#how has it been almost a month since i posted what the hell no wonder my hand forgot how to draw

[ma1dita]

without a doubt

part one can be found here -> it will pass

words: little under 3k

summary: James has a lot of questions, but he quickly finds out Peanut is the answer.

warnings: none! angst–hurts before things get happy, peter (since some of yall might need a warning), all the marauders are alive and happy, lily is too smart for this, peanut and jelly 4 ever

a/n: thank you for all the love (and tears shed) for it will pass! i genuinely rewrote this about four different times and almost lost the plot, but please let me know if it meets your expectations!

(posted 9/11/23)

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 4

I know it will pass, it’s just heavy. You’re all I know.

There’s something about the noise in your brain as you move around your silent apartment. It overpowers the fear that hasn’t quite left your body after he let the front door fall shut. Being paralyzed in the aftermath of the truth that left your lips…It’s maddening. And you can’t even talk to the person you want to hear it most. You love him.

I do love you (Y/N), just in a different way.

Those 10 minutes were a fleeting moment in the life you’ve shared with your best friend thus far. But now, he’s stopped writing, stopped calling, and you’ve never heard him be so quiet in the past few days after the fact. There’s a knock at the door, and the sound interrupts the way you breathe, dishrag in hand, and James’ sweater still on your body.

I know that, James. I just don't know how to stop.

“What a vision you make, (Y/N).” Remus jokes in an attempt to try to make you smile. He’s leaning against the doorframe as you pop your head through the opening and he slowly moves to follow you into your home. Why does it feel like you have to explain yourself this time? But Remus is deeply understanding in nature, and he opens his arms for you to burrow yourself in.

“Get yourself fixed up. Not taking a no for an answer, love. You’ve been MIA for long enough and you know how Pads is about his birthday. He’ll want you there, broken heart be damned.” Remus is rubbing your back, and you groan.

“Ever the fucking diva.”

His chest rumbles with laughter, but both of you know that you say it lightly. Years ago, when Sirius moved into the Potter’s, it was understood that every birthday was to be as great as he was to his found family.

Nothing has to change, Peanut.

Remus sniffs you lightly, nose crinkling, “Place is spotless. Your turn for a deep clean and then off we go.” A horrified noise leaves your throat as you push yourself out of his embrace.

As the steam from the shower slowly suffocates you, you realize that Remus innately knew the reason for your emotional sabbatical from James and the rest of your friends. You wonder if everyone’s known that you’ve been in love with James Potter, and scrunch your face at how oblivious you both have been. The cold water washes away the grief that’s had a handle on your being this past month. Out of all the pranks they’ve played, this tops it. What a sick joke for the both of you to be left out of.

I think you should go now. Please.

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 3

All of Sirius’s birthdays are spectacular, but you really can’t fight the hurt crawling up your chest. There are too many memories here at Potter Manor, too many familiar faces asking where you’ve been, and James looks petrified, eyes following your figure around the Manor like you’re a ghost he can’t touch. You walk up the stairs like you have many times over the years, finding a hideaway in the west wing. You and James used to gaze at the stars here.

“So why the hell are you moping on my birthday? No one’s allowed to be sad today.” Sirius grins, breaking the silence as he walks across the balcony to throw his arms over your seated figure.

“Happy Birthday Padfoot.” you smile, leaning up to kiss his cheek. You clink your glass against his as he takes a seat next to you on the bench.

“Trust me when I say you always look stunning, (Y/N) but there’s this look in your eye that you get when you’re around Prongs nowadays. Might I say it’s why you dropped off the face of the Earth?”

Your face instantly drops at his words, and you’re glad he can’t see much in the dim light.

“How long have you all known, Pads?”

“I don’t know about much when it comes to love, (Y/N). But what I do know is that I’m his brother, and you’re his best friend. There’s a lot of responsibility being those two things for someone like that idiot. You love him like humans need air.”

“I just… I don’t know what to do with it.” The elderflower wine glides down your throat, its taste sweet on your tongue. Sirius sits with you, knowing what’s coming next. As an older brother, he also knows you’ve been waiting for someone to listen.

“What do I do with all the love I have for him? Where does it go now that he doesn’t want it?”

“I’ll take some. It sounds lovely.” Peter’s voice almost echoes in the silence as you both turn your heads to see him and Remus in the dim light of the hallway, a bottle of firewhiskey in hand and it makes you genuinely smile for the first time in days.

“Yeah, pass it around. Godric knows Prongs doesn’t appreciate you enough.” Remus says bluntly, and you hit his stomach when he ruffles your hair.

“Honestly, what a prat! Makes you plan his proposal and doesn’t want you at the afterparty? The nerve.” You choke on the remnants of your wine as you laugh at Sirius’s outrage for you, and all four of you are giggling in the dark like idiots as Remus pours you shots. If anything else goes wrong in this life, you’re glad that you have the Marauders to live it with you.

The laughter reaches the hallway, and in walks Lily, who teasingly asks “Did the party move in here without us?” James is as still as a statue behind her, watching you laugh with his boys. He can’t remember the last time he’s seen you happy and acknowledges that he’s to blame.

“You shouldn’t be surprised, Lils. There’s always a party when Padfoot’s around,” you remark, and everyone gets up to go back to the party. Lily looks around as if she’s missing something, then looks at James.

“I’m glad that (Y/N)’s back from whatever’s been keeping her busy. Looks like everything’s falling back into place.” she muses, and James can’t help but watch his best friend, no, his best girl, walk away, thinking that everything must be falling apart.

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 2

It’s morning now, and a lot of the crowd has gone home or fallen asleep in the many rooms of Potter Manor. You decide to stay to help clean up for Mr. and Mrs. Potter, who were always like second parents to you as well. They had a thing for taking in kids who needed love. With your best efforts, you can’t seem to escape James, who has incessantly trailed behind you into every room you walk into. You dodge him again as you walk down the hall, but James, who has always been a chaser in more ways than one grabs you by the arm and pushes you into his childhood bedroom.

A shriek leaves you as he closes the door and has you up against the wall.

“What the fu—”

“You’re avoiding me. Why are you avoiding me?” his face is panicked as his breath hits your face.

“You told me to leave you alone. That’s what I’m doing now, James. What else could you want from me?” Your hands are on his chest, crinkling the dress shirt that you once helped him pick out at the shops, and you feel breathless, angry at knowing him too well, and angry at what he’s insinuating.

James is at a loss. He loves you. He’s never gone more than a weekend without you and now it’s been ages…. And he loves you. He’s looking at you differently now, in the sunlight that floods through his old bedroom. He loves you so much that it hurts.

His hands slide from the wall behind you, until they reach your shoulders, and trace down your arms. Intertwining your fingers together, James speaks.

“I didn’t mean…” he exhales. “I just…”

“Did you not want me here too? Because unfortunately, my friends are also yours, so maybe we can clarify exactly the terms you want me to follow next time, James.” you seethe, getting in his face.

You push him away, his arms chasing after you, pining for your touch. Your heart is racing with hurt, with anger, with love, all for the man standing across the room.

“Peanut…”

“No.”

“I never want you to leave me alone, okay? It’s been agony without you and I can’t even put into words how—”

“I can, James. How long have I been so oblivious to the fact that I’m in love with you and how long have you just let it happen? You can’t just… please don’t pretend that you don’t know that I’ve been waiting all my life for you to let me fill the empty spaces in your heart.” Your voice wavers as you pull yourself away from him, sitting on his bed.

“Just tell me what’s happening, Peanut. You’ve always had the answers. I feel like I can’t breathe when you’re not there and I….. my heart feels like it’s going to combust… I… I just feel…. so intensely. I miss who I am when I’m with you.”

James throws himself down onto the bed, hyperventilating with his head in his hands. Your hands are shaking as you reach for him. You’ll always reach for him.

He raises his head, as you delicately grab his face into your hands. Your fingertips brush his tears away, loving him for the mess he is.

“My life has been so quiet these past few days and I’m so scared to live life without you. Did I fuck it all up for us?” You whisper.

James licks his lips, and he’s playing with your hair in his hands. Your knees are touching on the patterned bedspread. The space between you diminishes as you realize that he’s about to ruin everything.

Your best friend is going to kiss you.

He’s holding your jaw so gently and for a second, you wonder if this is what it would feel like to be loved by him in the way that you do. With every single ounce of control, you turn your head away from what you’ve been craving most. James’ lips land on your cheek, and he’s chasing after you again, muttering apologies as he looks into your eyes and sees everything he’s been wanting. He sees his whole life with you through the split second your eyes connect. Pushing him away again, you stumble away with a sob.

“What was that?”

“I just… “ He’s gasping for air, feeling like his heart has exploded, and the silence is so loud that he feels like his heart must be in pieces, and you’re picking up the wreckage to take home. He’s in love with you. His heart has always been yours.

“You what, James? Don’t do that!”

He’s lived in a mansion his whole life but Godric, is this room suddenly feeling too small? You get on your feet, stepping away from him and he’s following you.

“Do what?”

“Don’t make me hate you, Jelly. Loving you has been painful enough.” Tears are blurring your vision as you hiccup, and maybe it’s better to not see him right now. Maybe you really shouldn’t have come.

“I just wanted to know. I know now, love, I…” James whimpers at the sound of his nickname. Your nickname for him alone has this man wanting to drop to his knees.

“No. Don’t you know how cruel you’re being right now? To me? To the love of your life? I would never do that to Lily!” Your voice is getting louder by the minute, and James is stoic in his silence, steps away from your blaze.

“But you told me you’re in love with me. Are you saying this is because of me?”

“Everything I do is because of you, James. And if you don’t know that by now…” Then maybe you don’t know me at all.

The words go unsaid but the both of you are hit with the reality of it. Your hands jangle the doorknob to get away from him, to be anywhere but here.

—

DAYS UNTIL JAMES PROPOSES: 1

Lily listens intently as James tells her everything he's been wanting to say for the last eleven years. She's not surprised, in fact, she knows this is the truth, but she's still heartbroken. Lily Evans and James Potter are both people who like to chase things, people—but after all that’s said and done, the thrill wears off. They’re more alike than they’ll ever know.

He tries to apologize, but Lily cuts him off and tells him there's no need. She's always known the truth, and even though it took him this long, she's glad he finally figured it out. Smartest girl of their year, after all.

“I mean, I always felt like she should’ve been dating you, but then we happened and I fell too hard and didn’t stop to ask questions. I tried to be blind to it, but…it was nice, wasn’t it?” Lily whispers, holding James’ hand for the last time. He looks like he’s about to pass out.

“I’ll be okay, Potter. I was before you, and I will be after you. So thank you for being honest. You’ve always been honest with me.” A small kiss on his cheek renders him breathless. Once upon a time, he would stay up all night at the idea of Lily Evans loving him. But his heart has always belonged to you. Without a doubt, James Potter is in love with you, his best friend.

He doesn’t tell Lily he was planning to propose tomorrow, since the situation is already as messy as it is. But Lily Evans always knows.

—

JAMES HAS A PROPOSAL

James is pushing boxes back into Potter Manor, and Mippy helps flit the rest of his belongings up the stairs with magic. The least he could do is give Lily their apartment after their breakup. He looks around, rubbing his fingers of dust as his mother calls him for dinner. How humbling, he thinks, to start all over because he was too stupid to realize he’s in love. Starting over in a place he calls home is absurd. He looks out towards the courtyard where you had your fairytale wedding, walks by the hallways you used to race training broomsticks in, and back to his room where he used to whisper hushed lullabies to help you sleep. Everything reminds him of you, and your love consumes each memory that flickers through his vision. The feeling shocks him like ripping your head out of a pensieve. He’s so utterly in love with you.

What the hell is he doing at his parents’ house? He should be getting his girl! James apparates to your apartment, knocking on the door like a madman. He knocks so loudly the wood is bruising his knuckles, red blooming under his touch.

The door rips open, and he’s never been so glad to see you angry.

“You literally have a key, James. You don’t have to be a dick every—”

“You’re wrong.”

Your frustration gives way, lines on your forehead wrinkling in confusion. It’s like there’s a glass separating the both of you, and you’re scared to touch him.

You shake your head as he continues, “You’re wrong, by the way. I don’t know if Lily’s the love of my life. I haven’t lived it with her, nor will I. What I do know is that I’ve loved you for most of mine.”

“What are you saying, Jelly,” you utter, and James’ is grinning so largely you want to punch his face in.

“I love you. As in I’m in love with you. Without any doubt, or excuses, or anyone holding me back, my heart is yours, if you’ll have me?”

He rushes to catch you, his proposal hitting you hard as you fall into his embrace, hands feeling as much of him as you can. His broad shoulders, his strong neck, the dimples on his cheek, the glasses on his face—all of him is in love with you.

Your blubbering is muffled as he finally pulls his lips to yours, finally feeling, finally… James’ kiss lays out all of what he’s been holding in, and without words you both understand that this wreckage in your beating hearts, the destruction of everything you’ve set together as best friends, is love. He’s clutching you to his body, moving you backward into your apartment, feet moving in sync like an orchestrated dance. You both fall onto your couch in a fit of laughter and tears. Finally.

“How foolish of me to be with another, Peanut. I’m a married man, after all.”

"Not bad for a second kiss, Jelly." You laugh at him.

James looks at your smile like it’s the answer to every question he’ll ask in this life.

—

“We give those we love nicknames, because love requires a word that belongs to us alone.” Fredrik Backman

tagged: @prongs-moon @alltheotherkidss @anehkael @princessprongs

#made by ma1dita ♥︎ #marauders x reader #mischiefmoons iwp #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter x reader angst #marauders era

[javarium]

from mountains to dust

— geto x reader; gojo x reader; geto x gojo

it’s been nothing but bad lapses in judgement over the last few months, over and over again. the beginning restarts over and over again; there’s no end to the storyline in sight. trying to change it seems futile, but you hope there’s purpose in every choice you make… no matter how terrible they may be.

w — canon divergence, partial canon-compliance, takes place post-Star Plasma Arc, angst, poly relationship, character death, cussing, minimal dialogue heehee

Before you stands the man you fell in love with. He looks better, if only slightly, since you last saw him. He’s regained some of his weight, the color in his cheeks, and lost the bags of exhaustion under his beautiful eyes. 

Behind him stands two girls, one with light brown hair and the other with black, both staring at you wide-eyed with wonder and curiosity. 

“So that means this was a set-up?” 

Your voice is quiet, almost too quiet that he has to strain to hear. But he does, and he nods to confirm your thoughts. “It was. I’m not sorry.” 

“Of course you’re not.”

The text message you’d gotten two days ago had led up to this moment: to you seeing him again, with two tiny girls by his side. Why on Earth he thought this was a good idea was beyond your reasoning. 

But maybe it was because of those girls behind him. Maybe he was ready to repent for what he’d done. Maybe he was ready to come back, come home to you and Satoru and just live and breathe again. Maybe this was fate rewriting itself, fixing the once-thought irreparable damage that had been done not even a year ago. 

You gulp down spit in uncertainty. “Why… Geto?”

He visibly winces at the use of his last name. But he understands. The hesitation in addressing him by his last name tells him of how unsure you are of your relationship. He gets it. After what he’s done, after everything he’s put you through, he knows he’s on shaky ground. He shouldn’t expect you to call him by his first name anymore. He’s lost that privilege, lost the luxury of his name rolling off the lips he loved to kiss so much. 

“Because…”

Because he still loves you. He wants you with him, by his side. If there’s one thing he wants to be selfish about, it’s wanting you with him. It’s him wanting to wrap you in his arms every night and hold you; him wanting to watch you get to know Nanako and Mimiko and do girly things with them. To be a mother to them. He knows you’d be a good mom. He can see it now in the way you look at the twins clutching the back of his robe.

He wants Satoru, too, but he knows that he’s too far from his reach. 

”Because I know you’d understand.”

Because between you and Satoru, only you would know. Only you would know what it would be like for everything to be too much. To do something more direct about saving jujutsu sorcerers from pain, from death. From dealing with Curses that plagued the planet thanks to those inferior monkeys. Only you would understand the line, understand that he wasn’t trying to be a selfish bastard by killing off all the monkeys of the planet to save his own kind. 

“Do you have any idea what you’re asking of me?”

You know what he’s asking. He wants you to understand. And you do. But at the same time, you understand Satoru, too. Both of them were trying to change the world for the better, to fix the bullshit of the world of jujutsu for the sake of not just the world, but for sorcerers as well. Their ways were just so… different. Drastically so. You wanted them both to win, to succeed to change the world of sorcerers for the better, because it was nothing but hell. You just never expected to be forced to choose, to take sides with the two men your heart had fallen head over heels for.

”I do.”

You shake your head. “You don’t.” The burn of tears sting at your eyes. “What’s their names?”

Suguru places his left hand behind the black-haired girl’s head. “This is Mimiko.” And then he does the same with the girl with light brown hair. “And this is Nanako.”

You smile at them, eyes gazing over their little bodies that pump cursed energy enough to be sorcerers.

You hate it. 

“Lovely names…” you whisper. 

You dip your head and close your eyes. You’re shaking, you note. Tears line your eyes, but you force them back. And you forever hate yourself for the decision you make. 

Gojo Satoru knows he isn’t alone, despite feeling like it with every time he draws breath in and out of his lungs. He knows that you’re still there, waiting for him to come around and meet you halfway.

But he takes too long. He’ll always be the strongest, but he’ll always be too fucking late.

The words coming from his teacher’s lips almost fall on deaf ears. What he hears is just as bad, if not worse, than when he was told Suguru has massacred a village and was now set for execution.

“[Name] has gone missing. There’s a likelihood she’s sided with Suguru,” the older man says. “She left a note I found, saying she was going to go bring him in, come morning she’d be back with him.”

“But she hasn’t.” Gojo doesn’t like the quiver in his voice.

“She’s either sided with Suguru,” Yaga says, “or he’s killed her. She’s vanished. Not even her residuals are left.”

And when Gojo goes to investigate to try and prove him wrong, he finds out his teacher is right. You’ve masked yourself perfectly, so much so that not even his mostly-trained Six Eyes can pick up on any wisp of your cursed energy.

You were always good at stealth. You weren’t strong like him or Suguru, but you were adept at stealth techniques. Reconnaissance, stealth — you were essentially a ninja. Something he and Suguru used to joke about all the time.

Gojo Satoru sits alone in his dorm room once he’s deemed what his teacher has said to be truth. He can’t find any of your residuals, not a trace of it left. Everything you own and have is left behind, like you had truly gone out with the intent of coming back. With Suguru, like you said. You were supposed to come back with Suguru.

He leans forward to think, elbows resting on his knees. His blackout glasses slip down his nose, bit by bit. He grabs them off his nose and slings them toward the wall and doesn’t care when he hears an audible crack! a split second later. He doesn’t care. He has enough money to buy as many glasses as he wants.

Too bad that money can’t buy back the two people he cares for the most in this shitty world.

“Mama!”

“Get up!”

Nanako and Mimiko jump on the bed, too eager for whatever time it was. You grumble and bury your head deeper into the pillow, hoping they’d understand that you were far too tired and sleepy to do whatever they had in store for you.

“Papa, Mama won’t get up!”

“She won’t, will she?”

You hate Suguru. You really don’t want to get up. Not after the restless night you’ve had. But once he makes his appearance, it was either get up or suffer the consequences.

Groaning, you lift yourself from the bed a few inches, using your elbows to lift your head and prop up on. And slowly but surely, you manage to blink your tired eyes open. The desire of sleep fades faster than you anticipate and make you wonder if you need coffee today. Strange.

“Breakfast is ready,” Suguru says. He bends down as you sit up properly, pressing a kiss to your temple sweetly. “If you decide to get up, that is,” he teases further. It makes you grumble, but as you watch Nanako and Mimiko trail after him at his request, you can’t help but feel your heart fill with warmth, and the need to oblige Suguru’s desire to see you down in the kitchen with your found family.

You tie your robe around you, keeping some semblance of morning comfort as you walk to the kitchen.

Suguru, only for you and your girls, would ever be in the kitchen making you three pancakes and sausages. He would for Satoru too, if he were here. No doubt the white-haired male would be the one making the biggest fuss of the four of you about the pancake delivery being too slow. To which Suguru would most definitely chuckle at and tell Satoru he’d make more if he hushed. And Satoru would happily oblige.

It’s been almost five years since your departure from the school — yours and Suguru’s — with a broken heart. But at the same time, you know you would’ve never been happy, no matter what decision you made. It would’ve ripped you to shreds regardless. Because you had to choose between them, between Satoru and Suguru, the two men on you loved most on this godforsaken planet.

When you chose Suguru, you hoped that there would be enough resolve in you to bring him back home, even if it took you years to do it. Even to this day, you still hope that there’s something you can do, or take advantage of something happening to get him to go back and be put on probation, rather than the execution he’s scheduled for if any sorcerer gets their filthy hands on him.

You’re sure Satoru wouldn’t let anything happen to Suguru anyway. You’ve heard of the immense power he wields now, both with his refined jujutsu as well as politically, since on his twentieth birthday, he officially became the head of the Gojo Clan.

“Can we go shopping today?” Nanako asks. She looks expectantly at Suguru, who fakes being deep in thought. It makes you lift a hand to hide your smile.

Suguru looks at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He knows you don’t like getting out. It’s both because you’re in introvert and hate the crowds of malls and streets, and also from the fact you don’t want to get caught by jujutsu sorcerers. Yes, you could handle them, but you didn’t want to deal with such hassle; defeating them would be easy. Unless it was Satoru, of course.

“I dunno,” he hums, “but I think you’d better ask Mom, don’t you think?”

The two ten-year-old twins get whiplash when they turn to face you with sparkles in their eyes. You almost look away, reminded of a young girl with black hair that had the same look of excitement in her eyes.

You don’t deny the twins their excitement or Suguru his satisfaction.

So you take the twins to the mall. It isn’t the one closest to your home, Nanako and Mimiko having been there a few times already. You take them to a new mall, one that’s just outside proximity of the normal one.

That was your first mistake.

You have four bags next to your seat as you devour the soba in front of you. The twins are happily eating their favorite ramen, in a contest to see who can finish the too-big bowl first. You’re texting Suguru, who’s happy to hear that the girls are having a good time. It’s better than what he’s dealing with: an unruly set of followers of the cult he leads, questioning him and his methods of dealing with the riddance of “monkeys” on such a large scale.

You understood them, you really did. But there was no doubt that your lover would kill them before the sun sets.

As you’re putting your phone away, that’s when you sense it: the familiar, boundless cursed energy of the Limitless, belonging to the person whom you’d left behind to fend for himself. He may have been the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, but that didn’t mean he was the strongest mentally, even if he tried to or appeared to be.

You direct your attention back to the girls and ask them, “You guys still want to go to the candy store?”

“Yeah!”

You fish for the card you’ve been using and give it to them. “I think you two are big enough to go by yourselves. Just don’t by too much, okay?”

Nanako and Mimiko buzz with excitement, eyes twinkling with absolute glee. They take the card and skip away. You weren’t worried about their safety. You could easily track their cursed energy if you need to. So you stand, ready to turn and gather your jacket-

“[Name]?”

The clear brokenness in his tone made you stop, facing away from the man that the voice belonged to. You’re frozen solid; as much as you want to turn around and face him, your feet seem to be stuck, rooted to the ground.

But Satoru is strong enough to move for you, and your eyes suddenly see his black shoes mere inches from your own.

“Look at me.”

It’s not commanding. Not even slightly. He’d never use that tone with you. With you, he was always soft, always treating you like the porcelain you’d always wanted to be since you were a little girl.

But you fear porcelain has turned to titanium, that Satoru would no longer want a girl that had made herself into steel.

Your eyes slowly lift to meet his, and you feel the burn of tears edge at your eyelids.

God, he’s so handsome, so ethereal. If Suguru saw him now, you’re sure he’d feel the same as you: all you want to do is press your lips to his in the sweetest, most apologetic kiss you could muster. You’d wrap your arms around him and never let him go again. You’d never walk away from a man that loved you and Suguru so dearly ever again.

But the guilt gnawed away at you. You don’t deserve it anymore. This is the path you chose, your regret tells you. And there’s nothing you can do to change it.

Satoru knows you too well, even after a few good years apart. He loved you so much he could read you like an open book written in big letters in bold print. He doesn’t need the Six Eyes to feel the remorse pouring from your soul.

“God…” he breaths out.

Tears wet your lashes as you blink. His love thrums from his cursed energy and you feel even worse. You almost speak, but he does first.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You cry out his name, and are unable to help falling into the sanctuary of his arms you’ve longed to feel again.

But this is the path you’ve chosen.

You don’t tell Suguru when you get home. Not immediately. He knows, because he can see his other beloved’s residuals on you. He doesn’t pry, not then. He’ll eventually come to know what transpired, but for now he’s okay with making sure you’re comforted, that you know he loves you, too.

It’s 2017 when Suguru zones in on the school he once went to. He becomes enamored with Okkotsu Yuuta, a new Special Grade sorcerer that you can tell is a distant relative of Satoru’s. They have a similar wavelength, you note, that only appears in a familial way.

He wants to bring him over to his side, if only to be able to take and tame the Queen of Curses, Rika Orimoto from him to bring Suguru’s goal to life. She’s, from what you understand, almost unstoppable. Even for Satoru. You’re sure the white-haired man could take her on if need be. You still have that much faith in his abilities.

Secretly, you hope Suguru fails.

It’s 2017 when you become extra nauseous in the late morning and immediately puke into the sink. It’s not the smell of anything that does it; just a random, overwhelming nausea that makes you almost crumble to your knees by the sink.

You’ve had your suspicions for a week now. But when you take a look in the mirror, you activate your cursed energy, and in that moment, all of your prior suspicions are confirmed. You begin to cry in joy at the thought of having your own baby, your own flesh and blood with one of the men you love so dearly.

One of them.

You wish Satoru was here to enjoy your pregnancy too.

You grow and grow over the months and Nanako and Mimiko are absolutely overjoyed to have another sibling join. They hope it’s a girl too, because the only boy they can stand is the man that’s their father.

Come September 21st, you give birth to a carbon copy of yourself. Suguru couldn’t be any happier. If he was, he might explode from the joy pumping through his veins. The absolute happiness in his eyes is worth every second of agony you went through during labor. There’s nothing of the man who runs such a dark organization to rid the world of non-sorcerers.

There is only Geto Suguru, the man you fell in love with at the naive age of 16, who stares down at his newborn daughter and swears with every ounce of his being that he is going to give her world and place it at her feet.

It’s 2017, Christmas Eve, when your love launches an attack on jujutsu high, determined to win and come back with Rika Orimoto at his beck and call. There’s so much loss and sufferance from both sides that you can barely stomach it.

You don’t stay on the frontlines too long, opting to use your powers to teleport to the school. You know Satoru knows you’re involved, you just wonder if he’s going to tell anyone.

At the school, you make one last appeal to your love before he takes on the new Special Grade teenager. You’re terrified. You see how strong the boy’s Curse is, and you get to dissuade him from the fight. You’re terrified even further, because you know that Suguru is going to lose.

Indeed, he does lose. Not just the fight, but so much more.

It’s 2017 when Geto Suguru admits defeat and succumbs to the consequences of his actions ten years ago and henceforth, all while holding the dead body of the mother of his child, the woman he and Satoru loved the most, with tears streaming down his face and agony rending his soul asunder.

It’s 2017 when Satoru meets the little baby girl you gave birth to, and just the same as her biological father, he also swears to her that he’ll put the world at her feet if she asks, protect her and her dad, the man he loves, just like her mom would’ve wanted him to.

She coos in response, and he swears on his own life that nothing will ever happen to her.

It’s Halloween of 2018, and before them stands the woman they both fell in love with.

But the stitches across your head told them that you were not you.

Not anymore.

That someone, something, was inside of you, possessing your body. Desecrating your soul, your existence, their memories of you, and the wonderful life you’d lived by their sides for as long as you had. Desecrating the beauty of your being and the possibilities of what could have been had the both of them not been so damn fucking selfish.

In Shibuya, on Halloween, for nineteen days, Gojo Satoru is sealed within the prison realm by a madman inhabiting your body.

On that day, both he and Suguru swear by everything in their power that they will do what they must to get rid of the evil inhabiting your body. To end whatever sick games the person inside your corpse has planned.

For themselves, for your daughter, and for you, they will lay your body to rest and let your soul be in peace.

After everything you’ve done, you deserve that much.

a/n: I’ll do an rb w/ tags later omg, the taglist is so long

#geto x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #geto x reader x gojo #gojo x reader x geto #gojo x geto #suguru geto x you #suguru x reader #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk oneshot #jjk imagines

[sister-lucifer]

When It Rains

Tim Wright/Masky x Gender Neutral Reader 

READ THE FIRST PART HERE 

READ PART THREE HERE

Genre: Fluff, a bit angsty but has a happy ending, not explicitly romantic

Summary: It’s been raining all day, and the gloomy weather has you thinking about what could’ve been, and especially what never will be.

Content/Warnings: Brief mentions of alcohol, brief mention of death/suicide, it’s a little sad, I guess? But that’s it. Reader just speculates on how life would’ve been if the Operator hadn’t fucked them over and gets down about it, but theres a happy ending. 

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out 

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

It’s raining again. Not that that’s new. Springtime out here sees its fair share of storms. Normally you’d observe the rain from inside, but today something inside was gnawing at you for some fresh air. 

The old rocking chair creaks beneath your weight, moving to and fro softly as you watch the rain. It comes down in sheets off the sides of the cover, splattering to the muddy ground and making a shallow moat around the patio. It lands loudly on the old tin roof, rattling and groaning in a manner that is far too dramatic. It obscures anything beyond the perimeter of the cabin and hides everything in a misty haze. 

It’s going to be foggy tomorrow, you think. It usually is when it rains like this. It’ll be cold for the next few days, too, and the ground will be soggy for weeks. Miserable weather, that is. Not that that’s new. 

It’s a good day to wonder, that’s all. You’ve been doing plenty of that lately. A bit too much, maybe, but there’s no helping that. 

You’ve been living out here with Tim for…shit. How long has it been? Almost a year, you think, but your perception of time is unreliable at best. It’s just one of the many things you lost when your world turned upside down.

That’s what it’s really about. The loss. Tim doesn’t like to talk about it, but you know you both feel it, him even more so than you. He was going to go to college, get a degree, and he’d be damn good at it, too. He was going to find a place of his own, maybe adopt a dog, a big old Saint Bernard like he had when he was a boy, the only type of housemate that wouldn’t annoy him. That’s what he’s told you, anyways. Not sober, of course, not even close; he’d never tell you anything that personal without at least a bit of alcohol in his system. He’s been drinking less since you showed up, though. You noticed he was cutting back a couple months after you moved in. You wonder if you’ll ever get him to open up like that again.

But those were Tim’s plans. He was already in his mid twenties when things really went south, you were barely out of high school when everything started. You didn’t really have plans. So…what are you mourning, exactly? 

You don’t really have an answer to that. 

You didn’t really have a set path for yourself. Your plan barely existed, and it’s feeble skeleton was little more than an intention to simply float around until something caught your eye. You’d find your way eventually, there was no need to worry. At least, that’s what you used to think. 

Now where do you go?

You didn’t have any real plans, no, and you can’t mourn something that never existed, but it there’s this heavy feeling that comes with knowing you’ll never be able to choose. 

That’s what it comes down to, you realize. Choice. 

No, you didn’t have any plans, but that was because you had all the options you could ever want. Now, you don’t have any plans because you’ve only got one. 

Tim does everything he can to keep you entertained out here. Hell, he risks his life every time he walks down the path to his truck to go to town for you, or when he just steps off the porch to refill the bird feeder he knows you love to watch. Nothing outside of these walls in these woods is safe. If it weren’t raining so hard, he’d tear you a new one for even sitting on the porch. 

It’s a miserable existence, but it’s so nice to have someone to be miserable with, even if he can’t change anything. 

You just wish that was enough to push away that yearning for more, that subtle thrumming ache that only wells up in your stomach late at night, that want that urges you to just take the truck and leave, to forget this cabin and Tim and everything in these godforsaken woods. 

But you can’t. 

You’d die. And even if you didn’t, the guilt of stranding Tim would eat you alive, especially knowing he’d kill himself before letting that thing get him. 

You don’t want to think about that. You push the thoughts away before they can take root in your mind. It’s better to just not consider that possibility at all. 

You jump when you hear the front door open. You look back to see Tim standing there, one hand buried in his pocket and the other still on the door handle. 

“The hell are you doin’ out here?” He huffs, “I been yellin’ for ya, thought you up and ran off.” 

You give him a weak smile, but you can’t keep it up for very long. You pull your knees to your chest and rest your chin on them, curling up as if trying to make yourself look as small as possible. You mumble an apology, but don’t look at him. 

He pauses, then, and you can imagining his expression changing to confusion and then concern before he covers it up again. His footsteps come up behind you, the wooden porch creaking beneath him. His hand grabs the back of the rocking chair and forces it to still before he pulls it backward to get a look at you.

“…What’s up with you, kid?” 

You shrug. It’s an easier response than an explanation, but it doesn’t satisfy him at all. 

“C’mon, we both know that’s bullshit,” He says with a dry chuckle, and he’s entirely correct. “What’s goin’ on?”

You sigh, thinking for a moment about your answer. 

“…It’s just…I dunno. Do you ever, like…think about what would’ve happened if you hadn’t…you know…”

It’s a stammering, stumbling attempt at explaining yourself, but he understands. He nods, crossing his arms and leaning back against the house. 

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replies, scratching at his stubble, “But if I’m bein’ honest, it ain’t gonna do you any good. That sorta thing only gets ya down.”

He’s right about that, too. If only it were that easy to just stop. It’s just so hard not to wonder at least every once in a while, it’s human nature. You just wish you knew when to stop. You just wish you were able to ignore the ‘what if’s that piled up in the back of your mind until they couldn’t stand anymore and toppled over into a pathetic mess of rubble. They’ll crush you one day if you aren’t careful, but such an idea seems almost inevitable. 

“Do you think—“ You start, but stop short before you can get any further. Tim quirks a brow, and you don’t have to look at him to know he’s making that skeptical face. 

“…Do I think what?” He asks. 

You hesitate to answer. Is this really a question you want to ask? If this starts an argument you won’t be able to take back, will it ruin the comfort you and Tim have finally managed to establish with each other? You can’t just not tell him now, though, or you’ll just piss him off more. He doesn’t care for secrets, but he can’t stand when someone wusses out of a conversation at the last second. 

“…Do you think if you had the chance you would…like, go back in time? If you could make it to where none of this ever happened, would you?”

You feel stupid asking that, and it doesn’t help that Tim is silent for far too long before he answers. You’re already regretting this. 

Tim finally opens his mouth, and he stammers for a few moments before his sounds turn into words.

“…I don’t really think I can answer that, kid. That’s a tough one.” 

He sounds monotone, almost uncaring, but you can tell he’s doing it on purpose

to conceal whatever he doesn’t want you to know he’s feeling. You finally turn to look at him with a look that says ‘Can you please try?’ 

His eyes widen for a moment, his shoulders tensing in that subtle way they only do when he’s scared. His lips part slowly, and it sounds like he’s forcing his next words out. 

“I don’t know. Maybe? I…”

He trails off, and you turn away again. Then there’s silence for another few moments. 

Then he’s beside your chair, slowly lowering himself to sit down and doing that annoyed groan he does anytime he has to strain his back. He takes a moment to get comfortable, and you see him reach for his pocket to grab a cigarette only to sigh in disappointment when he realizes he left them inside. You feel bad for smiling, but at least he won’t be able to hide behind his smoke the way he likes to when a conversation makes him uncomfortable. 

He accepts his fate, leaning back on his hands and staring out into the rain with you. 

“I might,” He finally says, “But it wouldn’t be an easy choice.” 

“Why not?” You ask, and for some reason he chuckles at that. 

“Good question. This isn’t how I expected things to end up, no one does, but…I couldn’t just up and leave this.” 

‘This’ he says. ‘This?’ That hardly answers your question. You quirk a brow at him, and he begrudgingly continues. 

“You know, I just…I’ve gotten attached to all this—“ 

“What’s this, exactly?” You interrupt, and he winces like he was hoping you wouldn’t ask that. “I can’t imagine there being anything here worth sticking around for.”

“…There wasn’t. Not for a long time,” He says, and now it’s your turn to pause. 

“…What did you say?” 

“There wasn’t,” He repeats, “Not until…not when I was alone. But now…” 

‘You,’ you realize that’s what he’s trying to say, ‘You are the only thing worth staying for.’ 

For some reason, that hurts. Maybe you feel guilty that you ever thought about leaving him, or maybe you feel bad that you of all people are his only friend. The bar for happiness is really low around here. 

You slowly unfurl from your spot on the chair, letting your feet rest on the porch as you slump down a bit. 

“So…you’re saying you wouldn’t?”

You expected an immediate answer. Stupid of you, really. He’s hesitating again. You’d thought you’d get a quick yes or no. You’re not sure if this is better or worse. 

“I’m not…saying anything,” Tim assures you, “I’m just saying that…I’d at least have to think about it.” 

“Yeah, but you have to make a choice,” You say with an eye roll, and the words coming out more forceful than you intended. Fortunately, his stoney exterior deflects any vitriol you could spew at him. 

The silence that settles over you this time is heavy. It makes you slump even further down in your chair. You hate the silence that always follows when you say something that turned out far too mean. 

You don’t breathe until Tim speaks again.

“Okay, yeah…I would.” 

You don’t know how you feel about that answer, but you don’t have much time to think before he continues. 

“But only because I’d know where to find you this time.” 

That surprises you. You sit back up in your chair, looking down at him with an unmistakably confused look. 

“Huh?” You blurt out, and your cheeks warm a bit when he chuckles at your noise of bewilderment.

“I’d do it, yeah, but I couldn’t just leave you to fend for yourself,” He explains, “I’d do it, but I wouldn’t abandon you. Now I know who you are, what you liked to do, where you’d hang out, all those things from before shit hit the fan. I just don’t want you to think I’d, ya know…forget about you like that. I’d come find you, that’s all. I think we’d find each other anyways, though.”

Something in your chest aches as he speaks, and it makes you want to curl up again, but you can’t move. You stare at him for a long few moments, and you’re lucky he doesn’t look up at you because you wouldn’t be able to pull your eyes away. You can’t even blink. 

“I told you kid,” He adds, “I care about you. I always have.”

What do you say to that? 

You don’t know, so you stay silent. You want to say something, to return the monument of emotion he’s just offered to you, to somehow express reciprocity, but you don’t know how. You’re silent. 

You don’t move as Tim stands back up, cracking his back and stretching his legs. He puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, giving a small, affectionate squeeze. 

“I gotta go start dinner,” He says curtly, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Don’t spend too long out here. If you get sick, Imma say I told you so.” 

You nod, but give no further response. He pulls his hand away, and you think that’s the end of it, but just as you realize you haven’t heard him go to leave you feel him leaning over you. 

You tense. You’re not sure why, but you do. 

You feel him press a brief kiss to the top of your head before he pulls away again. It wasn’t even a kiss, really, he just pushed his lips against your head for a moment, but for that moment it was like everything you’d ever worried about up until that point was arbitrary. It doesn’t last long, but it lingers in the air like the smoke from Tim’s cigarettes as he pulls away and walks back into the house. 

You’re alone again.

Now what? 

You weigh your options for a moment, but once Tim’s footsteps disappear into the house it feels far too quiet out here, even with the rain beating down on the roof above you. 

You wait for only a few moments more to make sure you won’t seem too eager to follow him before you get up, lazily making your way back inside. 

You find yourself wondering again, this time about what Tim is making for dinner tonight, and you take a second to appreciate the pleasure in such simple problems. 

There are things that will never be now, and there’s no changing that.

But for tonight, this is pretty damn nice. 

#gender neutral reader #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader #creepypasta fluff #creepypasta angst #marble hornets fluff #marble hornets angst #fluff #angst #tim wright #masky #tim wright x reader #masky x reader

[delopsia]

Ok so I’m assuming Rhett is 30 ish because Lewis is 30 (almost 31 in like a month) but like Rhett with reader who is younger than him by a good number of years (reader being 23 at youngest probably) what’s the relationship like? Was he super reluctant at first because of the gap? How do we meet him? How does the family feel? What if he’s her first “real” boyfriend? How would he react to reader asking him to take their v card?

When I tell you that this has been stuck in my head since you sent me this, oh my GOD. I've been meaning to write this concept with Rhett and Bobby for over a year and keep forgetting to 🤤 I got a little carried away. Hope y'all don't mind 🤍

Canonically, Rhett is twenty-four, but I think we as a collective have chosen to ignore that 💃 here's my proof post on that, if you're curious 💕 TLDR: Rhett was born June 12th, 1996, and OR S1 takes place in November 2020

For the sake of this post, I'll just leave it and say he's noticeably older than the reader ✨ I don't want to set a specific age for him and accidentally exclude someone :(

I like to view an older version of Rhett as someone who's still into the rodeos; he's gotten up there in the bull riding ranks, and though he's a year or two away from aging out of it, he's still up there kicking ass when you first encounter him. It's your first time coming to this rodeo, and you're not sure what to think when you see him leaned up against the fence in that quiet, rugged glory so many cowboys seem to carry. Older than the rest of the riders, so jaded by buckle bunnies that he hardly notices the ones trying to get his attention.

The first time you walk past him, he lifts the corner of his lip and nods his head toward you as if to say hello. Some simple little thing that gets you smiling, hoping to high heaven that your friends don't notice the sudden weakness in your knees. Three Sundays in a row, you go to the rodeo with your friends, and three Sundays in a row, you walk past him on your way to the food trucks. Three Sundays in a row, he smiles and nods his head at you.

You think he's just being nice.

Rhett just thinks you're hot.

But he's too tired of entertaining relationships with folks who only want him for what lurks beneath his championship buckle and to tell all their friends they fucked a real cowboy. It was fun when he was younger, but after a while, like most things, it gets old.

So when he sees you at the bar after a rodeo one night, he doesn't think too much about it. Sneaks a few glances at you out the corner of his eye, sure, quietly wondering how pretty his name would sound coming out of your mouth, but that's it.

Until some hotshot decides that he's going to give you hell while your friends are in the bathroom. And Rhett's within the perfect earshot to get rightfully pissed off. He's not particularly one to get into someone else's business, but he's also not too fond of this whole "badger someone 'till they give what you want" technique the younger boys have been employing recently.

"'s this guy botherin' ya?" He asks, in that gravelly voice, his elbow propping against the bar, speaking to you but his eyes never once leaving the steer wrestler giving you trouble. He's got a history with this kid; this isn't their first confrontation.

Of course, you don't know that when the younger man goes nose-to-nose with Rhett. But oh, if it doesn't make you the slightest bit dizzy when Rhett's jaw hardens at your meek 'yes.'

He only means to scare the guy off and go back to watching his buddy eat shit at the pool table, but your friends are taking forever to come back, and he's found himself offering to sit with you until they do. You're asking his name, and he's ashamed to admit that his heart jumps at the sound of his name on your tongue.

You don't seem to care all that much about the age difference, and Rhett's got no reason to be concerned; your age doesn't end in 'teen,' and you can legally drink, but he's found himself a touch hesitant to flirt with you. Isn't all that fond of breaking his heart over another sweetheart who stumbled into Wabang.

But you just keep running into each other. You're in line with him at a food truck; he sees you at a rodeo bonfire and chats you up until your friends are begging to head home. He's given you his number, and he's catching himself looking for you at the end of his rides.

And then he's busting his left shoulder after a ride, and somehow, he's found himself outside of the ambulance, being backed up against a wall as you kiss him hard on the mouth. It's the first kiss he's had in years, and your hands on his big chest are the sweetest thing he's ever felt. It's everything, and it takes every ounce of his will to draw your hand off of his belt buckle.

"Y' don't wanna do that," his whispered warning drips off his tongue like honey, and oh do you want a taste, "'m 'fraid if I let ya have me, I might follow ya 'round for the rest of my life."

He really doesn't know what to do when you smile and ask, "But what if that's what I want?"

How he survived that, he doesn't know. But a kiss-filled conversation ends in him agreeing to take you on a real, proper date. He takes you to Odessa's diner for lunch, pulls your chair out for you, and never lets you touch a door, and he gets along with you so well. It helps a lot that he's been on a funky little life path that has given him many of the same experiences as you. There's an age gap, sure, but his stage of life isn't too different from your own. Especially because he was a bit of a late bloomer with this whole 'adult' thing. The perks of being emotionally stunted by Royal...

Rhett doesn't differ that much if he's your first boyfriend; he's sickeningly sweet, regardless. No amount of experience or inexperience will stop him from going all out on you; if there's one thing his momma did, it was raise him right. You might as well be royalty. That being said, he's happy to take the lead (or give it up) depending on your experience level.

The relationship isn't all that different from how it would be if he was your age. There are some generational references that take time to understand, and Rhett's age shows the most when you try teaching him to use Instagram, but that's a given. He's a little bit smug when you're with him in public, especially at rodeos. He knows he's struck gold, and he intends to show you off as much as you're comfortable with. Protective, too. Those bull riders know better than to linger and try their luck with you. More times than you can count, you've overheard the whispered warning, "That one's Rhett's."

Rolls his eyes when you (affectionately) call him old man...

To be fair, Rhett does try to wait until a few weeks into your relationship to start getting intimate; he wants to take things slow with you, but then you're cupping him through his jeans, and he's breathless as you massage him through the fabric. And when you sit in his lap, wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, and grind your ass down into him? He's a goner.

If you're a virgin, then he's extra careful with you. Takes some more time to draw your clothes off, slow as he kisses down your belly until he can run his tongue up your sweet little pussy. But he's obscene about it, regardless. Groaning around your clit, letting you yank on his hair all you need. Frustrates you to no end because you're trying so hard to get him to fuck you, and all he wants to do is eat you out. Four times. Four times, you rile him up, and the most progress you make is getting his jeans off. He doesn't mean to upset you, he's just a whore for giving oral.

Until that one time at the bar when you hauled him into a bathroom stall, dropped to your knees, and wrapped your mouth around him before he could get under your skin.

That got him. You couldn't take all of him, gagging every time his plush tip hit the back of your throat, but his knees were shaking. Moans muffled by the palm of his hand. Trying his best to pull you off when he came and damn near hit the floor when you instead chose to swallow him down.

Again, if you're a virgin, then there isn't a huge difference in how he treats you when he takes your virginity. Not out of impatience or anything of the sort, but it's your first time together. He's going to treat you like a virgin regardless. Overusing the lube as he introduces you to a thick, calloused finger, watching your reaction for the slightest hint of pain. "'s this hurt? No? You sure?"

Annoyingly pushes the tip of his cock against you, then lets it slide through your folds, obsessed with the sight of it. But just as you're going to complain, he finally nudges inside, and it silences you completely.

If there is one thing about Rhett Abbott, it's that he's huge in more ways than one. Splitting you open in all the right ways, big hands stroking up and down your skin, whispering the filthiest things into your ears. "Think 'm almost too big for your lil pussy, angel." "Shhh, we'll make it fit. Jus' relax 'round me." "'s that feel good, sweetheart? Y' like bein' stretched 'round my cock like that?"

He ruins you either way. You never pegged yourself to be this insatiable, riding him in his truck, fucking him outside the bar, in bathroom stalls, cheap hotel rooms, bending over the hood of his truck while he had a flat tire. It's not your fault; Rhett's just that damn good, and he's somehow able to match you entirely. Rolls his eyes a little, sure, but he's just doing that to annoy you. "This old man fucks you that good, hm? Cute little pussy ain't satisfied 'till I pump it nice 'n full of my cum?"

Sometimes, he tells you he's too tired for sex and then turns around and pounces on you because he heard you whimper once and had a second burst of energy.

Which...is how your relationship gets found out. He's left a mark on your collar, and at some point, you bend down to pick up a fork you dropped, and it gets noticed. So you either got in a fight with a vacuum cleaner and lost, or you have a little someone.

The worst part is telling everyone how old he is. Rhett's got this funny charm where he looks younger than he actually is, and it nearly makes someone choke at the dinner table. And Rhett's not the best with people, but he's quick to make a good impression. He's like a fine wine; he's gotten better as he's aged.

You'll likely never meet Rhett's family, and if you do, it's a handful of times for no longer than two hours. After Rhett moved out, there's been tension every time he sees his folks. He was supposed to stay and spend his life helping the ranch, to honor his family loyalties, not run off and find love in someone else. Cecelia's sweet, doesn't say anything about the age gap, so long as you're both happy. Royal...you don't know what he said, but you had to grab Rhett by the belt to reign him in.

All that being said, Rhett's a sweetheart to you, regardless of your age gap. There are some differences that wouldn't be there if he was your age, but he's keen to work on those things together. Rhett doesn't fall in love often, but when he does, he falls hard, and he's going to give you the world. Even if you do call him old man every now and then.

Like I said...I got carried away

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #delgato's asks

[pommunist]

This is mostly gonna be just a rant but it just baffles me how everything Qstudios has done since the beginning of the admins situation is a terrible pr move. So yeah this is just gonna talk how, even if you forget the immoral and potential illegal stuff that went on, I don’t think their strategy is doing any good for the studio’s image.

-Going radio silent publicly and privately : Kinda the original sin of all this mess tbh. This obviously just leaves the space for the ex admins to share their stories, even more so since they have been ignored privately beforehand when they tried to handle things internally. This also allowed for the union to publicly intervene and more ccs talking about it, and actual news article being made on it.

-Leaving the server open : Tbh I get wanting to leave it open, maybe to allow minecraft centered ccs to still make content or maybe because it’d be weird to close it right after new people got in but also I think it would have be better to close it temporarily while they focus on the changes they promised rather than having it getting deserted little by little until it feels like a ghost town. This + also not a good look to have so many npcs online when Q said there would be none until things get better (The current npcs are likely non volunteers, once again not a bad or illegal thing per say but not a good look). Closing it would also have made it so that the reopening would have been a big and probably positive event.

-Welcoming new ccs/new languages : This might just be because of scheduling necessities or whatever and something they couldn’t do later but it still made the community go :/// to get new people while on the flip side you had parts of the fandom leaving because of what was happening. Also not great for the new arrivals to start in such a weird climate, without admins help and with few people online on the server.

-Releasing merch at the worst time possible : This might have been something they couldn’t change, just like the arrival of the Koreans/Hugo, but it still isn’t a good look for them to release egg merch after it came out that some of the egg admins were poorly treated, especially when they haven’t stated clearly that benefits from the merch would go towards paying staff. It’s also not a good look for them to release new discounts every day, barely ten days after release. (Also the Qstudios Twt account retweeting every egg figures announcement except for Pomme will never not make me laugh)

-Making the twitter updates accounts active again : Yes it may just be that they’re using a bot or that it’s the people who are in charge of the Qstudios twitter account posting on it, both of which are not wrong per say. But of course people are gonna wonder if it’s new people being hired, of course speculation will happen when there’s a lack of transparency, of course ex admins are gonna be upset when it seems like things are continuing as if nothing happened, when they were fired without a warning, a thanks or even a sorry.

And now we have the two points that are kinda in a « you fucked up so bad it’s almost funny and I almost feel bad for you guys » category

-« Hey guys out of all the people we exploited and treated poorly you know which ones we’re gonna make eat dirt the most ? Hell yeah the ones that are from a part of the world who literally have a whole cliche about them complaining and rioting for anything and everything. Also happen to be the same ones whose community we alienated for months by sidelining them. Also happen to be a community who, during this time, has grown quite close to our most active community (who are themselves quite mad at us by now) to the point that they are making memes about the two of them being in love with each other. Yeah surely this can only go well »

-« Oh no, people actually really care » : QSMP Fans in general just loved and appreciated all the work the admins did, whether they were twitter admins, builders, actors, writers… This is even more true since the situation also revealed that some admins things people have been most critical on (lore being weirdly interrupted, french being ignored…) were not these admins fault. And of course, you have the eggs admins case. How do you make viewers and ccs alike get SO attached to these kid characters, as if it was their children, while mistreating the people playing them and not expect this to blow up in your face at some point. It’s like you managed to catch lightning in a bottle and then left it to rot thinking this wouldn’t end up badly. Weirdly this one makes me kinda hopeful bc Qstudios kinda HAVE to fix it or else they lose on of their main selling points.

#qsmp crit #qadmins situation #like i’m sorry i don’t think any hater of the project could hurt it as much as qstudios themselves rn

[thebadgerclan]

Amplifier

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x reader

Summary: Aleksander has yet to touch you...

A/N: Guess who got an 83% on her pharm final???  I’ve been cooking this idea of touch starved Aleksander for a few days, so voila!

Also 4,000 followers???? Thank you all!  The semester ends this week, so I might post a celebration then!

Aleksander had not known the touch of another for nearly 400 years.  Not since he was almost murdered for the power he possessed, not since he was almost drowned, his skull bashed in with a rock.  He had to protect himself, and so he never allowed anyone to touch his skin, to feel the amplification he carried, and for 400 years, it had worked.  Until he met you, that is.

You had come into Aleksander’s life and changed it entirely.  He was in love, so desperately and completely in love with you, but he was terrified.  Terrified to let his walls down, terrified to let you touch him.  What if you only wanted him for his power, what if you turned on him, what if you tried to kill him, just as Annika had.  So as hard as it was, as much as he wanted to, Aleksander didn’t let himself touch you.

It was something you’d noticed about 5 months into your budding relationship with Aleksander; how he never touched your bare skin.  Yes, he would link his arm with yours as you walked, he would rest his hand on the small of your back, but he would seldom do more.  If Aleksander was wearing gloves, then he might take your hand, or if you were at a ball and you were wearing silk gloves he might kiss your hand–a gesture you had swooned over before.  He had never kissed you, you’d never felt the touch of his skin on yours.

It wasn’t something that was too bothersome, but you did wonder why.  Was it an attempt to be proper?  Would he lose control of himself if he touched you?  Your opportunity for answers came far sooner than you thought it would: you and Aleksander were walking through the gardens when he paused, unhooking his arm from yours.  “I’m afraid I have some reports to look over, my dear,” he said, giving you a warm smile.  He turned to go, and as he did, you remembered something you’d wanted to tell him.

So you reached out for his hand, your fingers encircling his wrist.  And as soon as they did, the most beautiful feeling filled you; a feeling of certainty, warmth, surety.  You felt your power surging through you, and it was wonderful.  Then, you looked at Aleksander, seeing the shock on his face.  And then it hit you.  “You’re an–”  “Please,” he said, stepping closer to you and taking your hand.  “Not here.”  Aleksander led you back to the Little Palace and into his rooms.

When the doors were shut, you spoke.  “You’re an amplifier?”  Aleksander had crossed the room, dragging his hands over his face as he turned to face you.  “Yes,” was all he said, and you pressed on.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  Aleksander, did you…were you ever going to tell me?”  “Y/N, please, I…”  “Was this to be my life?  Never having you touch me?  I’ve noticed, Aleksander, that you never touch my bare hands, that you never kiss me.”

“Do you think that’s easy?” he quipped, irritation creeping into his voice.  “All I want is to hold you, to touch you, to kiss you, it is hell keeping my distance!”  “Then why do you?  Why distance yourself?  I want you, Aleksander, I love you!”  “Because the last time someone knew I was an amplifier, I almost died!”  You fell silent, and Aleksander continued.  You knew that he was an amplifier, he may as well rip off the bandage…

He told you everything: how he and his mother were forced to travel from camp to camp in his youth, how he knew he was different from a very young age, how at only 13, a Tidemaker named Annika froze the pond they were swimming in and tried to murder him for his bones.  “I had to protect myself,” Aleksander said.  “So for 400 years, no one has touched me.  Not until now.”  Your heart broke for him, and you wanted to pull him into your arms and never let him go.

“Aleksander, I…I would never…”  “I know that,” he said.  “But I’ve lived with that fear for so long, it’s hard to let go of.”  You stepped closer to him, holding out your hands to him.  “May I?”  Aleksander nodded, and you took his hands in yours.  You gasped at the feeling of his amplification, and Aleksander gasped at the feeling of your touch.  “Y/N,” he whispered, and you stepped closer, sliding your hands up his arms and to his shoulders, where you paused for a moment before cupping his face.

Aleksander’s breathing turned shaky, and when you went up on your toes to kiss him, he broke.  Your lover sobbed, crumpling in on himself, overwhelmed by the feeling of you touching him.  When his knees buckled, you lowered him to the ground, pulling him into your lap.  “Y/N, please,” he cried, and somehow, you knew what he was asking.  Now that he’d had a taste of your touch, he was starving, unable to get enough of you.  He wanted to claw at your kefta, crawl beneath it, press his skin to yours, feel your heart beating beneath your chest.

“It’s alright, my love,” you soothed, coaxing his head to rest against your chest, wrapping your arms snugly around him.  “You never have to be alone again.  I love you, Aleksander, I love you so much.”  “I love you, Y/N, Saints, please tell me this isn’t a cruel joke.  That you won’t hurt me, try to kill me…”  You shook your head, kissing his forehead and carding a hand through his hair.

“Never, Aleksander.  I will never hurt you.”  You tipped his chin up, seeing the naked, raw love and affection in his eyes, and kissed him.  Finally, after months of yearning and pining, you truly kissed him.  Aleksander whimpered against your lips, clutching the front of your kefta like you’d disappear  “Y/N?”  “Yes, my darling?”  “Will you stay?”  You cupped his cheek again, feeling him shudder.  “What do you mean, Sasha?”

“Stay here, stay with me.  Spend the night with me, spend every night with me?  Please?”  It was jarring to see the Black General, normally so cool and composed, sweetly asking for you to stay.  “Of course I will, Aleksander.  Will you let me go get some clothes?  Just until I can move all my things here.”  Reluctantly, Aleksander nodded, climbing from your lap and letting you stand.

You weren’t gone for more than 10 minutes, but when you returned, he clutched you to him like he hadn’t seen you in a month.  “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this,” he said, chin resting on your head.  “Me either,” you replied.  Aleksander was unwilling to be parted from you, the mere moments it took for the two of you to change into nightclothes was agony.  When you fell into bed, he pulled you into his embrace, kissing you greedily.

His heart was racing, yet he’d never felt so content.  400 years without touching another person made your proximity intoxicating, and Aleksander knew you were a drug he would use for the rest of his life.  “I love you,” he said.  “My sweet Y/N, I love you so much.  Thank you.”  “I love you too, Aleksander,” you replied.  “And you don’t have to thank me.  I would love you whether you’re an amplifier or not.  And I’ll lay down my life if someone tries to kill you for your power.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions, my sweetling,” Aleksander said, tugging you closer and kissing your temple.  You snuggled into his embrace, relishing in his touch just as Aleksander relished in yours.  Sleep found him easier than it ever had, and when you woke, your lover was curled around you like a vine, tightening his hold when you shifted.

From that day on, you and Aleksander were inseparable.  He was always touching you in some way, his hand in yours, his arm around your shoulders, a hand on your thigh, kissing your forehead, your temple, your lips.  Aleksander would sweep you into his arms and kiss you deeply as random, drawing a surprised squeak from your lips when he dipped you.

Your nights were spent wrapped in your lover’s arms, trading lazy kisses and whispering sweet nothings against the other’s skin.  Aleksander had fallen even deeper in love with you, wanting to be with you all the time.  He’d spent so long forcing himself to be alone in order to protect himself, but now, he couldn’t imagine a single day without your touch, without your kiss, without you.

#aleksander morozova x reader #shadow and bone fanfiction #the darkling x reader #general kirigan x reader #shadow and bone reader insert

[gabyeochin]

Daryl & Daugther!Reader - Quarry Era II

Had this in my drafts for ages. I started writing and never finished, but I decided to post anyway. Thank you for all the love on Part 1! I'm sorry I'm not much of a writer to keep this storyline going :( Words: 1591 Warnings: Nightmares Gif not mine Chapter song is Fix You by Coldplay

Part I

"And the tears come streaming down your face, when you lose something you can't replace."

It's been a while since the three of them started the walk back to camp, which was proving to be especially hard for the girl. After the adrenaline went off, the pain on her feet and legs were becoming almost unbearable. With each step she got slower and felt weaker. A headache making its way over her head, probably a mix of pain, hunger and lack of sleep.

Before heading back to camp Daryl offered her water, which she accepted desperately. Even though she was happy the thirst was over, her growling stomach didn't let her forget the days without anything to eat. She didn't mention that, already thankful for the water. However, the girl's skinny body gave Daryl an idea of how hungry she must be.

Daryl and Merle didn't hunt anything, both too focused on the deer, so he made a mental note to feed her as soon as they got to camp. Daryl also tried to take a better look at her wounds, but she didn't let him. He didn't push and decided this was a job for Lori or Carol. They were the mothers of the group and the girl would feel safe with them, he thought.

"She's slowing us down man, if we don't speed up we're going to lose sunlight. This girl is like a damn walker bait. Hell, I can smell her blood from here." Merle complained again.

"I get it Merle! Stop whining alrigh?" Daryl said before approaching the kid. 

She had been trailing behind them the whole time, never sparing them a glance and looking almost ready to bolt in the opposite direction at any moment. All of a sudden, Daryl realized that they didn't know her name.

"What's yer name kid?" She looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Y/n." She said, voice almost a whisper.

"Alrigh', Y/n. Look, someone has to check yer wounds and for that we need to get to the camp but ya can barely walk…" Y/n knew he was right. She was scared to let him do anything with her wounds, afraid it would make it hurt even more. But the girl knew that it would only get worse if they didn't get there faster.

"What if I carry ya?" Daryl proposed. "We'll get to the folks faster and everything's gonna be okay." Daryl looked at her expectantly, while Merle was still mumbling some nonsense he chose to again ignore.

Y/n pounded for a moment. She didn't know this guy, even though he seemed to be making an effort to at least make her feel less scared. The same couldn't be said about the other guy, his brother. Even with Daryl's effort, she wasn't sure if trusting him was the right decision. However, it's not like she had any other choice at the moment.

Y/n looked up at Daryl and nodded her head. He handed his crossbow to Merle and picked the girl up. She felt so light and Daryl couldn't help but wonder how long she was alone out there, without food and water.

Y/n wrapped one of her arms around Daryl's neck, looking for something to hold on to. It was weird, how she didn't even know this man but felt safe in his arms. After being alone for months, she really wanted to believe someone good was going to help her.

Daryl arranged the girl in his arms and resumed their walking, Merle leading the way with Daryl's crossbow, aware of any danger.

They arrived at the camp a couple hours later and Daryl came in calling for the first person he saw, which in that case was Lori. "Daryl, oh my god??? Who is that?"

Daryl immediately felt Y/n's arms wrap harder around him. "It's fine kid, don't worry."

"We found her in the woods, alone and hurt."

Minutes later, the whole camp was reunited outside the RV while Lori and Carol were inside with Y/n. The girl felt more at ease with them, like Daryl imagined. But she was still unsure about everything and everyone.

After they treated her wounds and helped her clean up, Daryl brought some of the squirrel from his last hunt along with more food from the camp. Being clean and fed, it was like Y/n could finally think straight again.

Yours later, everyone started to retreat to their tents for the night. Inside the RV, Y/n tried to stay awake, her brain still on alert for some reason. But after a while her body started to give up and she fell asleep to the sounds of the dying conversation outside.

“It will be okay my baby, just run and don’t look back, okay?”

“But mom, what about you?”

“I’ll be right behind you, go!” The little girl ran, but she couldn't help looking back. However, when she did, it made sense why her mother told her not to.

Screams, that’s what Daryl woke up to. He jumped out of his tent and saw Shane, Glenn and Dale outside the RV. “What the hell happened?”

“It 's Y/n.” Shane said “Lori is-” As if on cue, Lori leaves the RV. And to everyone's surprise, she smiled at Daryl.

“She’s asking for you, Daryl.” Daryl looked at Lori as if she had grown another head but entered the RV anyway.

“Hey kid, what's up?” Y/n was sitting in bed, death grip on the blanket and scared look on her face.

“I miss my mom” Daryl didn't know what to say, he didn't understand why she would want him there of all people. “Could you stay here until I fall back asleep?”

To be honest, Y/n didn't want to sleep, not if that meant another nightmare, but her body didn't give her any choice. Daryl saved her, his presence made her feel safe, so maybe he could help the bad dreams go away. Daryl was still confused, but he simply sat down in the chair close to the door and nodded his head, watching as the girl laid down, closing her eyes and falling asleep once again.

The first week went by smoothly, Y/n couldn't think about anything other than sleep. Her body begging for rest in order to heal. She didn't talk much, still overwhelmed with the new environment and everything that happened, but slowly feeling more at ease with everyone. Amy was the one to bring her food the days she stayed in bed. Lori or Carol would brush her long hair after she washed up. Glenn and Dale would make her laugh with silly jokes. Andrea and Jacqui would help change her bandages. Daryl would always check on her at the end of the day. He didn't say much, only put his head inside the RV, saw her asleep and then went to his tent.

The second week was better, she was stronger and more active. However, the nightmares still hunted her at night. Since Y/n got in the camp, Carl and Sophia were anxious to talk with her. But she was weak and scared so the adults held them back. When she started feeling better, spending her days sitting in the staircase of the RV and watching the camp, Carl approached her. With everything that happened Y/n didn't really had the time to think about the other kids at camp. She knew Sophia was Carol's daugther and Carl was Lori's, but they never talked and she suddently felt nervous. It's been ages since she last talked with someone her age.

"Hi, I'm Carl. You're Y/n, right?"

"Yeah.." Y/n smiled awkwardly.

"Shane's going to teach me how to grab frogs, you wanna come too?"

Y/n apreciated the invitation but she couldn't help but ask "Why would you want to grab frogs?"

Carl seemed like he wasn't expecting the question but answered anyway "Well, it's just funny, they jump so high trying to run away" he said with a little laugh "But we release them right after, Shane says they probably taste really bad to eat."

Y/n was the one ot laugh this time, for sure she wouldn't want to eat a frog.

"Okay, it seems fun" Y/n said looking at the boy in front of her.

"Yes! It's going to be really fun, I'll tell Shane you're coming" Y/n laughed again seeing the boy excitement, she couldn't help but feel it too. After the last stressful weeks, it was good to have some distraction.

Y/n met Sophia a couple nights after her frong hunt with Carl and Shane. The camp was having dinner and since she started feeling better, she started to have dinner outside with the others. The first night she went straight to Daryl, he and Merle sitting around a fire further from the main camp. In the short time Y/n was there she could notice how they differed from the rest of the camp. Her, as well, felt unsure, not of Daryl but his brother. The first night she left the RV and went to Daryl, Merle looked at her they same way he looked at her back in the woods. Like she was an walker bait. Daryl didn't showed much affection towards her, at least not in clear eyes. But he silently made sure she was fed and safe every single day, most of the others from the camp would not notice most of the time, but he did and Y/n knew it.

Taglist: @justmare

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x daughter reader #daryl dixon x daughter reader #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfiction

[familyvideostevie]

hey.

okay. hello! i'm back. :)

maybe you noticed, maybe not, but i have been away for a while.

i wish i could say i've been out living my life, so caught up in happiness and joy and loving each day that i've just not had time for tumblr. but....that is not true. i have been having a tough time! being away has been good, as i've had time to do other things that i like and to put energy into my own well-being, but it hasn't been the best time, I'll tell you that.

i peeked on the dash every now and then to keep my queue full and reblogged soothing things to my main blog and tried my best not to feel guilty about it all (i was also booping on April 1 lol). i just...I really needed a break. i've really enjoyed being here the last six or so months as i've changed my blog and entered the pedro/tlou space but i've also felt so, so alone.

and i know that it doesn't really matter!! like, we should all take breaks and go outside and all that stuff. and I know plenty of people are not very active, but this blog has been such a vital part of my life and happiness since I started it almost two years ago, so any lapse in activity feels like a loss. I've met lifelong friends and flexed my writing muscles and learned a hell of a lot. the fact that I have started to feel isolated and alone on here is a sort of personal betrayal, and there is no one to blame but myself.

So, I’m pulling back.

it means a few things — i don’t know how much writing I’ll be doing from now on. For Joel, especially — it’s been wonderful to meet folks in that community but it has also been really detrimental to my passion for both the game and writing. I’d like to return to some other characters on my masterlist, but we’ll see. I’ve got endless personal projects away from tumblr that I want to pour love and time into (my non-reader fics, my newsletter, a romance novel, a sci-fi novel, poetry, etc). I need to fall in love with my own work again.

it's a me problem, I want to stress that. i'm working on it! irl stuff has been kicking my ass. I've had a really, really hard winter and my mental health has suffered probably more than ever before. i let things I love -- like this blog -- fester and become negative and no longer being me joy. writing became stressful and difficult and I was focused on notes and interaction and looking around me and seeing success and then looking at myself and only seeing lack.

but that's why I took a break! i am getting help and support irl, i am putting in the time and effort to feel better about being alive and to be a better friend and person all around. And I want to tell you all about it because I am so grateful for your time and attention and support, even if we’re just strangers on the internet. i know this probably seems silly -- who cares about a fanfic blog? well, i care! i care a lot! it matters to me and therefore it matters!

anyway. on to the important stuff. here I am! and here's what's going to happen on this blog:

I am working on replying to asks and reblogs and comments I missed. Thank you for being patient with me! I don't know if I'll get to them all but know I see them and I am honored every single time.

I made a totally separate ao3 account with this blog url. I'm working on uploading everything I've posted here onto there and hopefully will continue to crosspost. It is going to take a long, long time, so please be patient! (you can follow my other ao3 here for my non x-reader fanfic).

I posted this fic! Jackson!Joel pulled me back into his world. It’s the first thing I’ve written in ages, so let me know what you think. as of now it's the last planned fic for that series, but who knows!

I hit a milestone while i was away that I am absolutely blown away by. I'm planning a celebration around it sometime this spring (hopefully) and I’d love to see you participate :)

lastly, thank you so much to my friends for letting me complain, whine, winge, etc. I am so sorry for missing all of your work, your celebrations, your bright energies, and all the rest. i am so sorry if it seemed like i was ignoring you. you are my guiding lights, my silver linings, my touchstones. you make me want to be here. i will try to make it up to you!

I want to be online less but make sure I’m connecting more in the moments that i am here. I want to pressure myself to write less and not feel bad that I’m not engaged all the time. I want this blog to once again feel like a place that nourishes me and not sucks me dry. i want to stop feeling like shit about all of it!!!!

so. come hang out in my inbox, my dms, let me know what you've been up to. I am really sorry for missing so much. thank you for sticking around. <3

#personal #this is very long but please read it maybe? #emma rambles #I will reblog it a few times probably

[barcaavengers]

Illicit Affairs || Neymar Jr. || Pt. 1

Note: I'm baaaack! With another Neymar imagine series! This one is going to have a little bit of everything so I hope you all enjoy it and let me know your feedback! It starts off slow since its like a mini introduction but it should pick up after that. Also, requesting permission to change my name to Bruna since this man only dates girls with that name. 😅

Warnings: None for now.

Disclaimer: Gif not mine. Credit to owner.

“Cover me!” Neymar screams into his headset at you.

“Where the hell are you going!? There is people there, I barely have bullets!”

“Let’s goooo” Neymar is laughing and you laugh with him. 

You have met Neymar quite a few months ago now. You were friend of one of his best friends and you two met through him and Call of Duty games. It was a time where they needed a fourth person for the squad and your best friend mentioned you, making the clarification that, of course, you were a girl. Not many guys liked to play with girls, and less one that could kick their ass in video games, but the guys were pretty fun and welcomed you into their squad. That’s when you got to play with Neymar Jr. himself and you were over the moon, because honestly who wouldn’t? Yes, you followed him in social media way before, and never actually met him, it was all through your headset and it was enough for you guys to have a connection. Well, a love hate relationship. Sometimes you criticized the weapons he used, he would criticize your tactics during the game, but you two would get along just fine and you loved it. He was funny, he would scream and curse in most games and for some reason that would always make your day. It was the highlight of your day truth to be told, you would look forward to it. 

“I told you not to go! I was recharging!” You laugh.

“Fine, fine” he chuckles as he goes back to the game’s lobby. “What happened?” “Bruna is here. I gotta go before she starts complaining that I have been playing all day” you can almost hear the roll of his eyes through his words. “Oooh, you busted” you tease. “Yeah, whatever” he chuckles. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Same time tomorrow if you feel like listening to me.”

“Ha! Never. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’ll text you.” 

You disconnect your headset and turn off the console and you sigh. Tomorrow couldn’t get here soon enough. 

“So I will be taking some small vacations, and I told Y/B/F to join. Thought maybe it would be a good idea to meet up? Need to know who is being so bossy with me through headsets” he teases and you find yourself smiling. 

“Sounds fun, I’m in!” You grin. “I can finally talk with Bruna and tell her how annoying you are and that you spend many hours playing.”

“She is not coming” you can sense the change in his tone. 

“Everything alright?” 

One thing you have been since meeting Neymar, besides his biggest rival, is his confidant. You could hear how sometimes Bruna would call him out on playing all day, or him asking her freely to join him in something and her saying no because she had bigger plans, or how he would refuse to go out with her friends because he wanted to go out with his, and there was always a slight tension. You would prefer for him to mute it, and you even told him once, but he says he forgets about it since most of the times it happens when you guys are playing an important match. 

The invitation had you slightly nervous, and you didn’t know how to feel about it. In a way, you were thrilled from finally meeting Neymar, face to face. The other part was nervous, he would like your posts and send you heart eyes whenever you posted photos of yourself, and he would tell you how good you looked. You would always take it in a friendly way, and didn’t pay much attention to it or saw it as something more than a compliment, but sometimes you wondered how you’d react around him. So many days playing together over the past months have made you get fonder of him, he was like a long distance best friend and you liked that relationship. Never looking forward to moving past that. 

“We can talk later about that” he says and you hear someone calling his name from the other end. “I have to go, but I’ll send you the information, okay partner?”

“Sounds good to me!” And with that you disconnect once again. 

“So you are the pain in my ass that doesn’t cover” Neymar greets you as he hugs you, you were now at your best friend’s place. 

“So you are the one that doesn’t listen” you say, trying to keep your voice from shaking of how nervous you were. Your heart was trying to beat its way out of your chest, and you hoped he wasn’t able to feel it as he hugged you. 

“Alright, settle you two. I’ll go get some drinks because I thought you’d be staying at a fancy hotel and we’d get hotel rooms” your friend teases and you laugh at him. 

“Thanks, bro” Neymar says, looking after your friend as the door shuts down. “Did you bring the extra controller?”

You pull your controller out of your bag, holding it with a grin. “Ready to get your ass kicked?” He laughs and opens his own bag to get his controller out, walking over to turn on the console and pulling two chairs in front of the tv for you guys to play. 

“You can’t be serious” you say with a roll of your eyes. “This is like a stress reliever for you. She can’t just tell you to stop playing.”

“I know” his tone was annoyed. “Bruna…I love her and all but lately we are not on the same page. We haven’t been in a while. You have heard some of it” he pauses. “She is not the same, she is just there when there is something big or when she wants to show me off to her friends. I mean, I’m not giving myself an ego boost or anything, but I feel she asks me out for her things because I am popular and, I know she is too, but it's just…It doesn’t feel right anymore, you know?” He frowns. 

“That always happens. Difference of interests. I’m sure you can work things out. Breaking up like that just because of misunderstandings doesn’t sound like a way to go. Just talk to her about how you feel, if she truly cares for you and your feelings I’m sure she’d understand” you pat his arm and he smiles. 

“You know, I’ve always liked talking to you, Y/N” your cheeks blush at his words. “You are always so positive, funny, and know exactly what to say. Sometimes we think alike.”

“Except for the game.”

“Your fault. If it would’ve been for me we would’ve already won these past five matches” he teases and shoves you playfully. “No, but I mean what I said” he gives you that smile. 

“Oh get a room with your compliments, Junior” you shove him back. “I really like playing with you too, even if you annoy me like hell” you smile back. 

“Can I tell you something? And you won’t find it weird?” Oh, definitely not weird, but your heart felt like it would burst from your chest in any minute now. “Since I started to follow you on instagram I thought you were beautiful.” Your cheeks felt way too hot and you thanked that you guys were playing in a dark room where the only light was the tv. Should you really be thankful for being with Neymar in a dark room while he was telling you how pretty you were while you were nervous and with this one urge tickling your thoughts?

“So if it weren’t for that, you would’ve thought I was just a nerd with glasses behind the game?”

“You are a nerd with glasses though” he reaches to shake your glasses. Okay, touche.

“Whatever” you roll your eyes playfully and press the start option in the game as you reach to take a sip from your bottle of water. “Where the hell is this guy with our drinks anyway?” You turn to look at the door as you drink. 

“Y/N, can I kiss you?” You have to hold back to not spit the water you were drinking, and because of that you started to cough uncontrollably. “Hey, no. Don’t die on me. I need you to revive me during the game” he is patting your back as you try to regain yourself. 

“I’m fine” you cough and gulp at least three times as you recover. “What did you just ask?”

“If I could kis-”

“Oh I heard you loud and clear, mister” you say nodding your head. 

“So?”

“So?”

“You are acting out because you are having problems with her.”

“Or maybe it is what I have wanted since I saw your pictures and since I walked through that door” and when you look at him, of course his eyes were eyeing you up and down and staring at your lips. 

“Neymar…”

“Come on, no one has to know…We can spin the bottle and whoever it lands on has to kiss the other” he is being playful now to redeem himself. How cute. 

“Just the two of us?”

“Just the two of us.”

“Doesn’t sound like a fair thing” you smirk and he chuckles, leaning closer. 

“Not hearing a no…” Oh God he is so close. You can smell the peppermint from the gum he was probably chewing on his way to your friend’s place. He was hypnotizing. His hazel eyes gazing at you, his tongue running along his lower lip almost tasting you already on them, and you found yourself doing the same. 

“Just one” you give in. Damn, you are surprised you lasted this much. 

He smiles like a little kid, biting his lower lip before leaning forward. His lips pressed against yours in the most innocent way possible, and they did have a hint of the peppermint taste. You try to regulate your breathing because you were sure he could sense how nervous you were and you didn’t want him to boost his ego more, but how could you resist? Your lips part and he takes the initiative to deepen the kiss, and you melt right into it. His hand goes to the side of your neck, fingertips resting on the back of it as he held you in place. The one kiss was lasting longer than you expected, lips moving slowly as he savored the moment, and so did you. 

“Mmm…” you hear him groan and you pull away slowly. “That was…”

“Yuup…Not just one kiss…”

“Kinda was. I didn’t stop-” you glare at him and he just gives you a cheeky grin. “Did you…like it?” Out of all the things you could hear Neymar Jr. ask, you never expected for it to be him asking you if you enjoyed kissing him. 

“Kinda obvious since I didn’t pull away” you admit shamelessly and you instantly regret it, because that’s when you realized you may have had a crush on this one far deeper than him just being your first football crush. He didn’t need to know that though. 

“Would need some proof” he reaches for your hand, fingertips grazing your skin causing goosebumps to stand out as he gets a hold of your controller and bends slightly to the side to put it down along with his. 

“Seriously?”

He is so unbelievably close…and that smile, those eyes…You have never seen someone so perfect up close. And you find yourself leaning in again, this time you are the one to tease him running your tongue along his lips. It felt…right, in a way. It felt like you have been secretly waiting for this moment your whole life but you just truly realized you had suppressed the feelings for so long and now they were being freed. Terrible timing. Or was it? Maybe all of this was happening for a reason. Him being away from Bruna, him staying at your friend’s place, said friend taking forever with the drinks. Maybe…just maybe…

“Sorry, I got stuck in traffic” you hear as the door starts to open and you both breakaway from each other and quickly start shoving on each other.

“I told you to wait for me!”

“I told you there were two teams there!”

“You were sniping them!”

“....I guess it is a bad timing? I got the drinks though” your friend says and raises the six packs of beer and you two turn to look at him. 

“Finally. I’m thirsty” Neymar says and looks at you, sending a wink your way and you are sure your cheeks have never turned a brighter shade of pink. 

“Well then come and pour something up” your friend says.

Neymar looks at you, a cheeky smirk upon his lips as he stands up. “Thank God you arrived. I could barely stand her by myself” he says as he walks away. 

“Like if you were so easy to handle” you say and laugh, following the guy.

The rest of the night goes that way. Games and Neymar looking at you every now and then, being charming as only he knew how to be, as subtle as he could because, let’s be honest, the guy couldn’t stop looking at you in any chance he got and you were surprised your friend hasn’t made a comment about it. You get to know that he will be staying at a place he rented, so he was leaving and not actually staying. 

It was late at night and you were already at your apartment getting ready for bed when you got the message. 

Neymar: Can we see each other tomorrow?

Neymar: That kiss was….wow. 

Neymar: I’m starting to think it was a bad idea.

You have to blink a couple of times to understand what was going on. Was he….was Neymar flirting with you? You didn’t know how to react. In a way, he is with Bruna, right? He was complaining about her, but what relationship doesn’t complain about the other and has their rough patches? On the other hand, he seemed so serious when he said he didn’t like the way he was being treated in the relationship and how things didn’t feel the same way. Yes, you told him to fix things, to talk with Bruna, but he said he had already tried and that things only changed for a few weeks or months before they were back to square one. 

Not sure if it were your feelings and the kiss getting in the way of your thoughts, but maybe he should get a break. If he doesn’t like where he is at, then it is time for him to move on. If he had given it all and saw no changes, why stay with a person that it's just there, but not exactly there? 

Y/N: You finally realize your ideas are bad ideas?

Y/N: What did you have in mind? I work tomorrow. 

How could something feel so right and so wrong at the same time?

Neymar: I can pick you up. I just got a rental. I don’t want to bother Y/B/F to drive me around, and I didn't feel like driving three hours with my own. 

Y/N: Alright...I’ll send you the address and what time to pick me up. 

Too many ways that this could end up, and something told you that it was going to hurt the most. 

Neymar: See you tomorrow, princess. 

#Neymar jr #Neymar #neymar imagine #neymar imagines #Neymar jr imagine #neymar jr imagines #(illicit affairs) #(mine) #football imagine #football imagines

[theapangea]

Two First Dates - Part 1

Chapter Title: The Set Up

Pairing/Characters: Steve Harrington x Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 2205

Summary: After hearing about your date with Eddie Munson, Steve decides to finally ask you out. 

Warning: None.

A/N: A series I wrote a while ago but finally moving it over to Tumblr! Enjoy my loves!

*Also posted on AO3: theapangea*

Part 2 | Part 3

Masterlist <3

Today was weirdly peaceful. Normally, Fridays are busy but today seemed oddly quiet. There were no last minute dads getting off of work trying to figure out which children’s movie to rent or a couple wondering what movie would be good background noise for their make out session. 

The day mostly consisted of you and Steve doing your job’s mundane duties. To be honest, it was a little tense between the two of you lately. Nothing in particular stuck out in your mind, but it seemed like Steve didn’t want to talk to you at all. You would notice that his eyes would linger just a bit too long and he would avoid any and all situations that involved talking to you. Something was bugging him and you just decided to leave it at that. 

You spent most of the day rewinding tapes, stocking, and ignoring Steve. He seems to always spend his days the same, trying to get a date. He hasn’t been all that lucky since high school and sometimes you kind of felt bad for him. He would go out with any girl who happened to say yes to his boyish charm yet come in the next day complaining about their horrible date and her horrible kissing.

You didn’t want to hear about Steve's excuse for a dating life. Not because it wasn’t funny as hell to see him struggle to keep a girlfriend, but because you were somewhat jealous of the other girls he would give his attention to. You wouldn’t dare to ever say this outloud, but Steve was definitely someone you have a major crush on. 

If you are a girl from Hawkins, you have had a crush on Steve Harrington at some point in your life. Your crush just seemed to never dissipate. 

“You’re really going on a date with Eddie Munson?” Steve basically shouted from behind the counter, pulling you from your mindless thoughts.

You look over the rack of movies in front of you, your hands automatically fixing them as you respond, “What…” you pause for a brief moment, “how did you hear about that?”

“Robin.” He chuckled. He couldn’t believe that you would go on a date with that loser willingly.

“It’s none of your business Steve.” You groan while putting another tape onto the shelf. It was true though, you were going on a date with Eddie Munson tonight but you didn’t want Steve’s opinion about the matter.

“It is when you’re going out with that freak.” He cringes at the thought of you and Eddie Munson actually going on a date. You groan in frustration at his comment. Vowing now to never listen to Steve Harrington ever again. 

You put a couple more tapes on the shelf. You could feel his presence next to you before he states, “I didn’t even think he was your type.” It was almost like he was intentionally trying to stand too close. 

“What exactly do you think my type is Steve?” You questioned. 

Steve instantly stands up a little straighter, pulling his vest down a bit. Clearly indicating that he was your type. Where would he even get that idea? You never said anything to anybody about your crush on Steve. Do you think he knows? Do you think he is playing with you to make you confess that you are in love with him?

“You wish,” you scoff at his inaudible comment and push past him. To be honest, you wished you could build up the courage to tell Steve how you really felt. This whole love-hate friendship thing that has been going on for the past couple of months has been torture. You loved the teasing and the way he would wear that cocky smile after a snarky remark made you want to kiss him even more. But you never got the feeling that he felt the same way.

“Come on, go out with me tonight.” He follows closely behind. His request sends shivers down your spine. The words you always wanted to hear were now being spoken yet at the worst possible time in your life. Fuck Steve Harrington for always having the worst timing. 

“You can’t just now ask me on a date because you know I am going out with Eddie.” You turn around to face hime, pointing out his obvious intentions. “Also, you should ask me out because you want to not because it’s to stop me from dating Eddie.” You add, your eyes meeting his and suddenly his presence feels extremely close.

You can see he was examining your face. Examining what you were actually thinking and wanting to take all of you in. You were standing so close that you could see the same razor scars that lined his chin. You could see the slight emptiness in his eyes and the pressure of growing up too fast. 

Your mind racing with all the things you wanted to say to him but never got the chance. Let’s face it, you were so small compared to what he had to offer. You turn back around before he could read too much further into the obvious expression on your face. Your safety behind the counter and computer couldn’t have come quicker. The soft clicking sound of your fingertips typing away filled the small store. 

Steve huffs, his forearms resting on top of the counter, “Y/N, I do want too. Plus you will have way more fun with me anyways.” He adds, his puppy dog eyes tearing a piece of your heart away as you try to stay mad but can’t.

You could feel yourself giggling at his remark. Damn Steve. He had this way of getting under your skin yet also being able to get himself on your good side. He could talk himself into and out of any situation, especially with you. He knew he had you wrapped around his finger, but instead of actually asking you out on a date he would do anything to stop you from going on them. 

He wasn’t as confident as he wanted the world to view him as. He was lonely and heartbroken. Never fully recovering from dating Nancy Wheeler and never fully recovered from all the rejection since. He went from King Steve of Hawkins High to some unknown dude in the video store. How pathetic, his father always told him. 

But he liked it there, he liked hanging out with Robin…and you. Even though he would never confess actually wanting to hang out with you to your face. You were the reason he wasn’t lonely during the week while Robin was at school. You were the person who laughed at his jokes even if they weren’t that funny. Steve couldn’t believe that he was finally able to ask you out, the only bad part was that you were going on a date with Eddie first. Good job, Steve.

You stop typing for a moment and meet his gaze. His mind was trying to find the right words, any words to save himself.

“Eddie and I have a lot in common, which is why I said yes. Plus he had the guts to actually ask me out.” You confess, your words stinging more than you intended. But you were right, if Steve would have actually asked you out any other time than you would be more than willing to go with him. Hell, he was the one putting you in this situation.

“Fine.” Steve groans, his forehead now resting on the counter. You finally thought that you had won, that he was finally going to leave you alone. You go back to the computer screen, inputting the number on the tape cover.

“But we are going out tomorrow.” He demands. His confidence finally finding its voice. 

You giggle again. How could he be so demanding all the time? How could he just keep asking after you basically said no? “I’m not sure if I’m free.” You pretend to think about his offer when in reality you couldn’t believe that Steve Harrington continued to keep asking you out on a date. You almost had to pinch yourself, really hoping this was not some sort of dream. 

“I know you aren’t.” He wasn’t appeased by the joke, “I am picking you up at 5 tomorrow.” 

“Isn’t that a little early for dinner?” A puzzled look landing on your face.

“5 in the morning, duh.” He clarifies. The smile that formed on his face was unlike any other. You were now this big prize that he has won and he was happy to be able to show you off. The fact that he was finally able to go on a real date with you was amazing and nerve-wrecking.

“Morning?” You repeat as he walks away without another word. Why 5 in the morning? Why in the world would Steve want to even get up that early on a Saturday? You wondered what kind of plans he could possibly have at 5 in the morning. 

It was a little awkward for the rest of your shift together. Steve seemed oddly pleased with himself after your little interaction and you seemed completely torn between these two dates. You didn’t know what to do. On one hand, you were going on a date with someone who has actually made it clear that he wanted to date you. And on the other hand, you are going to go on a date with the literal man of your dreams. 

In a way, you felt guilty. You felt guilty because it felt like you were dragging Eddie into this situation. You knew in your heart that Steve was the one, but you weren’t completely sure if Steve really felt the same way. He could just really not want you to date Eddie and would do anything to stop it. 

Eddie has been asking you out nonstop since sophomore year of high school and Steve never gave you a second look in high school. Steve was one of your best friends and Eddie was someone you lost touch with after graduation.

You couldn’t make a decision between the two of them. How could you? How could you pick between them? You never thought in your small town life that two very attractive men would try and date you around the same time. 

The neverending thoughts of the next 24 hours and your next two dates made the rest of the day go by quickly. You had barely spoken five words to Steve since he asked you out. You were speechless. Absolutely speechless. 

When the clock struck 6pm and it was finally time to go home. You couldn’t help but to try and high tail it out the door without so much as a goodbye to your coworker. Coworker, that’s all he was. He wasn’t your knight in shining armor like you wanted him to be. He was a coworker that you see often and there's nothing much to it. You tried to remind yourself but it just wasn’t working. 

“You still want a ride home?” Steve calls while locking the doors and before you are out of earshot.

You stop before your feet leave the short sidewalk. Contemplating if you still need the ride home. In reality, you do, that was the reason you asked in the first place. But after today and your mind going thousands of miles per an hour, the last place you wanted to be is stuck in a metal box with Steve.

You turn on your heels, knowing that if he drove you home it would give you more time to get ready for your date with Eddie. “Sure” You huff.

“Don’t act so sad.” He opens the car door for you. 

Most of the car ride was silent to say the least. Awkward, yes. Uncomfortable, yes. But you liked driving with Steve. He’s given you a ride home a couple of times and he’s always so talkative. But today was different, he seemed quiet and distant. The radio hummed lowly but the silence was too much to bear. 

“You can still go out tonight with me instead.” He finally breaks the tension, before putting the car in park in front of your house.

You continue to look forward. You could feel his eyes burning a whole into your head, trying to figure out what is going on in your brain. 

“Steve, drop it.” You look over at him, his sight almost taking your breath away, “Besides what if I like Eddie more and just don’t want to go on the date with you tomorrow?” You snark.

“That wouldn’t happen.” Steve rebuttals, knowing damn well that he is right. 

The breathy chuckle escapes your lips as you just cannot believe this day. It was so far away from what you expected that you almost don’t believe you are alive right now. You got out of the car not saying another word. The loud bang of the car door echoing for miles.

“Hey,” He shouts, leaning forward over the passenger seat, “I can’t wait for our date tomorrow.”

You try to conceal the smile that has formed. Damn this day, damn the date, and damn Steve Harrington.

~~

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know what you think!! <3

#steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #stranger things steve #steve harrington

[ctimenefic]

So @strawberry-daiquiris wrote an incredible F1 Traitors AU (seriously, go read it) and was kind enough to let me paddle around in the Galex end of the pool.

Many thanks to @latecomersprivilege, for whom this is a belated birthday gift, an almost on time Valentine's gift, and ultimately not what she asked for but what she's getting!

It’s a month since the last episode aired and George hasn’t messaged him.

Oh, he’s in the group chat - he’s the admin of the group chat. He’s posting memes, even the ones about himself, nearly every day. Asking very sincerely after people’s partners, their kids. Adding little crying laughing emojis to almost all the jokes. (Almost all - never Alex’s. Not even once. Which. Come on. Checo’s not even that funny.)

So. Yeah, it’d been bad, at the end, at their last round table together, George damp eyed and smiling through it and Alex nearly fumbling his own defence trying to tell him one more time “it’s just a game”.

But. Like. Not so bad as to cancel out everything else. Or at least, Alex had thought so. Hoped so.

It’s been a month.

Hey just wondering if we shd have a coffee or smthg? Clear the air?

Sure. When?

Nxt wk? Peckham?

(George told him all about his little flat in Dulwich, how he properly loved all the twee village-y shit like the wooden sign-posts and bougie cafes, in their murmured conversations in the hotel corridors, heads ducked together and voices low. Alex had taken the piss, but so softly he’d barely recognised his own cadence. That- that had been the first clue, before he’d started noticing how George’s adams apple bobbed when he got loud.

But Dulwich is packed to the brim with Traitors fans, has to be, all middle class mums and families that gather round the telly of an evening to actually spend time together. They’d be spotted in seconds. So Peckham feels safer, crowded and anonymous and too fucking cool to pay attention if Alex has to get on his knees and beg George to- to-)

The cafe’s still a bit posh, which means it’s basically deserted. George is wearing the kind of T-shirt that only fits that well because it’s expensive.

He’s ordered tea already, and Alex wants to remind him to drink up, like he did at breakfast every morning, because George would always get too into their conversation to finish before it got cold. He’d slug it back anyway, wincing, and Alex would pretend to ignore the line of his throat.

“I’m sorry you didn’t win,” George blurts. “I know I- I didn’t help, I know, but after, I did want it to be you. You’d worked so hard.”

Alex stares at him. “I never thought I would. Maybe near the end, a bit, but. Well. I got lucky.”

George pulls a face. “Come on, you were brilliant at it. So convincing. I really thought I’d find out you were, like, an actor or something.”

George smiles at that, small and tight. “Oh, yeah, the office have been so weird about it. Saying they didn't watch, and then making jokes that prove they did. I've stopped paying attention to it.”

Alex tries to laugh, like it’s a joke. Like he hadn’t talked George’s ear off about the practice. How he’d use the money, if they won - as Faithful - to get back to his veterinary degree, properly qualify. “Nah, still at my old place. They’ve, uh, let me take the backroom stuff for a bit, while it dies down.”

Alex nods. Pretends George has got better at lying. “Hope they're not being nasty.”

“Oh, not too bad.” The ‘too’ makes Alex want to snarl, set his teeth in someone's neck. Bastards. And George's blasé tone runs a little thin as he goes on. “Might quit, actually, try the influencer thing for a bit. It's basically the same as sales, just, you know. Different product.”

“You'd be good at that,” Alex tries. “Influential. I'd be, uh, influenced.” In the time it takes George to blink three times, Alex experiences all nine levels of hell and a few more added just for him.

I'd be influenced. Christ.

“How are you doing with that, sponsorships and stuff?” George asks and Alex shrugs. He’s got his fans, the ones who think he was robbed, rather than bottled it. His Insta’s big, now, not millions but, like, decent. Marketable. Problem is, he isn’t.

“Turns out, being known as a really good liar doesn’t get loads of hashtag spon ops,” he says, trying to keep it light. Like money hadn’t been the whole point. George’s face falls, the first unrehearsed expression Alex has seen all morning.

“Oh crikey, I’m sorry, I didn’t- cause it’s been alright, and I was a traitor too, at the end so-”

“Yeah, but I forced you into it, didn’t I? I’m the bad guy.” There’s a decent TikTok edit of him to that Billie Eilish song, all his smiles and laughs and fond looks, set to the beat of sociopathy. It’s very slick; turned his stomach on the second watch. “Plus, you know, you look like that, which probably helps.”

He knows it’s been more than alright for George. He hasn’t liked any of his Instagram posts, too… proud? ashamed? But he’s seen them all, including the Stories, so George must know he’s been there. Or maybe he doesn’t, maybe there’s hundreds of people, and they’re not mutuals, he remembers abruptly. George didn’t follow him back.

He flips his phone in his hands, once, twice; worries at the crack in the screen down by the bottom right corner, just enough to feel the scrape against the pad of his thumb.

George notices, of course. Those big blue eyes, all the better for spotting clues. Terrible at knowing what they meant. “Do you wanna take a picture for insta then? Show people it’s all water under the bridge?”

“Uh, not really? I mean…” it doesn’t feel under the bridge, or air cleared. Alex still feels like he’s choking on it.

That small wrinkle he used to make fun of appears between George’s brows. “Wasn’t that the point of this?”

“Jesus, no, I’m not-” Alex feels sick, properly sick, hot chocolate coming back on him for a second. “I wanted to be friends - I want to be friends. Again.”

“Again,” George repeats, after a beat.

Alex swallows. Presses the tip of his tongue against the edge of his front teeth, where they turn sharp enough to cut, like a bit of pain now will soothe the sucking void where his stomach used to be. “Right, no, of course. Forget it, look, I'll get these and-”

George catches his wrist before he can make a break for it. His thumb lands in the soft spot between the tendons, where Alex’s pulse beats - ha - traitorously fast.

“Wait. You haven't told me how your mum is. And your sisters. And Luca, obviously, and the cats.”

“The cats?”

“Yeah, obviously. Can't go before I hear about the cats, ‘Lex. All of them. So you should probably, um, sit back down.”

So he does.

#my fic #f1 rpf fic #f1 rpf #galex #traitors au #an attempt was made #there's probably a part two where they Actually Kiss but good luck future me on writing that

[makeitastrength]

Hi! Missing your fics and wondering if you wanna tease anything you've got coming soon?

Hey anon! Thanks so much for dropping by 😊

I didn't mean to go so long without posting but life has just been super busy lately. As usual, I have a bazillion and one WIPs I haven't managed to finish. I also have a fic I've been writing as I rewatch the series and it's basically a complete dissection of chenford's feelings for each other from 1x01 up through 4x22. It's been a fun challenge to write and it's turned into a 45k word monstrosity and it's finally almost done and I'm so excited to share it!

For now, here is a sneak peek from season 2.

Lucy is fine.

Despite what everyone else seems to think, she’s fine.

But deep down, she knows she’s not. She’s been white knuckling it since the moment they pulled out of the station yesterday, and she knows, despite her denials, that Harper and Lopez understand what happened last night. She knows she overreacted, and she knows that visceral instinct probably isn’t going away for a while.

And she really does appreciate Harper’s support and her willingness to help.

But the truth is, the first semblance of safety Lucy feels is when she turns around to find Tim standing behind her, tossing a compliment at her in a way that only he could pull off.

She thinks that’s the end of it, turns back to the bag, but then Tim is speaking again, telling her about his own scars and giving her a glimpse into a childhood she knows nothing about. And she knows what he’s trying to do, knows he’s trying to show her that he can relate to what she’s going through. She appreciates his attempts to help, too. She does. But his scars are different, and she doesn’t want to push him away, but she needs him to understand that it’s not the same.

She went on a date with a serial killer who tattooed her and buried her alive, and despite her psychology degree and months of training as a cop, she somehow missed all the signs that could have prevented her from ending up there in the first place. Instead, she now has a permanent reminder of her failure inked into her skin.

Lucy opens her mouth to fight back – to tell Tim that she appreciates his attempts to help but that he’s missing the point – but before she can he’s speaking again, and this time he’s saying everything she didn’t realize she needed to hear.

But you didn’t die.

I see it as proof that you’re a survivor.

It was the first day of the rest of your life.

And then he tosses her ring back to her and smiles softly, and Lucy is hit by so many emotions she can’t even begin to decipher them all.

Her feelings for Tim have gotten… complicated. She likes him. Not like that. Just… as a person.

But it’s more than that, because now he’s not just the guy she spends twelve hours a day with, sometimes navigating all kinds of complex and often dangerous situations and sometimes simply talking about any and everything. Now, he’s the guy who has her back without question. He’s the guy who is willing to share painful pieces of his own trauma just to help her come to terms with hers. He’s the guy who pulled her from the ground and breathed air back into her lungs and spent the night at her hospital bedside.

She owes him her life.

She owes him… everything.

And she’s not quite sure how to reconcile the man standing in front of her with the one who used to make her life a living hell in every possible way.

#anon ask #asked and answered #chenford #chenford fanfic #the rookie #sneak peek

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Can we get some cute headconons on Jio, Isaac, Jadu (he is slowly growing on me) and Lance accidentally blurting out the L word to their crush aka farmer in like a very random time 🤧

L word? *searching "L word meaning"*

Oh! You mean 'love'? Yay, fluff! Thanks so much for the ask and enjoy!

Isaac:

The fact that Isaac had stopped chasing the Farmer away from him meant a grand gesture on his part.

The chaotic and charming Farmer had managed to break through the first line of defense to the cold adventurer's heart, and they became friends.

Isaac studied them for a long time, out of curiosity, and didn't notice how he managed to fall in love with them. Though he'd tried to deny it at first.

They never interrupted him, never gave him trash, but rather useful things for adventures. They knew the value of honor, always trying their best to protect the Valley and even the Castle Village.

And yet Isaac couldn't admit his feelings. Not because he didn't trust them, but because deep down he was afraid of rejection.

Only he was so engrossed in Farmer's story about their recent adventures that he didn't realize that he had quietly said to them: "I love you."

The realization after the words were spoken hit him instantly.

"Huh? What did you say?"

"I said I'll blow you!" Yoba, that's even worse...

"Wha-"

"Go to hell!" Isaac yelled at the farmer and walked off in the opposite direction from them. His cheeks were as red as a ripe tomato.

The next day he apologizes for the incident. Isaac will be numb if Farmer says they also loves him.

Jadu:

Oh, no. No no no no. Whyyyy?

To smash a whole crate of potions for the guild in Stardew Valley!

He's been brewing them for a week, and because of a stupid rock he tripped over - all the potions are on the ground, broken! And right almost near the guild's doorstep. Ugh...

Even worse, the Farmer he'd been secretly in love with for the past four months was nearby, and must have seen everything. Now they would consider Jadu a total loser.

But instead, Farmer walked up to him, looking anxiously at his hands.

What? Oh, right. He cut himself a bit over the glass of the broken bottles, but that's nothing. However, Farmer insisted on treating the wound, and began bandaging Jadu's hands with bandages.

Such a gentle and careful touch.... And Farmer is so caring....

"I love you."

"I'm sorry, what?"

Jadu's silly smile immediately slid away when he realized what he had said to them.

"Jadu, did you accidentally hit your head in the fall?" The Farmer asked worriedly.

"I hit my head four months ago now, that's for sure."

Lance:

Apparently, Farmer took the phrase "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach" very seriously. Whether in friendship or in love, this phrase is equally effective.

Think about it: you're standing at the post office somewhere in a forgotten part of the world that can safely be called Hell, you're hungry, and your friend appears out of nowhere and brings you your most favorite food.

Lo and behold, a relentless fortress named "Lance" has also been conquered.

The gallant pink-haired adventurer had been very interested in the mystical farmer since their very first meeting. But he never imagined that after their adventures together, Lance would have a crush on them.

They both sat watching Crimson Baldlans, eating the most delicious tropical curry Lance had ever tasted in his life. Talking about monsters and adventures for over an hour. Their first meeting, sighting in the Highlands, meeting The First Slash.... So many fond memories in that short time....

"I love you..." It was a good thing Lance happened to say that phrase quietly enough, as Farmer didn't hear them.

"Hm? Did you say something Lance?"

He coughed, quickly corrected himself. "Ah, I said I love your cooking. The curry was wonderful. Thank you, my friend."

The Farmer smiled broadly, Lance melting every time he saw their beautiful smile.

Maybe he should take the first step soon to move to a new level of relationship, more than friendship. But not tonight, tonight they would just enjoy each other's company and food.

Jio:

Have mercy, forest spirits! He's even worse than Isaac...

He was a master of caution, he was hiding all these strange incomprehensible feelings that had begun to manifest after all those adventures in Spirit Realm with Farmer. Jio couldn't understand what it was.

"It's called love, silly!" "Shut up, Daia."

Love? Pfft, absurd! Jio even laughed at this silly idea.

Truth be told, when he and Farmer were in Ridge Forest at night, in such a magical place where Farmer looks especially beautiful, Jio still accidentally said something that had been tormenting him for a long time. "I love you."

Farmer.exe and Jio.exe stopped working.

"What did you say?"

"DIE!" Jio turned into a mist and disappeared from Farmer's sight. The fuck was that?...

The elf afterward would think that Farmer was using some kind of enchantment that made Jio behave like that.

"Silly old Jio, you just fell in love with Farmer! You need to talk to them" "Shut up, Daia."

But his friend is right about something: he needs to apologize for being rude at the very least.

#sve #stardew valley expanded #sdv #stardew valley #sve lance #sve jadu #sve isaac #rsv jio #ridgeside village #rsv #thanks for the ask!

[blue-rose-soul]

Your last Devil’s Bastards post was so juicy! I’d never heard about heaven’s people having amnesia.

Now I can’t stop thinking about a pre-reveal scenario in which Nicaise somehow goes to visit the hotel and while she doesn’t recognize anyone, Alastor and Lucifer sure recognize her.

Hey, it could happen! I did set the stage for Nicaise to potentially become a fallen angel, no second death required.

Let's say it happens at some point after the thwarted extermination. Neither Lucifer nor Alastor know yet, but Alastor has some suspicions. When Nicaise is ejected from Heaven for revealing the exterminations to the public, encouraging people to go against Heaven's rules, and questioning the Seraphim, and then refusing to repent, she remembers Charlie Morningstar's hotel and heads there straight away.

Charlie's happy to see her again. Both Lucifer and Alastor are in shock, but since Alastor's perma-smile is still in place no one really notices his reaction. They're all a little wrapped up in the story Nicaise is telling them about how she ended up getting ejected from Heaven. Of course Charlie happily welcomes her into the hotel, and Vaggie's actually happy to have yet another fallen angel among them, to hear that Heaven may actually be reforming from within.

Then Lucifer steps forward and reintroduces himself. Everyone's more than a little surprised to learn that Lucifer and Nicaise have met before. Lucifer explains that whence upon a time he snuck out of Hell just for a little while to actually see Earth, and wound up lost in the middle of New Orleans during the Rex parade. Nicaise doesn't remember the event, so he tells her about how she saved him from being lost and basically acted as his guide throughout the celebration. They both got pretty wasted and he woke up the next morning passed out on top of somebody's rooftop, presumably from attempting to fly home while drunk. Everyone's laughing and having a good time as he recounts the story.

Alastor says nothing.

As Nicaise settles into the hotel crew and helps Charlie with her redemption project, Alastor initially tries to keep his distance, but over time everyone notices that Alastor is different with her. It's not too strange at first. He's always gotten along better with women than with men. But this is different. He almost has an air of respect with her, and he doesn't even respect the King of Hell! He's gentle, he never teases or intentionally scares her, though it turns out Nicaise has a bit of a prankster side of her own and thinks its funny when he spooks other hotel residents. He doesn't hide the fact that he's a serial murderer, or that he's a cannibal, but he does tone down the bloodthirstiness in her presence. His smile is more genuine around her.

Bit by bit, certain things come out about Alastor, more in the few short weeks Nicaise has been with them than anyone's learned in the 6+ months of living with Alastor. Things he and Nicaise share in common. They both grew up in New Orleans, they like to use venison in their jambalaya, play several of the same instruments, have the same taste in liquor, hate tea. They even died within a couple decades of one another. Nicaise wonders if they might have even met one another while alive. Alastor only says he supposes it's possible.

Lucifer, for his part, is delighted to reunite with an old friend. Alastor does not enjoy Lucifer enjoying her company. He compels Husk to interrupt the two of them if he ever sees them getting too 'close.' Encourages Niffty to get under Lucifer's feet. Has his shadows trip Lucifer up, or spill his drinks when he's talking with Nicaise. Lucifer knows it's all Alastor's doing and assumes Alastor's just being a shit again.

"What, you failed to steal my daughter, now you're trying to steal my vacation friend!?"

Husk is the first one to put two and two together. He doesn't figure out everything, but he knows Alastor well enough to know his interest in Nicaise isn't romantic, and to pick up on the familial similarities. He keeps his mouth shut though. The memory of what happened last time he dredged up one of Alastor's secrets still sets his fur on edge. Still, in private he lets himself chuckle over the fact that Alastor is a 'mamma's boy.'

Eventually though, other people start to pick up on Alastor's weird behavior. When Nicaise scolds him for 'picking on' Lucifer - and WOW is it weird to see Alastor letting himself be scolded - Alastor points out to her that Lucifer is a married man. That does put a bit of a damper on Lucifer's and Nicaise's interactions. They weren't intentionally flirting or anything, but Lucifer wonders if maybe he was getting a tad too comfortable. He and Lilith ARE separated (at least, according to Charlie) but he still hopes to one day reconcile with her. And now that Alastor's brought it to her attention, Charlie's starting to feel just a tad uncomfortable with Lucifer's and Nicaise's closeness as well. Just a tad though! She does want her dad to be happy, and he and Lilith are separated...

Privately, she still thinks it feels like a betrayal though.

And it's that feeling that allows Charlie to put things together, and she's a hell of a lot less subtle than Husk is.

There are people hanging out at the bar when she walks up to Alastor in the parlor and blurts out, "ALASTOR, IS NICAISE YOUR SISTER!?"

It came out a lot louder than she meant it.

Lucifer chokes on his drink.

In Charlie's defense, he and Nicaise appear to be close to the same physical age in their demon and angel forms. If anything, Nicaise might have been younger when she died than Alastor was when he died.

Alastor reassures Charlie that, no, Nicaise is not his sister.

Lucifer relaxes and starts to chug his drink to get that terrifying thought out of his head.

"She's my maman."

Lucifer chokes again.

Fortunately Nicaise isn't present for this conversation. Charlie asks why Alastor hadn't said anything before now and he explains he doesn't see any reason to. Once they get her back into Heaven, they'll never see one another again, so why burden her with the knowledge that her son grew to be a mass murderer in life and a cannibalistic Overlord in death? While he may not regret any of his actions, he knows she would be heartbroken by the revelation.

Angel Dust breaks up the sullen mood that's fallen over the room by cracking a joke that, 'the devil wants to do your mom.'

He immediately gets several sets of angry eyes on him, including beast mode Alastor, and shuts up very quickly.

#ask #anonymous #Hazbin Hotel #the Devil's Bastard AU #Alastor #Alastor's Mother #Nicaise (Hazbin Hotel OC) #Lucifer Morningstar #Charlie Morningstar #whew that got long #I was gonna go into them learning that Luci is Al's dad too #but I'll probably save that for another post after all that #the reason Alastor out and admitted Nicaise is his mother in the end when he kept quiet before #is because Charlie had already come so close to the truth on her own #it was only a matter of time before everyone else figured it out #also he's lowkey pissed that Nicaise was rejected from Heaven because now he has an exploitable weakness in Hell #and he's not willing to get rid of her or let her get hurt in order to remove this weakness

[deepspacedukat]

The Only One - Part 7: Immoral Comfort

Welp...Part 7, here we are. This is the part I started way before I even wrote Part 1, because I was in a Mood™. I originally thought this was going to be a 3 part story, but it looks like it's gonna be something closer to 12. Tbh, I didn't expect anyone to be interested in this fic because it was such a niche, back-of-the-brain thought. So, thank you to everyone who's made it this far with me and taken the time to leave comments!

I know it's been forever since I updated this, but I hope there are at least a few people who are still interested. I had a very specific way that I wanted things to happen in this chapter and I was being a little too picky about the details, so my apologies for the delay! If you want to be added to or removed from my taglist, please let me know!

*Dominionese language pulled from @dominionese-resource and their Dominionese dictionary. If you want me to clarify where I got certain words or phrases, or how I tried (clumsily) to piece them together myself, please feel free to ask. I probably conjugated a few verbs incorrectly or structured things wrong in places, but I tried. Also, the signature mentioned was based off this post on their blog.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Weyoun (ST:DS9) x Reader

[A/N: This has smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies sex, Vorta/Human sex, fingering, jealous Dukat, drunkenness, romantic Weyoun, telepathic/empathic connection, mild existential crisis, crying, sorta hurt/comfort? but mostly just stress/comfort, spoilers for S6E4 "Behind the Lines."

~*~

Nearly a month passed from that long, odd day when I met Keevan and his men. I hated having to conceal part of my motives from Weyoun, but I didn’t have much of a choice. There was no way in hell I’d sit idly by while the Changelings took over my home. Major Kira, Odo, and a few others had begun a small resistance cell aboard the station, and so that they wouldn’t jeopardize my mission or I theirs, Kira had ordered me not to attend meetings. I was to keep my ears open and report to her as usual. She was allowing me to help but only in minor ways. Yes, it was important to cause chaos for the Dominion while they were occupying the station, but a position of influence and confidence like I currently held was insanely important for the intelligence gathering task that Starfleet had given me. Hell, I didn’t even know who all the members were.

That was definitely for the best. With the intimacy of the connection that Weyoun and I shared, my lack of knowledge kept myself and the rest of the resistance members safe. I’d have to be content helping in my own little way. Thus far, Dukat trusted me almost as much as Weyoun did, and Damar was slowly coming around to the belief that I wasn’t his enemy. All I had to do now was keep it up and find a way to contact Starfleet Command. Discreetly.

Seated beside each other one evening, Weyoun and I worked on our respective reports. I wasn’t particularly curious about the file he was reading until he picked up a stylus and wrote something. It was an odd group of symbols and marks that I’d never seen before. Without much thought about how rude it probably was, I tilted my head and watched how fluidly his fingers drew the stylus across the data PADD.

“What is that?” I asked quietly, and Weyoun gave me a perplexed look.

“A report about troop movements...?”

“Oh, not the report, I mean this,” I said pointing to the symbols he’d drawn out beneath the final paragraph. A look of understanding washed over him, and he gave me a small smile.

“That is my signature,” he answered simply, and I felt my eyes widen. “Have you not seen Dominionese written out before?”

“I’ve barely heard Dominionese, much less seen it. Is that really your name?” I asked unable to keep the wonder from my voice. I examined the markings a bit more carefully, wondering what each meant in order to form a name as precious as his.

Weyoun set the data PADD aside, picked up an empty one, and wrote the symbols a little neater this time. I watched the way his stylus glided over the PADD’s surface in practiced, fluid movements. When he was finished, he tilted the screen toward me to show me his handiwork, and I couldn’t stop a smile from splitting my lips. The more I looked at the symbols, the harder it became to shake the feeling that I’d seen something like them before.

The pendant! I pulled it out from beneath the collar of my uniform and sure enough, the symbols were similar. The engravings were in Dominionese.

“Weyoun, the pendant you gave me...what does it say?”

“Would you like me to tell you, or would you like me to teach you to read it yourself?” He asked with a twinkle in his eyes, and I felt myself perk up at the implication.

“Would you? I-I mean, are you willing to teach me? I know you’re busy with the station and the war, so I understand if you don’t have the time–” He cut me off with a quick kiss and set the PADD aside as he took my hands in his.

“My dear, I would be honored to teach you the language of your people,” Weyoun murmured. “I’m sure you’ll take to it quite easily. You’ve always been a fast learner, at least from what I’ve seen.”

‘My people.’ Both of us knew they weren’t anything of the sort after what they’d done, but I still appreciated his sentiment. Besides, the hope that he held about a potential reconciliation between myself and the Changelings, while utterly futile, was also incredibly sweet. After all that he'd been through, the fact that he still had hope was just a testament to the strength that the Founders chose not to see in their Vorta followers.

Giving his hands a gentle squeeze, I looked up at the gorgeous purple-eyed being on my sofa. How in the stars did I get so lucky?

Purple blush spread quickly across his cheeks, and Weyoun let out a shy little laugh. Right, the feelings. It had become more natural over the duration of our relationship for us to share our emotions through the strange telepathic connection we'd been granted, but there were still moments where it caught one or both of us off guard.

"As much as I wish I could keep you all to myself tonight and demonstrate exactly how much I adore you, didn't you say you were meeting a friend tonight?" His question pulled me from my reverie, and I blinked in comprehension.

“Computer, what time is it?”

“The time is eighteen-thirty hours,” it responded, and I got to my feet. Shit, he was right, and I was going to be late at this rate.

“Meeting Damar again?” Weyoun asked as he stood, too, and grasped my waist lightly. When I nodded my head, he gave me a gentle smile. “I’m so glad you’re making more friends. I know you were already acquainted with some of the Bajoran officers, but knowing that Keevan and Damar along with some of their officers have become close to you...I’m overjoyed! To tell you the truth, I thought you might feel isolated here given the personnel changes. I-I thought...you might regret staying.”

Shrugging my shoulders, I wrapped my arms around the Vorta’s neck.

“Well, I still feel a little out of place at times, but there are a few people here who’ve been kind to me," I murmured placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. "For the record, you make staying here worth it. As long as I have you, I won't regret leaving Starfleet."

I knew this was only temporary - that as soon as the Federation regained control of the station I'd be back to being a Starfleet officer - but I was going to make the most of this while I could. Sure, I still had my mission and a very important job to do, but I wasn't about to waste my opportunity to soak in Weyoun's presence while I could.

A beautiful, joyful smile stretched his lips, and he pressed his forehead lightly against mine.

"Good, because running this station and protecting Bajor for the Dominion...it would be mind-numbingly dull without you, my dear." That brought a smile to my own lips, but probably for different reasons than he would've anticipated. The Founders would likely have blown a gasket hearing that one of their Vorta toys was bored with the job they'd been created to perform. If that wasn't proof that the Vorta were capable of being so much more than the Changelings thought, I didn't know what was. "Don't be late, now. I'll be here when you get back."

I nodded my head quietly and gave him a tender, parting kiss before making my way toward Quark's.

The Bajoran station was humming with the partially-exhausted crowds that naturally accompanied the end of a shift. Used to the tired throng of people either going for a meal or heading back to their quarters, I used a few of the back corridors - less-traveled areas, of course - to make up some time.

Rather quickly, I found myself slipping into the doorway to the Ferengi's bar and zeroing in on the seat that was held for me out of habit by Dukat's right hand man. Without preamble, I plopped myself on the padded stool and gave a polite nod to the Cardassian in question.

"I was wondering when you'd get here. Usually you're early," Damar said as he brought his glass of kanar to his lips. He seemed in unusually high spirits tonight. Either something minor and gossip-worthy had happened, or I should be very concerned about the state of the war.

"There was a lot of foot traffic tonight. Apparently everyone decided this was the night to be in my way," I said with a dismissive giggle. Quark caught my eye and nodded in acknowledgement. "You look like the cat that got the cream, Glinn. What's got you in such a good mood?"

The Ferengi bartender set my drink in front of me with a wink - I knew for a fact that he flirted with all the patrons who wouldn't kill him in the hopes that he'd get a bigger tip - but before he could leave, Damar's hand landed on his forearm.

"Anything the Lieutenant drinks tonight is on me. This is a celebration," the Glinn said with a smug smirk. Looking at him in surprise, I lifted my glass of kanar in salute.

"Why, thank you, Glinn. If I may ask, what's the occasion?" He tapped his glass against mine, and after we both took a generous swallow - clearly not his first of such this evening - he turned to face me on his stool.

"My impending promotion!" He said puffing up his armor-covered chest.

Uh oh.

"Wait a minute," Quark cut in as he polished a glass, "you started a fight in my bar and they're making you a Gul? What kind of way is that to run an army?"

Weyoun had mentioned the fight only a couple of days before. Apparently, it had been between Cardassian officers and Jem'Hadar soldiers. Quark's concern was completely valid. How the hell did that track?

"Dukat wasn't happy about what happened," Damar started refilling his glass and topping mine off, even though I'd only taken a single sip. "I had to find a way to make it up to him."

"I hope it was something big," Quark chimed in.

"Must've been a hell of a blowjob," I teased, and the tipsy Cardassian let out a raucous laugh.

"Nothing so personal. Let's just say it will change the course of history," he said before draining his glass once more. Quark's eyes met mine. This reeked of trouble.

"As a businessman," the Ferengi started, refilling the Glinn's glass himself, "I'm very interested in the course of history. This one's on me."

Damar accepted the drink with a nod and a raised glass.

"That's very kind of you, Quark, but I can't talk about it." Down the hatch went that drink, and I sipped slowly at mine as I formed a plan. Quark looked over at me, and sighed as he grabbed a third glass.

"Of course, I understand. Have another," he offered, refilling Damar's drink, topping up mine, and pouring one for himself. I'd never imbibed heavily before, but there was a first time for everything.

--

Making our way to Kira's quarters while intoxicated was more difficult that I'd anticipated. Not only did I have to keep myself upright, but I had to try and steady Quark as well. The dirty bastard's hand roamed several times, but a threat to remove them at the wrist seemed to sober him up just enough for him to process how bad of an idea it had been.

We were practically dragged into the Major's quarters when we got there, having seemingly stumbled our way into a meeting of her resistance group. So much for me not knowing who was involved. She'd clearly bet on the probability of me forgetting the night's events by the morning, otherwise she wouldn't have let me in at all.

After several rambling attempts at conversation, Quark got a little agitated, and Kira tried to drag him back on course.

"How can I relax when there are thousands of Jem'Hadar ships are sitting on the other side of the wormhole, waiting to come through?" He slurred, and Jake shook his head, trying to placate him.

"Don't worry about it. They're stuck there." He sounded so confident - so naïvely certain.

"Noooo, Jake. They're coming," I said, clutching at his arm as if I could make the young man understand. "If Damar was telling the truth, they'll be able to get through soon."

"What are you talking about?" Kira asked, and together we managed a somewhat intelligible, if slurred, explanation of what happened. Odo and Kira shared a look, and I was ordered to head back to my quarters.

How I got back, though, was a mystery to everyone, myself included. All I recalled the next morning was the vague impression of Weyoun helping me into clean clothes and letting me cuddle him until I fell asleep.

I really hoped that I'd dreamed saying how pretty he was so many times. He deserved to know he was handsome, but I didn't exactly want to sound like such a moron when conveying that to him.

Gentle lips against my cheek brought me back to consciousness in the morning, and I burrowed farther into my lover's embrace. My head ached and everything felt dry and scratchy and too loud.

No wonder I heard so many people warning about how strong kanar was. If this is how it felt the morning after, I was quite happy never to taste that syrupy shit again.

"Come, my love. It's time to get up," Weyoun crooned in a gentle, careful whisper. An involuntary groan escaped me, and he ran his fingers softly through my hair. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts. I have something that'll help, though."

"I don't think even your gorgeous cock can fix this," I rasped as I forced myself to sit up - an utterly monumental task in that state.

"As honored as I am that you view me as a potential cure to many ailments, I was talking about this," he said reaching for a hypospray sitting on the bedside table. "It'll take away the majority of your symptoms."

I tried to nod my head, but it just ended with me wincing and lying back down. A quiet hiss sounded against my upper arm, and a few moments later, the pain melted away as if Weyoun's fingers trailing over my scalp had behaved like a poultice, absorbing the Evil Hangover straight from the source.

Featherlight kisses landed on my closed eyelids, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief at the sensation.

"I take it you and Damar had fun last night?" He teased, and I groaned.

"For your own health, never ever try to match drinks with a Cardassian soldier." I cautioned, but before I could say more, the comm system chimed.

"Dukat to Weyoun. There is an urgent meeting in thirty minutes. Bring the Lieutenant with you. She'll want to be a part of this." He didn't wait for a response, simply stated the message and cut the line.

A long-suffering sigh escaped my lover's lips, and he fixed me with a stare. Those soft, warm purple eyes of his filled with a playful sort of calculating stare. He then picked up a glass of water and gave me a wink.

"Computer, deactivate Universal Translator in this room," he ordered, and my eyebrows shot upward. The acknowledging chirp from the computer stirred my curiosity. Holding the glass of water between us, he pointed at it and murmured a single word. "Na."

I blinked, and he, noticing my blankness, smiled and repeated the word before gesturing a hand at me. I repeated the word, still mildly confused, but it pleased him, and just like that something clicked.

Apparently, this was my first lesson in how to speak Dominionese. My pronunciation had been right on the money, but I didn't know if he meant the cup itself, or what was in the cup.

"Na?" Reaching forward, I tapped the glass as I asked, then I dipped a fingertip into the liquid, "or is this na?"

A look of comprehension flickered across his face, and he touched the liquid as I had, repeating the word confidently. He had me say it once or twice more, and offered me the glass with a cheerful little kiss on the forehead.

As we dressed for our meeting with Dukat, Weyoun tapped items of clothing and various objects around the room, giving me their names in his language and having me repeat them until my pronunciation was satisfactory. By the time that the translator came back online, I couldn't help but feel proud that I'd absorbed so much while recovering from a hangover.

--

The Changeling standing in the wardroom sent a bolt of anxiety rocketing through me. Why was a Founder here? Wasn't it enough for the Vorta to keep their people informed? Odo stood at her side, looking confused, a little suspicious, and...was he happy? I supposed that he must be. After all, he wasn't the one who'd been exiled from ever returning to their homeworld. The slightly guarded yet curious glances he threw her way said more than words ever could.

How long had she been on the station? How deeply into him had she sunk her claws?

I had my answer when I glanced at the table and noted that Major Kira was conspicuously absent. For the safety of the resistance and the Federation's future, I had to assume that Odo had been compromised.

"Founder, it is an honor," Weyoun said sinking into a low bow at my side. His hand still rested squarely in mine, but I didn't copy his actions. Lifting my chin in defiance, I merely looked at her as her hawk-like eyes watched us - or rather, me. She didn't seem to even notice Weyoun, choosing instead to stare at me.

"We meet again, child of Meris," she said, but I just lifted an eyebrow. What sort of response could I possibly give after she banished me? I'd chosen Weyoun over my people - a decision I could never regret - but I had no intention of discussing my logic with one so cruel that she could not comprehend that what she'd almost done was wrong in the extreme. "Have you nothing to say to your kin?"

Glancing around the room in faux contemplation, I shook my head blankly.

"I see no kin here. Besides, the last time we spoke, you made your opinion on my existence quite clear." I was proud of how calm and logical I sounded despite the anger boiling within me.

"Perhaps our opinions of you have changed," she said taking a few steps toward me. Looking away from her, I spotted Dukat and was, for once, grateful for his presence.

"What did you call us here for, Gul?" The smirk that met my inquiry sent a shiver down my spine. "I trust it wasn't just for this...reunion?"

"Come, Lieutenant. Have a seat by me. We have a breakthrough to discuss," he called, and I did as he suggested. Pulling Weyoun gently along, I ensured that the Founder wasn't given the chance to sit on either side of me. All the meeting gave me were specifics on the plan to remove the minefield. Nearly everything Dukat and Damar said were things I'd heard from the latter the night before, and I forced myself to act surprised.

I caught Damar looking at me a few times, doubtless trying determine how much he'd said the night before and how much I remembered. When I gave him an innocent smile and acted engrossed in Dukat's speech as if it was all new, he seemed to relax.

Very well. Let the drunkard believe that he'd averted a crisis. The more his people underestimated their opposition, the easier it would be to catch them off their guard.

"You will keep me informed," the Founder said rising to her feet as if she was a queen. Without waiting for an answer from Gul Dukat, she turned to Odo. "Come. I wish to speak with you alone."

I expected him to toss out an abrasive comment, but instead, he followed her like an obedient puppy.

What the hell was going on?

Before I could say a word to Weyoun, though, the Founder tossed a glance over her shoulder.

"Come, Weyoun. We require your service," she called not waiting for an answer as she swept out of the room. He gave me an apologetic kiss on the cheek before rushing after the pair of Changelings, and then I was left alone with the two Cardassians.

"Well, well, that wasn't exactly what I was expecting," Dukat murmured, and I let out a heavy sigh. I still had the edge of a headache from this morning's hangover. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the headrest of my seat. "Oh dear. You do seem stressed."

It was all I could do to keep my eyelids from snapping open when one of his large hands rested on my thigh, squeezing the muscles there in what I guessed was supposed to be a soothing gesture. I hummed low in my throat - the sound's meaning was one that I let him interpret on his own.

"Did I wear you out last night?" Damar asked with a huff of laughter, and Dukat let out a scandalized gasp. I could imagine just how wide his eyes had grown as he looked between his officer and me.

"Don't tell me you were with another Cardassian!" He sounded sufficiently playful, but still just jealous enough to bring a smile to my lips. Good. I had him hook, line, and sinker.

"Only for a drink," I replied, and Damar took that as his cue to leave. The door hissed closed, leaving me truly alone with Dukat. Why shouldn't I use this as an opportunity to deepen his trust in me?

"No wonder you look so tired," Dukat murmured sounding much closer than before. His other hand touched my forehead and his lips met my cheek. "Poor girl. I can massage that headache away if you like...?"

Letting out a harsh, skeptical laugh, I finally opened my eyes and tilted my head to face him.

"And trust your hands not to wander? Forgive me, Gul, but I've heard stories of your dalliances during the Occupation–"

"Are you truly telling me that after all we've been through over the years, you wouldn't enjoy a little...dalliance of our own? Especially considering that your pretty little Vorta toy will likely be busy serving the Founder's wishes while she's aboard. We wouldn't want you to grow lonely, would we? I could keep you entertained," he challenged as he skimmed his fingertips down the side of my face. After seeing the Founder in the flesh and how unquestioningly obedient Weyoun was to her, suddenly Dukat didn't seem so bad.

Relativity, indeed. Tilting my head, I skimmed my lips ever-so-lightly over the palm of his hand and looked up at him - a nice touch, if I do say so myself.

"You wish," I breathed, and a devilish smirk stretched his lips. Oh, I was playing with fire.

"Would such a wish really be so surprising?" The Gul's voice was low and intimate - soft, as though he thought that was what I needed.

I did. I needed gentleness quite badly. Just not from him.

"Coming from you? Not in the slightest." I put as much condescension in my tone as I dared, hoping he'd take it as a clumsy attempt at Cardassian-style flirting. A raspy chuckle vibrated deep in his throat, prompting me to get to my feet.

"You're not leaving so soon, are you?"

"I should. After all, Weyoun–"

"–will be busy with the female Founder and Odo for quite some time. You are free to do as you wish," he argued, but I shook my head quietly.

"I have duties."

"You don't. I took the liberty of having Major Kira clear your schedule for the day." I froze, and obviously didn't hide my surprise well, because he continued in a more amused tone. "Initially, I believed that you'd want the time for a family reunion, but given your reaction to your long-lost relation, you could use the time for something more...enjoyable. Improving interstellar relations between Bajor and Cardassia, perhaps...?"

He stood and moved in front of me, tilting my chin up so that eyes met his.

"There's no need to be coy," he whispered. "Obviously, we both want this..."

"You want me?" I asked, attempting to sound as innocent as I could while my hand slid up to his neck ridge. He practically moaned out a 'yes,' and I grabbed the section of his ridge that Kira had taught me was a weak point for Cardassians. Dukat let out a pained hiss, but the delighted smirk on his face spoke more of arousal than discomfort. "Then work for it. I'm not one of your comfort women from the previous occupation. If you want me, then you need to earn the privilege. Understood?"

"Oh yes, Lieutenant." Though strained, he still managed to sound flirtatious. I released him and spun on my heel. Sparing him a single glance over my shoulder as I walked out, I noted the tent in his uniform trousers.

--

This was a mess. Everything was a mess. If the Federation didn't retake the station soon, the resistance might be in shambles. Damar was clearing the wormhole, Odo was wrapped around the Female Founder's little finger, and Dukat's actions today might have finally convinced Major Kira that I wasn't worth trusting...that I'd truly betrayed the Federation and Bajor. Besides that, I might have to close my eyes and do something I'd very much regret with Dukat.

Guilt wound through me every time that I acknowledged how much I'd encouraged his attraction. I knew I needed information for the Federation and the Resistance, and I needed the Gul to trust me, but was flirting with him even the right move considering everything at stake?

I had no idea how long I was stuck in my thoughts, but at some point that evening, I became vaguely aware that Weyoun had returned to our quarters. His voice washed gently over my ears, but I didn’t hear a word. My eyes remained lost in the stars just outside the window, and my arms had been crossed protectively around my middle for goodness only knew how long.

What could I do to stop the minefield being removed when I hadn't even found a way to communicate with Starfleet Command? I mean, what had I been doing all this time besides playing house with a Vorta?

A wave of concern flowed from Weyoun to myself through our odd link as he sensed my emotions, but I didn’t move a muscle. Even when his hands took up careful residence on my shoulders, I couldn’t bring myself to do more than blink.

“Something is wrong, isn’t it?” Weyoun’s smooth, concerned voice asked from behind me as I stared out into the oblivion of space. He could read people better than they could read themselves, and I was certainly no exception, not that I was making it particularly difficult for him at the moment. Even if we hadn't been empathically linked, it wouldn't have been hard to see how wilted I felt. “You’ve been quieter than usual since you returned from that late night with Damar, and now with Founder here... You’ve been preoccupied. I realize that you don’t want me to think of you as the offspring of a deity, but...I live to serve you in whatever ways you may require, my love. What can I do to help you?”

I felt too vulnerable and too closed off all at once, like a frayed wire being strangled by what little remained of its casing. Who else could I say anything to? Who else cared about what I said, even if this all turned out to be a ruse - a long game that he'd been playing so patiently - in the end?

Weyoun was the only one. I couldn’t trust anyone on this station, not anymore, not where it was important. Hell, I shouldn’t even fully trust him, but what other choice did I have?

For this...could I risk it just this once? He thought of Changelings as gods. He regarded the being who was my biological father as a god, and I myself as a demigod of sorts. Would this be taking advantage of the programming the Founders had included in his genetic makeup? Would he feel obligated to listen to me drivel on without regard for his own feelings despite my protests that I wanted only his honesty?

When I turned and my eyes met his, I felt something in me break. Weyoun looked so worried. Precious man. His almost neon purple eyes were moist as though he were on the verge of tears like I was - he truly was distressed over my current state. I knew my own eyelids were most likely puffy from the tears I’d shed - the emotions threatening to spill over again at any moment - and I knew that he’d have noticed that by now. He was much too clever for his own good.

A low whisper of my name brought me out of my thoughts enough to notice that the Vorta’s brow had furrowed just a little bit more than before.

“Please...it pains me to see you like this. I beg you, please let me help,” he said barely above a whisper, and whatever cracks had formed in my defenses extended far enough that I could no longer keep up my flimsy facade. My eyes burned, my vision blurred, and tears began rolling down my cheeks. A flicker of fear passed over Weyoun’s features and through our bond, and although I wanted to comfort him, all that escaped me was a quiet sob. There wasn’t much space left between us to begin with, but he still stepped forward as much as he could and lifted his hands, allowing them to hover on either side my face as if he was afraid to touch me. “H-How do I help you?”

In answer, I reached out and wrapped my arms around him. Pressing my face quietly against his shoulder, I felt his own limbs envelope me without hesitation - one around my middle and one around my upper back - holding me close to him. Weyoun was nearly trembling from how fiercely and protectively he was embracing me.

“I’m here,” he murmured against my temple in that soft, comforting voice. This time instead of it being filled with steady lies as it so often was in meetings, I could hear it wavering with emotion just as it had so long ago on that Dominion ship and when he found that I'd remained on the station despite its occupation. “You are not alone. You have me; you always will. I promise. No matter what happens with the Dominion, the Alpha Quadrant, the Gamma Quadrant...you will always have me. I know what it is to be alone, and I swear you never will be again.”

Safe in his arms, I found myself no longer caring whether this was just a ploy or not, because I so desperately wanted to believe that I wouldn’t be alone anymore. He'd been here, but I hadn't allowed him to see just how stressed I was trying to toe the line between the Dominion and Bajor. I wanted to believe he was telling the whole truth. Just this once.

Just this once.

So I nodded my head against his shoulder and simply let myself be comforted by his embrace, by his promise, and by this one act of kindness, dangerous though it might eventually prove to be.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to get out around my stuttered breaths. I was. He didn’t deserve to have someone sobbing all over him for no reason. He was the one who needed kindness, especially after the way I’d seen that Founder treating him. He wasn't some pet for them to order around. He deserved so much more kindness than he was being shown.

Yet he was the one showing it to me. Whether incited by genuine concern or by his programmed devotion to the Founders - and myself by extension - Weyoun had never been anything less than sweet and gentle and courteous to me.

But how could I allow a shred of doubt into my head? Just thinking back to the first time I'd felt the extent of his love for me, I remembered how different his emotions had been compared with those he'd felt for the beings who had cloned him.

Shame wove hot and heavy through the ravages of my sorrow.

“You of all people have no reason to apologize to me,” he said before pressing his lips against my forehead in a tender kiss. “What could you possibly have to be sorry about? You have never been unkind to me, you’ve never hurt me. You’ve only ever shown me love and compassion. You are the most remarkable person I’ve ever encountered.”

“You have better things to do than put up with someone crying all over you,” I muttered daring to tilt my head back enough to look up into Weyoun’s eyes. He looked almost startled at my statement.

“My dear, you act as though you are a burden to be borne. I assure you, nothing is further from the truth,” he murmured in a pained voice. One of his hands lifted and cupped my cheek. His thumb skimmed gently across my skin wiping away the last of my tears. Leaning into his touch, I let my eyelids flutter shut. I knew I shouldn’t be this open with him - he was the Female Founder’s puppet while she was aboard the station, after all - but I couldn’t help it. Who else could I possibly be vulnerable with? Considering the cruelty and violence of this war surrounding me on a daily basis, was it really so wrong to enjoy a simple moment of self-indulgent intimacy? I raised my hand to cover Weyoun’s and turned my head just far enough to kiss his wrist.

It wasn’t even close to an adequate thank you for all he’d done for me, but it was all I could manage. I knew he’d understand - he always understood me with a startling degree of accuracy, even when I couldn’t express myself correctly or fully.

“Why do you think so little of yourself?” He asked in barely more than a whisper as his eyes slid from our hands to meet my gaze. “You are lovely and kind to everyone, even those like me who don’t deserve it–”

“But you do deserve it. You always have, Weyoun, no matter how the Founders may have treated you,” I said quietly looking up into his eyes. He blinked owlishly at me, and I leaned in, kissing his cheek. “Can you still not see that after all this time, darling?”

“I suppose I...still have a bit of trouble separating myself from the way the Founders created us,” he admitted as a lavender blush colored his cheeks. “Forgive me–”

“Hush. There’s nothing to forgive,” I promise coaxing him into resting his forehead against mine. Lowering my voice to a whisper, I knew his excellent Vorta hearing would still register what I had to say. “We are, always have been, and always will be equals.”

“I believe you,” he murmured as his hands took up a timid grip on my waist. He took a slow, deep breath and as he exhaled, I rested my hands gently on his shoulders. Nothing had technically changed - the war was still raging, my father was still a missing murderer, and Dukat was still playing a tyrannical, slutty version of king of the castle with the station.

And yet...there in Weyoun’s arms, such a fundamental shift had occurred that it felt as though I suddenly could take on the universe. Perhaps it was a part of the Vorta coding which bound them to the Founders that made me feel reassured as I stood there, his own confidence in me bleeding over and restoring my own.

Or perhaps there was another explanation. The relationship that had been developing between us had shown no cracks until Dukat tried to worm his way between us. Even now, I was acutely aware that the Gul had plenty of reasons to try and manipulate me on that front. Why had I ever allowed myself to listen to a single word he said? Was I so afraid of losing Weyoun that I assumed it was just my luck that I would?

I had doubted myself and my judgment regarding him for so long that I suppose I didn’t feel like I deserved to be loved with the kind over unwavering affection Weyoun had shown me. Even as that thought crossed my mind, doubts filtered through from my subconscious that I shouldn’t have allowed myself to take this much liberty with his affection as it was - that I was weak for doing so.

But I needed him, and I loved him. Weyoun had assuaged my fears on that front so many times before, but was that justification enough for continuing?

“Such chaos thrust upon one person... Let me be your shielding."

The soft earnestness surrounding Weyoun's words had me crumbling in his arms. Almost without conscious thought, I tilted my head and caught his lips in a kiss that I hoped said all the words I couldn't muster. My lover didn't hesitate to return the gesture, kissing me with such tenderness that it took my breath away.

Slowly, naturally, our movements gained momentum, becoming hungrier and more desperate by the second. Just as he'd done after my encounter with Keevan, Weyoun easily took control. Something urgent and lurid passed between us, and in a blur of discarded clothing, we fell into our bed.

We'd experimented with each other over the time we'd been together, but we hadn't quite taken that final step. With his fingers pumping between my legs and mine caressing the base of his length and the folds of his slit, he whispered in my ear.

"I want to make love to you. Please, I'm ready. I'm aching for you, my love. I've dreamt of you so many times..."

I couldn't possibly deny him. Why would I even want to after all this time? I loved him, and I would never pressure him into doing more than he was comfortable with. I would, however, be lying if I said that I'd never imagined what our first time together would be like.

My imagination paled in comparison to the sweet sounds he made as he entered me for the first time. His name was a prayer on my lips, just as mine was on his. Our pleasure was reflected, doubled, then increased exponentially by the bond that formed between our minds. We merged so completely that I couldn't tell where Weyoun began and I ended.

The wet slap of skin-on-skin sounded less obscene and more...restorative. We both needed this. Our reasons might have been different, but our desires, our love, stemmed from the same source.

When he finally spilled within my trembling body, tears dampened both our faces. Weyoun's teeth had left bite marks down my neck, and I'd left a few scratches down his back.

Aside from murmured declarations of love between kisses, we didn't speak. What could we say? What could possibly need to be said so desperately that either of us would risk disturbing the peaceful, content atmosphere that had settled over us like a blanket?

Gentle touches, cuddles, and affectionate looks carried us delicately into dreamland that night.

--

The next morning as I blinked hazily into awareness, I thought the Vorta was still asleep. Trailing my fingers ever-so-softly through his mussed, silky, black hair, I couldn't help but smile. He was supposed to be unsettling to the Dominion's enemies and charming in equal measure, but all I could see was how gentle he was. I knew he had it within him to be manipulative, charming, and underhanded all in a matter of moments - that was how the Changelings had cloned him to be - and I'd witnessed it. But there was something satisfying about seeing the head of station's occupying force curled up like a kitten in my arms.

"That feels good." The words breezed from his lips, carried on his breath as easily and lightly as a feather. I couldn't stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

"I won't stop, then," I whispered, and he let out an appreciative hum.

"I meant it, you know. Every Weyoun since our very first iteration over a hundred years ago has seen your face in our dreams. Seeing you on the Defiant...I recognized you immediately."

My hand slowed atop his scalp. My lover's voice was low and nervous, as if he was afraid I'd mock him or accuse him of lying. Instead, I watched as he lifted his head from my chest and looked up at me with wide, gentle eyes.

"But...that was so long ago..." I was confused, definitely, but I wanted to hear him out. Across our bond, I could feel tension, as if Weyoun was taking a chance saying any of this.

"My very first memories are images of you from prior iterations' dreams. They all saw your face so frequently that they knew you were someone vitally important...that the Founders were allowing us visions of a blessing they planned to give us. The fourth Weyoun...he'd almost lost hope the day you met him," he murmured. "Only the important memories - the ones that stand out - are encoded for future iterations to retain. You...your face has survived every activation."

A lump rose in my throat. How was that possible? I'd heard of people having visions they thought were from their deities - hell, even Captain Sisko had visions from the Bajoran Prophets - but I knew for a fact that the Founders weren't gods. Even they couldn't predict the future like that. Otherwise, I had no doubt that they would've stopped my father from mating with a Human.

"In the dreams, you called out to me...said my name...promised you'd find me no matter what. I've never told anyone this before, but in my darkest hours...the moments where my faith in the Founders was at risk of falling apart, I clung to the image of your face hovering over me...and it strengthened me," Weyoun admitted in a whisper as he cupped my cheek, gliding his thumb over my skin. "I-I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

Unable to make my tongue work, I shook my head and kissed his lips. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? What could I say about that revelation?

I hadn't even begun to sort through the messy tangle of emotions in my chest when the comm chimed.

“Damar to Weyoun.” Of course, there was never a calm, quiet moment on this station, even with it under the Dominion's thumb. The Vorta sighed quietly, the warmth of his breath caressing my skin as softly as his lips had in the wake of our intimacy.

“What is it?” He asked quietly, sounding more reluctant than I’d ever heard him. He didn’t move away from me any more than I did from him. If anyone had been watching, they’d doubtlessly assume that our nude bodies were stuck together beneath the blanket by some immutable, unseen force.

“You’re needed in Security. Now.” The Cardassian sounded smug, a fact which never seemed to bode well in his company. "We've just arrested a saboteur. The Ferengi bartender's brother, Rom."

~*~*~

Dominionese:

Na = water

~*~

Taglist:

@akamitrani @android-boyfriends @attention-bajoranworkers @bigblissandlove1 @darkmattervibes @emilie786 @groovyqueer @horta-in-charge @live-logs-and-proper @slutty-slutty-vulcans @starrynightgardens @toebeans-mcgee @weyounthevorta

#deepspacedukat fic #half-changeling!reader #Weyoun 5 #Weyoun 5 x Reader #lieutenant!reader #established relationship

[carelesslywriting]

Dandelions - Peter Hayes

This is an imagine for Peter based off of the song Dandelions by Ruth B. This is the first post for my 10 Days of Music theme for this month! Check out my pinned tweet if you'd like to request a song, or if you would like to request a character from some songs still available.

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1371 Trigger Warnings: brief implied sexual comment Note: These imagines are my own work and I do not consent to distribution of my work elsewhere!

You were with Tris, Four, Caleb, and Peter hiding out in Amity after the slaughter of Abnegation and the hunt for divergents was on. You found yourself actually enjoying the peacefulness of the fields and life of Amity, which came as a shock to you. You were Dauntless to your core, and you knew that. That’s part of the reason you ranked as high as you did when you were an initiate. However, there was something so captivating about the endless fields Amity offered. Your favorite part, however, was the fields a little further out that were recovering from the war. There were wildflowers and even dandelions growing back. ‘Maybe I do have a little bit of Amity in me,’ you thought to yourself, laughing a little right after it popped through your mind. Total opposites, and yet to you, there was a beauty in both lifestyles. 

You didn’t even know that you were divergent until that night at Dauntless happened. Everyone was waking up at the same time in a monotone, uniformed way. You had looked around, wondering what the hell was going on. Tris was the only one who seemed to have any emotion, and as you two locked eyes, you both knew you needed to blend in. You fell in line next to Tris, and she briefly explained her theory of what was going on. That’s when you finally knew what you were. Thankfully you were able to escape, and throughout the couple of weeks you’ve been at Amity you’ve started to come to terms with what you were.  

You found yourself walking out to the field of dandelions for what felt like the 100th time since you arrived, it was just so beautiful and peaceful to you. You’d sit in the fields and just think about what you were. There was always one thing that came to mind while you were out there though, and that was Peter Hayes. You always found yourself in a rival with him all throughout training, but at the same time there was this captivating energy surrounding him that drew your thoughts to him constantly. Even throughout the rivalry, it was like there would be subtle flirting between the two of you occasionally. Maybe you were just imagining it, you really didn’t know. But the way he looked at you when he found out what you were, that’s an image you just can’t get out of your head. He hasn’t outwardly treated you different, but it felt like something might have changed. 

You remember an old tale about dandelions, how people used to make a wish about a person and blow into the dandelion. Sure, it seems silly that whoever you wished about would end up loving you just by blowing on a flower. Yet, before you’d leave the field, you always found yourself blowing a dandelion and thinking of Peter. Today was no different, when you were ready to get up and leave, you had the same routine. You picked a dandelion, thought of Peter and what it could be with him, and blew. 

----------------

“Go with happiness,” You heard Peter say, winking at the Amity girl serving his food. Tris rolled her eyes, and you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh at how Peter was handling himself in Amity. 

Peter’s eyes locked with yours for a few seconds, and you found yourself almost struggling to breathe due to his gaze on you. You knew with that look that you’d be sitting with him and talking amongst yourselves like you did every lunch since you’ve gotten here. You couldn’t shake how you felt with him, so alive and free whenever you were with him. You’ve never felt as happy around anyone else as you do with him. There was a hardness that he showed around everyone else, but you knew in your heart Peter had a soft spot for you. 

“I saw you walking out to those fields of flowers again, what is it with you and that field?” Peter asked you once you two had sat down across from each other. 

“You’d just have to see it yourself to understand,” You replied, taking a bite of your food. “I always wonder what the world before the war looked like. All the sights and scenery, the wildlife, how peaceful nature was.” Peter tilted his head slightly, amusement on his face. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Amity would be the faction for you,” He replied light heartedly, continuing to eat. 

“Shut up, you know I’ll still kick your ass in a fight,” You replied, throwing some food at him. 

“Hey!” He paused, picking off the food that landed on his shirt. “You know that we ended up basically tied the last time we fought,” He defended himself. 

“If you call a tie my thighs locking around your neck while I was on top of you, then sure, we tied,” You joked. 

“Too bad your thighs weren’t around my neck in bed with me,” Peter spoke, looking directly into your eyes for your reaction. Your heart fluttered a bit at the thought, blush rising to your cheeks. “So that field, when are you gonna take me there?” He asked before you could even reply to the comment he made. 

“Whenever you’re up to it,” you answered. 

“Let’s go then,” he replied, finishing the last of his food and standing up, grabbing both of your now empty trays and putting them back to be washed. 

The both of you started walking off towards your favorite field, a comfortable silence surrounding you both as you took in the nature around you. As you got closer to the field, and away from anyone else around, Peter nonchalantly slipped his hand into yours. Nothing was said between the two of you out loud, but your heart rate sped up and spoke internally for how you felt. 

“Here we are,” you said, entering the field of dandelions, leading Peter to your favorite spot to sit. He took in the scene for a minute, letting go of your hand and doing a little spin. Only you got to see this soft side of Peter. 

“I see why you like it so much,” he said, taking in the entire view one last time before sitting down and placing his eyes toward you. “It’s almost as beautiful as you.” You couldn’t contain the blush that rose to your cheeks from that comment. 

“I love the silent beauty of it, I could get lost in these fields,” You answered, at a loss for words on how to respond to the compliment Peter just gave you. He took your hand again and pulled you into his chest, wrapping an arm around you. 

“Y/N, get lost in this field with me,” Peter said, looking into your eyes for some sort of confirmation. 

You leaned up to look at him, and you aren’t sure what came over you. The next thing you know, your lips are on Peter’s, and his hand moved to your cheek to pull you in even deeper. You crawled into his lap, continuing to kiss him. His kiss was the exact opposite of you were expecting. You were expecting rough, and instead you were met with him being gentle with you, like you were a fragile glass he didn’t want to break. For the first time in Peter’s life, he wanted to take things slow with a woman, specifically with you. When you pulled apart after what felt like forever, Peter pulled you down onto the ground and just held you, tracing the tattoo on your arm. 

“Y/N, I really like you. I’ve never known anybody like you, you bring out something in me that I didn’t know was there. I feel like I’ve known you all my life,” Peter confessed, staring deep into your eyes with a small smile on his face. 

“I feel the same way,” You answered, an even bigger smile on your face as you leaned in to kiss him again. ‘I guess wishing on the dandelions wasn’t silly after all,’ You thought to yourself as you continued to slowly kiss each other, finally allowing the feelings you shared for each other to flow.

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