you ached.

“This pretty cunt wanna be filled, that it?”

His thumb pressed firmer.

“Uh huh,” you nodded, begging him. Oh, that sound would surely be the death of him.

He finally brought his lips to your supposedly aching entrance, delving deep with his tongue. The noises he made as he lapped on your honey were flat-out pornographic, and you writhed below him, drinking everything he was giving to you. Honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take. He wanted to draw this out for hours, make up for every bit of lost time but seeing you like this, so needy for him had his resolve shattering by the second.

With a final peck to your weeping folds, he crawled his way up back to your face. You latched on to him instantly, sensing his give and taking absolute advantage of your moment. His hips rolled into yours slowly as your tongues danced and he hardly had to guide himself with how wet you were, his tip finding your entrance easily and slipping past. You moaned rolling your hips again and he nearly bottomed out, a long deep groan ripping out of him. If he thought your lips were buttery, lord save him.

Perching himself on his forearms, he held still, watching for any signs of discomfort. He assumed you hadn’t been with anyone in a while and he certainly knew he wasn’t small, if he’d grace himself with any sort of compliment.

Sensing nothing but pleasure as your walls pulsed around him, sucking him in further, he gave, snapping his hips harshly into you. Your moans were lewd on his lips, traveling down his throat and feeding the fire that burned in the pit of his stomach.

“Fuck, y/n, baby,” he groaned again, spiraling from the fact he was actually inside you this time. Not in his hand, pretending you were fucking shower water.

No, you were beneath him, latching onto his muscles like your life depended on it. He drove deeper, hitting a spot that had you gasping for air. He hit it again, and again, needing to feel you explode around him. He watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he pounded into you. God, you looked so pretty like this. All cock-drunk and needy.

He brought his thumb back to that spot on your clit. He needed you to cum soon, he wasn’t gonna last much longer seeing you like this and there was no way in hell he was going to finish before you. Your hips stuttered beneath him, walls squeezing around him and he knew you were close.

“Come on, pretty girl, you got it,” he whispered in your ear, sucking the lobe gently between his teeth. That must’ve broken you, because then you were cursing, spasming for him which triggered his own orgasm. Your cunt milked him, his seed spilling down your thighs exactly how he had pictured earlier and it was a fucking sight. He honestly wouldn’t be surprised if he had imagined this whole thing.

He fucked out both through the waves of release, and a bit past, dropping his head into your neck to muffle the obscene groans coming from his lips. He didn’t want it to stop, but your overstimulated senses ached for reprieve.

“Dar?” you whispered once you'd both caught your breath, guiding his stubbled cheek from its hiding spot. When his eyes met yours, they were filled with so much adoration and happiness he had to hold himself back from whimpering. Never in a million years would he thought he’d get you, and here you were, looking at him like the sun shone out of his ass. The same way he looked at you for years, it was jarring to see it reciprocated. How had he missed it?

You leaned forward, tenderly capturing his lips with your own, soothing him as you always did. He knew there was so much you wanted to say, that he wanted to say, but you didn’t need to talk about it tonight. Tonight you would simply soak in each other, a gift you both thought you’d never get and one you would never let go.

He felt you giggle against his lips, and he pulled back with a lazy, fucked-out smile, "What?" he mumbled curiously.

"How's the headache now, big guy?" you teased playfully and he realized then, you'd known he was fibbing today. Saw right through his measly excuse to spend time with you.

He blushed to the tips of his ears, bowing his head to hide it, "Oh, shuddup," he mumbled, attacking your neck in kisses and nips.

Your cheeky ass was gonna pay for that tonight.

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl imagines #daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #norman reedus #daryl dixon drabbles #twd drabbles #fem!reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl smut #norman reedus smut #y/n grimes #daryl x grimes reader #twd smut #daryl twd #twd fanfiction

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starreo · 6 months

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gojo satoru drabble.

includes yandere! gojo, naive! reader, and adult themes so, mdni.

bestfriend! satoru, who doesn't mind you constantly asking him for outfit suggestions for your first dates.

bestfriend! satoru, who doesn't mind patting your hair and burying you in his chest after none of your dates lead to something serious.

bestfriend! satoru, who doesn't mind teaching you how to kiss properly, maybe that's why your previous dates weren't escalating.

bestfriend! satoru, who doesn't mind teaching you how to suck a cock, he promises guys will fall in love after you give them a good blowjob. letting his cock squirt his orgasm in your mouth, he swallows his guilt as you swallow his cum.

bestfriend! satoru, who suddenly regrets what he's done...he's plagued your innocent mind...but how can he help it...

bestfriend! satoru, who has worked so hard, beating up every single man who dropped you off at your shared apartment...went so far as to find out the tiniest details from their past and blackmail them with it so they don't ever see you again.

bestfriend! satoru, who loves you so much. and when you finally seem to reciprocate his love, all his guilt vanishes, because in the end, you wanted this as much as he did.

boyfriend! satoru, who makes sure to fuck you so hard that day, your pants and whimpers echoing in his room as he thrusts deep inside, his large throbbing cock stretching your tight walls, that you'll never want to go out on a first date ever again.

#gojo smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru drabble #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru headcanons #satoru gojo smut #jjk x reader #tw.dark content #tw.yandere #starreo #nsfw. drabbles :p

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un-lawliet · 11 months

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“He Knows”

— in which you’re avoiding Gojo and he wants you to tell him why.

(or i’m coping with rejection rn pls god help me)

“You’re avoiding me.”

“Huh?!” You jump back, almost dropping your pen as you turn to see frowning Gojo Satoru staring down at you expectingly, the usually relaxed demeanour he wore crumbling in the slight dip in his brow.

It wasn’t a question, Gojo stated it as fact, and if you looked hard enough, the downwards tilt of his lips could tell you about his complete (and utter) disapproval in his conclusion.

“I have no idea what you mean.”

You were running, sprinting even away from your problems.

Avoid, avoid avoid.

You refused to let it come to this, cornered in a library with Gojo Satoru, a man you definitely were not avoiding, nope not at all.

“You.” Gojo leans down, capturing your eyes in his, “Are avoiding me.”

And you’re leaning back, in your seat, away from him. Attempting to create any distance between the pair of you, unable to stand the giddy rush of joy that the proximity generated.

A moment passed.

And then another.

And deep down you pleaded, with conviction similar to that of a desperate man crying out for God, that the floor would fall in, taking you with it and allowing you some leeway to escape.

Gojo cocks his head, blue eyes scanning your panicked face before he sighs and stands back up again, resuming his position of elevation before you.

“Why?” His voice lacked the sentiment of interrogation, he couldn’t find in himself to dwindle on anger, he missed you and he selfishly wanted you to know it, to feel guilt in your mistreatment.

“Gojo.” You started, moving your eyes away from his face to glare at the book your reading instead.

Were you sweating? You felt like you were. Oh God.

Jujutsu sorcerers were not supposed to fall for another, it was an unspoken rule shared between sorcerers.

An unspoken rule that constantly plagued your thoughts when you were near Gojo. And so, you decided confidently to yourself that you could easily get over this silly personal flaw. Surely it would be easy.

But Gojo isn’t an easy man, and falling out of love with him followed that damn trend.

At every turn of your head, your gaze found his, longing for him to catch your eyes and reassure you with his presence, boisterous, like how he handles everything. And at night, when you tossed and turned, the cruel Summer heat forcing you to wither in your bed, you wondered if he could ever dream of you like how you longed for him.

It was pathetic really.

And so yes maybe you were avoiding him.

But you were doing it with good intentions!

You weren’t about to burden him with your childish wish for his unreturned feelings. Not in this world, under these circumstances, not when he was already holding the weight of being the strongest.

“Is there something bothering ya?” Gojo paused, “Cause y’know you only have t’ ask, and I could take care of it.”

And you wanted to cry.

Because Gojo Satoru is loud, and unabashedly himself, but he cares in silence, through actions hidden behind a loud laugh and a cocky grin.

“No, no it’s nothing really.” You had to do something, to say anything.

“Nothing? I haven’t seen you in days Y/N.”

“I’ve just been busy…” You mumble, fidgeting awkwardly in your chair.

“Oh yea? With what? Reading?” Gojo scoffed, his shoulders dropping in poorly hidden exasperation.

Your cheeks burned as you nodded, unable to form words, “And missions too I guess.”

“I asked Yaga, you haven’t been on a mission since September.”

Fuck.

“Preparations for missions then.” You cringed at yourself, lowering your head in the shame of being caught in your own shitty lie.

“Come on Y/N cut the bullshit.” Gojo all but whines, “I know somethings off, I know you.” You look at him then, his shoulder slumped, and face pouting, and you felt horrible.

“It’s really nothing Gojo I swear.”

“See there!” Gojo jumped, his eyes wide with determination, a look you only ever see on him in the middle of a mission. “You called me Gojo, you never do that, it’s Satoru to you, just Satoru.”

“You’re upset because I’m not calling you by your first name?” You asked, unable to break eye contact with him.

“You use to call me Satoru.” He huffs, crossing his arms.

You had to get out of there, the fact that your confession was all but resting on your tongue scared you beyond words, and you moved to pick up your stuff.

Then you felt his hand touch yours and your froze.

“What’s going on inside that head of your Y/N.” He was so close, so, so close. You could feel the warmth of his chest that was almost pressed against your arm, “Please.”

And you crumbled, because your weak and you could never escape the way you felt when he was near you, how you could barley hold yourself back from leaning into his chest and breathing in his scent.

“Satoru.” You whispered, your confession hushed, your head down and eyes closed, “I think I like you.”

And silence.

Silence.

Silence

And you were running walking away, avoid, avoid, avoid, your feet moving fast, abandoning the books you had brought because oh my god you had just told Satoru Gojo that you liked him and that was stupid, you’re stupid, everything was stupid and-

You were pulled back into him, effortlessly turned around so that your face was in his chest, the sound of his chuckling encasing your shameful state.

“The fuck are you laughing for?” You protested, unsuccessfully trying to wriggle your way out of his embrace, his arms circling you close.

“You’re pretty when you’re embarrassed y’know?”

And you had to hold yourself back from punching him right then and there, because of course Satoru Gojo knew you liked him, of course he was teasing you.

Nothing can escape those damn eyes, and he’s smarter than he lets on.

“You’re such an asshole I hope you know that, as soon as I leave this room I am never speaking to-’

Your rambles were cut short when you felt a tiny kiss on your forehead, and you finally looked at him fully, only to see the softest expression on his face as he looked down at you.

“I think I like you too Y/N.” He winked, his hand tracing the indent of your spine as he pulled you back into a hug, rocking you gently.

And you hugged him back, finally allowing yourself the closure you had dreamed of for months.

End.

feel free to leave a request !!

masterlist here <3

( authors note: do we all wanna hear a mini rant about how the girl i fucking adore just got a boyfriend and my heart is in SHAMBLES- anyway i wrote this to cope pls enjoy,,, i love u thank u for reading have a great day <3 )

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk gojo #gojo satoru x reader #jjk leaks #hurt/comfort #soft gojo

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tentacle-therapissed · 23 days

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manga Light: *loses 10 pounds in the first 5 days of using the Death Note and is constantly plagued with nightmares over the guilt of what he is doing*

drama Light: *literally tries to kill himself because he can't come to terms with the fact that he murdered two people who were directly endangering his loved ones*

anime Light, approximately 15 seconds after using the Death Note for the second time: this is great actually now I don't even have to join the police force in order to murder criminals

#love when he just takes the unhinged wannabe cop approach to being kira but I do think about his humanity sometimes #his genuine and earnest puppy dog personality during the Yotsuba arc that ends up being more altruistic than L himself #that had to come from somewhere after all #a slightly different version of light would Not have been able to recover so quickly after regaining his memories in the helicopter #light yagami #yagami raito #death note #death note jdrama #death note manga #death note anime #kira death note #kira #sui mention

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cntloup · 2 months

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Queen!Reader x Knight!Ghost After you take a stabbing that was meant for Ghost

Part 1

The vast bleak shadow of despair is cast over the castle.

Simon marches the halls in utter anguish as the nurses gather in your chambers to tend to your wound.

Every scream of agony that falls from your mouth is a stab to his already aching heart.

Time passes agonizingly slow, each second tormenting him more than the last, tearing his soul apart.

He sits on the floor by the door with his back pressed against the wall, your uncontrollable shrieking screams filling his ears, setting his soul on fire as anxiety and sheer distress consume him.

He rests his head in his hands as he sobs in utter despair, until a heavy silence falls over the roof, your screams have stopped.

He's on his feet in an instant, rushing through the door to your chambers, feeling light-headed and a sickening sensation settling in his chest, fear of the worst possible scenario gnawing at his heart.

He enters the room and his fretful eyes roam across the faces, silently demanding answers.

Until they fall on your motionless figure and the dread of the worst comes crashing down on him.

He rushes to your side and searches for any sign of you being alive until he notices the faint heaving of your chest.

“My lord, she is resting. She's very weak, but hopefully she will regain her strength soon.” one of the nurses tells him.

He shuts his eyes and lets out a sigh, half relieved that you are alive and breathing and half still afraid, dreadful thoughts of losing you plaguing his mind.

The mere thought of it makes his heart crumble in his chest and an icy cold shiver passes through him as the image of his life without you flashes before his eyes, an empty and soulless life.

-----

As days pass by, you gradually return to consciousness and regain your strength as he stays by your side every moment of the day, spending all his time doting on you.

And his love and care bring back the light of life to your soul and body which in turn, diminishes the darkness, the fear and torment in his heart.

But there’s still something that pains him constantly, the guilt and remorse that he did not act fast enough to save you clawing at his soul. It should have been him instead of you.

“Simon...” you call out while you lay on his chest, your voice weak and hoarse.

He brings the glass of water to your lips as he holds you in his arms.

You can sense the tension in the room. You know him well enough to know what burdens him at this moment.

“Yes, my love?” he encourages you to go on, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“I will do it again... and again... if circumstances call for it.” you say as you lift your head to look him in the eye. He can see the sincerity and earnestness in your eyes.

“Please, love... it should have been me. I cannot bear to lose you. Why waste your life for such a wicked soul? Please promise me you will do no such a thing again!” he pleads barely above a whisper, the lump in his throat threatening to burst any moment while he looks at you through glossy eyes.

“Wicked?!” you exclaim in shock, though not much surprised to hear that he thinks this low of himself since he has mentioned such remarks about himself time and time again.

“Simon, I assure you that you are a great man, an honorable man. And you are the love of my life. My husband. And I will do everything in my power to save your life each time as you would do to save mine.” you state in utmost honesty and sincerity.

“I do not deserve such an honor. I don’t deserve you.” he mutters and you close the gap between you, kissing him as your love for him burns fiercely in your heart, seeping through the kiss until you’re both left breathless.

“You deserve all of it. Every ounce of love and happiness in the world. I would give it all to you if I could. But I am only me. A mere measly human. And you’re stuck with me.” you remark as your hand rests on his chest and a wide grin paints your beautiful face which makes his heart skip a beat, in complete awe of your beauty and grace.

“You are much more than that, my love. You're a goddess. And I am merely a worshipper at your shrine.” he responds and leans in to kiss you again, “I love you, Simon.” you whisper only inches away from his lips, “I love you too. With all my heart and soul.”

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tired-teacher-blog · 3 months

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Virgin pro hero Kirishima who keeps the fact hidden from his friends, acting as though he's experienced in front of them in fear of being mocked.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who is constantly teased by the one person who knows the actual truth, you, albeit in private since you're the only one he has confided to, and it makes you feel special somehow.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who has many questions but no one to turn to for help, which is why he finds himself resorting to the internet for answers.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who has become plagued with the idea of experiencing what everyone his age already has, it's not at all hard for him to snag any lady that catches his attention, but he just refuses to be driven only by animalistic desire for the flesh.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who ponders a way to break this "curse" until finally deciding to have a mock-kind-of-date with one of the closest people to him, you.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima whose smile could easily brighten the darkest of nights when you coolly accept the suggestion without a second thought.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who spends a delightful time with you, talking about your day, exchanging pleasantries, laughing, and for a split second there, you both forget that it wasn't a real date.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who nervously hands you a note the next day, in which is a cute little drawing of the both of you holding hands, and the phrase "would you like to go out on a real date with me?" written right below the sketch.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who's elated to witness a rare bashfulness exuding from you, as you quietly mutter a "yes" to his penned down question.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who's no longer obsessed with simply losing his virginity, but rather with the idea of sharing the special moment with you, now that you're finally in his life as someone who's much closer than a dear friend.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who's been daydreaming about feeling your warm lips on his own, but never had the audacity to initiate it.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who is left wide eyed and trembling when -at the end of your fifth date- you run your fingers along his cheek and plant a soft kiss on the side of his mouth, the tingling sensation spreading throughout his whole body leaves him craving more, as he leans in without thinking to capture your lips in a tender yet clumsy kiss that leaves you both panting.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who starts jerking off every night to the thought of your soft lips, on his face, on his neck, on his chest, on his abdomen, and especially replacing the hand wrapped on his throbbing cock, though the guilt of picturing you in such scenarios consumes him afterwards, but he fails to realize your own longing for his touch.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima whose heart almost bursts out of his chest when you flatly whisper in his ear, during a friends gathering, your wish to spend the night together, he could hardly conceal the excitement bubbling in his guts as he counted the seconds until taking your hand and leading the way to his apartment.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima whose blush is reaching his ears as he offers to make you a cup of coffee, a way for him to gain some time and gather his nerves.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who falls deadly silent when you leave your seat and move to plop down onto his lap, a smile on your face as you softly admit the countless times you dreamt of this moment.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who swallows thickly while listening to you recounting the nights you spent humping your pillow or touching yourself, wishing he was there with you.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima whose eyes darken with lust as he listens to your words and feels the small rolls of your hips against his tightening pants, he groans impatiently and buries his face in the crook of your neck while meeting your teasing thrusts.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who squeezes you tightly between his godly arms and shudders uncontrollably while whimpering your name as he sullies his trousers cumming all over himself.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who keeps his face hidden as he whines an apology after the other for embarrassing himself in front of you, but the cute giggle you let out after kissing the top of his head, prompts him to look up and return your warm gaze with a loving one.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who kisses you deeply while standing on wobbly legs with you in his arms, before blindly venturing to his room, bumping into walls and furniture until finally making it there.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who places you on the king size bed, his lips are devouring yours still, as he squishes you underneath his massive weight.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who slides his big warm hands under your dress, running his calloused fingers along your delicate skin in a silent plea to get rid of it for you, and moaning delightfully when you work off the garment and discard it on the floor.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who sits back to admire your luscious figure sprawled out for him, unconsciously biting his lip as his cock comes back to life in the sticky mess concealed behind his pants.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who happily complies to your wish, fingers replacing yours in removing his clothes, one article after the other, until he's kneeling between your thighs completely naked.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima whose breath hitches in his throat when you run your finger along the pulsating head, relishing the clear moisture oozing out of the slit, and begging for him to hurry up already.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who clumsily rolls on one of the condoms he's been storing for a moment like this, before wiggling his way between your legs.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who patiently waits for your permission to carry on, and slowly presses the raging hardness into your heat when you eagerly nod your approval.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima whose eyes roll back into his skull as your throbbing core welcomes his veiny shaft, your name falls from between his lips as he pushes himself to the hilt.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima whose blunt nails dig into your waist as he pulls back just as slowly, before thrusting in hard this time.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima whose growls resonate across the otherwise peaceful atmosphere of his room, his patience runs thin as he sets an unforgiving pace, plunging fast and hard within you while mouthing the all too familiar apologies.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who sinks his sharp teeth into the soft flesh of your neck, as you moan for him to "keep going just like that", and he happily complies, thrusting into your sopping walls over and over and over again until you're both driven over the edge.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who captures your lips in a desperate kiss as his hips stutter, slowing down until coming to a halt.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who asks if you're okay, and is all smiles when you answer that you've never felt so good before.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima who cutely expresses his delight to have you as his first, and quietly mutters his desire for you to be his last.

Virgin pro hero Kirishima whose happiness cannot be compared or contained when you shyly confess to share his wish.

Divider by : @/cafekitsune

#kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijiro smut #eijiro kirishima x reader #eijiro kirishima smut #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro headcanons #kirishima eijiro y/n #kirishima eijiro imagine #kirishima smut #kirishima eijiro x y/n #eijiro kirishima #bnha smut #mha smut #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha headcannons #mha headcanons

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apollos-calliope · 3 months

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luke castellan x poseidon!reader

cw: angst, mental health, panic attacks

when breaths taken seemed a little too shallow and thoughts raced around your one-track mind, everything seemed animated. the sun was far too bright, the sound far too loud. the intense summer heat radiated down in cartoon rays, hitting your skin and exploding into little pricks of pain. even the deep cuts in your camp shirt and the noise cancelling headphones fitted on to your head weren’t doing anything to provide relief from the sensory overload. your face was buried into your knees as you pressed your back to the wall of the arena. you could feel everything a hundred times more intensely than normal.

normally, luke would have been here to guide you to the poseidon cabin, where the deep blues would stop your vision from buzzing and the sounds of the ocean quieted the cacophony of camp half-blood. luke would hold you until the shaking stopped and soft snoring replaced it. normally, you could be assured that the both of you would return to an empty cabin, being poseidon’s only demigod child residing there.

so much had changed in the past few days. suddenly the dark navy of poseidon’s cabin looked a little brighter, the space inside a little less empty. a boy had shown up to camp, with bright blue eyes and curly blonde hair. you felt a pang in your heart the first time he waved at you to say hello. something seemed off, but you didn’t know how to explain it. when he was claimed by your dad about three times as fast as he claimed you, everything began to make sense. around percy jackson, your senses seemed to calm to a comforting thrum. the luxury of having a sibling was new to both of you, and he easily turned into your closest confidant and a younger brother you felt like you’d spent your whole life with. instead of returning to an empty cabin with luke, you’d return to a concerned percy. a teary-eyed twelve year old boy who recounted his mother’s stories to you until the world’s saturation turned to normal and you no longer felt like you were dying.

in the meantime, your best friend luke had stopped speaking to you.

he got along with percy like they were brothers, helping him look for his strengths and identify his weaknesses. they went all around camp that day. percy waved to you as they passed the lake. you stopped drawing patterns in the water with your hand to lift it in the air, and luke made eye contact and flinched. he nudged percy along and averted his soft brown eyes, a hint of guilt lingering behind them. your hand softly drifted back into the water.

you didn’t understand what had happened. you had traded one for the other, seemingly. that was a sacrifice you weren’t willing to make.

luke avoided you like the plague for days after percy got to camp. wherever you were, he wasn’t. even the training arena was void of him when you were there, despite his track record of training constantly. you had asked around, but no one knew what was going on with your best friend. connor attributed it to his “man-struation” while travis countered with some joke about a boner. even charles and chris had no idea what his issue was.

you had taken up spending all of your newfound free time at the beach, where the ocean could wash away the fights you’d had with luke and leave an empty slate in their absence. maybe it was best to forget about him after all. it wasn’t easy to push away the visions of his gentle eyes and tanned skin; his warm smile as he twirled you around after winning another game of capture the flag; his sweat glistened cheeks emphasizing the beautiful scar etched into his skin. you’d traced that scar hundreds of times when you’d cup his cheek as he sobbed about his father. then there was his toned arms: you’d yank at one and drag him away from his friends to whatever you two had planned that afternoon. they’d whoop and holler, and you’d run your hands up and down the muscles mindlessly.

yeah, maybe it was best to forget about him.

you never noticed the shallow breaths luke took, his face burning like apollo’s chariot had flown straight into it. he was just out of reach for you, your perfect best friend who you were cursed into loving. the fact that you two were the best of friends was proof enough that he could never see you the way you saw him.

were the best of friends. past tense. now you’d sit at the poseidon table in the mess hall and watch him rise from table eleven and excuse himself promptly. he didn’t even glance your way anymore.

after percy left for his quest it was much easier to isolate than you anticipated. chiron was too busy with the other campers to even notice your absence, although clarisse stopped by to entertain you now and again. without luke, camp became a shell of what it used to be. you envied the other campers that got to see him shine still. you sat in a pile of blankets in the dark, empty cabin that once used to be filled with love and good memories.

where did you go wrong?

luke saw you fall apart at the seams the moment he stopped speaking to you. the sky stayed a permanent dull grey, the grass looked more yellow, and even the air felt stale without you around. you breathed life into the world for him. the saddest part was the still waters everywhere. they fell silent in solidarity, like they wanted him to hear the soft sobs coming through your cabin door as he passed. he knew it was better this way though. you’d understand after you lost your brother. he wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes knowing it was his fault, anyway.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #pjo luke #percy jackson #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan imagine #percy series #percy jackson tv series #pjo fic

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castiwls · 1 month

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paramour - a.s

Paring; anakin x reader

Synopsis; A paramour is a lover, and often a secret one you're not married to.

Notes;ment to post this for may 4th but never finished it opps.

Masterlist

“Don’t look at me like that.” You kept your gaze on the skyline before you as you spoke. You’d sensed him entering your quarters a few minutes ago but had chosen to keep quiet. Despite your words, you felt his gaze continue to pierce through you as he quietly stood a few feet away.

“How am I looking at you?” Anakin mused crossing his arms over his chest. A small smirk played on his lips as he watched your hands slowly squeeze the railing you were leaning on. Anakin Skywalker has been a constant in your life for as long as you can remember.

He’d quickly become one of your closest friends in the temple and you’d found yourself spending almost all your free time with him. At first, your relationship had been completely innocent, but over time that had changed.

As you’d grown older your once platonic feelings had slowly begun to twist and mould themselves into something more romantic. While Anakin had happily taken this in his stride, you had been slightly more anxious about the idea.

You’d been taught your whole life that a Jedi must not hold attachments and still, you found yourself yearning for the touch of a man who by all means should be off limits. You heard Anakin release a small sigh before coming up behind you.

His arms wrapped around your middle as he rested his chin on top of your head. “You're nervous, I can feel it.” He squeezed your waist gently before pulling back slightly to turn you in his arms.

A smile grew on his lips as he raised a hand to your face, gently rubbing his thumb across your cheek. “I missed you.” He spoke quietly leaning down to brush his lips against yours. “You saw me an hour ago.” You responded feeling your breath hitch.

The pit of anxiety he’d sensed continued to swirl. What if someone walked in? What would happen if someone caught you in his arms?

He shook his head. “That doesn’t count.” He gently caught your lips with his own, using the hand still on your waist to pull you closer.

You knew this was wrong. Having feelings for Anakin was one thing, but acting on them was another thing entirely. At first, you’d resisted, pushing him away gently but you’d quickly learnt he was persistent.

It hadn’t been long till you’d found yourself giving in to him. You’d spent countless nights wrapped in his arms, living in the fantasy of waking up beside him every morning without the guilt and worry you constantly felt.

After a moment you pulled back, a small smile pulling on your lips. Any worry you’d had was slowly beginning to melt away the longer you stood in his arms. “Are you staying?” You kept your voice quiet, the idea of being caught still lingering in the back of your mind.

Anakin nodded wrapping a hand around your wrist. “Of course my love.” He gently pulled you back inside and towards your room. He’d found the last few nights whenever he slept in his own room, his dreams were plagued with nightmares and things which made his blood run cold.

Sleeping beside you didn’t take those nightmares away but having you safe in his arms soothed the fear that coursed through him.

A small sigh of contentment left your lips as you fell against the bed. You turned your head feeling the bed dip beside you, Anakin moved to face you propping himself up on his elbow. His eyes slowly traced your face as he reached out to pull you close.

In the morning you both knew you would go back to being nothing more than friends and no one would know the truth of your relationship. Though for the moment nothing else mattered but the two of you. Nothing else mattered besides the fact that you had each other, and that was something that would never change.

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kikiofthevast · 1 year

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What an absolute guy John Ward is. He is probably suffering from psychosis and depression. He is probably hallucinating but most of this shit is almost definitely happening. He was institutionalized for at least a month. His wife left him. His only friends are a woman who lives in an apartment building run by a cult and a man he's never met with a shotgun. He walks with a limp. He has a fear of clowns. He's plagued with guilt constantly. He fully hallucinated the existence of two whole people. He kills demons with the power of Christ. He was even bisexual

#john ward #faith the unholy trinity #faith john #faith john ward

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everyonewooeverywhere · 4 months

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MDNI 18+ BLOG -> ageless blogs and minors WILL BE BLOCKED

pairing ✭ bf!jongho x f!reader

synopsis ✭ when you come home from a less-than-perfect day, your boyfriend is nowhere to be found, but you don't want to call him and ask him to come home while he's out with friends. even though he'd drop everything if he knew you were struggling.

content/genre ✭ smut 18+ MDNI, established relationship, non-idol!au, hurt to comfort, slightly angsty, relatively fluffy (certainly the fluffiest thing i've ever written here)

word count ✭ 2.5k

note ✭ so this was something i really needed to write for myself, i think. for those who don't know (which is all of you lol) i have adhd. where i see it the most in my own life is chronic procrastination. it's something i've had to learn to cope with a lot throughout my life. a lot of times, when i feel the need to avoid feeling the stress of my personal life, i'll scroll on instagram or tumblr forever. which then leads to a heaping ton of guilt in the following hours as i try to make up for lost time. it's a wonderful cycle.

anyway, this is to say, that coping alone can be incredibly difficult. don't get me wrong, i have a handful of wonderful friends (who go to school across the country) and an angel of a therapist, but i often romanticize having someone there to help drag me out of those hopeless cycles. and not because i think i need someone to do it for me, but having that person is a really comforting thought. and, today, that is jongho i guess 😀

that being said, this mc doesn't necessarily have adhd, but they are certainly experiencing something that i experience very frequently as a byproduct of it.

like, is this smut? yeah, but im allowed to be emotional 😗

warnings ✭ mc is stressed af, protected sex, really soft sex (they're in love 😤)

✭✭✭✭

It was a terrible day. One of the worst you’d had in a while. Nothing seemed to be going your way. You’d ripped your favorite pair of tights this morning when getting ready in a hurry after waking up super late. You’d locked yourself out of the apartment. The seven dollar coffee you’d bought for yourself to cope with aforementioned events had spilt all over your desk, ruining the book you had just received as a gift from a coworker. And, to top it all off, your boss had demanded you to stay late to finish what was supposed to be his job.

So when you finally made it back to your apartment, after waiting in the lobby forever waiting for your landlord to let you in, you wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch with your boyfriend and fall asleep in his arms.

You were plagued with fatigue as you slipped out of your work shoes and made your way through the kitchen and into the living room, not finding him anywhere. The bedroom the two of you shared was also completely vacant. Nothing had changed since you’d left this morning. He hadn’t been home all day.

Maybe he’s just working late, you thought, slightly defeated knowing you’d have to wait for him, not knowing how long it would take.

Trying to take your mind off of it, you scrolled on your phone for a completely indiscernible amount of time, feeling completely defeated with the day you’d had. Moving in with Jongho months ago has been an incredibly helpful step for you. Before the two of you had lived together, you were a master of procrastinating your own feelings. Constantly letting yourself rot away in your bed and letting the day pass you by. Only to be plagued by that crushing guilt that came with letting a day go by unproductively. Living with Jongho had given you someone to hold you accountable. To pull you out of bed because sometimes it was impossible to do it on your own.

But on nights like these, where your boyfriend was nowhere to be found, which was not a common occurrence, you felt yourself slipping back into the endless cycle of losing yourself in your phone for countless hours.

Hours passed and the sun was almost completely down before you received a text from your boyfriend.

| jongho 🐻🤎: hey love, sorry i had to stay late for work today. i’m gonna go get some drinks with my coworkers.

| jongho 🐻🤎: that ok?

God, you felt so helpless. How horrible and controlling of a partner would you be to tell him ‘no?’ Did he ask? Yes, but you desperately didn’t want to be the girl who always needed to be by her boyfriend’s side. Telling him he couldn’t go out with his friends would make you feel like such a nuisance. You stared at the screen for a good two minutes, biting your thumb, trying to think of how to respond.

| jongho 🐻🤎: y/n?

| jongho 🐻🤎: i can see you read the message. is everything alright?

Before you could even draft a response, his name flashed across the screen. Taking a deep breath, you slid your thumb across the screen, answering the call.

“Hi,” you picked up.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You could hear some of his coworkers in the background. He must already be at the bar.

You held in a sigh, “Nothing, I’m alright. Why?”

“Y/n, you read and didn’t respond to my message. Like you were overthinking a response."

You didn’t say anything. Overthinking yet another response.

“Love, I don’t even want to be here that badly. If you need me to come home, I will. But you’ve gotta tell me.” He was being so patient with you. So much more patient than you thought you deserved, though he would certainly disagree with that.

You took a deep breath, nearing tears, “I–” this was so incredibly hard, “Can you please come home? I didn’t really have a great day.”

“Of course, I’ll be there in about thirty minutes. Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“No, it’s alright. I just need to see you.”

“Ok, just hang in there alright. Why don’t you hop in the shower, and we can watch a movie when I get back. I’ll pick up some takeout on my way, too.”

When you hang up, you force yourself to get out of bed and get in the shower. It’s so rewarding and feels so relaxing that you can’t imagine why you ever couldn’t get out of the bed in the first place. But, of course, you say that every time.

✭✭✭✭

By the time you had gotten out of the shower and dried your hair, Jongho had made it home with the takeout he’d promised in hand.

When you left your bedroom, you saw him sitting on the floor in your living room. He’d lit a candle on the coffee table and set the food down with it. You could tell he’d changed out of his work clothes into a hoodie and basketball shorts, mirroring your almost identical outfit. He didn’t notice you at first. He was chatting to someone on the phone, seemingly a friendly conversation, and not one you wanted to interrupt. When he saw you, though, you heard him say goodbye to whoever was on the line.

Throwing his phone down on the couch, he got up from the floor and met you at the door of your bedroom. Pulling you into a big hug, he placed a kiss on the top of your head.

“No pressure, but, if you wanna talk about your day, we can.”

You shook your head, “Not really. I just wanna eat, I think.”

The two of you ate, sitting in comfortable silence on the floor in your living room. You noticed as you took in the scene around you, that Jongho had turned off all the overhead lights in the room. Leaving only the candlelight and the string lights around the ceiling to illuminate the room. There was something about warm lighting that made everything feel so much more cozy and comfortable.

Your boyfriend wasn’t the most physically affectionate individual, but he never failed to make you feel loved. He always noticed the small things. He was hyper aware of your emotions in the least patronizing way possible. It was little moments like bringing home food for you and turning the cool-toned overhead lights off that reminded you that this man knew you better than anyone.

And that wasn’t something that happened overnight. He tried harder than anyone you’d ever met to know you. Your likes, dislikes, discomforts, phobias, and even your little habits. He knew it all. What he knew most is that you desired so bad to have someone to pull you out of your slump. Which is why he had come home early.

“I’m sorry you couldn’t stay out with your friends,” you whispered, staying focused on the food in front of you.

“I didn’t come home because I felt any obligation to. It’s not that I couldn’t stay out with my friends. It’s that you needed me here at home, and I wanted to come home and comfort you.” He ran a hand over your hair as he finished up his own food.

That was another thing you loved about him. He wasn’t saying this because he wanted to make you feel better. He wanted you to know that you were not alone. That you were free to feel your feelings, and he’d always be right beside you to comfort you through them.

“Thank you,” you looked up at him, “I love you, you know that, right?”

“How could I ever forget? I love you, too, y/n.”

✭✭✭✭

After the food was gone and the coffee table was cleared, Jongho had put on a movie laid down on the couch, holding out his arms for you. When you finally sat between his legs and leaned into his chest, he pulled a quilted blanket over the two of you, wrapping his arms around you.

You paid very little mind to the movie playing on the TV. Instead you were focused on the rhythm of his breathing, the steady beating of his heart, and the minor movements his chest would make when he let out a soft laugh whatever he was watching.

He played with your hair, running his fingers through the strands, softly brushing his fingers over your neck with each pass. This position couldn’t have been more comfortable. Being with the man you loved as he comforted you in the way he knew best with absolutely no complaint was more than you could’ve ever dreamed of.

Jongho would claim that it was the bare minimum, but you always felt the need to let him know how much he really amazed you.

When you reached your hand up to his cheek to brush your thumb over the skin, he looked down at you, completely forgetting about the movie playing. He grabbed your hand from his cheek and kissed your fingers, your palm, the back of your hand, the inside of your wrist.

Pulling yourself up to his face, you kissed him as softly as he’d done to your hand. Everything was so soft. From the way he kissed you to the way he caressed the skin under your hoodie right above the waistband of your shorts. From the hand you had in his hair to the way he lifted you to sit more comfortably in his lap.

He kissed your neck just as softly. You sighed contently. Fully basking in the way he took care of you. His movie was fully disregarded at this point as he gripped the bottom of your shirt.

Looking into your eyes he asked, “can I take care of you, love?” You nodded, helping him lift the sweatshirt over your head.

Before you could even comprehend the nakedness of your chest, he lifted you into his arms and carried you to your shared bed. Laying you on your back. Your bare skin taking immense comfort in the softness of your sheet. He pulled his shirt over his head and threw his pants off to the side.

He immediately went back to kissing you. Hands moving from your cheeks, down your neck. His thumbs caressed your collarbone as his lips brushed the crook of your neck and then your shoulder. You shuddered when one of his hands took your breast. His lips met the other one, causing you to let out a breathy moan and weave your fingers through his dark hair.

He continued to kiss and touch every inch of your torso. When he got to your waistband, he left a small kiss under your belly button. His big brown eyes meeting your own as he pulled your shorts and underwear off together. Tossing them to the side of the bed.

Lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder, he kissed your inner thigh, still meeting your eyes. The eye contact wasn’t broken until his thumb met your clit. Brushing over it slightly, making you toss your head back into the pillows under you. His mouth replaced his thumb, slowly teasing you.

With his free hand, he took your own hand, the one that wasn’t gripping his hair, and threaded his fingers through yours. Thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

He felt so good. His tongue working so hard to make you feel pleasure. Everything was so gentle, but felt so euphoric. His fingers pumping in and out of you as he sucked on your clit. You felt like you could’ve floated away with the way he caressed your hand and your thigh. It wasn’t long before you were washed with a wave of pleasure. Everything was hot. You felt it rush through you from your ears down to your cunt. He kissed your thigh one more time after you came, fingers pushing you through the finale of your orgasm.

Your breathing was ragged when he made it back up to your face, kissing you tenderly. Reaching a hand beneath the pillow under your head. He pulled out a condom. Before he could open it, you plucked it out of his hands, tearing it open as he stripped himself of his own underwear before you rolled the rubber onto his length. He groaned at the touch.

“You ready?” He asked, grabbing your arm and kissing your wrist.

You nodded, smiling, “yes. please, baby.”

When he pushed into you, you gasped and threw your head back again. He kissed your neck and shoulder, slowly thrusting into you. On most occasions, you’d beg him to go faster, but his subdued nature in this moment was so incredibly comforting. His thumb massaged your clit.

He kissed you deeply as he thrust into you. Completely overtaking your lips with his own. His kisses were so full of passion that your head spun. His adoration for you was so evident from the way he looked into your eyes when he stopped kissing you. Your foreheads pressed together, separated only by a thin layer of sweat.

“I love you so much, y/n,” he says, just above a whisper. So close that you can feel his breath tickle your lips when he says it.

You moan softly, feeling yourself reach a second high, “I love you, too.”

It’s only a matter of minutes before you reach your orgasm. You grip his shoulders tight as he coaxes you through your climax. Walls fluttering around him as he finishes inside the condom.

He kisses your lips once more before pulling out. He pushes himself off the bed to throw it away. When he comes back, he slides back into bed with you. Breath still slightly ragged.

You laid on his chest, listening to his heart beat once more.

Running a hand over his stomach, you said, “Thanks for coming home early today.”

“Of course, love. You know I’d drop anything to come home to you if you were struggling.”

“I just feel like such a nuisance asking for you to come home,” you groaned.

He ran a hand over your hair, “I will never ever see you asking for help as a nuisance. Sometimes you just need a little push. Or sometimes you just need to lay in someone’s arms. I will always be there to do that for you. No matter the circumstance, ok?”

You wanted to protest, tell him he was too much, too good to you, but he kept going, “I trust you. I know that when you ask me to come home, it’s not because you're insecure or controlling. It’s because you need help, and I want you to always feel comfortable asking for it.”

He’d left you just a little bit speechless. All you could respond with was a gentle kiss on his lips.

For him, though, that was more than enough.

✭✭✭✭

note ✭ ok this shit got really personal 💀 but i did really enjoy writing it. it's not often that i write a whole oneshot in one sitting but i did today (other than my minor break to eat dinner).

also, i was actually between writing this for vernon or jongho because i felt like they both kinda fit the vibe (sorry if the knowledge that this could have been a hansol fic makes anyone sad), but maybe i'll write something similar for him next time i'm feeling it

again, i hope you enjoyed this! thank you so much for reading 💗

mwah~

#ateez #ateez x reader #jongho x reader #choi jongho x reader #jongho smut #jongho scenario #ateez angst #everyonewooeverywhere

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duskymrel · 11 months

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Ghost Wingwoman

synopsis: After Eliza marries Puffy, she's content with her newfound life with him. But... she feels a bit guilty about Idia, and notices that he's pining after a certain Ramshackle prefect. So what better way to make it up to him then by playing Cupid?

She had the happily ever after she always dreamed of. She married Puffy, who - while not what she expected - was everything she could ever want. She felt on top of the world, never having experienced so much pure bliss in her life.

But despite the joy, the guilt she felt for what she had done to Idia plagued her, making it hard to enjoy her newfound happiness.

But it wasn't about her, was it? It was about Idia. Eliza realized that she had been focused on herself for far too long. Hell, she had even kicked Yuu out of their own dorm just to fulfill her obsessive search for the 'perfect prince'. But despite having a selfish motivation for it, Eliza knew she had to make it up to Idia somehow. Thankfully, Yuu was kind enough to let her stay at their dorm longer, giving her the opportunity to right her past wrongs.

Eliza was strolling through the halls of NRC when she heard the sound of Idia and Yuu's voices. Curious, she stopped to peek around the corner and was stunned to see Idia in person - he never left his room much usually, especially after... the incident. She cringed at his awkward demeanor. He would often sputter out gaming and meme references, clearly distressed, and she couldn't help but groan. She had wanted to marry this guy? Yet, Yuu seemed unbothered and continued their conversation cheerfully. Eliza took a closer look at Idia and paused, stunned.

It was his eyes.

She studied his eyes for a moment and the realization hit her. This was it. Love.

After Puffy's confession, the same subtle signs of affection became clearer to her. And now, without a shadow of a doubt, Eliza knew what love looked like. The look on Idia's face, though awkward, was unmistakably similar to the look Puffy had given her. She finally had her answer.

The gears began to turn in her head and a plan was forming. What better way to make it up to Idia than by setting him up with his crush? Oh yeah. It's all coming together.

She wondered how to get the plan started. Where to begin?

...

Okay, with all due respect....... Everywhere.

Idia's lack of confidence was evident. He constantly slumped his shoulders and kept his eyes fixed on the floor. Eliza knew the potential he had. With his gorgeous face and lustrous hair, why was he so hesitant to take care of them? Despite his tendency to speak in memes and video game references, Eliza admired his witty humor. Eliza decided it was time for a makeover.

After waiting for Idia to return back to his dorm, Ortho answered the door, reluctantly inviting her in. As she greeted Idia, the boy shrieked and attempted to flee. Eliza awkwardly smiled as she tried to reassure Idia,

"Keep your composure, I'm only here to make it up to you."

Idia mistrusted her, but she had successfully blocked his only exit.

"Huh? And how're you going to 'make it up to me'?" Idia asked suspiciously.

"By giving you a makeover, inside and out!"

Idia was tempted to bolt, but Eliza stopped him.

"Trust me, you'll like where I'm going with this."

She worked tirelessly to transform him into her desired version of Idia. First, she taught him good posture, how to walk with confidence, and proper speech. He constantly called it “swag”...

Next, she forced some healthy foods into his system.

“What even is this rubbish??”

“Raman…?”

“Disgusting. Here, have some gluten-free whole grain avocado toast-”

Now that she felt his 'inner self' was fixed up, she turned to his appearance. Exfoliation, moisturizers, attractive makeup and nice clothing - the whole shebang. She called it 'fancy', he called it 'gaudy'. But it was time for the final plan, all the steps Eliza had taken had led to this moment.

Of the three people she spoke to, only one was told the truth. Idia was asked to accompany her for dinner to practice table manners. Yuu was asked to accompany her to a nice dinner to thank them for all they’ve done. And Azul was asked to prepare a private room for them to have a dinner together. He normally would have demanded something in return, but after looking at the expression on Eliza’s face, he decided his pride wasn’t worth it.

Eliza watched in anticipation as Idia and Yuu entered the private room and looked at each other in surprise. Yuu couldn't help but show their annoyance at Idia's unfamiliar outfit - fancy suit, stiff shoes, and hair done up perfectly. Eliza smirked, satisfied with herself and the situation she had created. But she was ready to move on to the next part of the plan. She stepped forward, her presence now revealed

“Okay, so I lied. Anyways, enjoy your date~!”

Eliza let out a mischievous giggle as she shut the door, prompting Idia and Yuu to look at each other in disbelief. They both knew the true nature of their "date" but decided not to question it and simply enjoy themselves.

“Well, I got all dolled up and I’m hungry. Might as well.”

Idia simply sighed and went along with it, secretly hoping for something more to develop between the two.

Eliza patted herself on the back and went off to tell her husband about her matchmaking skills. She excitedly told him about what she had been up to the past few days, but his reaction was…… unexpected.

Puffy raised an eyebrow at Eliza, a bit concerned about the consequences of her actions.

"Dear, aren't you concerned that this might hinder their relationship?"

Eliza's smile faltered.

"What do you mean?"

"Idia and Yuu aren't the type of people who like going on unexpected dates or being set up with someone. They need to develop a relationship naturally. How do you think Idia feels about being coerced to change himself and being forced into a surprise date?

Eliza mulled it over.

“I think I made a mistake. I should talk to them.”

Puffy smiled with relief, having been unsure if his headstrong wife would see reason, and nodded. “You should do that.”

Eliza rushed over to the door and cracked it open, wanting to check on the situation herself. As she peeked through, she saw Idia and Yuu engaged in small talk and seemingly enjoying their food. But something felt off. Idia was acting the way she had coached him; no informal language, proper mannerisms, no video game references, etc. Yuu set down their fork and sighed heavily, prompting Eliza to reconsider her actions. Should she really have them go through with this? Should she step in?

“Idia, what's wrong with you today?”

Idia started at the accusation, feeling anxious.

“W-what do you mean?” “Look at you. You're wearing clothes you hate. You're acting prim and proper. You're even eating sushi - which you hate!! For fucks sake, you despise raw fish! You’re acting like, dare I say it? A priss.”

Idia flinched at this, his demeanor crumbling as Yuu correctly pointed out that he was pretending to be someone he wasn't. It was all Eliza's doing, and now, he regretted going along with her plan.

“Eliza told me to act like this... to not scare you off, I’m guessing. I thought that the person she instructed me to be was more likely to get a second date.” Idia sighed, his demeanor changing again to one of resignation.

Yuu’s face softened.

“Did it ever occur to you that if you were going to scare me off, you would have done so already? I know you hate cliches and corny things, but I genuinely like you the way you are.”

Idia quirked an eyebrow at the cliche line, but was quiet, not knowing what to say. Yuu gazed at Idia, marveling at his long hair and handsome face - beautiful even, without any makeup. Their eyes scanned Idia's clothing, noticing the discomfort and unease it caused him.

"Idia, you don't have to be anyone but yourself. I like your quiet presence and your video game and meme references are hilarious. Others may see you as 'weird', but to me, you're perfect. It’s perfectly okay to want to be a better version of yourself, and to be your best self for those you care about, but it’s not okay to change who you are completely."

They smiled gently at him. After all, Idia deserved to be accepted as he was. Idia slumped down and loosened the tie that was drastically restricting the amount of air he was taking in.

Yuu cracked a warm smile, pleased to see Idia back to his usual self.

"How are you so good at wording?" Idia asked, genuinely curious.

Yuu chuckled lightly and answered, "Practice."

They looked at each other for a moment, and then Yuu took Idia's hand across the table.

"Tell me if it's too much, okay?" Yuu said softly.

Eliza slowly shut the door behind her, providing Idia and Yuu with the privacy they needed. She was shocked by how wrong she had been. Instead of changing Idia, she should have improved his weaknesses and used his strengths to their advantage and-

No.

This was her problem. She was always trying to intervene in other people's lives. Puffy had been right. Idia and Yuu had natural chemistry and would have developed a relationship naturally. But like many times before, Eliza was acting brash and self-centered. Thankfully, she didn't completely ruin things.

She returned to Ramshackle and wrote Yuu and Idia separate apology letters, then slipped them under their doors before leaving (along with Puffy) for her honeymoon.

But beforehand, she requested Ortho to keep her updated on Idia and Yuu's relationship. She needed to know whether or not she had ruined what could've been a beautiful romance.

She was delighted when, a week later, Ortho messaged her, excitedly announcing that the two had gone on a second date.

------

Had a blast writing this one! Hope you all enjoyed it!!! <3

Remember that I do take requests! Check out the pinned post on my blog to see my rules for requests.

*MWAH* Love yourself babygirls

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thesunloveschips · 3 months

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Eye of the Storm - Chapter 9: Family Drama Trauma

Summary: Nyra is one of the older Archeron sisters. Twin to Nesta. Plagued by a mysterious illness that her mortal body cannot endure for too long. And yet, it seems her curse is to see her family suffer. When the youngest of her sisters is whisked away into the land of fae, immortality soon follows for the rest of them. And as an immortal, there is more to her that she has yet to know.

Chapter Summary: Feyre joins the family drama trauma. The Inner Circle treads carefully. NyraxAzriel.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

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Night flowed from the Rhysand's palm to collect Elain before she dropped to the floor. Nyra and Nesta watched as the wave of night carry their sister in and set her down on the bed. The Archeron twins followed a floating Elain and took a seat on the leather armchairs by the window. Nesta stared at the sea so far away. Maybe the sea would catch those silver flames. Her power that burned within her had probably burned her last shred of humanity. How did things escalate to this point? Nesta looked at her twin who was also looking outside the window. She turned to look at all the intruders who were Feyre's new family.

Azriel, the man, the male was constantly accompanied shadows that did not miss an opportunity to rush towards Nyra, but not today. The shadows were swirling around their master almost ominously and perhaps cautiously too. The shadowsinger with whom the Archeron twins had developed an odd sort of acquaintance. He was not a stranger but not completely a friend. He was almost a friend maybe. More so than the others.

Azriel was leaned against the wall to their opposite and he was looking at Nyra. Nesta did not know why she felt like Azriel was the only one who could understand her sense of relief when Nyra had woken up. He had cried in her arms for god’s sake. Was Azriel fond of them? Of Nyra? A shadow curled near his ear and he immediately met her gaze. He raised an eyebrow questioningly but she moved her gaze to the next person.

Rhysand, the High Lord. The one who promised protection and failed to uphold it. Rhys looked at her and looked away, guilt gnawing at his throat. Useless. He had made a promise he couldn't keep but she could not fault him for it. He had tried. He had sent troops who guarded their house, hidden in plain sight. Troops who were pointed out to her by Cassian.

The General had tried to talk to Nesta. He had offered to train her but she was so consumed with what happened at Hybern that she couldn't take up on his offer. And Nesta did not know how to be polite when saying no. She knew that he was attracted to her even when she was still human. She caught him staring at her with five centuries worth of desire in his gaze. Like he’d drop on his knees any time to beg her for her consent to do something. Nesta did not know what to make of this. But any time she wanted to be polite or at least remain quiet so as to not spout any bitter words, Morrigan would make her appearance.

Morrigan casually touching Cassian gave Nesta the fury of her life. Light touches on his arms, slinging her arm around his neck and those looks. Looks which held so much intimacy that they shared. Intimacy that she also threw towards Azriel who looked only polite. What was that between the three of them? Had they been lovers? Were they still lovers? But what exactly was in this female that Cassian would like? Nesta had watched the Morrigan throw her time and money at alcohol and dresses during the three weeks she'd been here and that was... it. Nesta had been invited to shopping trips and tours of the magnificent city sprawling below the mountain and she had refused because of the deep flame that threatened to release itself even when Mor was being nothing but polite. This female who continued to share some relationship or bond or whatever that Cassian clearly reciprocated but the overgrown bat also displayed signs of being attracted to her. She did not want to get caught in this... whatever this was. How this female shared laughter and jokes with Cassian and how they'd had their hugs and handholding and armholding moments. Nesta put a lid on it and stomped on it. She would not succumb to something as petty as jealousy against a female whose excessive vanity seemed to be the only thing that defined her.

Breathe. Nyra's voice echoed in her mind. She complied. Nesta closed her eyes and breathed deeply, feeling the powerful gaze of that male all over her. Would his touch be as powerful?

Nesta opened her eyes and watched the worry in Feyre's eyes. It was an emotion that consumed her youngest as she watched Elain and the healer who had been summoned for the unconscious female. Feyre suddenly looked at her and walked forward. She grabbed the nearest ottoman and dragged it near Nesta's chair.

“Is there anything you need? Anything?" Feyre sounded desperate and Nesta did not like it one bit. She turned her face away and watched her sister who occupied the other armchair.

"Nyra." Nesta heard Feyre call out. Her twin looked at their youngest. "Is there anything you..."

"Stop." Nyra began. "Stop holding yourself guilty for this because you're not."

"But I..."

"Why do you ask if we need something?"

"Because I was alone!" Feyre yelled. "I was alone when I was became fae. I wanted to go out and meet people and see places and have a life of my own but I was not allowed to. I kept remembering everything that happened under the mountain and I could not sleep. And I had no one to talk to any of it about. The fact that it took me so long to have someone to talk to is still affecting me, even now when I can make my choices. And now that you're... in this situation, I don't want you to feel like you're alone."

"Don't remind me of choice, Feyre." Nyra spoke coolly. "The fact that we're here evidences the lack of it." Her gaze at the sea beyond the window and her comfortable posture had even Nesta nervous.

"Do you want to go outside?" Feyre asked, her voice now small.

Nyra stilled. Her features seemed to sharpen which was rather surprising because Nesta was the twin with sharp feautres and Nyra was the one with softer features. Now that they had become fae, their physical differences had become more prominent to the point where they could be mistaken for not being twins. "I don't know."

Rhysand did not know why he did it but he stepped forward and began. "We can move you to-"

"I think my sister can speak for herself." Nyra looked at Rhys impassively. He stopped and retreated to his place by the wall between Cassian and Azriel. Nyra looked at Feyre who suddenly went quiet just as her mate was. "We have to deal with this... situation if we are to move forward, precarious as it may be. I don't want to hear anyone talk about what our trauma did to them. If anyone has any complaints," Nyra looked around the room. "You may keep it to yourselves and not bother us at all with it."

"Would you like a tonic to help you sleep?" A brave Nuala asked Nesta whose troubles with sleeping had become quite the news. The wraith had yet to pluck up the courage to speak to Nyra who had woken up only today and seemed to be quite the cranky character.

Nesta beheld the fae with her scrutinising stare. A moment later, she spoke with practised politeness. "No, thank you."

"Would you like for some to be kept on your bedsides just in case?" Nuala's second question made Rhysand and Morrigan wary of Nesta's reaction.

"No. Thank you for asking but I'd rather be ready in case something happens." Nuala nodded and retreated to the bedside where she and the healer summoned for Elain stood as silent spectators to the family drama unfolding before them. Nesta looked at Rhys and Mor who were warily looking at her. "What?" They immediately looked away. And then she saw Amren and her curious gaze. As if she could study her. "What are you looking at?"

Nesta was reminded of Cassian as soon as she said those words. Those were the first words she said to him. Her gaze involuntarily went to him and with how he watched her, she was certain he was thinking the same thing. She looked back at Amren who seemed to attempt at studying them.

Amren smirked and walked over. She placed a hand over Feyre's shoulder and asked. "May I?" Feyre stood up, as though permitting it. Amren took her place on the ottoman and continued to observe Nesta up close.

"What are you expecting to happen, girl?" The way Amren addressed Nesta piqued Nyra's curiosity. She looked at the tiny female that had probably shrinked as she took a seat.

"Another kidnapping. Another drowning session with that disgusting pot." In place of Nesta, a viper sat, ready with her long venomous fangs. The silver began bleeding into her eyes and Amren straightened her posture in alarm.

The first time Azriel saw Nyra after being Made was when she ran out of her room and wept in her sister’s embrace. He had not gotten a clear view but he saw her thoroughly after she had exited Elain’s room, bathed and dressed. Azriel felt like he could fall right there. On the floor, into a pit, anywhere. He could fall and keep falling. He soared at how healthy Nyra looked right then. All signs of ill health was gone. There was more flesh and colour and Azriel felt relief.

Right now, Azriel wanted nothing more than to peel the grey silk off Nyra's skin with his teeth. His desire and the inability to act on it was beginning to make him feel impatient right now so he resorted to tapping his feet and crossing his arms across his chest. Azriel made a note to drag his brothers for a spar after whatever this was. But then he felt it. The raw power Nesta emanated. Colder than the Illyrian mountains in the dead of winter. Like this would be where he would inevitably meet his end. He turned his gaze towards his mate who looked outside the window. Azriel knew of her habit of looking outside the window. She'd told her himself.

"You are always looking outside the window." He had noticed that many times and tonight was the first time he asked.

"There are limited ways for me to see the world. Windows, opening the door for visitors as rare as that may be." Nyra sounded a bit defeated by her own illness. Azriel did not completely understand what that felt like and he did not want to say anything offensive.

"What about the letters?" He asked, remembering the brief incident with the letters back when he had visited the Archerons for the very first time.

"Perhaps." She mused. "Why do you ask?" She gave him a secret smile that calmed him.

"Would you... perhaps, like to go outside?" Azriel was surprised by his own question. But it made sense. He wanted her to see the world and what it had to offer and miss nothing.

"Does your offer origin from pity?" The amusement from earlier was gone.

"No." He quickly defended. "It's just..." He just wanted her to see the world. There were so many things out there. People, cuisine, languages, cultures, customs and so much more. And the human life was too short when he thought about it. He was definitely older than her every living relative. And he was definitely older than most of the deceased ones and yet, here he was, not having aged a day beyond thirty in terms of looks and vigour.

"I am not that stupid." She suddenly spoke. "From what I hear, the world is too beautiful for me to reject such an offer. Pride might result in me dying in this house, never having truly known something about the outside world." And those were the words of a woman who had lost all hope. Azriel felt like Nyra and hope were strangers. There might have been a time when that wasn't the case but the present time seemed to show her nothing but cruelty.

"Your illness. You said you were recovering." Azriel was now worried. And he did not understand why. This human would die, illness or not, and he would live until death claimed him forcefully. As an immortal, he would not die until killed. And amidst his worries, he realised that he had begun caring for this female. That she had begun to be more than an acquaintance. A friend, perhaps. The thought of her dying was unacceptable.

"Slowly. If all goes well. And that's a very big if. Not a when." Nyra would not tell him that she had spat blood the night Feyre visited for the first time as a fae. She would not tell him that their unusual presence had had a physical impact on her. Nesta knew, of course. But Nesta also knew better than to make a scene out of it because of what was at stake.

They did not speak of it. Ever. But he remembered. And Azriel wondered whether she remembered it too. Now that she was a fae and with a long unending life before her, Azriel could perhaps start considering her a friend. Or a friend's friend. She was the sister of his sister-in-law. Maybe that's where he should begin navigating this mating bond.

Friendship could be a good start. He wasn't madly in love with her or anything. This was not love at first sight but for now, in the depths of his heart, he felt like he would eventually be utterly under her mercy. He knew it in his soul that he would love this female in the future because he had already begun craving the salvation that only she could be.

As she sat by the window, Azriel realised that this had been the first time he’d seen her in the daylight. Anytime he saw her during the day in the Archeron estate, the sun was usually dull. Here, in the clear skies of Velaris, the sun shone albeit not as brilliantly as it would have in the Day Court. Under daylight, he thought she glowed. Nyra's hair was tied to the side of her neck with the hair falling down her breasts in a gentle waterfall. Her curly hair had somehow become a little less curly, Azriel did not understand or know how or why. All he knew that Nyra, who was once beautiful, had become divine.

But it would take time before she overcame whatever the cauldron had thrown at her. Before she became that curious woman who had not shied from asking him about Prythian. It felt like she was trying to see the world through his eyes. And Azriel remembered her remark about her confinement.

He brushed against Rhys’s mental shields until they collapsed and he spoke to his brother. Link us with Feyre. I want to tell her something. Rhysand gave a hum of agreement before doing so.

Hello, Azriel. Feyre’s tired voice sparked a twinge of guilt about what he was about to say.

We should shift them to the townhouse.

Already trying to get into her good graces, Az? There was a teasing note to it.

The twins will have more interest in getting out of the house if it’s something they can do themselves. They don’t feel comfortable around us so it’s best if we give them enough space and freedom to let them come out of their own shell. Besides, there’s a garden which can interest to Elain Archeron.

Alright. Feyre agreed, seeing the reason behind it all.

What I’m going to say is going to hurt you but I believe it’s for the best. Azriel waited for a while.

I can take it. Feyre was trying to be brave. Trying and failing, something Azriel and Rhysand noted.

For now, keep a distance from your sisters. Let them seek you out.

Az. Rhys’s warning growl was something the shadowsinger ignored rather easily.

You went to them and they have yet to react amiably. Keep a distance. Don’t stop seeing them but stop seeking them out and asking them if they need anything. Let them come to you when they’re ready to speak to you. Azriel sounded as though he’d had a long time to make a very thorough analysis of the situation but this was second nature to him as Spymaster.

Alright. Feyre sounded defeated. Let’s try this.

Darling. Surely there’s another-

This is about them, Rhys. Not about me. Their trauma is not about me. It’s about them. Feyre interrupted Rhysand. And I’m sorry, Azriel.

Whatever for? The shadowsinger asked, noting the guilt in his High Lady’s voice.

She’s finally been reborn and she has suffered again. Azriel remembered the pain he felt five centuries ago when this sould was Rhysand’s sister and that girl had died. He’d been too young and naive to understand his own inner turmoil after her death and it took too long before he understood what it was. The Bone Carver was a bastard of a death god who managed to give him the one reason he’d clung to life for so long.

Azriel remained quiet for a while before he spoke. What matters now is that she’s alive, healthy and. She’s emotionally disturb and needs to heal. So let’s focus on that.

Your older sisters are strong females, Feyre. All of you possess a different kind of strength. Everything will be fine. And Azriel’s quiet presence left the mental link between the three.

Azriel felt so calm and light but then the most daunting thought popped up—would she be lovelier than right now? If so, then she would have males and females at her feet and he’d never be a choice worth considering. Her head tilted to the right just a bit. What the fuck was that? A sudden shock to his nerves to induce a heart attack. Why had she looked so adorable right then?

Everyone remained quiet for a while. Nesta examined the curtains from top to bottom. Some thick material which could easily block the sunlight but this was Elain's room and she had repeatedly made it clear that she needed the sunlight. Nesta remembered the curtains from her room. And the ones from Nyra's room.

Azriel looked at Cassian and then at Rhysand. The three of them connected mind to mind and Cassian was the first to speak. Say something. Anyone!

What are we supposed to say? Rhys shot back.

Ask them if they want to do something Nyra is now awake. Don't let them sulk around. It'll be harder for them to get used to being fae if they remain like this. Cassian's words made Azriel frown.

The sun was now setting. Daylight had started dimming. The sky was turning pink. Its glow fell on Nesta and Nyra and they remained quiet.

"Would you like to have dinner?" Azriel broke the silence. His uncharacteristic act gained him all the attention in the room but his gaze remained on Nyra who looked at him. It suddenly occurred to him that that was the same question he would have asked if he were actually courting her. Azriel had almost forgotten how it felt to be nervous. Nesta was glaring at him but he did not know how he'd cope if Nyra were to deny.

At the same moment, her stomach rumbled. Everyone heard it. Azriel coughed and brought a hand to his mouth to cover the smile that had threatened to creep on his face. He saw that Nyra was, in fact, embarassed. He walked over and kneeled. "You've been asleep for weeks. Let's have some food."

Nyra looked away from him, clearly not wanting him to see her face but a faint blush had been painted on her cheeks. Mistress. So lovely. Adorable. And Azriel agreed. She did look rather adorable. Unlike Nesta who had prominent cheekbones, Nyra had more flesh on her cheeks and the blush on it reminded him of peaches.

"There's chocolate cake for dessert." Nyra looked at him immediately at the mention of chocolate. She had not tasted it in years but she remembered how she loved it. She did not even remember how it tasted like even though she had eaten back when she was still healthy. And now, there was chocolate. She looked like a child, fascinated. Azriel was trying to lure her to dinner with her favourite.

"Alright." She mumbled. Her stubbornness to hide after her rumbling stomach was felt across the bond and Azriel felt all the relief in the world. Their connection did not have any barriers so far and he had to keep some from his side so that she wouldn't be overwhelmed with emotions. He did make a note to teach her mental barriers but for now, he would use them as a cheat sheet to understand her more.

Azriel looked at Nesta who looked at him with all the surprise she had been suddenly hit with. "Will you come for dinner, Nesta?" Nesta simply nodded and he was content. He stood up from where he kneeled before Nyra. "We'll meet you at seven thirty." They had approximately an hour and a half. On his way out, he ushered the others outside and closed the door to give them their privacy.

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels@impossibelle@esposadomd@starswholistenanddreamsanswered@judig92@bunnyredgirl@sh4nn@a-frog-with-a-laptop@kattzillaa@ronnieglennn@wallacewillow0773638@forgiveliv@justdreamstars@donttellthecats@cat-or-kitten@jojodojo02@wandas-dream@evylynny@weasleyreidstyles@stqrgirlies-blog@why4anne@acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe@macimads@footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria

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comradekatara · 4 months

Note

So, we don't often see Sokka being really passed off at anyone in the show. We see him being angry with Aang when he burned Katara, with Han bc of course, but like, Katara gets mad quickly, and it frizzles out, but I feel like, actually angry Sokka is dangerous, and no one is willing to see how dangerous he is going to be.

Thoughts?

I mean, sokka gets pissed off a lot. at idiocy, foolishness, incompetence, cowardice, rashness, cruelty, corruption, naïveté, illogic, callousness, heedlessness, and so on and so forth. he makes definite exceptions, but he’s constantly objecting to pretty much everyone and everything. besides the obvious blindspots in his judgment (usually father issues, occasionally a pretty girl) he is a ruthless critic chugging haterade at all times. even just mentioning your horoscope in his vicinity gets his heartrate spiking (and ppl wonder how/why he died relatively young). but you’re right, sokka isn’t really rageful in the way katara is.

it’s in fact crucial that while katara is motivated by blinding rage during her lifechanging fieldtrip/apotheosis, sokka is motivated by blinding guilt. sokka really only freaks out when aang hurts katara, hahn demeans yue (among other things), and azula threatens suki. and in all three scenarios, his rage overtakes him due to his own guilt. he feels that he, personally, has failed by “putting” katara, yue, and suki in danger.

as we know, sokka has deeply internalized the patriarchal logic that dictates that he must act a protector figure, especially towards girls. and sokka’s protectiveness is so entrenched in his identity that even when someone he cares for experiences harm in a way that is beyond his control, he feels directly implicated in their suffering, and the guilt plagues him. in the case of yue and suki, being imprisoned (metaphorically and literally) was a choice they made (obviously not an ideal choice, but an expression of their own duty, resigning themselves to suffering for what they believe to be the greater good). and yet, since sokka feels that it is his burden to carry all the world’s suffering for others (especially if those others happen to be a sibling, girlfriend, or parent), receiving definitive proof (and in the case of hahn and azula, deliberate taunts) clarifying that sokka is fundamentally unable to bear the brunt of everyone’s pain for them is what causes him to snap and physically attack them without first stopping to consider the consequences.

unlike katara, who is guided by impulse, sokka usually does first stop to think. very rarely does he let his rage overtake him the way she does. but occasionally, his own guilt complex is threatened to the point of overtaking his logic and letting his violent impulses take the wheel. this is magnified tenfold in the boiling rock, which is the ultimate expression of sokka acting rashly out of guilt. this time his failure isn’t even tangential, as he was actually responsible for the loss at the invasion that resulted in the imprisonment of those he has always most wanted to emulate, including his ultimate role model, hakoda. of course such overwhelming guilt would prompt him to feel as if he had no other choice but to save his father or die trying.

sokka is also full of rage, but unlike katara, his rage is only truly triggered when it is turned inward. katara blames others for her problems to a fault; only to aang does she ever actually apologize and take responsibility for her actions. sokka, on the other hand, internalizes blame to an absolutely absurd degree, and as much as it may seem like he is constantly finding fault with everyone around him, that ruthless criticism is really just a milder externalization of his own perpetual self-criticism, which is the sharpest and most ruthless of all.

#salt-popcorn #asks #sokka #katara #analysis #he is sooo. fucked up :)

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boothillssugarmomma · 21 days

Text

Insufferable...

(Ratio x Fem!Reader)

cw-: angst, needles mentioned, injury, mean!ratio, insults thrown

🎀authorsnote: this is my first fic so criticism is appreciated!

please don't steal my work!

Taglist🎀HSR Master List🎀Other Lists🎀

Sitting in your room enjoying a quiet, lazy afternoon, drifting off in your own little world. Your peaceful bubble was abruptly popped as the door burst open. It was your roommate, Veritas Ratio, holding a book with a dirty scratched cover, his face covered in annoyance.

"This is your doing!" He flailed his arms around, waving the book. "Careless and inconsiderate, as always!"

A stinging silence plagued the room, heavy with the weight of words left unsaid.

"You are always fucking around while I invest my time in my intellectual studies!" Ratio continued, his tone was anything but nice . "It's clear you do not value any knowledge the way I do, you LITERAL imbecile."

"Imbecile!?" You scoff and glare at him. "Seriously? You're going to INSULT me?"

"Your ignorance is astounding," Ratio retorted, his disdain clear in his expression. His attitude was unrepentantly condescending, as usual.

"How could you deny the truth when the evidence is right in front of you?" The man demanded, his eyes glinting with determination. "Why are you still feigning innocence when the damage is visible to the naked eye?"

He waved the book again, as if the blemish was proof of guilt. To him, the evidence was undeniable.

"Ratio I didn't touch your stupid book..." You sigh as you fold your arms.

"Then pray tell me, who was it?" Ratio's tone was mocking, as if he already knew the answer but wanted to hear it from you anyway. He looked down at you with contempt and superiority, his golden eyes piercing through you.

"Come on now," he cajoled, "Spit it out, who was it. Surely you must know what happened to my book, right?" His attitude was condescending, implying that your intellect was too inferior to understand the situation.

"I don't know, maybe you dropped it?" You hum as you twirl a piece of your hair in between your fingers.

Your comment only seemed to add fuel to his fire. Ratio's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing to slits as he glared at you.

"Do not play coy with me," he barked, his tone dripping with annoyance. "I am well aware of your...habits. You are careless and clumsy, constantly making a mess of things. You think that I would not recognise your doing?" He waved the book again, his hand moving with a hint of aggression.

"Look, I didn't touch your book. So if it wasn't me, it had to be you." You step towards him with an annoyed look.

Ratio let out a scoff, clearly not wanting to admit that he could've dropped the book himself. His eyes gleamed with irritation as he spoke.

"Please, spare me from your feeble attempts at logic," Ratio spat. His voice was laced with disdain, as if the notion was an enormous insult to his intelligence. "The evidence lies before you, the fact that you refuse to acknowledge it is proof of your ignorance." He held up the book once more, flaunting the scratch on the cover, his jaw clenched.

"...Ratio I'm not in the mood to deal with this. I had a hard day at work." You groan and try to close the door in his face.

Ratio immediately placed a foot in the doorway, not allowing it to close. His expression was a mix of annoyance and defiance, refusing to back down from this petty squabble.

"You expect me to believe your trivial work is enough to exhaust you?" Ratio scoffed, his tone laced with disdain. "You clearly do not care enough about knowledge if you let mere labour deplete your energy." He pushed against the door, his stance firm and unmoving.

"Do you work?" You scoff as you get in his face.

Ratio's eyes gleamed with superiority as he looked down at you. He didn't need to mention that he was the top scholar of the Intelligentsia Guild, and that his brilliance was unparalleled.

"Of course I work. My work is of the highest intellectual caliber, unlike your mindless labour," Ratio replied, his tone dripping with arrogance. "You will never understand the value of knowledge and wisdom that I devote myself to."

"No no, you do intellectual work. Not work work." You growl a bit.

Ratio cocked his head slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh, so you believe intellectual work is inferior to mundane labour? You know, the amount of effort I put in to cultivate my mind far surpasses whatever manual labour you engage in." His voice was mocking and condescending, as if amused at the comparison. "You should be grateful that you only have to toil with your hands, it's a simple life, for a simpleton."

"A. What." Your eyes narrow as he speaks.

Ratio remained unfazed by your expression, and continued with his condescending demeanour.

"Oh please, spare me from your indignant expression," Ratio scoffed, his gaze unwavering, "You're clearly upset because you lack the capabilities for intellectual pursuits. It's only natural for the mediocre to be envious of the brilliant." He held his chin up high, a smirk on his lips, revelling in the opportunity to belittle you.

"No you know what Ratio!" You back up and clap your hands together. "Since you're so smart I can stop working right!?"

Ratio immediately frowned at your proposition, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. His entire body tensed, clearly unhappy with the direction this conversation was heading.

"What do you imply, imbecile? That you shall simply cease your labour and indulge in your lackadaisical nature full-time?" His voice was filled with frustration and irritation, almost as if you had just proposed to commit a cardinal sin.

"SOOOOO smart!" You scoff sarcastically. "Maybe if you took time to think about WHY I chose labor instead of going to school like you! You'll appreciate me more." You slam the door in his face.

Ratio stood outside the closed door, his face twisted in annoyance. He didn't appreciate your sarcastic comment, nor the door being slammed in his face.

"Hmph! Typical," he grumbled, his fists clenching, "A labouring ignoramus that fails to understand the true value of knowledge." He gritted his teeth in irritation before storming off, leaving you alone in your room with the argument still lingering in the air.

a week passes and yet not a single one of you has tried to patch the bridge, until one night, you come home from a late shift

Ratio was lounging about in his room, engrossed in a tome filled with complex mathematical equations. His mind was lost in complex calculations, and his thoughts were preoccupied with the elegance and logic of mathematics.

Suddenly, he hears the door opening and the sound of your footsteps, but he continues to study, his expression impassive.

You walk back to his room and peek in. "Hey...here." You slide a new copy of his book on his desk and turn to leave.

Ratio's eyes widened slightly as he saw you enter his room, and even more as he saw the new copy of his book on his desk.

His face softened slightly, and a hint of surprise flickered in his eyes. He looked at you as you turned to leave, his jaw a bit agape. He didn't expect you to apologise this way.

"You..." He began, but hesitated for a moment. "Did you buy me this?"

"No...I stole it..." You yawn with a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

Ratio's eyes widened again, his previous surprise replaced with indignation. "Stolen?!" He spluttered, his composure crumbling at the thought of stolen goods.

He quickly rushed to the book, and began flipping through it, his mind racing in panic, as if expecting the words to have been stolen too. "How could you do such a reprehensible thing? I won't allow this in my home! You really have no conscience, stealing things on a whim. How shameful!"

"Sarcasm dummy..." You laugh hollowly.

Ratio's jaw dropped slightly at your revelation, his eyes shifting from astonishment to mild annoyance. He took a moment to compose himself before replying in a sarcastic tone, mirroring your own.

"Ah yes, sarcasm. Such a delightful display of wit," he deadpanned, his voice dripping with irony. "Your ability to engage in such low-born mockery knows no bounds, does it? How lucky I am to have been graced with such a dazzling display of humour."

"Cmon Ratio... I'm trying to say I'm sorry." You sigh softly. "I don't know when or if I scratched your book...but..."

Ratio's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied your expression. He could sense the sincerity in your demeanor, and the fact that you were making an effort to apologize. But still, his irritation lingered.

"If, you say?" He repeated, his tone sceptical, "You expect me to believe that you might have, potentially, possibly, accidentally damaged my book, and that you're willing to apologize for this hypothetical event?" Ratio scoffed and folded his arms, his expression firm.

"Just...never mind." You sigh and turn, leaving his room, you stumble to the bathroom as your head swirls.

As you stumble away, Ratio watches you leave, his irritation gradually softening into a tinge of concern. His eyes narrow as he notices your unsteadiness.

"Are you okay?" He asks, his voice betraying a hint of worry. He hesitates for a moment, before getting out of his seat and following you to the bathroom.

"I-Im fine..." You whisper, clearly lying.

Ratio hovers by the bathroom door, his eyes scanning your body closely to assess your condition.

"You don't look fine to me," Ratio retorts, his voice laced with concern. "You're clearly dizzy and stumbling."

"Work...wasn't...the best today." You cough and rub your temples.

Ratio's eyes narrow with worry and irritation, sensing something amiss. "Work wasn't the best? What are you hiding from me?" He demands, stepping closer to you.

He carefully places a hand on your shoulder to steady you, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of distress or exhaustion.

"It's getting harder and harder..." You whisper. "The mines...those stupid mines..." You sigh.

Ratio's eyes widen with surprise and disbelief. He was taken aback to hear you mention the mines. "You...you're working in the mines? Why in the world would you subject yourself to that kind of labor?" His tone was a mixture of shock and frustration, and he couldn't mask the concern in his voice.

"...because it's the only thing I can do..." You mumble so quietly he can barely hear you.

Ratio scoffs and crosses his arms, his irritation and disbelief evident. "The only thing you can do? You mean to tell me you're capable of absolutely nothing else, other than toiling away like a lowly labourer?" He shakes his head, his frustration palpable.

"Why don't you try putting your intellectual abilities to use? Instead of squandering your potential with manual labour." He sighs deeply, clearly not happy with this turn of events.

You just shake your head before staring into the mirror. "You don't understand... I've TRIED Ratio!"

Ratio's eyes flashed with irritation, his jaw clenching in annoyance. "I don't understand?" He retorts, his voice rising with frustration.

"You say you've tried, but what effort have you truly put in? Have you taken the time to explore your intellectual potential, to study and learn about the world around you? Have you even bothered to utilize your mind to its fullest extent?" He scoffs, his expression firm and resolute.

"Ratio...I don't have the opportunity to!" You whisper and glance at him. "We wouldn't get by if I stopped working and studied..."

Ratio's expression softened slightly, a hint of sympathy creeping into his features. His jaw relaxed a little as he glanced at you, finally understanding where you're coming from.

"You..you're in a difficult situation, I see," He mutters quietly, his voice a little calmer. "If you couldn't afford to study and learn due to your...circumstances, then it's understandable why you have to labor." He pauses before continuing. "But I still think you should...try...at least."

"I care about you!" You whisper. "So I work to keep us afloat as much as I can."

Ratio's eyes widen in surprise at your sudden admission, his cheeks flushing. He wasn't expecting such heartfelt words from you, especially after the recent series of arguments and heated exchanges.

He stands there in shock, unable to find the words to reply. His mouth opens and closes silently, as if struggling to process what you said.

"You...you care about me?" He finally manages to fumble out, his surprise evident on his face.

"Of course..." You sigh. "You're my best friend...even if we argue."

Ratio's expression softens further, his gaze lingering on you as his surprise dissolves into a hint of affection. He can see the sincerity in your eyes, and the effort you've put in to support both of you. With a deep breath, he summons his usual confident facade and clears his throat.

"I-I see," he mutters, still a bit flustered from your sudden proclamation. "Well...I suppose a small amount of care is warranted among friends."

Your hair falls in front of your eyes as you smile softly. "Nice to know you care brainiac..."

Ratio's expression becomes even more flustered, a hint of pink creeping across his cheeks at your teasing comment. He quickly tries to compose himself, refusing to allow his emotions to take control.

"Of course, I have some level of care for my friends," he mutters, his tone feigning nonchalance. "Regardless of your...intellectual limitations."

"OOO feisty are we?" You laugh as you turn to him. Your eyes look watery but the smile seems to cover that pretty well.

Ratio's eyes widen as he notices the hint of tears in your eyes. He's surprised yet again by this unexpected show of vulnerability. It makes him feel a little guilty.

His cheeks still flushed, he tries to maintain his composure and put up a confident facade.

"Feisty? Hardly," he snorts, trying to play it cool. "Just stating the evident."

You lean forward and hesitantly hug him. "Thank you..."

Ratio's eyes widen further, completely shocked at your sudden display of affection. His body stiffens from surprise as you hug him. For a moment, he's rendered speechless and his mind is devoid of his usual witty remarks.

But then, he softens slightly and returns the hug, carefully wrapping his arms around you.

another week passes and everything seems to be getting gradually better between you. But one night when he expected you to come home. You never did

Ratio waits for you that night, expecting your usual arrival from work. But as the night progresses, and you don't seem to show up, his worry starts to grow. His mind starts running wild with thoughts and possibilities, contemplating why you haven't come home yet.

he keeps waiting until the phone rings quietly throughout the house

Ratio jumps at the sudden ringing of the phone, his heart pounding in his chest. Worried and anxious, he quickly rushes to answer it. His fingers tremble slightly as he picks it up, a feeling of dread washing over him.

"Hello?" He says, his voice filled with concern.

a woman answers, but it's not HER "Hi is this Mr Ratio?" She sounds cheerful enough.

"This is he," Ratio replies, his voice betraying his confusion and worry. He grips the phone tightly, his brow furrowing in perplexity.

"Can I help you with something?" He adds, almost hesitantly.

"It says here on Miss Y/N's forms that you're her roommate and emergency contact..." The woman starts to list off things but he's not paying attention after she says one word.

Ratio's eyes widen with surprise and concern. "Emergency contact?" His grip on the phone tightens even further. "Yes, I am."

His mind races with possibilities. If you've put him down as your emergency contact, then it must be something serious. He listens closely as the woman continues listing off things

"Well she's here in our Belobog infirmary getting the best care from Miss Natasha...your lady here insisted that you needed to know she was here." The woman keeps talking. "She's on pain meds right now, and she'll be completely fine in a month or two. She got in a tiny incident at work." The lady laughs nervously.

Ratio's eyes widen even further and his heart skips a beat at the news. He listens intently, his face betraying the flood of emotions washing over him.

A wave of relief washes over him as he finally learns about your situation, and that you're being taken care of by Natasha. His worry slowly dissipates, replaced by a surge of affection and gratitude.

"I-I see," he mutters into the phone, trying to maintain some semblance of composure.

"A pick from the mines flew through the air and just hit her stomach, but don't worry, it didn't go all the way through!" The lady laughs nervously again.

Ratio's fists clench as he takes in the information about your injury. He can't believe that such an accident happened while you were working in the mines. His mind immediately begins calculating the force and velocity required for a pick to cause such an injury.

"How...how severe, is the injury?" He asks, his voice trembling slightly from the surge of emotions he's feeling.

"Well..." The lady trails off as a scream from over the phone can be heard. "Um...if you'd like to come see for yourself tomorrow morning? When visiting hours start?" She whispers quickly.

"I'll be there," Ratio mutters before quickly hanging up the phone. His expression is a mixture of worry, anger and frustration. With each passing moment, the image of your injured body becomes clearer in his mind.

His hands tremble slightly as he tries to compose himself, a multitude of thoughts swirling in his mind.

"How...how could this have happened," he mutters to himself, fists clenched.

🎀Continued in The Next Part 🎀

Insufferable Pt 2

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