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assassinsblade · 4 months

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Forget Me Not | 4

You confuse healing with hurting others; Azriel's ready to let you hurt him anyway.

WC: 3.5k

Warnings: TW: SA!!! Please do not read if this is triggering for you. Angst, feelings, my poor boy Azriel is sad.

a/n: I'm so thankful for all the support and kind comments for this story! There will still be at least 2 more parts. Sorry for this one being a bit shorter.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5

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Azriel hadn't interacted with you much since lending you his dagger.

He was always there, sure, but he seemed to be letting you lead wherever your friendship would go. He did not try to force you into speaking with him or being around him, but you did notice his nervous energy when you were around.

When you'd pass him in the House of Wind, run into one another in the library, or sit across from each other at dinner, you couldn't help but study how he'd changed. While he had been quiet before, he had always held a certain peaceful arrogance about him. Now, his silence seemed more insecure and anxious, as if he was not quite sure of himself in his own place of residence.

You hadn't had anyone stay the night with you since that night with Azriel either.

You noticed that he kept his bedroom light on every night, though. You weren't sure if he did this to pretend he was still awake, so you'd be less embarrassed if you needed to wake him, or if he did this to reassure you someone was aware and ready in the house during a time of the night you felt more vulnerable. Either way, you tried not to let it effect you too much.

Some nights when noticing the change between Azriel and yourself got too much, you would cry until your eyes became swollen and burned with exhaustion, finally allowing you to fall asleep. Other nights, every noise in the house caused your anxiety to skyrocket, and you found yourself heading to the library to read as a distraction, knowing you would have to try to rest the following night instead.

Nightmares came every now and then. You had mentioned this to Rhys, assuming that he might have experienced something similar with how much he had gone through, and he suggested a sleeping tonic from Madja. You took it nightly, and it seemed to help the majority of the time.

It had been two months since that night, and while your progress was no where near finished, and your trauma would forever be a part of you, you felt less fragile than you did in those previous weeks. You had started showing up to group events again with the whole inner circle, laughing had become more of a consistent part of your days with the help of Cassian and Mor, and the House had even helped prepare food you could keep down until your appetite was back to normal.

The only thing that didn't seem to be getting any better was your relationship with Azriel.

He tried to help in his own way. He left books out in inconspicuous locations that he thought you would like. There would be a box of your favorite pastries on the kitchen counter in the morning, as if anyone else in the household liked their tart flavor. Sometimes you would even notice shadows slinking into your room at night, tugging at the window locks and blinds to ensure everything was secure.

And you knew he wasn’t trying to be noticeable with these things. In fact, it seemed like he was doing everything in his power to not draw attention to himself. He would instead scan through the pages of the books to see if you had made any notes, check the pastry boxes to make sure you had eaten something, or have his shadows close the window when the cold air was beginning to wake you up.

The fact that it all helped only made you angrier.

The inner circle noticed your frustration around the shadowsinger as well, especially during Winter Solstice celebrations.

You had felt good enough to join the rest of the group at the River House, but it was obvious enough how tense things were between you and Azriel:

Friends exchanged gifts, hugs, and laughter, but Azriel kept to himself the entirety of the night, only occasionally sending one of his family members a small smile or taking a sip of his drink.

He had gotten everyone very thoughtful gifts, and he seemed genuinely touched at the presents he received in return. You tried not to flinch at the gardening book he had gotten Elain or the decorated sheath she had gotten him for one of his daggers.

Azriel and Elain didn't speak much that night though, as much as you tried not to notice. You really did try not to notice Azriel so much, but it was as if your gaze was being pulled to him by some unknown force, demanding that you acknowledge that he was here, close to your side, his attention all on you.

And you felt that attention more than ever when Feyre handed you a box wrapped in midnight blue, the wrapping paper glinting from where you sat by the fire.

Swallowing, you refused to look up at Azriel, knowing it would only make the feeling in your stomach worse.

You heard Rhys making conversation in the background, trying to ease the tension and take some attention away from yours and Azriel's exchange.

The shadowsinger also tried to give you privacy, chiming in here and there to add to Rhys’ conversation, but you still felt his eyes keep moving to you.

Fingers fumbled with unwrapping and pulling apart the box before finally revealing what lay beneath.

Underneath a layer of tissue paper sat a delicate piece of glass about the size of a piece of paper. It was transparent, but somehow held some light and color at certain angles, adding a sort of whimsical iridescence to it. It was stunning, and your careful fingers felt unworthy of holding such an awe-inspiring thing. Your only problem was you had no idea what it actually was.

Azriel cleared his throat, and you couldn't stop your eyes from floating to his.

"It's a translator." He fidgeted from the chair he sat in. "From the Day Court. If you place it on a page of writing, it will translate the text to whatever language you request. I thought you might want to expand some of the books you have access to."

Your heart pounded in your chest. He knew you loved reading. He knew you loved studying. He knew you and had gotten you a gift that made you so excited you had to actively scold yourself to loosen your grip on the glass.

His hazel eyes were filled with so much emotion as he tried to gauge your reaction, you felt something physically crack in your chest.

You tried to will your tears down.

"Thank you," you whispered, unable to make your voice louder. Azriel accepted it all the same, giving you a small nod before clasping his hands together and averting his gaze back to Rhys.

You hadn't gotten anything for Azriel.

You didn't have much to give him anymore. He knew that, despite the sadness that surrounded him that night.

Maybe it was because you would have gotten him a solstice gift before. Not only would you have picked something out months in advance, you would have teased him about it, gone giddy with excitement over the surprise.

After what happened, there hadn’t been a gift in that pile addressed to him from you, and it only served to show the damage that had been done to your friendship.

You tried not to let what he had done damage you further, continuing to build up your walls both physically and emotionally.

Cassian’s training was great for the body and mind, and you put all of your focus into that.

Training had allowed for you to channel some of the agony harbored in your chest into exercise. Every night around 9pm you would meet the general up in the training ring, going over anything from conditioning and weight lifting to actual battle tactics like sword training and hand-to-hand combat.

You knew that Azriel normally came up to train late at night, but it seemed like he pushed his time later in order to give Cassian and you some privacy. You tried not to think about how little of sleep he must be getting if he wasn't coming up to train until midnight. It wasn't your problem.

At first, you were scared both intrusive thoughts and your body's memory would hinder your sessions. You had been hesitant and nervous, but Cassian had quickly made you feel at ease. You knew he had trained Gwyn, and Cassian was a trusted friend, so you shouldn't have been surprised when the sessions went swimmingly.

Cassian was such a steady presence, someone you knew you could always rely on. He made sure to check in on you every night, casually asking questions that seemed nonchalant enough to not be overbearing or annoying while still showing he cared. That didn't stop him from overstepping at times though.

Hours ago, Cassian had been sparring with you in the training ring, his steps circling your own and hands raised ready to strike. You had followed his movements, trying to remember everything you had been taught while silencing outside noises.

You weren't sure if he had said it to get under your skin, to win the upper hand, or if it was something he had actually been pondering for a while.

When you had taken a step as if to attack, Cassian had eyed the dagger in your hand — Azriel’s dagger —and had bluntly asked, "Do you think you'll ever forgive him?"

You had nearly stumbled in your stance.

The inner circle had been very careful to tiptoe around you and Azriel. They didn't ask about your relationship or where you stood, never tried to force interactions or situations upon the two of you, and you had gotten used to the peace of their feigned ignorance.

You had to shake off the shock of his question before it festered in your chest.

"What?" You had decided to ask instead, buying yourself some time to think.

You didn't know what you were doing with your body anymore, if you were still on physically guard, fighting, or if all of your energy was being put toward guarding your emotions.

"I'm not saying you should," Cassian had quickly amended. "But I am wondering where your head is at."

Only staring at him, your eyebrow arched in challenge. "Should it be somewhere specific?"

Cassian's sigh had been near silent in the large room, and the large warrior seemed to deflate at your answer. "No. Of course not."

"Good," you had only replied, voice hard and final. "Then let's keep going."

Cassian had gone right back to his teasing, difficult self, but he left not too long after that sparring round ended.

That had been hours ago, but you were still there, knives and daggers lined up, throwing them at the boards across from you. Each throw had you huffing, and with your strength depleting, your aim became further and further off through the night.

Your arms were sore and numb, both from throwing the weapons and from sparring with Cassian earlier. But it felt good, knowing your muscles were being used, knowing you were growing stronger, more powerful and less vulnerable.

Sleep should have found you about an hour ago, but you knew you wouldn't be able to get any tonight. Cassian's words flowed nonstop through your head: Do you think you'll ever forgive him?

I don't know Cassian, do you think he'll ever stop being such a fuck-up?

The question made you angry, because this situation was never about him, and you didn't owe Azriel anything.

You knew Azriel was Cassian's brother. You knew everyone wanted your family to be whole again, to stop seeing each other hurting. But you were angry at the expectations placed on you by your friends to offer forgiveness, you were angry at Azriel for being too late in every area of your life, and you were angry at yourself for missing him.

Gods, you wanted to scream, to thrash, to hit yourself until you could force yourself into just minutes of peaceful rest.

Do you think you'll ever forgive him?

Do you think he deserves forgiveness?

You paused, breathing heavily as you thought over your own words and reaction. You knew he was trying, but you also knew some things didn't change. And some people weren't worth getting hurt over again.

Before you could pull the dagger in your hand back and launch it forward toward the wooden board, you noticed the shift in the air.

Shadows danced along the floors, curling and floating around training equipment.

You knew Azriel moved back the time he would come up here to train independently so that you and Cassian could have privacy. You knew that you were technically the one infringing on his claimed time and peace now. That didn't stop the wave of frustration that rolled over you, though.

Azriel's presence mimicked that same wave shoving you under. You were sick of it. Sick of feeling like you couldn't breathe, like you couldn't fight back, like every single inch of your body wouldn't listen to you anymore. You were sick and tired of feeling worthless, like you would never be loved, like you would never be someone's priority. And you were so fucking tired of being sad.

Fire burned within your veins, but it wasn't because of shame or hurt. You were angry again. You had deserved better, and you had gotten left in the dust like a piece of trash. And he thought a pretty present could fix things? Could fix you?

As if the iridescent glass sheet could blur the memory of the male's tongue on your neck, the feeling of his fingers touching where they shouldn't, translating the history written on your body into something more pleasant, more beautiful, like a tale of a hero rescuing the dame and whisking her off to safety.

Before you knew what you were doing, you took the dagger Azriel had lent you and turned with a speed and strength you had never aimed at another person, heaving out a noise of frustration and sending the weapon flying toward Azriel's form just inside the doorway.

You saw red. The red of the male's blood in the alleywall, the red of your own blood, the red of Azriel's blood now beading along his bicep, the red of pure unfiltered rage.

"You are a piece of shit, Azriel. A fucking selfish, cruel, shallow bastard. Do you know that?"

Your chest heaved as you tried to control yourself, your fingers already itching for another weapon. It wasn't enough to see you had nicked his skin. You wanted him to fight back, you wanted to hurt him as badly as he had hurt you.

"Is that why you go after damaged females? In an attempt to find something redeemable about yourself? To act like the hero, like some sort of protector?"

He flinched at the words but otherwise remained unmoving. You hated him for it.

"You're no hero. You're a joke."

You watched as the blow landed, and a wave of adrenaline rushed over you. You deserved this. You had been bleeding for months, crawling up the well of your depression until your fingertips were raw and worn, and these attacks against him felt like a hand reaching down from the heavens, like an extra surge of energy to keep yourself going. You didn't want to be the one bleeding, it was someone else's time to bleed for once.

A step toward him, but he didn't move.

"Do you know what the priestesses tell me?"

He blinked, swallowing harshly.

"They say it's not my fault, what happened to me." You shrugged, letting out a bitter chuckle. "I guess they are partially right. Because it's your fault too. And the male's. But I'm not completely blameless here. I mean what in the Cauldron's name was I thinking, putting my trust in you?"

That got him. Eyes squeezed shut suddenly, eyebrows furrowing as if he had actually been stabbed. Good.

"After all," you continued, beginning to pace around the training area, languidly taking small steps as if you were telling your own tale. "How many of those close to you have you let down before? Mor, Rhys, Gwyn, Elain, your mother... I really should have expected to get hurt because of you."

You could see wetness on his cheeks, but you still did not back down. And he did not move from his spot, his hazel eyes not even hardening at the onslaught.

You'd just have to go harder.

"Sometimes in my nightmares, your hands are the ones hurting me in that alley. I can feel your scars as you pin me to the wall, as I'm violated." You let out a humorless laugh. "I think my mind keeps trying to tell me that's all you're good for: inflicting damage."

A drop of blood from his bicep fell to the floor in a perfect circle.

You stopped your pacing, only about fifteen feet in front of him, and dropped your hands to your side. With your head held tall, you looked him directly in his eyes, pausing to memorize the broken look of him.

His chest was hardly rising and falling. He stood completely and utterly still. Hazel eyes on your own, jaw clenched, cheeks wet.

He was a beautifully broken portrait. And you had just torn him to shreds.

Summoning the rest of your courage, you spit out the thought that had been tormenting you, curling its way around your heart until you felt it would be strangled.

A thought, and a promise.

"You may have thought me worthy of being forgotten, but I will make sure you never forget what you have done to me."

Breaking eye contact, you walked past him out of the training ring, refusing to turn back. If you thought you heard a wounded noise travel softly from his lips, you ignored it.

Maybe you were a bad person, maybe deep down you were a sadistic, cruel being, but saying those words finally lifted something from your chest. Air came easier, and some part of you felt vindicated after unleashing yourself, despite the shaking that immediately overcame you in your retreat.

You might have been confused. Your chest might have been swarming with overwhelming, conflicting emotions and adrenaline. You were filled with so much love and hate, so much yearning and anger, but you at least felt like you had a release, the swirling poison in your chest no longer sitting so close to your heart.

Do you think you'll ever forgive him?

It was cathartic. The sharp words, watching them pierce him down to his core, seeing as he cried over what you'd become. And for once, as you let the cool breeze wash over your overworked muscles, you felt tears build in your eyes not from sadness but from relief.

Like a fire burnt out, you dragged your weary body back to the House of Wind, barely making it to your bed before collapsing.

You imagined Azriel standing where you left him, bleeding from where you had slashed him. He hadn't even said a word — he had just let you tear him to pieces.

Was it his own way to punish himself? Was this about him all over again?

Do you think you'll ever forgive him?

Maybe if you knew what was coming in the days following, you would have said yes. Maybe you would have wanted to be around him more, to actually try, instead of pushing him away. Maybe you would have realized that you weren’t just punishing him but yourself as well.

But you didn’t know what was coming. So you pushed the image of his wounded expression, the way he had physically flinched at your words, away from your mind, closed your eyes, and went to sleep.

If you dreamt about his scarred hands scooping you up in that alleyway, bringing you close to his chest and keeping you safe, you'd never admit it.

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fic #azriel x you

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verstappen-cult · 4 months

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gonna take up on the request opening bc i love these lil blurbs you do with your moodboards! maybe "how they defend you online" esp charles and lando but if you feel like adding others its up to you !!

THE BOYS DEFENDING YOU FROM ONLINE HATE | F1 GRID

★ — LANDO NORRIS (4)

lando was streaming when you came home one day. once he heard the front door being closed and then your footsteps, he excused himself with his friends and viewers and went to greet you. when he came back, there were several texts from his friends letting him know of some not-so-friendly comments about you. suddenly, lando had something else to do and ended the whole thing. he did not tell you anything, lando simply waited until his next stream for what he wanted to do. it was very simple and definitely something lando would do; and staring right into the camera lando let the world know that if they don’t support his relationship, then he just doesn’t want their support at all. from then on, lando just blocked everyone who didn’t have anything good to say. you’re the most important person in his life, how can anyone hate you? and so, lando made a promise to himself: show the world the amazing girl you are.

★ — CHARLES LECLERC (16)

even way before you started dating charles, receiving hateful comments and messages was a common occurrence. of course your boyfriend knew about it, everyone could see what was happening just by choosing a random picture on your instagram and reading the replies. it was sad, awful. but you didn’t want charles to do anything, you stopped him a lot of times because you didn’t want to bring too much attention into the whole thing. charles loves you and that is all that matters to you. it was, well, okay… until things became a little to real, a little too much, and charles couldn’t sit back and do nothing. so with a little bit of help from his team, he managed to write a very good and long statement about the whole thing. there were mixed opinions but things quiet down a little. and you weren’t happy at first, but something as simple as seeing your comment section hate-free made you forgive him sooner.

★ — OSCAR PIASTRI (81)

oscar is a man of very few words and never engages in online drama or gossip. if and when he’s online, oscar just wants to see cute and funny videos. he’s a formula one driver and people should only be interested in that part of his life, but he knows that will never be the case. however, he’s still surprised to see various comments around twitter about you. they are not about how beautiful or intelligent you are or how happy you seem to make oscar with your pretty smile and sense of humor – not that they would know that. not that they deserve to know that, either. some part of him wants to reply to those people who definitely don’t know you, he’s angry, disgusted. and the rational part of him tells him to simply don’t say anything because they don’t deserve it. so, oscar just clicks to make a new tweet and begins with a simple phrase “you don’t know anything about me or my life…” and so on. maybe he sounded a little harsh, maybe things will get worse; he couldn’t care less, as long as you’re not mad with him, he can live with being the center of the drama. oscar will never let anyone disrespect you.

★ — MAX VERSTAPPEN (33/1)

max doesn’t care what people think and have to say about him, that ship has sailed a long time ago. but he can’t ignore when people say mean things about you, he just can’t, so, he doesn’t. max replies to every single tweet and comment on both his and your instagram that he sees, he goes directly to the point and if he’s mean then, who cares? maybe it’s a little bit childish but he doesn’t care, max will not allow anyone to talk shit about his girl. and if he needs to make a video or do an interview or whatever he needs to do to make people understand that you are part of his life and forever will be, then he will be more than happy to do them. max is almost never online, so when all of this happens he makes sure to make time to be online, to post a picture of you on his instagram story, to post a photo of your vacation together on his feed, to say how much he loves you via twitter, to mention you when he has the chance during an interview. he loves making you blush and seeing you trying to hide your smile when you see all those things. max also loves pissing people off.

★ — ALEX ALBON (23)

alex tries to be friendly. when he sees someone say something not good about his girlfriend, he doesn’t hesitate to prove them wrong and defend you. he knows you’re more than capable of doing it and has seen you doing it before; he loves it. but there’s this something inside of him trying to break free and just let everyone know the funny, pretty, amazing, kind girl he’s lucky to call his girlfriend. so, alex lets it free and goes liking, retweeting and replying to every single comment about you and how shiny and nice your hair is, how you seem to make alex so happy and how he’s always smiling around you (he makes sure to let them know why is that), how lucky alex is to have you by his side, and so on and on and on until there’s nothing more for him, until he can’t think about the mean things people said, until you are laughing next to him and calling him obsessed and kissing him like your life depends on it.

★ — DANIEL RICCIARDO (3)

daniel chooses a catchy song and changes some of the lyrics, then sets his phone down and sits with a big smile and his guitar. when the video starts, he simply says “this is dedicated to all of the assholes thinking that is okay to hate on someone’s girlfriend just because.” and then he starts singing. there are a lot of bad words and cursing and long pauses looking directly into the camera without losing that big and pretty smile he has. daniel then uploads the video to all his platforms with a little paragraph about why bullying is bad and why you should mind your own business because he’s not that interesting anyway and it won’t make him break up with you because some trolls are practically begging him to. he ends up getting in trouble for not consulting with his team before doing what he did, something that has him going viral, so viral that people outside of formula one and people who don’t even who he is talk about it. exactly what he wanted.

★ — MICK SCHUMACHER (47)

the moment mick has to hold you in his arms as you cry because you’d read something mean about you, it’s the exact moment he decides to do something about it. he doesn’t want to cause drama or make things worse, so, it takes him a little while and some long calls with his sister to know what to do. mick puts the poetry classes you two take a few months ago to good use and writes the most beautiful and romantic poem you and everyone would ever read. it is about you, about his love for you, about what you mean to him and everything he likes about you. he posts a little phrase to his instagram stories and sets a time and day for when it will be posted it. when the day cames and you get to read it, you end up crying again but for a whole different reason. it’s not that you didn’t know mick loved you but it’s the gesture, the time he spent doing it, the fact that he wanted to do it and wanted the whole world to read his love letter to you, something that will forever be there.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#f1 grid x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc fluff #max verstappen fluff #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo blurb #alex albon x reader #mick schumacher x you #alex albon imagine #oscar piastri fanfic

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tyonfs · 1 year

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the marriage and baby project (teaser)

PAIRING ▸ mark lee x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, fluff, crack, college au, fake dating (marriage?) au

SUMMARY ▸ mark lee has had the biggest crush on you for years, so, naturally, he’s over the moon when you’re both partnered for a group project. however, he underestimates just how close two people can get when they have to pretend they’re married for a month while taking care of a fake baby.

ESTIMATED WORD COUNT ▸ 8k words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ the dunk shot series is not dead guys :’) sorry this series was sort of at a standstill for a bit but here’s the teaser for mark’s installment !! ♡ send me an ask or comment if you want to be on the tag list! (warnings will be added in the final fic)

THE ONLY REASON WHY MARK TOOK FAMILY AND CONSUMER SCIENCE WAS BECAUSE his friends told him it would be an easy A for a general education requirement he needed to fulfill. No one clued him in on having to become a married man and father.

“Hi, Mark,” you greeted with a smile, sliding into the seat next to him. “I guess I’m Y/N Lee for the next few weeks.”

He felt his heart drop to his stomach.

Here was a brief rundown: you were essentially a femme fatale, a drop-dead gorgeous it-girl; and Mark was a loser who was somewhat good at playing basketball. On top of that, Mark harbored the biggest crush on you since forever.

Forever dated back to high school. Although Mark never spoke to you much, he had always thought you were the most breathtaking individual he had ever seen. That was probably why he was malfunctioning right now. He had never gotten the opportunity to be around you like this, mostly because you were dating Vernon Chwe up until last year. All he could do was admire from afar helplessly, eyes lingering as you strode down hallways.

Chenle told him that there was a definite shelf life on relationships like yours and Vernon’s—relationships that were mostly physical—so he was confident you two wouldn’t last. And he was right. When you and Vernon broke up, Mark felt bad seeing your sad eyes, but an ugly part of him had been waiting for it to happen.

This situation, however, was like winning the lottery. Not only was he partnered up with you, but he had to play the role of your husband? Things like this never really happened to Mark, so he figured some misfortunate was coming his way soon.

“Hey, Y/N,” he managed to get out.

“Come up and get your babies,” the professor instructed. “These RealCare infant simulators use wireless programming to track and report on your behaviors, which is why I had you all sign those consent forms.” She held up one of the dolls for everyone to see. “I’m not gonna require you all to keep your dolls in a car seat, but I will be able to see records of misuse, clothing changes, temperature changes, whether you’ve rocked, fed, or burped your baby, or respond to its cries.”

Great. He had to walk around campus with a plastic baby. Mark’s friends were never going to let him live this down.

He wondered if the RealCare infant could play basketball.

He turned to face you again. “Do you want a boy or girl?”

“Mark Lee,” his professor chided, and he nearly jumped when saw her standing right beside his desk. “You don’t get to choose the gender of your child in real life, so I’ll be randomly assigning each couple a baby.”

“I don’t think we’ve considered the possibility of gene editing.”

“You can take that up with Congress.”

GENERAL TAG LIST ▸ @papiiimark @jaehy9ngs @chanluster @jjhmk @marksflute @superhajimark @jeongyoonohs @marklexleaf @dnylwoo @kpop-bambi @miyrisa @jjikyuu @venesiun @seventeeneration @chenosaurus16 @kylomeyon @infnteen @ohmarkly @weish5n @thejeongjaehyun @lovesjenmoong @infnteen @wownajaemin @haruharux23 @pewpewpwe00 @scxrlettkx @pckeia @keijikunn @sapiowoman28 @atiny-doodles @loki-in-hogwarts @baekhyuns-lipchain @repjaehyn @chan-s-laptop @jen0zen @michplusb @yutassecrettime @minkis-simp @dreamyyang @catscoffeeandkpop @ahgastayzen @ryu-naa

#mark smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct scenarios #mark scenarios #mark x reader #mark lee smut #mark lee #mark lee x reader #nct dream imagines #nct imagines #nct 127 imagines #nct oneshots #nct dream oneshots #mark oneshots #mark imagines #nct hard hours

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wonifullove · 11 days

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the boy i loved before; yjw

synopsis: you discover the gifts your ex once gifted you on every date pairing: ex bf! jungwon x ex gf! reader genre: ex’s to potential lovers warnings: ex relationship, mentions of mental struggle sav notes: this is a piece for the polaroid love event ^.^ hosted by the lovelies @nishions & @lilacnini >< wc = 894 words

the hardest part of your breakup was accepting the fact that you weren’t with who you thought would be your forever. you couldn’t recall what went wrong, all you knew was that your soulmate was gone, and you didn’t know if there was a possibility you would rekindle, realizing you were a match made in heaven.

for two days straight you sat in your room, watching everyone else happy in their own relationships. you cried as you couldn’t even patch your mind around the fact that you and jungwon were over. 3 years of love and affection, now all a memory that replays in your head whenever you’re trying to go about with your life.

the first step into this new you was cleaning your living space. the apartment you once shared with jungwon was now yours, filled with empty boxes and a bunch of belongings that belonged to your once boyfriend. the image of your boyfriend packing his belongings, replays in your head.

“i’ll be back first thing in the morning to get this box.” jungwon said as he took majority of his boxes and personal possessions with him, as this would be the last time he steps foot into this apartment.

you watched as the door closed, your eyes heavy with tears. you sat down on your floor as you cried, hoping in some way he’d come back.

you set the box aside as you continued your clean your apartment. soon after, your apartment began looking more cozy. it was time to clean your room, which looked like it had been struck by a tornado.

after some furniture rearranging and a deep cleaning, your room became your room; rather than being your sad depression corner. as you were cleaning house stumbled across a box, a small white box with pink bows on it.

“what’s this?” you thought to yourself, not exactly remembering where this box had came from.

you begun observing the box, finding the words “from jungwon.” your heart nearly stopped as you read those words, and a tightening pain grew to your chest.

you opened the box, concerned about the containments of the box. there lied every single object jungwon has gifted you within the few years you had been together.

the valentine’s day bear.

you held it in your hand, looking at it carefully. you held it close to your nose, as you remember jungwon mentioned it was scented with a chocolate scent. it was your first valentine’s day with jungwon, he had no clue what to get you; so he only asked you two questions. “do you like chocolate?” and “do you like plushies?”

the polaroid pictures from the photo booth you visited after watching a horror movie.

your first date. jungwon planned a perfect movie date, a bit scared because he didn’t enjoy movies that gave him a scare; but was willing to do it just for you. jungwon clung onto your arm anytime a jump scare occurred, you hold onto his arms, he felt more comfortable and at ease. from that point on, jungwon would never be caught at a movie theater watching something that gave him a few sleepless nights.

his favorite gray hoodie

everytime you felt cold, jungwon always had your special hoodie. although it was his, he later realized how much comfort the hoodie brought to you. everytime he’s on his way to see you, he always carries it. jungwon never once forgot yours (his) favorite hoodie.

the wrist bands from your arcade date.

second date, the date where you and jungwon begun to get more close towards each other; also where the awkward stage was no longer there. that day was perfect, jungwon picked you up at 5 and took you to one of the coolest arcades in town. for hours, you and jungwon played countless games and won each other a bunch of prizes. those prizes rested on your shelves, still sitting in the same spot they were placed in.

you began to break down, you heart hurt as you held onto each possession tightly. after all, jungwon was the only guy who made you feel special about yourself. jungwon helped you gain the confidence and self esteem you had today. you were his beautiful girl after all, his prettiest flower. you brought your knees closer to your head as you continued to sob, soaking your sweatpants with tears.

just as you continued to sob, you heard a slight knock at your front door; causing you to jump. you rushed towards your front door, checking the peep hole to see who was there.

jungwon.

you froze in place, not knowing exactly what to do. you wiped your tears away, before opening the door slowly. jungwon stood in your doorway, tears flowing down his eyes; he was barely able to see. jungwon rushed into your arms, holding onto you tightly.

“i’m not ready to let you go.” he sobbed, words hardly able to make out; due to his sobbing. “i still love you.” jungwon squeezed into you, signaling that he was not ready to move on and leave; in fact he still wanted you more than anything.

“then fix this.” you looked at him, determination on your face.

jungwon looked down at you and smiled, tears still in his eyes. “i love you my beautiful girl, and i want to make this right.”

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writella · 8 months

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Trinkets; The Gifts of Gold He Gave You

Synopsis: A detailed record of all the special objects Daryl has found for you while hunting, riding, supply gathering, and living in the various places he has in the new world. These objects often lead to sweet moments of kindness, joy, and understanding between the two of you, deepening your connection. Although they are things others might not think much of— they were simply small gestures or trinkets after all— you believed these memories and mementos to be gifts of gold; they would shine in your mind forever onward.

Details: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader, mutual pining, kisses, lots of love and ♡ sweetness ♡ (true self indulgence at its finest), but there are also descriptions of trauma, abuse, and self-hate. Though other than that, it’s nothing else except Daryl being an endearing friend and future loverboy to you. This travels across the plot and setting of season 6-8, but it might not be a perfect fit. Lastly, even though these can be read anthologically, I did write them in a storyline as if there was an order in which Daryl gives or does these things with the reader as their relationship grows, so some past trinkets might be mentioned in the next story, but it truly isn’t too big of a deal; this is one you can have fun with! ♡

Author’s Note: My dearest reader, this one took much longer than I intended, but I think it’s because I put so much of my silly heart-filled imagination into it— truly one of my favorites to write thus far. I’m just so happy to give it to you. Feel free to read these all at once, one at a time, or pick the ones that best fit who you are. with love, writella . ♡ ⋆ ☽

Trinkets moodboard & visualizer here!

Trinket No. 1: The Ribbon ⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ ⟡.•

A Bow from a Bowman

Daryl was out on a hunt one morning when he found it. It’s like he was compelled to pick it up, he did it without even thinking. It was nothing, honestly: kind of silly really, and flimsy, slightly covered by grass blades— it was dirty and discarded. But there was something about it, something tender… it reminded him of you, even though in some ways still, he hardly knew you at all.

It had been over a month since Daryl came back home to Alexandria; just a month since you entered what was supposed to be your new home. But also a week or so long journey it had been to unexpectedly find you and bring you back.

He remembered it well: you were covered in dirt, tired and hungry, running for your life from the past group you were with. He was going to let you go and mind his business— you looked scared of him anyway when you crashed into him. But most importantly, he had just lost his crossbow, his bike, and maybe even a little bit of his dignity to Dwight who stole them. He didn’t feel like getting tricked again, especially since it takes a lot to trick him; he wasn’t letting that happen again. Especially not the day after. And most especially not for a seemingly young and innocent-looking girl like Dwight’s wife, Sherry or that kid they were with, Tina.

But then, he heard the yelling, the hollering, the men– they wanted you, and none of it was for the right reasons. Very wrong and scary reasons they were indeed, ones he would soon come to understand were things you’d never want to live out or discuss again. He understood that feeling, so he stayed. He hid behind a tree. He decided to help again. Who knows of your innocence, but what was definitely true was that you were a lost and lonely girl in the woods. He knew a thing or two about those unfortunately, those stories ended badly.

Sad enough, the hiding and helping— or attempting to— led him to become a prisoner with you and your ‘group.’ He barely got scraps of food, and every night was just another day of seeing your tears, your face in a permanent state of desolation and misery; staying ever silent even when you were yelled at— even when you were forced to do things you didn’t want to do. You looked scared and small.

It was only when you all reached a hospital, one you burned to the ground just to get away from them, that Daryl saw the fight in you. You didn’t even ask for his help and he tried to save you, but in the end, you saved him. A silent soldier, you were. He returned the favor with the least he could do: he took you home.

And now there you both were. You sat by Rick’s fireplace. No one was home yet, and you had just put Judith down for the night. Daryl found you there on the floor with a book. He quietly sat near you. All you two said was hello.

And this was normal, actually– the being around each other, showing up unannounced, sitting beside each other– talking or not– or you, trying to help him with whatever work he was up to. He tried to fight it at first, but it became a regular thing. It’s what helped Daryl get to know you, and you to him.

You were equally as fierce as the fire you created not long ago, but just as gentle. Just as desiring to smile and create friendships. He knew that now. And he— he was just as rock solid and straightforward as the crossbow he once carried, but just delicate. Just as easily hurt and as quick to hide, yet so deeply desiring of loyalty and acceptance. You know that now too.

It’s still so soon, but you admired him, so deeply. You wanted to learn from him. You thought he was strong, and you wanted to be strong. All that anguish and pain and he came out a fighter, a leader.

Little did you know that is exactly what he thought of you. He went from seeing you cry yourself to sleep every night to becoming the kind and generous friend you were to almost everyone you met. Always offering to care for Judith, or allowing Carl to come to you to talk, or learning about guns and shooting with Rosita. And of course finding a way to go on supply runs, or learn to hunt, or fight walkers with Daryl as much as you could. As always, he pretended not to care that much, but he did. He couldn’t help it. He values his independence, but it was nice that there was someone who wanted to be around him so much. And he admired you for his own reasons as well: You’re someone who fills others up with lightness when such dark things have happened. He felt like that every time you two we’re together. He wanted to learn from you too.

As he sat there, thinking, he wondered if maybe that’s why he thought of you when he saw it. Maybe it was the brightness and softness of it, despite finding it on the ground, despite it being dirty. He cleaned it up, and it still shined, that’s like you but… he was still unsure. Maybe it truly was nothing, maybe it was stupid.

He looked to his side, watching your figure for a moment as he decided what to do. You were on your stomach, laying on the small rug that sat in front of the fire. You were continuing the chapter you were on, paying little attention to him. He only said ‘hey,’ after all. And you did wave back, you asked him how his day was, but all he gave you was a typical response, ‘fine,’ he had said. You thought maybe this visit wasn’t about talking so you left it. And all of this was typical anyway, for Daryl to come by Rick’s, or for you two to sit in peaceful silence, but then you started to see him fidget in his spot in your periphery, like he couldn’t decide how he wanted to sit, hands adjusting his jeans, moving things in his pocket.

“Do you wanna go to the porch?” You thought maybe he was reaching for a smoke. “I can put on the baby monitor…” He just shook his head at the suggestion.

You decide to move to the spot next to him, leaning your back against the wall. “Did something happen today?” Your voice was soft as you tilt your head, trying to reach his eyes.

“No,” he shook his head again, he was facing forward. “It’s just…”

“What?” You asked calmly.

He found it hard to speak, “Just- just brought something.” He reached into his pocket one last time, his hand in a fist as it made its way closer between the two of you until he started to release his fingers from his palm slowly.

It was a ribbon. A pearly light pink one. Just scattered in his hand. “It’s stupid,” he grumbled quietly, trying to shove it back down his pocket, but you stop him.

“Wait,” your hands gently cupping the other side of his and then you pick it up, letting him go. You wrap the ribbon around your finger and you tie it into a bow, examining it in your palm now. “This is for me?” Soft disbelief enchanted your voice. You made sure not to sound too excited or too surprised. You didn’t want to scare him, especially since he replied with:

“It's nothin’.” He was feeling slightly embarrassed.

“It's so nice,” your voice continued in its understated tone despite your smile becoming uncontainable. You couldn’t help the way your lips were curling upward, it was even hurting your cheekbones to try to make your teeth shine through a little less— Daryl Dixon just gave you a gift. And it was a little pink thing at that. Perhaps miracles are real. “It's perfect,” you say, “I can wear it in my hair.”

“It's stupid.” He repeated, brushing you off, but you saw right through him. Daryl doesn’t do anything for no reason at all.

“It's not.” Your words are so kind as your interject, “You know, sometimes it's the smallest things that mean everything. They become our favorite things even.” Your lips pressed together, forming another smile as he meets your gaze, “Like your vest that needs to be patched up.”

“It's fine,” he almost sounded defensive. It made you laugh.

As messed up as it is, it truly was fine. It was his and he loved it; that made it so. And he didn’t only have the vest, he also had his cut-up button-downs, and those ties he laced on the bottom of his jeans— you knew those were probably because the pants available didn’t always fit all the time, but nonetheless— these were all things that made him and his clothing unique from the others. Even in the apocalypse, Daryl was one of the few that maintained a personal style. You couldn’t help but love it. He could, and often always was, the guy covered all in dirt and grim and blood but he still had something about his look that was simply just him.

You missed that. Having those personal touches, and now here Daryl was with this. The simplest thing, but he brought it for you. It was your special piece, your special something. It truly was perfect.

“C’mere,” Daryl gestured, taking the ribbon from your hand and moving your shoulders so your back faced him. He undid the bow and cuffed your hair, he actually almost yanked your head with the way he gathered the ponytail, honestly– he forgets his strength, but you said nothing. Only giggling slightly, but you were mostly quiet. You tried to keep it down, afraid he might stop if he thought you were making fun of him. You wanted to reel at the closeness for as long as you could. You couldn’t believe the fact that he was doing something so domestic— you almost couldn’t breathe. He tried to detangle some pieces with his fingers and then he tilted his head to the side to leave some shorter pieces out at the front. He didn’t know what he was doing and he probably was doing it badly, but he tried his best to be delicate. He’s never touched you like this before. Every time his fingers accidentally brushed against your ear or your neck he relearned just how soft you are. And every feeling of his skin almost made you shiver; like when someone whispers in your ear, it always feels so sensitive, traveling down until you feel it everywhere. His touches felt like that. You always end up feeling his everywhere. He’s entrancing, filling you with hearts and stars.

Finally, he ties the ribbon into a bow right at the top of the ponytail he created. He’s done. He lets go. They shapes and colors fade. Everything is cold again.

But to him, everything looked warm and vibrant. Looking at you was a sight so sweet and so gentle among all this dark wreckage of the world— it was precisely how he saw you: the way the ribbon now laced around your hair looked like an angelic embrace.

You turn to him, “Thank you, Daryl.” Your smile is so sincere, so lovely, there might as well be a halo and hearts invisibly drawn all around you.

A moment passes as you continue to look at each other and your heart jumps. He’s still looking directly at you. There are moments that he looks away and you can’t help it, the bashfulness creeps up on you two, but he’s giving you all his attention; it feels great. You decide to take the chance, you can't help yourself, you hug him, you have to. It has been so long since someone gave you something. So long since someone thought of you so specifically and intimately.

He’s caught off guard, his hands don’t wrap around you until a few seconds later, but when they do, they are sure, and tight, more sure of it than you surprisingly.

You breathe him in, giggling again, “I’m surprised you smell this good.”

“Fuck you.” It makes you laugh just a bit louder, it’s the nicest ‘fuck you,’ you’ve ever heard. Its tone has a hint of sincerity in tandem with humor in just the same way you delivered your line. He shakes his head, “You’re silly.”

He lets you go and you turn away, but it’s only just a little. He watches how the ribbon lays right where he put it again, seeing the side of your face light up with your rosy smile as you sway your head. You’re trying to not make it obvious that you want to feel the wag of the bow and your hair back there so you do it slowly, it just feels so cool and so pretty. You liked it so much. You didn’t even know what it looked like yet, but it already made you feel more like yourself. Like a part of you that had left before this world began— it fit well like a missing piece finally snapping into place. It was your unique touch and he found it for you. He did it for you. Just for you.

For me, you repeated it in your mind, he found it just for me.

Trinket No. 2: The Lesson ō͡≡o˞̶ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

Turnpikes, Gunshots, and Dreams

You had asked and asked for weeks with no let up. It made you start getting creative with your pleas: “You know, Daryl, we really should be teaching each other our skills,” you had insisted, sarcasm lining your voice. No one else in the group knew how to ride yet they were doing just fine, but you were incessant, “You never know what kind of situation we’ll be in where we might need it… I could die,” your hands raise as your voice does, “and your bike could be my only escape but I wouldn’t even know how to ride it!”

He would always just stare at you blankly, ignoring you, especially when you got dramatic like this right before you two were leaving. “Get on or stay,” he would say, “go help Rosita or somethin’.”

You’d grit your teeth and get on regardless.

But then one day, one lucky, lucky day for you— it was your earnest approach, and your silly smile, and sun-filled eyes that got the best of him as they looked up to meet his darker ones. “Please,” you said, stretching out the word, it was just as cheesy as your smile. He looked back at you from his front seat as you continued, “I just want to feel capable and- free… I don’t know,” but you did, you meant it and felt it from deep inside you. “To know I have the option I wanted to… I… I didn’t really have those before.”

He was still for a moment and then he nodded, restarting the ignition. You guessed that was another no until you started to ride past the walkers that lined the outer gate. “An hour,” he said, his eyes forward as the trees became a blur to both of you, “then we gotta get work done.” You wrapped your arms around him tightly, you only used to cup his waist or hold his shoulders, but you felt fearless today, head leaning against his back and neck, arms hugging around his torso. He finally said yes.

As time went by, you had gotten comfortable with completing your drills. You learned the controls, how to shift gears, how to waddle and power walk with the bike, operate the clutch, throttle, and lift your feet up, riding on a straight path all by yourself. Turns were still hard though, and the fact that Daryl always insisted you think about the worst-case scenario wasn’t the greatest either. He’d look you dead in the eye, his voice clear and unrestrained from his usual grovels as he said, “If a herd is comin’, or people are shooting, or if there’s something tryin’ to crash into you, you need to think about how you’re going down. Decide on what won’t fuck you up completely, then do it. ” He always got way too close to your face without realizing it in those moments, his finger almost crashing into your nose as he vigorously pointed to get the idea across.

“If something goes down, I’m not arguing,” you say. “You'll be in front.” You meant it, your voice was quiet, you understood.

But really, you didn’t: “If something go down, either of us should be able to do it.” He paused to make sure you got it this time, “That's the point.”

As if you didn’t already sense it, this was the first time you absolutely understood that Daryl was serious when he decided to do anything. Full commitment. Start to finish. You said you wanted to learn, that you wanted to be capable, then that’s exactly what he was going to teach you. You would take it seriously too.

Soon enough, Daryl allowed you to ride out of the gates of Alexandria first instead of switching off after you got a few miles out. You were getting better. So much so that today would be a different day, he explained. Daryl wanted you to ride to the Hilltop. This would be the longest distance you’ve ever rode. A whole 23 miles. But before you guys got there he would steer you in the direction of a turnpike: he wanted to practice speed, and most crucially for you, right and left turning.

His weapons and guns were strapped to his lower body, some on his thigh holster, and a machine gun over his back, all just in case, and his hold on your waist was fixed as you rode. It made you feel like a child and such a little teenager all in one with how excited you would get. Not only were you becoming skilled at riding a whole fucking motorcycle, but you were the one he was holding onto this time and it was the longest amount of time he was holding you at that.

As you reached the turnpike, he guided you around the semi-circular road. Continuing on, you saw a few walkers in the distance. He told you to speed up, there was enough space on the road and there were only four of them, they were far away anyway.

You looked back at your surroundings, other than those four, the road was pretty clear other than some broken down, discarded cars. This accidentally became a lesson on tight turns and swerving too.

Some of your turns were abrupt as you tried to go around the cars, it made you nervous. You knew it was okay not to be perfect, but it was still a little stressful to make mistakes when a master was watching behind you.

“Relax,” he’d tell you, sometimes putting his hands over yours on the handles and helping you out. “You got it.”

You went on and as the walkers approached closer, an idea arose. It was probably irresponsible, but you joked anyway, “Daryl,” you whisper-shouted with fake suspense, getting his attention. “We’re on a mission. Got to take those guys out before they get to Rick!”

He chuckled a bit, shaking his head. He leaned in closer as you leaned forward, gaining speed. One arm wrapped around your hips in totality, hand placed firmly there as the other reached for his gun, extending his arm out as you two got closer to the walkers. You two turned to face them as Daryl pulled the trigger: one shot each, straight in the head, “Got ‘em.”

You gasp, your laughter sounding so wild and fun and unrestrained in a way it hasn’t been heard by either of you before. “Is it bad if I say I hope we find another one?!”

“No, that was fun,” he agrees understatedly, trying not to fully give in. You couldn’t even see his face, yet he was trying to hide a smile.

And you were too. It was all too much honestly. You were balancing riding and having Daryl right behind you, holding onto you, trusting you to do something he’s never let anyone else do before; and you just proved you both could probably kill it in a high stakes situation. Well, maybe not, this was very, very low stakes, but still, it made you believe. You decided to ride the high, quite literally as you kept going, shouting back: “Imagine us in battle?”

Oh, wait— your grin fades slightly, you immediately regretted it after you said it. The point of this life was to try to find a way to live, not always fighting to survive. Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say.

The silence makes you feel like an idiot until Daryl speaks up, both hands now on your hips, thumbs pressing into your back, “If we were in battle,” he almost whispers into your ear, “we’d be their worst fuckin’ nightmare.”

You feel your smile practically reaching your ears. “We’re a team,” you say, the humor coming back to your face now, the shine in your teeth reflecting the sun as it always does. “A dream team.”

A dream… Maybe. You definitely were at least, but that is a thought he doesn’t let come to the forefront. He let it go. But it was true… something about you felt unreal to him. The way you wanted to be around him this much, so interested in the things he does; he still didn’t get it, it almost felt unbelievable. He wondered when it was going to stop. When he would wake up. He didn’t want to wake up. The thought grows, he can’t avoid it now: you are a dream. One he didn’t even know he wanted.

Trinket No. 3: Lucky Charms ＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Flying Away With You

You gasp excitedly, “The Eiffel Tower!” You hold the bottom up to the light as he still holds the top. “Nice,” you say with bright eyes, “I found the Statue of Liberty in the mom’s jewelry box and a few others that weren’t on her charm bracelet.” You showed him the mother’s sterling silver and he showed you the daughter’s that he found. “I guess they were traveling family… or wanted to be.” You feel a heaviness behind your eyes after you say it.

You loved collecting these charms, but sometimes there was a sadness to it. Like you were collecting other people's tokens, little pieces of their personalities and their stories, keeping it as your own. It almost felt invasive. But it was something that you and Daryl did together. You liked that. Another thing that made you feel close to him… Maybe this was like keeping their memory alive? You may not have known them or know what happened to them, but you were giving something that they loved new life. The charms did make you happy, after all. Especially because it was Daryl that got you into it. But it was also you who got Daryl into it too.

You both can recall the first day it all started: He found it incredulous that you cared more about a little piece of jewelry you saw in the dirt rather than the bigger thing that was right by it: the deer Daryl just shot, the one that you two had been tracking for what felt like hours.

His face twisted up to you as he collected his bolt from the body, “We just caught a deer, and you’re lookin’ at that?”

“We just caught a deer for the first time in months and this was right by them… it’s literally good luck!” You held the gold sun charm to the actual light source it was designed after, “Look at us… Lucky charm, dream team, remember?” Your smile was just so wide after you said it, he let his slight irritation go. It was easy actually, he was always taken aback by that smile. It still wasn’t that long ago when he thought you weren’t the type to do so, like him most of the time. He had only seen you sad, but now, I’m Alexandria, you just glowed. Eyes and an essence as bright as the sun, and that smile, all teeth and just as pearly as the moon… The charm was perfect for you and it needed its match. Maybe a star too. He would find it.

He still remembers where he found those. He came across a silver crescent moon necklace discarded on the floor of a girl’s bedroom. It was simplistic, like one or those expensive necklaces that shouldn’t even be that expensive because of how small it was, but it was a perfect charm size, and it shined, there were no scratches. In the other girl’s room in the house, probably the younger sister, there was a charm bracelet on the desk. It was kind of childish and clunky, like one you could get in those supermarket toy vending machines. He took the first charm he touched and removed the clasp from it for your moon. It was hard to do it with his fingers on something so small and dainty but after a few tries, he managed.

As for the star, he found it on a walker in the woods. It was a little girl, it almost made him feel bad to do it because he knew you’d feel bad about it, but her and what looked like her mom and dad went straight for the two rabbits he just caught, ripping their skin, eating them. He shot them all in the head. The thud of their bodies to the ground only seconds apart. Oh well, were his thoughts, their fault for messing with his catch. After that is when he noticed the gold charm bracelet on the kid’s wrist. It was different from the one he saw last time in that other girl’s room, it wasn’t a fake toy, it was more refined. Maybe they were a well-off family.

There was a star was at the center. It’s all he wanted, but he thought you might want to see the others she had too— they were all nature themed, he kind of liked it— so he tried to take the bracelet off but it wasn’t working. The thing fit her wrist perfectly and the bracelet clasp was stuck so, in typical Daryl fashion… he just chopped the girl's hand off.

Kind of gross, and he would definitely have to keep the red off of everything now, but the star charm was gold, it would match the sun charm and the moon would stand out at the center, he assumed. He thought it could look nice… and beggars can’t be choosers in the apocalypse anyway. After he took the bracelet he discarded of the hand, tossing it to the ground like it was nothing. (He’d leave that part out if you asked for the story later). Now that he had the bracelet, you would also have a gold owl, a bunny, a bird, and if it couldn’t get any better, there was a deer charm too. That’s what was most important about the account anyway.

That night, Daryl crawled into your bedroom from the window while you were asleep. He placed the star and moon on top of your journal that was on your desk, and after that, he left. That was it. He just wanted to surprise you. He’d give you the rest later. You only realized he did it and how he did it when you closed your window that was slightly left open the next day. There were scuff marks on the window sill. They were from his shoes.

After that it became a game; a little side quest. Like how people would count red versus blue cars or shout ‘punch buggy,’ when they are out with their family. An activity that took you out of your boredom, or really, for you in the apocalypse, it was an activity that made you feel oddly sane again, since you always dealt with the insane everyday anyway.

That was what today was about. At least on the down low; at least after you found anything of value for the community; at least to you two. You guys had found what seemed to be a wealthy neighborhood a while ago, when you passed that turnpike. The houses there were so big there, but all you had was his bike at the time, nowhere to put supplies and you were expected at the Hilltop, you couldn’t stay and look around.

It had been a little while after that and you had a plan now, a few Alexandrians backing you up with cars. You two finished your portion of houses to sweep and now you were waiting on the others, sitting in one of the house porches. That’s why you both were showing each other your finds from this place and the others.

You continued to hold the Eiffel Tower charm in your hand, “Maybe we should go to Paris…” Your voice was wistfully, then a quietness lingered in the air, it made you laugh awkwardly, releasing the tension. Your suggestion was one of those silly things you say where you mean it, but you pretend it’s just a joke, knowing it won’t have any outcome. “All of us, I mean,” you do mean it, but at the same time you we’re just talking about him right now. “That would be nice.”

“What would I do in Paris?” He asks it while he fixes his weapons, you’re sitting back, looking at the trees. He thought it was a ridiculous idea. He’s never been anywhere. He hadn’t even been to Virginia or D.C. before this and there’s no way he could go anywhere else now.

“Well I guess we’re never going to know unless we find out… you can eat!” You laugh, “You do like eating.”

He snorts, “Who knows if there’s food left there.”

Pessimist. “Again— we’re never going to know unless we find out.”

“Have fun tryin’ to become a pilot,” his drawl comes out strong on that last word. “Or a plane.”

“I guess that’s the next charm we need to find, an airplane or a captain’s hat. I am a pilot… or I can pretend to be.” There’s that smile again, “I can do anything.”

“Bet you could.” He meant it.

You nod, your next words making you laugh at yourself, “I’m Barbie.”

“Better,” he mutters. You can barely hear it. You don’t know if it was real so you say nothing until—

“We’re going to travel the world some day, Daryl.” You say it so surely, breaking the moment of silence, “We’ll find a way.” As long as we’re together. As long as you want me.

That’s all you wanted, truly. Even if this world really couldn’t take you to Paris, or New York, or anywhere out of Virginia. All you wanted was him. All you wished and hoped for is that he wanted you… but did he? You still weren’t sure.

Trinket No. 4: The Flower and the Photograph 𓇢𓆸

Back Pocket Memory

You two were almost near Alexandria, only a few miles left to drive. “Do you think we can just sit down over there before heading back?”

Daryl continued driving, “Dangerous to leave a good van with supplies just put.”

You pointed to the clearing you were referring to ahead. The trees were sparse in that area, it might have been a meadow, but you didn’t know the difference. There was a little pond near the center. “Can we just drive the car a little bit closer? Just for a few minutes?” You look up at him, your eyes doing that little sunshine thing as it always does, “I just want to sit in the grass,” you say, putting your hand out the window, feeling the wind through your fingers, “the sky feels so nice today.”

He huffs, but does as you ask. “Get out,” he says, gesturing to you to walk over to the area you pointed at. “Pick your spot.” You run over and he follows. You have this wonder about you, it was almost childlike, but not childish, more— sweet, innocent perhaps.

You jump down to the ground and cross your legs on the grass, looking out at the pond. Daryl parks the car a little behind you and comes out to sit on the hood. His legs spread, knees almost to his chest, his elbows lay on there, arms extended.

You look at him, “You’re really not going to sit down?”

“If someone comes up behind us and steals our shit then that’s gonna be your fault.”

Fair. You gesture at him to move over and you sit to his side on top of the car.

As you settle, you close your eyes and you raise your face to the sky. Feeling the warmth of the sun on your closed eyelids. There was a majestic kind of wind that blew in the air today. It made everything look effortless, especially Daryl.

His ever-so disheveled hair had pieces flying on both sides, brushing some parts out of his face, and pushing others in. As always, it was just enough that they didn’t completely cover his eyes. How does that always happen? Thinking about it makes you giggle lightly as you look at him.

“What?” He asks, becoming a little self conscious.

You shake your head, your eyes looking at him kindly, hoping to ease his nerves. “You just look nice.” Your voice was silvery and sweet as you said it.

You get up and skip toward the pond, picking a flower and coming back to him. You sit down and try to put the tiniest white flower behind his ear.

“What’re you doin’?” He tries to swat it away, playfully hitting your other hand that tries to hold him in place and he takes the flower from your other hand. He successfully places it behind your ear instead. “Better,” he says.

As he looks at you, he notices light pieces of your hair frizzing up at the top from the wind, other pieces at the bottom still moving around slightly. It didn’t look bad, to him, your hair looks more like that invisible halo he sees when you’re around, and with that flower in your hair, you look like a true angel or maybe even a fairy with all the greenery surrounding you. You’re just lovely.

You give him a closed smile, your head falling to your knees. “Pretty day,” you sigh contentedly.

Pretty girl.

Handsome man.

Then a thought comes. Your smile turning to a grin.

“What?” He asks sharply. He knows the look you get when you’re up to something at this point.

You grab your backpack from your side, slowly bringing out the polaroid camera you found earlier today.

“No,” he pushes the side of your face, already detesting the idea.

“Daryl,” you whine.

He says it straight this time, “No.”

“But…” your eyes trail his face for a moment before continuing, “you just look… I don’t know. It’s like I said, you just look so- nice.” There’s other words you could use, but you don’t, not yet. “I just think it would be nice to have a nice picture. All we take pictures of is the houses and work. It’s boring and a waste.” You pause, “Daryl… Please?”

He rolls his eyes, grumbling, “You first.”

He’s glad no one was around when these moments happened. Someone might think you had him completely whipped. His brother definitely would think so if he was still around. Daryl was almost embarrassed of himself because of it. But you don’t ask for much. Other than the bike thing, you really didn’t. You trusted him and you were patient. You went along with his plans and you could sit for long car rides and periods of time in quietness if that’s what he wanted. You never pushed him to tell you his story. He only knew a part of yours circumstantially and he didn’t push you for more details after he brought you home, so you did the same. He could feel you wanted to ask more questions, but he also saw you stop yourself, move on, you were creative with your conversation topics: you asked him about what the best thing he hunted was, or what his favorite things were about your friends. You were so gentle with him. Maybe you could get him to do almost anything you wanted without you even knowing, but it was worth it for someone like you.

You look down shyly, “I’m not good at pictures,” you admit.

“You’ll look fine.” He wanted to say something else, but he didn’t. You’re so alike, more than you know.

He tilted your jaw with his thumb. It was too quick for you to melt into it but the feeling lingered, it made you buzz with excitement and it was easy to smile after that. He looked through the viewfinder, seeing you do that pretty sunny smile, matching the yellow bud of the white flower. He clicked the button. Beautiful.

You snatch the camera instantly, “Your turn!” You were too eager but you didn’t care.

You take the flower from your hair and bring it toward him. He sucks his teeth, saying your name as he does so, “No!”

“Yes, Daryl!” You push it over his ear, but not before he pushes you knee, just to do it. He didn’t even know why he was fighting, he knew he was letting you have your way right now. “Look,” you sound like a school teacher, “very nice.”

You even out some of the frizzy parts at the top of his head, the light wind was still blowing through it, it was futile so you left it, he looked great anyway. A perfectly imperfect mess.

He crossed his arms over his knees and looked into your eyes. You held the camera to your face and snapped the shot. “Beautiful.”

You stare at him for a moment longer. If anyone else was here that could see those all to familiar hearts and stars around you and in your eyes, it was so hard to hide. “I’m keeping this,” you said, placing the polaroid delicately in your back pocket. He said nothing, he wasn’t going yo let you know he cared about a dumb picture. “Okay, thank you for indulging me,” you start, taking the flower from his ear, “let’s go home.”

Later that night, past one am, he came through your window again. But this time you saw. Your head was almost covered by the blankets, your eyes slightly open. He didn’t even look in your direction. Maybe he wanted to be quick.

You saw him go into your bookbag. It was hanging on your desk chair. He took the picture out. He wanted it. He wanted your picture. The one that matched yours of him. Maybe this was something. Maybe he did want you.

You closed your eyes quickly when he started to turn around, then watched as quietly as you could as he neared the window, starting to climb out but not before he placed the polaroid in his back pocket, just like you did. Now you both had a piece of each other, forever.

Trinket No. 5: The Music Player and the Wish on an Eyelash ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻ ♬♪

Never Fade Away

It’s official, in all the ways it possibly could be: Alexandria was truly your home. More time has passed: you live in a house, you have a job, you have family— it’s your friends. In some ways things are better than they have ever been… yet you still think about the night and the dark just as much as you used to. You tried to hide it, you wanted to be grateful and you were. But the things that used to happen to you, and the people that hurt you… they still lingered like ghosts when night came.

In the closed and guarded walls of your community, you hoped night could be a time and place that was peaceful. But thoughts of an attack, thoughts of losing your first real home, it left you apprehensive and paranoid of what could happen in your vulnerable state. And when you close your eyes, sometimes the past visits your dreams. It all felt inescapable.

It makes you so fearful that despite keeping your window’s curtain open, a battery-powered lantern resides practically glued to your nightstand— always on when the sun goes down. You knew it was a waste of a resource, but at least you kept it on low, at least when you woke up in the middle of the night, closer to morning really, you remembered to turn it off— the sun making its way back around soothed your nerves; it was always that initial getting-to-sleep part that made you need it anyway.

And of course, you’ve tried to calm yourself down at night using different methods to see what stuck: You do read— your neighbors were always kind enough to lend whatever books were in their houses— and you did daydream— letting your mind wander to happier, more wondrous places when you wanted to escape— and it did help sometimes, but on other nights, it wasn’t enough.

You miss watching tv in bed. There was something about the buzz of the box, and the voices of humor and romance and relatability that miraculously took you away, and helped you stop thinking, even allowed you to drift to sleep… it was a luxury you didn’t have anymore, and not only did you not have that luxury, you also had an overabundance of dead or deadly issues to worry about. It all haunted you.

You sat with your back against the headboard of the bed. You’ve yet to put on any night clothes. You had already read the next chapter of your book, and you would have read another, and possibly another after that, but tonight you knew it would have just kept you awake as something to do instead of worrying about sleep. You were tired though. That’s why you stopped, but you also weren’t ready for trying to catch sleep that wouldn’t come.

Part of you hoped Daryl would stop by, but he doesn’t always, and he probably won’t tonight. Some nights he’s out until the next day or the next week, who knows how far he went this time, you didn’t go with him and he left too quickly to ask. It had been a few days since you saw him last.

When he was here though, he did start to make it a habit of stopping by to see you, especially when it was time for Alexandrians to settle into their homes for the night. He stopped being so quiet through the window and only dropping things off. He would start coming through the door. It was just a light chat for a couple of minutes at first, then there were the times when he stayed an hour or two. He always sat on your floor, by the window, or by the door. You never understood why until you insisted he sit in your chair by the closet. It was only until a few more visits later you realized the chair's light color becoming just a bit visibly darker. It was soot and hard work and the air, he worked outside all day and usually visited before he called it a night. You made sure not to mention it, you just cleaned it yourself. No need for him to feel embarrassed.

Besides, you didn't mind, anytime he walked through your door or jumped in from your window, that was his chair, at least that’s what you called it in your head. You liked that. You liked that after he brought you home he didn’t move on and let you be. In his defense, you didn’t let him be either, but he could have always distanced himself if he wanted to, told you no, but he didn’t.

You two have gotten so close quite quickly. You both felt it and you didn’t know why, but at the same time, you did. It was something left unspoken, even in your mind, always on the side toward the back of your brain. That part knew you could fall in love with him, but why admit it to yourself if the other person might not feel the same? You were still feeling that way. Despite all the moments you’ve shared thus far. His silent nature was endearing at times, but it could also be a very confusing gripe of yours. There were moments when you knew exactly where his mind was, but there were other times when you simply did not. Especially when it came to you. Daryl always gave you just enough, and maybe tonight, it would be nothing at all.

At least that’s where your thoughts resided until you heard the creak of your door slowly pushing inward.

Daryl’s hand holds the doorknob, meeting your eyes as he steps in further. Your window casting just enough light on his face.

“Hi,” you meant to be clever, ask him if he knew how to knock, but only wistful, subdued surprise is all that came out in your one-word greeting.

“Hey,” he replied, it almost seemed like he was surprised too, you couldn’t tell it from his voice but from the way he cut the word short. “Didn’t know if you were awake.”

You laugh somberly, “You didn’t?”

“Didn’t see you in the window.”

His voice is low, your house is quiet, and people are asleep in the other rooms. You match his tone with your own quietness, “Right,” you say. The window did hit the bed end, not the top. But he knew you were a late sleeper. He even came and sat with you for longer the night before he left because you had told him about it— he knew, he had to, but you didn’t question it.

“Um,” he’s looking down, “Was just gonna leave somethin’.”

He starts to walk to your nightstand but you stop him, your hand reaching out, not touching him, but it’s just enough to pull him to your gaze. “You’re gonna leave without showing me?”

Daryl positions himself toward you and you sit up. Gingerly, he takes something small out of his front pocket, it was covered in one of his bandanas. He looks at it for a moment, almost unsure before placing it on the bed, right in front of your lap.

It was an MP3 player. One of those slim rectangular ones with a digital rectangular screen to match and a big circular button with the controls covering the bottom half. There were some small scratches in the screen corners and some dent marks in the back. The arrow buttons were starting to fade too, but he handed you some headphones out of his back pocket as you continued to examine it, it must have worked.

You look up at him, eyes wide, shining just a bit in the dark just like the little silver miracle that was in your hands. You remembered having one of these, the thought made your lips curl, a light open-mouthed smile forming as the nostalgia set in.

You move closer to the edge of the bed, the sky illuminating you more in your semi-darkened room. You place your hand on the other end of your bed, “Come,” you say as your tap the spot. He’s hesitant before he finally accepts the invitation, sitting down. You would have insisted anyway if he didn’t.

You flip the switch on the side then and the music starts instantly in your right ear where you set one of the earbuds in. You tried to put the left on him, but he shook his hand, “You listen.” You let him be for now, you were too excited to see what the previous owner was into.

The songs are scattered from different decades, but what you notice the most of as you skip through were various 90s and 2000s rock, pop-punk, pop, and the like. There was Nirvana, but also Fiona Apple to Blondie, and even Elvis. It was a little all over the place, really. This definitely had to be a teen’s in the early or late aughts. You thought maybe Carl would like this. There was even some stuff that you were sure had to have come out in 2010, right before the apocalypse began… Another kid who wouldn’t get to spend the rest of their teens, or young adulthood, or adult life like they were supposed to, like you were supposed to.

Having these thoughts while Aerosmith’s Fly Away From Here played was not helping, especially since it made you think of your lost family, and those from your found family that were gone now too, so you decided to skip, but the button seemed to fidget. You tried again, then again, even touching the screen. You accidentally made the shuffle icon come onto the bottom corner.

“Don’t like Aerosmith?” Daryl read it on the screen, but he also recalled the melody, even from just the soft buzz produced by the headphones, the volume was accidentally turned all the way up, you set it down.

You give him a light smile, “Aerosmith’s fine. Just have to be a little more careful with this, I guess.”

You continue to press forward to see what else is there until you shriek, color coming back to your face as you shake your head at the memory emerging as you listen. “Oh my god, my sibling used to love this song when we were younger.” It was Avril Lavigne’s Girlfriend that was playing. “We used to put on the radio or look up the music videos on the tv and dance. They loved doing that…” Your voice was soft, both sweet yet desolate, “I knew all the popular songs and all their favorite songs whether I liked it or not.” You giggle, “I can lie this one is fun.”

You knew Daryl would probably scoff, but you lightly place the left earbud near his ear for a few seconds so he can hear what you’re talking about.

“Definitely a chick’s.”

“‘Chick’?” It was funny, and you did laugh, but you still decide to protest, “It’s just one song and…I don’t know, I think it’s a pretty eclectic mix of artists…” You continue to press forward as you ask, “Were there kids? Or- did there used to be?”

“Based on the rooms.” He nods, “Boy and a girl.”

“Hm,” you say curiously, flipping through the songs: the next one that played was by Linkin Park, then Alanis Morisette… you wondered if the kids shared it or shared interests. Suddenly, the player starts Lit’s My Own Worst Enemy. Your eyes are starlit as you gasp, “Oh, this one is so you.”

This time you fully push the headphone into his left ear, turning the volume all the way up as the first verse plays, his face is fixed, “This ain’t me.” There is silence as the music continues and he scorns, “You think I used to just get drunk all the time?”

“Daryl,” your laugh is light, “no.” It was a ridiculous thought and he should know it, but nonetheless, you console him, “Of course not.” Your hand reaches forward onto the bed, nearing where his own resided, but not touching. It saddened you to see Daryl always react like this to small things. He was never judgmental, but he was always so quick to believe others would judge him. “Maybe not that part,” you smile, slightly mischievous, “but- okay, this-” you sing-speak along lightly, remembering to stay quiet, “it’s no surprise to me I am my own worst enemy, cause every now and then I kick the living shit out of me- that's you! That's literally you.”

He shakes his head, ‘Whatever,’ the gesture says with his grunt.

“No, you’re actually a little bit self-deprecating, I think. At least internally.” You continue, “Oh, and this part— I didn't mean to call you that- you see?” You say, humor still in your smile, “That part is you.”

Daryl gives you another small grunt indicating ‘no’ as he shakes his head again. “If I say something to someone, then I mean it. Wouldn’t say it if I don’t.”

“Well, you also mean a lot of what you don’t say,” your eyes trail to the side. You knew that didn’t make sense, but it did to you. There was a part of you that was still in denial of your feelings or if there was a possibility he had any for you either. You’d never see him talk or treat anyone in a more than friendly way– or whatever Daryl’s version of friendly was. You wanted to protect yourself by not admitting you adored him, even to yourself, but really, you knew. And there was the way he kept giving you these things, these little moments: the ribbon, the picture, the charms… It made that smaller part of you that believed something was there, glow and warm inside your heart.

You look at him, there was a sorrow placed on both of your faces, but he just looks at his hand that is placed on the bed through his hair, the one that's so close to yours. “You really don’t think there is anything you don’t regret saying?” Another song passes, you didn’t recall it, but then the playlist shifts to something slower, it’s the Beatles. “I just think you keep a lot inside… It’s okay though. But it is just something I notice.”

Normally, a comment like this or something similar to it would sound trite and judgmental, there are a lot of things people don’t talk about now, but you say it with understanding, a little sad because you can’t help it, but your voice is kind, like gentle fingers through his hair, evening it out; a voice that shows you care, you see him and respect him even if you do want more. “It’s okay,” you whisper as Paul McCartney’s voice sings softly, “I’m not half the man I used to be, there’s a shadow hanging over me.” It felt like he was speaking right to Daryl as he continued to look away from you.

It’s moments like this where he wants to say it all. The sad stories from his childhood that he has never been able to tell anyone before. Stories about his brother… the bad, yes, but even some of the good ones. He knows he could talk to Rick if he wanted, or Carol. His group was loyal to him as much as he was to them– he knew that, but they probably wouldn’t care to hear about Merle, it would probably make them angry to be reminded of all the bad things he’s done to them. He wouldn’t blame them. In many ways, and for more reasons then all of them, he will always be angry at his brother too. This is why he didn’t even like to let himself think about the past, but in other ways, it still sucked. It makes him feel alone, like talking about himself or his brother or the past was just a gateway to hurting himself and scaring others, scaring you.

You wipe him away from those thoughts even though you didn’t even hear them, your voice pulling him out of his trance, “Things are harder now, Daryl, but I think you’ve only gotten better.” There is still so much you don’t know, but nonetheless, it’s like you can read his mind.

“This is the only me you know.”

“And even then I don’t think you’re the man I met when you found me… We’re definitely not the same people.” Your hand is just inches from his fingertips now. “We all have things to improve on, even if we think we’ve already grown up. I think that’s a part of growing up actually… just realizing that you never do, or at least not entirely. You’re always going to continue to grow.” Your words linger in the air as the next song starts, it’s Paramore, it’s The Only Exception— something still laced with melancholia but it has a sweet gentleness to it. It's just like you. This is how you were trying to be with your words. “It’s better if you allow it though, or work toward it instead of against it, I think.” You laugh at yourself then, “But I'm far from perfect so I should really stop talking.” Blush creeps onto your cheeks, you’re hopeful the night’s light doesn’t show it too much.

He wishes he could tell you he thinks you’re perfect, or at least something close to it. At least for him. You truly were like an angel. Maybe Radiohead is on this too.

The chorus continues to play, leading to the song’s ending and his jaw tightens. It’s annoying that you were right, your words from before echo to him. They weren’t nonsensical, he did get it: he does mean the things he never says as much as the things he does, but no one will ever get to know. Not that everyone has to, but maybe for you, maybe just a little, maybe you can be the exception. And he can tell that you’re trying to me: who carries around a silly little ribbon anyway? Or who keeps their window open almost every night, even on cold nights? He felt like he was failing you. Maybe these gifts and these small moments weren't enough. Maybe they were just trinkets; meaningless, giving you false hope for a love he couldn’t provide.

You both hear the outro, “Oh, and I’m on my way to believing,” and his heart pangs at that. Maybe he doesn’t have to fail, maybe he can try, at least right now, “It’s just…” he speaks up, his voice clears, “It made me think of you when I saw it.” He was talking about the mp3, “That’s why I brought it back… You’re always humming under your breath. Now you can stop annoying me with the same old thing.”

Your eyes roll, but you aren’t mad, in fact, you can't help that it makes you smile. “Oh, okay, Daryl,” you say through quiet bits of laughter.

“Also thought it could help you sleep… I dunno.”

You nod intently at his words, “Thank you,” and that wistfulness in your voice returns. “That's really kind.”

He nods back. He’s so gruff and straight-faced all the time, but was it bad to say that there were moments when you can't help but see him as adorable? He was always trying not to meet your gaze through his hair, and it was always messy like a kid’s, just like when you took that photograph.

Muse’s Starlight starts playing as you brush some of the hair out of his face. It's an awkward transition, but it's what you get from accidentally pressing shuffle so many times. In the end, though, the words make it seem perfect for the moment. The singer spoke of desire and escape, about missing loved ones and wanting to keep someone special, someone that's like starlight, close by. You understood that. He did too.

You giggle lightly, “Daryl, you- you have something…” You point at your face in reflection of his.

“What?” He wipes his nose.

“No, it's- it’s here,” you say, taking your finger to lightly catch the eyelash that threatened to slip away from his face and onto the bed. “Make a wish,” you whisper. Your face is nothing short of innocence and wonder.

His snorts, “I’m not doin’ that.”

“Daryl,” you eyes widened with apparent prodding and pleading annoyance, but your words still have a sense of amusement to them, “I think we need all the luck we can get.” Your head tilts as you say through your smiling teeth, “I’ll do it with you…?”

“Fine.” He can’t help that your squeal makes his lips curl but he’s trying to hide it.

“You have to really do it.” You turn the music down, it's in the background now. Your usual sun-filled eyes are currently wide like the moon as you look into his, coming closer to his face.

He nods, “Okay.”

“Promise?” You sing.

“Promise.” He meant it, he even closed his eyes before you to prove it.

You closed your eyes too, “Okay, I’m trusting you.” Squeezing them tightly, you whisper, “Think about what you want, and then I'm going to count to three and we blow.”

Instantly, your heart foolishly thinks of Daryl. You know you could be thinking about the safety of your group, the stability of Alexandria, or hoping that the threat everyone feels coming subsides into nothingness, but all your thoughts are just of him. It makes you feel like a silly little girl, waiting for that big romantic confession of love that you dream about, the one that will probably never come.

I wish for you, you think. You can’t help it, you can’t say anything else, this is the only thing that’s true, I just wish to stay by your side, forever.

The song echoes your hopes too, I’ll never let you go if you promise not to fade away.

You agree, never fade away, please.

“Okay,” you say softly aloud, “1… 2… 3…” And then your wish flies into the air. You two stare at each other afterwards, eyes starry like the sky from your window.

You wished for each other.

Trinket No. 6: Scars, Marks, Tattoos, and Internal Wounds ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The Things I Only Trust You to Know

It’s another night. Another visit. It wasn’t intentional this time, but your curtains were drawn. They’re almost never drawn, at least not completely. The window was still open though, the night’s breeze ruffled them backwards. Daryl became concerned, so he climbed up, opening the window wider and pushing the curtains to the side to get through.

He saw you crying.

Hearing the thud of his boots stomp lightly to the ground triggered you to turn, body facing the closet as you were curled in your bed. You didn’t want him to see you. “I’m tired tonight, Daryl.” Your voice was low, you tried to keep in neutral. For the most part you were doing well, but it was still obvious you weren’t fine— he saw your face before you covered it.

He sat down on the edge of your bed, his legs hitting by your feet. He didn’t feel like asking if you were okay if you were going to lie and say no. “You can tell me to go if you want,” was all he said, rubbing your arm as he did and then let go. You starting sniffling involuntarily because of the touch. You realized you were holding in a breath, the shaky exhale came out louder than you wished it did. “I’m sorry,” your voice blubbering. You were embarrassed. You hadn’t done this in front of him since before he brought you home.

“Don’t gotta be.”

“I feel stupid,” you say under your breath. You’re still trying to hide your face.

“Stop.” He puts his hand over your body now, on the bed, and he faces you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head slowly, looking at him, “I don’t know how to say. I can’t-”

“Just say it,” he said calmly.

You felt heat rising from your throat, it was like the words were trying to come out, but it felt scary to do so, it made your teeth grind against each other. Your head shakes harder, “I don’t think I can.”

He brings a hand to your face and wipes some of your tears with his thumb, “What would you tell me?”

You would tell him to speak, that it’s okay, you both knew it. The thought makes you sit up in your bed, tears still running down your cheeks, but you were going to try.

“You’re just going to get annoyed,” you wipe some of your tears with your wrist, “think I’m dumb, like a little girl.”

“You’re not dumb,” he spoke over you before you finished.

You pause, you shake your head again. The words are on your tongue but you just feel so bad and so embarrassed to admit it. “Sometimes I just…” your voice hitches and your hands goes to your head, more tears fall, “it’s just one of those days, I guess.”

One of Daryl’s hands goes to your shoulder and your upper back, he pats you until it quickly becomes a soft, swaying motion.

Your voice doesn’t go above the lightest whisper as you try to start again, “Sometimes- I just look at myself and I-” a sob erupts from your throat and tears roll much quicker, “I know you’re going to think I’m stupid, but sometimes I just wonder if anyone could love me.” It doesn’t even feel good to finally admit it, but you continue, “I feel like there’s something wrong with me. Like maybe I’m not enough. Or I’ll never be.”

Daryl’s face heats up. How could you ever feel that way about yourself? How do you not see yourself as anything less than everything he’s seen in you since the day he met you? You’re not stupid. Never. He feels stupid for not seeing this in you. He feels stupid for it being so hard for him to tell you everything wonderful about yourself in the way you deserve.

He thinks for a moment, he wishes he was more poetic, but he wasn’t and there are still certain things he’s not ready to say. So he decides on something else as he calls your name, “You’re telling me you can’t see you’re a tough son of a bitch?” The phrase makes you laugh involuntarily through your tears, he always says it like it’s one word. “One that found a way to burn down a hospital and kill a bunch of dickheads in one go just to stay alive?” He huffs, “Prettiest arsonist I’ve seen.”

You gasped but it made you smile lightly, it was funny. “I’m not an arsonist! And it was only part of the building.”

“Coulda fool me.” He tilts his head, “But you’re also probably one of the best scavengers we got. And you’re a good friend.” His hand travels to your knee, “You’re really good at talkin’ to people… and to me.”

You try to let his words fill you up but there is still doubt. “I don’t feel like pretty and really good are the right words.”

“Then you’re wrong.”

You shake your head.

He doesn’t get it, “Well, what do you see that I’m not?”

Your heart beats ferociously, you don’t move, you’re hesitant, you don’t know if this is right, but there is a part of your that wants to. “Can I show you something?” You asked.

He nods.

It’s scary, but you decide to trust him, showing him the part of yourself you felt most ashamed of. The part of you that you thought was unloveable.

But he sees nothing shameful, nothing bad, he just holds onto it or another part of you, caressing you gently. “You’re perfect,” he says, shrugging as if his words aren’t a big deal, but he knows they are. This is the first time he doesn’t keep a thought like this in his head anymore. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He turns his back on you now, and he takes a breath, sighing deeply. You’re confused until he sighs and starts to speak; “When you were with those guys— and I know it ain’t the same, but— I know what it’s like. For people to use you.” He swallows hard, “I don’t like myself all the time neither.”

Your eyes widen. He was taking off his shirt. The first thing you see are tattoos, until your eyes travel to the other side, you see what he meant; the scars. “My dad. He was a drunk and a loser and an asshole.” Daryl's voice hitched, you couldn’t tell if he was crying or not, but you had never heard him like this before. “He did it to my brother too, Merle. But then he just left when he was old enough. Didn’t even give a shit that our dad was gonna do it to me,” there was anger in his voice. “He said he didn’t know,” and then he chokes on his words, “but how can I believe that? Thought it’d just skip a generation? He never changed. Neither of ‘em.” You wanted to hold him, but you didn’t know if it was too soon. He was still speaking, “Then when I got old enough, I left too. Some time later I started drifting ‘round with Merle, like that was gonna be any better… Two fucked up kids doing nothin’ with their fucked up lives.” His face turned to the side, you saw his profile, his eyes were red, “That’s what I did before Rick… You all were going to do good things with your life and I was gonna be nothing.”

“Daryl…” you were crestfallen, “I’m so sorry.” You held his arm, stroking it softly. “But you weren’t going to be nothing.”

“Yes, I was.”

“There is no thinking about what could have been. This is how life is. Maybe this was always going to happen,” your voice falters as you say it. “You’re not nothing. You’ve become everything to so many people.”

He turns his face back around and you look at his back again. It was difficult to look at, you won’t lie. Your heart sunk low, like it was being squeezed and brought down to the pit of your stomach to know that someone put him through this. Someone who was supposed to love him. Another tear escaped your eye at of the thought.

“Daryl,” you stutter meekly, “Is it okay if I hold you?”

His nod is so faint you barely see it, but he doesn’t say anything else so you believe it is a yes.

Your fingers ghost over his back until you let the tips of them finally lay on his skin.

His eyes wince and squeeze as he shutters despite your fingers trailing so tenderly. Your palm is now flat on his back as you move downwards and back up again. You kiss near his shoulder, right on the tip of his highest tattoo and then you wrap your arms around him, under his arms over his waist, and he holds your hands there.

You stay there for a long while, you don’t have a recollection of time. The moment feels like forever, although it is sad and you wished you weren’t discussing the things you were to get here, you don’t want it to end. “You’re the bravest person I’ve ever met,” you tell him.

It’s quiet until he says, “No,” disagreeingly, “You’re not brave just because you go through some shit.”

“But you still are,” you insist. “This happened to you and you chose to be the person you are now despite it. You became someone invincible.” You pressed him against you tighter, “I’m proud of you. Every day.”

Finally he turns around and takes you in his arms, your head now resting over his shoulder as your chests touch, closing the gap. You lay down on the bed and he stays on top of you. One hand plays with your hair and you continue to caress his back.

“I really like your tattoos,” you whisper, almost a giggle in your voice. “They look really good on you.”

He smiles a little. He never takes off his shirt so people barely see all the ones he has. He liked that you liked them. “Thank you,” he says.

“Do you want more? If you could?” You also want to ask why he got the ones he did, but the crying has made you sleepy and him being on top of you is making your mind hazy. “I wish I could,” is all you add.

He looks at you, “Maybe that’s the next thing we find.” He was talking about a tattoo gun, “That’s the kind of junk people don’t need now, we’ll look.”

He plays with your hair again, both your smiles are so innocent and lazy, you two would knock out soon, but it was nice to talk about something that used to be mundane for a moment.

“What if we do it and it turns out bad?”

“We’re not gonna find it tomorrow.”

“Right,” you say, moving on. “You know… I remember I used to be so scared of that stuff— needles and blood. I can imagine wincing just thinking about a needle touching me at the doctor’s… But now, I think that’s a pain I’d actually prefer… Rather than the other things we’ve gone through… If there ever was a choice like that.”

He agrees, “If there was a choice, I’d be covered by now.”

You two laugh at that, letting go of each other. Your bodies are on your sides, parallel to one another as you lay down. You’re on the side that faces the window and Daryl’s back is to it. He sees the moonlight illuminate your face because of it, the glow makes you look enchanting.

He wonders if you would get one— a tattoo, or another one, of this: of the moon; of the night where you showed each other parts of your bodies you wanted to hide, thinking they were flaws; of the night where you accepted each other fully despite it. Where he laughed and felt happy even after he shared something so dark. He almost never laughs or feels happiness in its totality, but with you, he does. It happened right now as he’s looking at you.

You see his face glistening in tandem with the white light that shines on you, it’s darker, but it’s still there. You were wondering the same exact thing.

Your eyes feel heavy now. They slowly flutter shut, but you try to keep them open. You don’t want him to leave. But he sees that your face dozing off, you’re tired, your eyes keep trying to close and close fully. He quietly gets up to go, but you stop him. Holding onto his forearm, sliding down to his hand. “Just stay,” you murmur, “please,” it’s light and dream-like. So he does. He doesn’t want to let go of your hand. He doesn’t want to let go of you.

You both stay at your sides, your intertwined hands at the center. He continues to look at you and you smile softly as your body finally allows your eyes to close shut. You drift swiftly to sleep. And he stays awake for a while longer, fixed on you and your slowing breath until sleep finds him too.

Daryl being right there, and you being right next to him, made everything infinitely better.

Despite it being vague on details, feel free to skip around areas of this one if you are not comfortable with reading about the reader being imprisoned at the Sanctuary.

Trinkets No. 7 & 8: The Second Ribbon and the First Kiss ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ જ⁀➴ -`♥︎´-

Confessions From a Broken Bowman and a Battered Beaut

It had taken a long while for you and Daryl to talk again after you escaped the Sanctuary.

The last time he saw you was through your tears as Negan’s men threw him in a van, your eyes bloodshot, wanting to scream and plead. He felt it was his fault that he didn’t fight harder; he felt that it was his fault that you were in there for so long; felt it was his fault that you were taken there in the first place. He couldn’t save Glenn— a burden he still carried so deeply, even after talking to Maggie— and that led to not being able to save you. He felt like he left you, not knowing you would have been in the same place he was if he didn’t escape before you got there. But what choice did he have? He didn’t know. And he doesn’t even know if it’s a good or bad thing to admit that in a heart beat, he would take another day of torture, of abuse and pain, if it meant he was with you, and you could make it out together. One more day for him would have been worth your days only adding up to one hand if it could. It would have been better than just waiting for you on the other side. Having to hide just so Negan wouldn’t find him and kill him and more of his friends because of it.

And even worse, what if he threatened Daryl with you instead? Especially since you were still there, with him. That’s part of the reason why Daryl wanted to blow up the Sanctuary. It would have just been one side. Just enough to cause the chaos you needed to run away from your captures and back home. You were fast enough, he knows you are, and you must have known all the exits by now. He tried to convince himself of it. Rick told him it was a bad idea, dangerous to do that to the workers, and most importantly to you— it too many what ifs if it didn’t work out— but what else was he supposed to do? He needed you out, and the Saviors to be gone. It felt like the only choice.

But then, Daryl saw your face. You got out, you didn’t need another fire. It must have been their first attack against the Sanctuary that helped.

Your breathing was so heavy when you finally stopped, you were running so fast, there were patches of dirt all over you, sweat dripping from your neck. It must have been fate that he, Tara, Micchone, and Rosita were right there on the other side, ironically trying to go back to the place you just escaped from.

All their guns were pointed in your direction. They heard the gunshots, they heard someone running. They instantly dropped everything when they saw that it was you.

It felt like the world turned in its full rotation in seconds, coming into a halt all in this moment. The woods, the running, the chance encounter— him; it’s like you were brought right back to the start.

He was speechless, stunned in a way he didn’t expect, mouth agape and yours the same. You didn’t know what to say and he didn’t know how to apologize in the way he felt he should, so you both just stood there. Tears started to well in your eyes. All he did in the end was look down.

This exchange of stares happened only in a mere matter of seconds until Rosita brought you in for a hug, cursing leaving even though she knew you didn’t have a choice, being so happy you were back, but for you it felt agonizingly long.

And for Daryl, it all felt endlessly hopeless. The reality that his plan probably could, or most definitely would have killed you sunk in. He was stupid for thinking that it could work. And seeing you in that wife's dress? A black bow tied to the back of your head? It was unbearable. He hates that he found it hard to even look at you.

The two other women welcomed you back, Michonne even looked teary eyed. The sight made some of your own tears fall because of it. She took you by the shoulder and Rosita took your waist, guiding you to the trunk. Tara went back near Daryl, she wanted to ask if their new plan at the Sanctuary was still a go but waited when she noticed Rosita sent a glare Daryl’s way. It honestly did more to Tara than Daryl. He didn’t even bother meeting her face, he was already punching himself for his silence, for his inaction. He just got in the driver’s seat and took off.

After that, you watched him, waiting to see when his eyes would finally meet yours, but he tried to avoid them as much as he could. The only time he spoke to you was to ask if you were okay when Alexandria fell and you were all in the sewers, and when he entrusted you to take care of Judith as he guided everyone to the Hilltop afterwards.

This treatment was excruciating, but you said nothing. You didn’t feel like yelling at him, you just wanted him. And there was no time between when you came back to right now when you could speak alone anyway if you did want to yell. If you asked why he probably would just shoved you off and you’d get more sad and upset than you already were, or maybe you’d pester, demanding some kind of answer and he'd be the one that might yell… no reason to fight in front of people, especially since there are so many other things to worry about.

But you remember when you finally got to the Hilltop, and how you saw the way he embraced Carol almost right after he saw her. You weren’t upset about that specifically. You admired Carol, even if you didn’t get to know her that well yet. You knew they loved each other, you thought they had a beautiful relationship… It wasn’t that. It was the fact that you fought all the way to get back to your family, to him, and it felt like it was all just so he could act like a stranger again. He didn’t even say hello when he saw you, or ask how you got out, or that he missed you. Maybe he didn’t. That was the real reason you said nothing. The thought broke your heart.

You could at least say that Negan talked to you, and didn’t keep all his feelings inside– whether they were real or not, you were only half sure somtimes– but your time at the Sanctuary, becoming a soon-to-be-wife, it was a hardship only you endured. No one would understand the humor of that sick joke, and it especially wasn’t the time nor would it ever be when everyone hated him and wanted to kill him so desperately.

The next day came by, you all prepared for the Saviors to attack at Hilltop. You were on a break, sitting in the cellar. It was dark, but it helped relieve you from the incessant heat that beamed outside.

Daryl was looking for you. This happened to be the third place he went around. He had just spoke to Rick, apologized for their fight. He felt awful that it took until after Carl passed for them to talk about it, and that his passing made Rick start to believe all the killing might be the only option like Daryl believed before. He still wasn’t sure what he felt now. All he knew is he couldn’t let you two go on like this any longer. It was time to talk to you.

As he opened the cellar door he kept it slightly open, letting the light emanate through.

He sits down next to you, bringing his knees up as he usually does. You don’t bother looking at him. Maybe he would just ask you to do him a favor like last time.

There is silence for a moment. He doesn’t know where to begin. All he decides to say is, “You got Judith here safe, I made sure Rick knew. Thank you.”

“You’re the one who led us here.” Your voice says quietly.

“You helped chop a lot of those walkers down in the swap.”

You sigh, not answering him right away. “This isn’t a competition.”

“I know,” he mutters.

Silence is all that hangs in the air again. With each second that passes it makes your throat swell, bubbling up to your tongue and brain as it usually does until you’re trying to hold back tears.

Daryl was feeling similarly. All his words were caught in his throat too, wanting to be said out loud but he can’t, it’s like someone is squeezing and choking him right there. And he can see your teary eyes, it could almost make his eyes match.

He says your name low and slow, “Do you hate me?”

You’re stunned at the thought. Your words are hushed but vehement, “How could you ever think I’d hate you?”

“I left you-”

“You didn’t know.”

“I could’ve fought harder when they put me in that van, you grabbed onto me and I still let them take me—”

You speak in between his words, “Why are you acting like you had a choice?!”

“—I could’ve went back right after they told me that’s where you were. Not leave you! I coulda done that.”

You shake your head, your voice a sharp whisper, “If you tried either of those things you would have been dead. Everything would be worse and this probably still would have happened.”

“I could’ve done something,” is all he repeats. Quietness fills the space again. You’re never going to agree on this. He’s stuck on what happened and you’re upset about what’s happening.

You breathe in shakily. He’s still finding it hard to look and it hurts, it makes you sad and angry.

Your voice becomes stifled, almost weepingly as you ask, “Daryl… Why can’t you even look at me? Why have you barely talked to me since I came back?”

His voice raises strainingly, “Cause I left you.”

Your voice cries as your head shakes again slowly, “You didn’t leave me, they took me. You left me now.” That makes him turn. You see his eyes, they’re puffed and the whites of his eyes are a faint red, and yours are still watery. “It’s not your fault.”

The backs of your fingertips brush against his cheek, feeling the bristles of his beard and you go down further, continuing to shake your head sadly, moving back to your face to wipe your own tears.

“Did they put you in that cell? Take your stuff?”

“Only the first time I came there. And then the two other times I tried to escape. After that I was sent to sleep with the other girls.” Your voice is quiet, “I don’t think it was the same for me like it was for you.”

“Did he,” he almost can't say it, “Did he hurt you?”

You knew what he meant. All you could do was shake your head slowly, it was a gesture of no.

He nods, his mouth fixed. Some relief is finally released from that, but this doesn’t change anything. They still took you away, they probably put you in a cell, they don’t deserve mercy. He wants to tell you that you all are still going to kill Negan and how he still plans on killing Dwight, but he holds his tongue. This wasn’t what being with you was about right now. His mind races with plans, just thinking of how to get close to them, how to commit the final act, until you speak, reading is mind again.

“I-” you stutter ashamedly, “I think- I know that my time in there has changed me and maybe I see things differently or know more than I used to but… it doesn’t change that I’m with you. I never let that go.” You whimper, “It just hurt when you didn’t say anything to me. Like you were disgusted by me.” You can’t help the string of sobs that come out.

“No,” Daryl holds your face close to his. The bottom of his palm reaching your neck, his fingertips extending over your cheeks, his thumb caressing over the area under and behind your ears. “I fucked up. I was going to try to blow up a part of the Sanctuary… even before I knew you got out… If you got hurt that would have been my fault. That would have been on me. I’d never see you again- Would’ve hated myself.” His voice hitches, it’s rasp so coarse and grating.

You hug him instantly. Your hands go under his arms and one of his goes in your hair, holding your head so tightly as it presses into his shoulder. He cries, “I’m sorry.”

“Stop” You breathe him in, “It’s okay.”

“It aint.”

“It doesn’t matter now.“ You wait a moment, telling him quietly into his neck, “I only want to be with you.”

“And what if it goes bad? What if I hurt you again?”

“We’re going to hurt each other, Daryl. What matters is we try and we stay. That’s it.”

He faces you now. His nose brushes against yours, your foreheads connect, it makes your eyes flutter shut. Your tears are drying the longer he holds you like that and everything feels so warm. Your heart, your brain, your cheeks and his fingertips against them. It makes you feel it again, that fearlessness— you kiss him. Gently touching his jaw, your chin moves upwards, your mouths opens, your lips twist so softly with his, you already can’t breathe, and then you let go.

As he looks at your face, he smiles, realizing he’s seeing the girl he used to know again. His sunshine girl with the stars in her eyes. They’re shining up, still half sad and glossy, but the bright lights are slowly coming back on. His dream is back. She’s real. You’re real. You’re trying, you’re staying, so will he.

He takes your neck and kisses you this time. His tongue slips in, you’re so surprised, you gasp into his mouth. It makes you both smile into the kiss. You come closer and he helps you into his lap, allowing you to lean in. His hands go to your waist and yours to his shoulders. Then one of his hands runs up to your hair and your opposite hand does the same to him. You want to touch each other everywhere now.

Then he feels the ribbon, the black one. It makes him stop.

You’re worried, “What happened?”

He holds the piece of hair that the ribbon is secured to, it’s only a little part, the rest of your hair is down, and he undoes the bow, discarding it to the ground. Your hair falls messily over your ears and down your neck. “You don’t need that anymore.”

Daryl pushes your hips and you sit on the floor again. He’s reaching in his pocket, and you can’t believe it, it’s another one. A dark ruby, maybe a silky burgundy one it was in color— it was another ribbon.

“How long have you had that?”

“Since I found the other one.” He shrugs, “I thought the first one was better.” This one had fraying on one end, unraveling just a bit.

You would have said that you could sew it later, but you didn’t, you said only what mattered: “It’s perfect.”

Daryl doesn’t argue. This is him trying, he takes the win.

He doesn’t know how to put it nicely in your hair, how you do it with the different styles, so he just wraps all of your hair in a ponytail, just like last time, tying it into a bow.

It feels like a gift, not just because he gave it to you and not because it looks like a decoration on top of one, but it is all of it— this moment, the conversation— it all feels like breathing new life into something you worried might be slowly withering and dying. You exhale, it felt so nice to feel him so close, to feel his fingers run through your hair, to feel his breath on your skin.

“Think maybe this suits you better now,” he says, and maybe it always has.

He leans back against the wall and you lay your head and back in the crux of his knees and chest. You look up into his eyes and he does the same right down at you. There was more work to be done, more fighting to endure, but for now, you lay there as if you were the only two in the world. In a moment of sweet understanding; in a moment of love. You could finally admit it to yourself now, you were absolutely and monumentally in love.

… I could go on forever ♡ perhaps this can be a mini-series where I post one when I think of another and you can feel free to request a trinket you think Daryl would give the reader and I’ll post it and respond or even write a blurb for it and add it to the list if it’s a good fit! Thank you for reading. ⋆｡°✩

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x fem!reader #daryl dixon x female reader #the walking dead #the walking dead fluff #twd fanfiction #twd fluff #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #writella’s sfw section

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userlando · 10 months

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Because I love your work and I’m shamelessly love Lando how about Lando x reader, where the reader gets really overwhelmed with something and Lando has to help calm them down, and it just soft fluffy protective lando

Love your work so much 🥰😭💕💕

oh thank you so much!! I notice your support and it means the world to me 🥺 here, have some fluffy/angst lando 🤍

forever mine (850 words) lando norris x fem!reader

It had been like living in slow motion, watching the monitors with your heart beating steadily and dangerously close to your throat - but it’s nothing new, is it? You always make sure to hug Lando extra tight, memorising the shape of his torso as you squeeze your arms around him and you can’t see his lips when you smack a kiss against the hardness of his helmet; but the squint of his eyes is enough to calm your nerves as you watch him walk down to the grid.

He’d always come out of almost every race just fine and that’s probably why you allow your shoulders to relax a bit as you look away for a split moment. It couldn’t have been more than a second before there’s a ripple of gasps in the paddock, someone grabbing your shoulders in shock and you can feel your heart just abruptly stop in terror.

The mere sight of smoke, debris and orange on the monitor is what sends your heart up your throat because somehow, somewhere you register Lando’s name and you’re out of your seat before you can think twice.

He’s fine. He ends up walking out of it with only a minor bump to his head but he’s conscious and he makes it known on the way home; talking in the car like nothing had happened. Like he hadn’t brushed shoulders with death.

You don’t know what does it for you, but you make it through the door in a state of numbness and it’s when Lando asks what you should order in that he’s met with silence.

He turns around with a frown and finds you standing by the door, hands clasped in front of you and tears in your eyes. His heart drops to his stomach when your lip wobbles, taking three big steps before he’s got you in his arms.

Lando doesn’t acknowledge the devastation he feels when your arms come up to grasp at the material of his hoodie, gripping like you have no intention of letting go.

You don’t say anything, but he hears your quiet sniffles against his chest and he starts to choke up a little himself. He takes a step back and you take one right with him, like you can't bear to be away from him.

“Hey, it’s alright.” He said when you make a sound, squeezing you tighter. “I’m not going to let go.”

It reassures you as you cry, the tears subsiding with every minute you spend in his embrace. Eventually, he feels you pulling your head away to glance up at him and he genuinely pouts at your tear stricken face, shaking one hand free to pull his hoodie over his fist and dry your face so gently that you feel your throat close up with emotion.

You let him dry your tears, closing your eyes when he brushes his hand over them.

“I’m sorry.” You say, voice shaking like there’s another bout of tears threatening to come.

“Don’t.” He says sternly with a shake of his head. “Don’t apologise, bug. You have every right to feel scared, I was too.”

You blink up at him, still looking sad and so, so beautiful that it makes Lando’s heart ache.

“You were?” You whisper and Lando nods.

“I was.” He replies and you nod in understanding because, of course he was. “I know it’s hard for you when I’m out there, and it’s okay. You don’t have to put up a strong front for me.”

“But I don’t want to…” You trail off, look away and sniffle before Lando grasps your chin in his hand gently to encourage you to look at him. “I don’t wanna be a burden. You have enough to worry about out there.”

He knows what you mean. It’s a recurring conversation the two of you have had during the course of your relationship, but he’d always reassure you that no, you’d never be a burden to him. He’d always make you a priority.

“I’ll always worry about you. Whether I’m out there or in here.” He tilts his head to catch your eyes when you glance away, and the small gesture makes you smile. “I’m fine, baby. I’m here with you, aren’t I?”

You nod wordlessly, suddenly overtaken by such a relief that it makes your eyes well up all over again. Lando huffs out a laugh, not mean nor mocking, just utterly endeared as you go in for a second hug.

He hugs you tightly, pressing his lips to your temple and keeping them there.

“I love you.” He murmurs. “And I’ll always come back to you. You hear me, bug?”

You nod and pull away, pressing up on your tiptoes to kiss his mouth. Lando gives you another two pecks before he allows you to pull away, feeling a little lighter.

“I love you, too.” You give him a smile, watching his eyes flick between yours. “And don’t you dare pull shit like that again.”

Lando laughs, and the sound is like music to your ears.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

let's ignore the fact that it's 4am and i'm procrastinating sleep. i couldn't help but write a little more lando. i hope you liked this one, thank you for reading xo

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x female reader #lando norris fic #f1 fics #f1 imagine #f1 blurb #zee's asks 💌

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tmntxthings · 1 year

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I've been rereading the love potion series and it got me wondering, how would the other turtles (since you did Mikey's reaction already) would be to a y/n under the potion's spell?

Would y/n be clingy and lovey-dovey? Or flirty and just a big tease? Or maybe even shy and just wants cuddles/physical affection?

I'm really curious ^^' sorry for the ramble

Love Potion: Roles Reversed

author’s note: it’s finally happening :D, I’ve gotten so many requests for y/n’s time to shine under love potion with dee, lee, & raph so here we go, I hope you all enjoy

warnings: cursing, established relationships, kissing, fluff, unedited

> mikey’s y/n under love potion influence <

—————————————————————————

Raphael

So clearly, he had left the glass on the counter unattended because he was whisked away by his brothers getting into a spat, BUT in his defense he clearly labeled the drink as his and for no one to touch, much less drink.

Yet when Raph came back into the kitchen the drink aka love potion was empty. Now why was he in possession of such a thing? Weird shit happens! And even weirder shit has so let’s leave it at that! It totally wasn’t because he was supposed to be the responsible turtle and Señor Huseo asked him to keep it safe for a day.

Raph looked into the empty glass with a shrinking stomach. He had one job! Leo would say his ‘chasm’ was getting bigger. “Shit!” He groaned, who could have possibly— the first suspect was obviously LEO! But he had just been with him, breaking up a stupid argument with Donnie… so was it Mikey??

Raph would’ve exited the kitchen in search for the youngest turtle if he hadn’t heard a hiccuped giggle. His brow bones came together in confusion as he rounded the island counter and crossed his arms at the sight of you, slouched on the ground, a giggling mess, “Y/n!!” He exasperated and watched as you lulled your head to the sound of his voice

Your eyes crinkled at the sight, “Raphieeeeee” you squealed, making grabby hands at your boyfriend. “I don’t even have to ask, but just to be certain, did you drink from the glass that was clearly labeled to ‘not’ drink?” You nodded quickly, still smiling up at him as he sighed. “Wanna tell me why???” he asked. You weren’t a rule breaker!

“The label was on the back of the glass! I didn’t see before it was too late,” you pouted. Your hands falling to your sides as you realized he wasn’t picking you up. The excuse sounded plausible, but Raph had been pretty darn sure he had the glass facing the right way. Another sigh left his lips.

“What am I gonna do with you?” His smiled despite himself, placing a hand atop your head and ruffling your hair. “Raphhhhh!” You whined, not wanting him to mess up your hair even though you liked his touch. Like really really liked his touch. More so than usually and your hands grabbed onto his wrist tugging down his hand for you to nuzzle your cheek into his open palm.

He coughed, his other hand covering his mouth as he blushed furiously, watching you nuzzle cutely into his hand. “Y/n! Stop that, you’re under a love potion, that wasn’t just some cool looking soda,” Raph explained. You wanted to be surprised but it made sense, and if the world was crazy enough to have yokai and mutants, love potions weren’t that wild.

“C’mere, let’s get you off the ground and home, I’m sure it’ll wear off in a bit.” Raph was hopeful that it would…

“No!! I’m not going anywhere. Especially not home!” You said, holding onto his hand even tighter and giving him big sad eyes that rivaled Mikey’s puppy dog ones. “Okay okay, but you ain’t staying on the floor!” He appeased you, then promptly picked you up like you were nothing but a leaf.

He carried you with care of course, Raph was a gentle-turtle. Now you were just snuggling into his plastron and he had to hold in satisfied churrs. “Raphie-pie, can I just stay in your arms forever?” He shook his head, that was the first time he’d ever heard such a nickname! “I doubt I’m that comfortable,” he joked and you went on to say his arms were the comfiest place ever!

Raph was in for a week of snuggles, cuddles, and embarrassing nicknames!

Leonardo

“What’s that?” You asked as you watched Leo pour a pink fizzy liquid into your designated cup. He jumped at the sound of your voice almost spilling the drink. “ACK! Y/n! Give a turtle a warning huh?!” You smirked at his dramatics, “Thought you were a ninja?” You teased and he fell for it. Hook, line, and sinker.

“The best ninja, actually, and I was concentrating!” He clarified. Then presented you the drink. “This my dear Y/n, is a love potion. And before you say ‘LeO tHaT isN’t rEaL’ it was brewed, before my eyes, by a witch!” You eyed the drink carefully, not taking it from him. “Ohoho! So you believe me!!?” Leo’s smirk grew bigger.

“Well.. I know New York is full of crazy, but it does sound like bullshit. Something out of a movie..” you took the cup. Giving it a closer analysis and even going as far to sniff, trying to see if it was just strawberry fanta. “Today, we make history! Y/n finally believes whatever I say ahahahaha!” Leo joked, bumping into your shoulder with his and making the drink slosh around.

“So.. you gonna drink it??” He said, giving you eyes that said ‘if you don’t I’ll make fun of you forever.’ You narrowed your eyes, “this isn’t really a love potion is it?” You wanted confirmation but Leo shrugged, watching you carefully with a crafty smirk. You scowled and went to put the cup on the counter, you weren’t stupid and whatever was in the drink was something that would entertain the hell out of your boyfriend.

“Chicken!” He squawked immediately and you whipped your head around glaring at him. “You spit in this?” His mouth dropped, “What?! No that’s gross!” He said defensively. “Is a bug in here?? Or some other embarrassing thing?” You gave him a pointed look and his sighed loudly.

“I’d never do that to you. To my brothers, yes. But to you? Ne-ver! Pinky swear~” he held out his third finger. “So you want me to drink a love potion?” You said as you rolled your eyes and hooked your pinky around his green appendage. “Yes! C’mon it’ll be fun!! Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, d—“

“OKAY!” You yelled, effectively shutting him up and he bounced up and down excitedly, letting go of your pinky. You gave the drink another wary glance and decided it was most likely not real… and drank a sip. He booed and you groaned as you downed the whole thing in one go. He whooped and cheered happily, giving you a bright smile and leaned in super close.

“How do you feel?” He said making sure to maintain eye contact with you. You smacked your lips at the taste, it wasn’t half bad, and when your eyes snagged onto his it was like time stopped. Leo was your boyfriend, of course you loved him. But this feeling, it was like everything had multiplied by a thousand, no a million! You blinked as a furious blush overtook your face, it was hot! And Leo was so close and all you wanted to do was plant your lips on top of his!

You backed up, staggering and shaky. “I don’t know!” You managed and he followed you, not giving you room. “Did it work??” He said giving you a curious look. “Outta the way!!” Mikey bellowed as he hauled shell into the kitchen, he was hungry and wanted to fix his lair famous pizza. Yes he sometimes made pizza when the pizza funds were running dry! When your eyes left Leo’s to look at Mikey, the blue clad turtle quickly grabbed your face.

“No no no, you gotta look at me!” He declared and stared even harder into your eyes. Mikey paused, giving the two of you a weird glance as he shuffled around the kitchen for pizza supplies. “Uh, what’re you two doing??” He asked but he wasn’t overly curious, his mind was still just on food. “Couple stuff, mind your business! And don’t look Y/n in the eyes!! It’ll ruin all my hard work!” Leo said but made no move to look elsewhere.

“Let go!” You squeaked, your face felt too hot, like you might pass out! You were sure you looked like a tomato but Leo wasn’t the type to give in. “Maybe it just takes awhile..” he guessed, still staring, and his hands were starting to brush your cheeks, he could feel how hot your skin was. Luckily his hands were cool to the touch. “Leo it worked okay let me go!” And that was all he needed to hear, “I knew it!! So you do feel something??? Do you love me ten times more than usual??”

He was grinning like a loon, and tugging you out of the kitchen. This touch was more acceptable and you squeezed his hand, unknowingly nodding your head to all his questions. You couldn’t really focus, all you knew was that his touch felt nice. And you didn’t really want him to let go, at least not from your hand.

Leo was in store for lots of handholding, (which usually you weren’t a touchy person) and you showered him in compliments, very much a words of affirmation type. You didn’t really want to leave his side, but if you did go topside it was because you wanted to see his face light up from a gift you had picked out especially for him.

Donatello

You knew the risks of trying your own love potion. You were a witch after all. But you had expected to be alone and wanted to see if the effects wouldn’t well affect if you didn’t make eye contact for a day!

You had movies in store, a whole day to just veg out! But after a couple of movies, you maybe sort of forgot about the no eye contact when your boyfriend Donatello opened up your window with ease. You usually left it unlocked for him, and he knew that so came and went as he pleased.

“Y/n! You’ll never believe what I just invented, it shall change this humble town- no! The world!!” He cackled like the mad scientist he was. You smiled, happy to see your purple turtle and gave him your full attention. But as soon as you met his excited gaze, your eyes widened with realization as you felt the side effects take place.

“Oh sweet Merlin!” You groaned and after you blinked you were up, moving your limbs, well struggling to move away from Donnie. “What? Where are you going?!” He hollered after you as he followed you throughout your apartment. “Dee, you may want to go,” you said through gritted teeth. You did not want him to go, not at all, and it took you biting down on your tongue for you to not take back your words.

You calculated that only a few hours had gone by since you had drank the potion, and it work so well that it felt like you had only took a sip just a few seconds ago. You wrote that down in your little notebook that had been left on the kitchen counter. Meanwhile Donnie was overthinking. You wanted him to leave? But why? Had he done something? He was looking at you with a dejected expression. Maybe you weren’t interested in his inventions anymore… maybe you weren’t into him anymore.

The look on his face had you breaking. “I’m sorry, really Dee I took a love potion for research reasons and I’m feeling the affects right now, I wanna jump on top of you but I know you won’t like that so I—“ Your explanation had him breathing out in relief.

“Well, I don’t know if I can handle you climbing all over me, but I can hold your hand,” he offered and you were at his side in two seconds flat. Holding his hand and breathing out your own sigh of relief. He pulled you to your couch in the living room, “Now as I was saying!” He cleared his throat on of his robot arms bringing out his invention while another setup a projector.

He had a whole PowerPoint ready, because unlike most others, you wanted to know about his work in depth and he loved being able to go all out to explain! You were all “whoa!” “so cool” “but what about this?” “oooh how about adding this!” Throwing in a few, suggestions about how you could do this or that with your magic.

You weren’t letting go of his hand anytime soon. Donnie was in for a week of more touch than usual, definitely more quality time together, and you wanting to give him all the magical charms you could conjure. “But Donnie, my love, this one is for protection! And this one is for strength, and this one is like a stress reliever,” the list went on and on and usually he could decline such magical offerings but you were quick to tears under the love potion influence so he reluctantly accepted your gifts even if they were magical. Even if he had tech protection that also helped with strength and had other ways that his tech could surely help with relieving stress.

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gabessquishytum · 2 months

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Chef Hob is the new cook for the boarding school that Orpheus attends (Robyn attends as well with the steep tuition discount Hob gets as staff,,,,,,,one of the reasons Hob took the job). Orpheus has never tasted food the way that Mr. Hob makes it before. Everything tastes so good and interesting (the cooks at home are sooooo boring).

So when he goes home for breaks he keeps asking his dad and the cooks at home to make things taste like Mr. Hob does! Since neither Dream nor his team of live-in cooks know how to translate young teenager descriptions into food flavors, they and Orpheus are at a loss.

Dream decides to be somewhat proactive -- there is only so long he can stare at Orpheus's sad, woeful, face - next time he goes to pick Orpheus up, he asks him to introduce him to this amazing chef, Mr. Hob.

👨🏼‍🍳❤️👨🏼‍🍳🩷👨🏼‍🍳

It's the beginning of break and Hob is in the kitchen, with Robyn, working in menus for the meals for the small number of kids who stay on campus during the break (Hob hates how some of these rich parents treat their kids, leaving them alone over a holiday period at a mostly empty school. It's horrible.) Hob tries to make the foods especially fun for the left behind kids,,,,even planning some meals where the kids can cook with him. There's a reason all the kids think Mr. Hob is cool.

Any way, Hob and Robyn are in the school kitchen together (Hob is forever grateful that his boy still likes to hang with his old man.) when the most beautiful man walks into the kitchen. He's being pulled along by a kid Hob recognizes, Orpheus.

Orpheus shyly introduces his father to Hob (who happens to be staring at Hob as much as Hob is staring at him). Dream didn’t think school "lunch ladies" were allowed to be as attractive as Mr. Hob.

Alsksjdhsbav such a great au concept!!! I love it!!!!

Hob ends up showing Orpheus's dad around the kitchen, plus showing him the menus he's been planning out. Dream is suddenly acting like food is the most interesting thing in the world to him - Orpheus is very confused, because his dad would totally live off pizza rolls if he didn't have cooks making his meals. But he shrugs it off and goes to join Robyn making brownies. Orpheus enjoys baking - when he's not busy with his music, he does his best to attend the fun baking club that Mr Hob runs for the students at weekends.

Meanwhile, Hob is rambling on about the nutritious foods he likes to make for the kids, how he's really passionate about fostering a healthy relationship with food while they're young... Dream is hanging off his every word as Hob talks about the different dietary restrictions he caters for, how he got really into vegan food because of the kids, how he'd like to do more in the community but he doesn't have time to do much except occasionally run a charity bakesale. Dream thinks he is the most beautiful and interesting man in the entire world.

Eventually Hob gives Dream a copy of his recipe folder to take home, and he must see the way Dream looks a little bit helpless, because he laughs and offers to give a quick 'cooking 101' demonstration. Dream does not mention that they have chefs at home who could handle the recipes. He's too busy watching Hob dismantle an onion. Dream has never wanted to be a vegetable so much in his entire life.

Orpheus glances over, and even with his limited worldly experience, he can see that his dad is totally whipped for Mr Hob. Orpheus thinks that this is a good thing. For a start, maybe his dad will start eating better. And even better, if they start dating, Mr Hob will come over to their house and Orpheus will get to eat his cooking! He needs to encourage this relationship as much as possible. (And hey. It would be cool to see Robyn more, too. He makes GREAT brownies.)

#the sandman #dreamling #chef hob

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mayullla · 1 year

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🦋 yandere Zhongli 🌸 pretty pls owo

Title: Broken Rose-tinted Glasses

Character(s): Zhongli (Genshin Impact) Summary: For peace, you have followed the Geo Archon for a long time. And he thought that you would continue to follow him yet here he watches you walk the streets of Liyue looking for a partner. Warnings/tags: Yandere themes, fem!reader, death of a minor character, manipulation, dark themes, a few other characters mentioned for a moment

[ - A little present~! Event - Closed - ]

It was lonely. So very lonely. You thought as you watched the wind carry the dried leaves to higher grounds. Your home had peace, yet you can't help but wonder if you were missing something.

You were an Adeptus who followed the Geo archon. Long before he became an archon, you followed behind him. Orders that were given by him you completed without any moaning or groaning, nor with hesitation or spite. You were loyal to him, loyal to the peace you have wanted, and crave so much as you watched the gods fight in the war. You thought you would always follow him when he has given you what you have always wanted...

And maybe you would always will, yet as years pass, you can't help but stare.

Stare at the couples and married ones that surrounded you in the streets of Liyue. Human couples all smile lovingly at each other, as you watched them affectionately hold hands or place a hand on their shoulders or waists, their heads bumping into each other, kissing when they thought no one was looking.

You never noticed your craving, craving for that kind of affection between two people. Instead, it was something that Yanfei's father noticed about you, for you instead. His grin when you questionably looked at him at his words. He asked what you felt when you looked at human relationships, even of those who lived longer who found their faithed partner.

"Why don't you get out a bit and find yourself someone to fall in love with?" Yanfei's father told you with a smile on his face, gently pushing you to find something, to fill this slowly opening hole in your heart.

It was a suggestion in the end, why don't you try to find love yourself. It would be sad if you grew old alone as the Adeptus age so slowly compared to humans all the more reasons to find a partner. It was something you took to heart.

Yet it was also something that made Zhongli unhappy.

He wondered where you had gone as he looked down at the city that he had created, unable to find you usually somewhere by his side. He wondered why you had left your place on his side when you would always follow him wherever he went. You were similar to Xiao in that for you your duty was important yet unlike Xiao you cared more was the safety of this peace you wanted and that he Zhongli was a means of achieving that, which you were forever grateful to him for.

You once had followed another god, but after losing them, you feared that you would lose another. The desperation in your eyes as you understood that it was ever so easy to lose the people you cherish in something like war did you beg him to take you under his wing. You knew you were powerless compared to many gods and that the only way to draw closer to your goal was to help someone who could achieve it.

But time heal many wounds some slower than others after so long you too started to look forward no longer as strict with yourself with these habits when you looked at the peaceful lands of Liyue. Zhongli knew that it was about time you did, too. When they have always told you to cherish this peace that you will bring with your hands and take the time to explore many things.

He always watched you long before you had followed him, he can't help but feel his chest flutter differently to his sturdy powers when you laid your eyes on him. He enjoyed your companionship, as you and he talked about the past and the future. You have always placed him first for such a long time after all. He always wondered when you would finally relax and take what you have grown with your bare hands.

He didn't think it would be like this.

He thought that out of your own choice, you would still follow him, that one day he would take you not as a subordinate nor follower of the Geo Archon but someone who would sign a special contract with him that you will forever be his just as he will be forever yours.

As he watched you down the streets longing for a partner and let you even with the bitterness in his heart, he thought that you would always return back to him in the end. So when you found an interest in a human boy, he could not help but feel his heart darken and his anger swell up.

So quickly, the rose-tinted glasses you wore out of curiosity were snatched away from your eyes as you see the man you were looking at unknowingly taken away from you. When you waited for him outside the gates of Liyue as you two planned on meeting up that time, you waited and waited for him, minutes turned into hours, and hours turned into days. Outside, you waited for him quietly, wondering when he would finally show up for this walk that you and he had decided on.

You held your umbrella up that the three kids in your eyes Chongyun, Xingqiu and Xiangling gave you, they pitied the Adeptus who was waiting for someone so quietly under the heavy rain and have given you an umbrella as they told you they could share. The sound of rain muffled the many curious tones and voices that wondered why you an Adeptus were there. There were many ideas, and a lot of them thought that you might be here protecting the gates to protect them, preventing anything terrible from coming to Liyue. Yet soon, did everyone realize that you were waiting for someone.

They pitied the Adeptus, who looked nothing more than a desperate girl in love with a man who stood up on her. You ignored them. You ignored every single word they said. Till an old grandfather walked up to you, holding a wooden stick with sad, tired eyes.

He told you to return, for the man you were waiting for his son was dead.

You froze the open umbrella lay on the floor forgotten. It was static, yet at the same time, the questions that were repeated in your mind were cleared, replaced with new ones as you stared in shock at the old man. You wondered how this came to be, how in the world that you an Adeptus had lost someone again like this when you were supposed to be more powerful than these small humans and have worked so hard to give them this peace, to give yourself this peace.

Is this really peace when your mind was so chaotic?

The fear in your heart that you would lose something again scared you, and no matter what Madam Ping had to say, who tried to help you along with Yanfei and Ganyu, nothing worked. Quietly, you holed yourself in a corner away from the world's eyes. Zhongli had to come requested by the people who cared for you so much, and finally, did you emerge from your hiding place. But you didn't part from him, staying at Geo archon's side silently.

Nobody said anything after that, unable to help the broken adeptus who had been pushed away the moment she tried to hold the peace a little closer to her heart.

"Why don't you sit, I have made some tea." You looked at Zhongli, who called out your name quietly, sipping his teacup. Another cup on the table that was beside the teapot nearer to an empty seat close to you. You didn't know how a small hidden smile crept up on his lips when you joined him at the table.

He gave you a simple warning and was glad that you finally understood and came back to him again.

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lizthewriter · 6 months

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tell me we weren't just friends / pansy parkinson

PAIRING fem!gryffindor!reader x pansy parkinson

SUMMARY you and pansy have been dating for a while now, much to the distress of both your and pansy's friends. but while your friends have come to be accepting of your romantic choices, you couldn't say the same about pansy's friends. what happens when pansy tries to break off your relationship when her friends start to interfere?

TAGS fem!gryffindor!reader x pansy parkinson, reader has she/her pronouns, angst, takes place during half-blood prince, death eaters, pansy is secretly a soft lil baby 🥺🥺, implied sexual content, insecurity, assuring, kissing, pansy is 😳😳

QUOTE "all of your friends have been here for too long, / they must be waiting for you to move on," - friends by chase atlantic

WORD COUNT 1.7K

WRITTEN 10.24.2023

You hesitated as your glitter-ridden fingertips hovered over your eyelids. It had been three days since Pansy had broken up with you. She had avoided you every time you tried to find her after classes or corner her after dinner. She was acting so odd. It wasn't like her to just dump you and completely ignore you. Merlin, she couldn't even lay her eyes upon you. It was like she was guilty of something, or at least felt that way.

"I say good riddance." Ginny exited the bathroom in full glam, looking gorgeous as usual, and plopped down on your bed. "Now we can both be hot and single together. No girl troubles. Just you and me, our friends, and the dance floor."

You sighed, brushed the last bit of glitter over your eyelids and siphoning off the leftover residue from your fingers with your wand. You placed your eyeshadow pallette away, grabbing a lipstick and some gloss. "It's not good riddance, Gin. I really liked Pansy. I don't know what's going on with her . . . but I do have my suspicions." You added the final touches to your makeup before responding. "Malfoy. I know he has to with this, I just do."

Hermione snorted from her bed, nose stuck down a book. "Well, you and Harry make a charming duo. Tell me, are we going to make Malfoy the scapegoat to all our problems forever? Just based on simple hunches?"

"Harry's right about him," you responded with a snap, glancing towards Hermione. "He's always up to something . . . I wouldn't be surprised if he really is a Death Eater. Besides, I've seen him hanging around Pansy much more than usual as of late. I don't know . . . it just feels like something's wrong."

Ginny sighed, pushing herself up off of your bed. "Look, we're just looking out for you. I know how hurt you were when it happened . . . it would pain me to see my best friend's heart broken again." She grabbed your hands with a pout. "Come on," she whined. A smirk started to slowly grow on her face as she swayed your arms. "Let's go dancing, grab some drinks . . . have a good time, yeah? I promise you I will turn that frown upside down!"

"For someone who is supposedly so popular, you can be a bit dorky at times, you know that?"

Ginny laughed boisterously, giving your shoulder a playful shove before walking towards the door leading downstairs. "'Mione, you tagging along?"

"Goodness no," Hermione refuted, snuggling further into the warmth of her bed. "I'm afraid that the solace within my bed is far more entertaining then whatever you two plan on doing tonight. Do have fun without me though! And please don't come back to my dorm and regurgitate your dinner all over my bed like last time. If I want to see an odd lump of green paste, I'd help Hagrid feed the flobberworms."

"Will do! Come on, let's go!" Ginny started to pull you out of the dorm. "I'm not going to let you wallow in sadness at your own pity party, no, we are going to forget what happened and have fun! All right?" She didn't wait a beat for you to respond. "All right!"

The room shivered and shook at the might boom of the bass - the music could be felt reverberating through everyone's chest for certain. A large sweaty group of kids were gathered in the middle, plastic red cups help above their heads as they swayed and jumped around. The music, of course, was provided by none other than Pansy's friend Blaise. He had always been kinder to you then her other friends, but even now you had to say that there was something paticularly dry in his eyes that made you think Draco wasn't the only friend whispering into her ears.

As your eyes started to search the room, Ginny's voice jolted you from your train of thought. "No, no, no! No wallowing tonight! What did we just talk about?" She had a disapproving look written all across her face. You sighed and rolled your eyes, but a smile couldn't help but leech into your expression.

"No self pity party," you reiterated with a mock-irritated tone.

"That's right, so let's go grab some punch that has obviously been spiked and dance!" She dragged you off towards the drinks table, pouring you a generous amount of a rather dark green of a drink. Then it was off to the dance floor, Ginny shouting at you about allowing your body to flow with the music. All you could really think about was the stench of sweat hovering in the air and the alcohol from other people's cups being sloshed all around you.

You glanced towards Ginny, who now seemed to be preoccupied with eyeing and flirting a Slytherin girl from across the room. Your eyes took to your surroundings, searching for Pansy until they finally identified her at the top of the dorm steps. All it took was one glance and she dashed back up the stairs, leaving you confused.

You decided to leave Ginny behind and follow Pansy, ignoring the glares from other Slytherin girl as you walked up the steps. You promptly stepped over a couple who was doing things that were best suited to the privacy of their own bedroom, now entering the hall. You walked down, passing one, two, three, four, five doors before landing upon the sixth one.

You didn't even knock - you felt you had a right to get an answer from Pansy and you didn't want to be turned down again.

"What do you want?" Pansy asked harshly, her back to you. She sat at the edge of the bed, gripping the mattress with all her might. Her black bob of hair was tied up in an elaborate hairdo complete with a pin stuck through the bun at rhe top of her head. It gave her a much sharper, more intimidating look then before. Not that you could see it now. "I thought I told you I don't want to see you anymore."

"And I thought that I told you that I don't believe that. Not a single word of it." You sighed, any anger in you immediately gone, now only exasperated and dischiveled. "Pans, please. Did I do something wrong? Or does this . . . does it have to do with Malfoy?"

"Didn't I tell you to go away?" Pansy snapped, suddenly standing up from the mattress and turning around to face you with a nasty expression. She marched on over to you and encouraged you in the direction of the door. "Go on! Leave! I don't want you here -"

You grabbed the hand that she had been wildly gesturing with, your fingers wrapped around her slim wrist. The silver bands on her harm slid down to somewhere near her elbow. "I thought we promised each other - no lies. No deception. I know there's something wrong, I can see it. I know you well enough to know that what you did wasn't of your own accord, Pansy. Tell me what's wrong."

You urged her with your eyes, pleading with her to talk to you. Even with your makeup on, the bags under your eyes were noticeable enough. The desperation in your tone was enough to weaken Pansy, even if just for a moment. Her expression softened, her arm slackened in your grip. You quickly released her hand, which fell down to her side.

"I . . . I can't really talk about it." She bowed her head, her eyes avoiding your own. "I just - I'm involved with something . . . and I can't let you get hurt. I won't let you get hurt."

You furrowed your brows, thinking back to what Harry had told you, Ron, and Hermione. How suspicious Draco had been acting. You glanced down towards her left arm, which was tucked away behind her back as though she didn't even want it within your line of sight.

"You're not . . . Pans, tell me you're not . . ." Pansy shut her eyes tightly, turning away from you. You grabbed her arm and pulled her back towards you. She stumbled into your chest and you wrapped your arms around her. "You can't push me away. I don't care if I get hurt, I care about you."

Pansy sniffled, her arms weakly gripping your waist. "You're not . . . mad at me?"

"I could never be mad at you Pans."

"But I'm - I'm -"

"Just a girl, who was forced into joining something she doesn't agree with. You've done nothing wrong."

Pansy sniffled, her fist pressed against your upper chest to keep herself sturdy. She glanced up at you, searching your eyes for any malicious intent but failing to find any. Her other hand reached up, brushing against your cheek before falling back down to your shoulder. As though debating during a moment's hesitation, Pansy suddenly surged forward to meet your lips, bringing her hand back up to wrape around the name of your neck. The kiss was one of passion and desperation and gratitude. You weren't one to back down and pressed into her equally as hungry, gasping as her teeth met the soft flesh of your bottom lip. You pulled away, utterly breathless, noticing the shy, yet somehow almost sly expression on her face.

She watched her fingers as they trailed across your exposed collarbone, causing you to shiver. "I really am sorry, for pushing you away . . . maybe I can make it up to you?" The tone in her voice made it obvious as to what she was suggesting. You grinned, nearing her face again, your nose brushing against her own.

"Oh really? What did you have in mind?"

Pansy smirked, reaching out and gently pushing you down onto her bed so you were seated. She crawled into your lap, legs swung around either side of your waist. She hummed, pressing a kiss against your neck. "You're about to find out."

#— [ glizzy posts ☆ ]#pansy parkinson #pansy parkinson x reader #pansy parkinson x you #my writing #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my fic #writing #fanfic #harry potter #hp #hp fanfcition #hp fanfic

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jazeswhbhaven · 14 days

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Maybe I want Him to Bite...(Lucifer Selfie Card Prologue React II) *Spoilers*

BEFORE YOU PROCEED, make sure you caught the first part ->

If you already checked that out then you're good to go~

We're back with part 2 everyone!!! Let's gooooo

So we left off on Gamigin being excited about Phenomenon, and even stated that Jjok was getting ready for his arrival too

But a little before that I wanted to point out that Buer was so happy that Lucifer likes his tea where he was saying to himself that he has to remember the recipe so he can make it the same way next time.

I love this because I'm sure Lucifer likes to see his nobles happily doing something for him, it kinda reminds him a bit of his brothers in heaven though a painful memory....(SAD I AM SAD)

BUT LOOK!!! Seeing his face plus the blossoming trees warms my spirit he is truly a wholesome chubby little thing and I want the best for him

So Gamigin is rambling this entire time to the 3 nobles and he's like LUCIFER SHOULD ENTER :D And all of them are like "yeah sure he would win" because they're slightly annoyed with Gamigin being so energetic lol

I love that this is gag of their relationship. Gamigin is the annoying little brother that won't stfu and seems to run on 24/7 sugar highs

At the same time Gamigin asks Lucifer if he wants to enter, and for a few slides of the story it's literally Lucifer fucking sipping and drinking his tea in silence which killed me

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

because that's all he's doing is drinking his fucking tea like what a damn mood

All he did was do that and no one complained about his lack of enthusiasm and honestly? Same. Just let me have my damn tea.

He then just says one word. "Why" and everyone is creaming themselves.

I mean? I get it. Lucifer probably doesn't speak much at all, a true man of silence. And I thought Satan was a person of few words.

Gamigin though explains to Luci he feels he should enter and flaunt how beautiful he is to Hell. To which Marbas is like basically calling him annoying for being so loud lol

And even though he's being scolded by all three of them, he's not even phased and keeps doing what he's doing lol

He brings up that Luci needs to meet Ra-On, and Morax agrees that since Luci thinks they're the key to ending the war, it would need to happen sooner than later.

Marbas though brings up that MC is always seemingly afraid of Luci so he's not sure if it's a good idea. Buer though counters that it's Gaimigin's theory that overtime meeting someone over and over changes things.

So it appears all of them are on different wavelengths based on what they think is comfortable for Lucifer.

But I mean...can't ya simply.... a s k?

So here's where we get some backstory on how the nobles are more perceptive of Lucifer's feelings and habits based on his actions. Even though it's been a good minute since he switched teams, old habits die hard.

In Luci's case...it's pretty much impossible to get rid of. He's still stuck in those angel ways of his and honestly I love him more for that. He's spent what? Eons being an angel? You can't just forget that within just a couple centuries. He'd probably still be the same way even the next 500 years lol

So Luci's forever beef with Solomon runs deep alllll the way to MC

(sorry lol but damn, that means if you're self-inserting and a Luci stan...he doesn't like you because of ya punk ass grandaddy ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ)

Morax is a cheerleader and I love that about him. He just wants the best for everyone. I want to give him head smooches.

Buer does ask though what this all has to do with MC in the first place, and Gamigin explains that showing Lucifer's beauty to them would be best and would possibly tempt them and successfully bridge the gap between the two AND give Luci a chance to win the contest at the same time.

While they're all talking amongst themselves and listening to Gami's reasoning, Luci starts to reminisce...

IM SO SAD..

He even says "The voices are here again" meaning he's truly trying to block out his brother's voice...his main ride-or-die sibling Michael. And that's just...so angsty. But his nobles remind him of these moments and he just silently fights through the memories.

I want to hug him if allowed.

So when he gets out of his daze, he agrees that he should participate if Gamigin says so. (lol that's his fave "brother" now)

Gami is happy, but Morax brings up an important element.

You gotta be beautiful AND most obscene. Like levels of heathen shit. Real hot girl shit.

And poor Gamigin is like "Mess Lucifer up? WHY (｡•́︿•̀｡)"

And the other three healers are just like "Oh sweet summer child..."

Because you know, Gami is a dragon lol he knows nothing about this they probably didn't do anything like this back in his homeworld

So the three start going over what everyone's level of obscene is. Starting with this wild ass thing

I'm right there with you Gami.

Now...not to yuck anyone's yum...but come the fuck on vomit??? I'm shivering just thinking about being NEAR vomit lol

did someone in avisos do that...i feel that's an avisos thing

Also Gamigin points out how does Buer's eyes glint while they're shut and I'm wondering the same damn thing like how does that even look. Buer you are an enigma.

HOE STORIES???? OLD COWORKER OOOO SPILL THE TEA WHO IS IT BUER??!?!?!?

MARBAS???? YOU TOO??? But tbh...I believe he's originally from Abaddon so that wouldn't be farfetched...

SO THE DEVILS OUT HERE SHARIN' HOE STORIES THEN OKAY

Just a regular ol' day where you're coworker is like "So btw I have some freak ass nasty sex so good I thought I'd need a exorcism" or something like that lmaoooo

THEN WE FIND OUT WHO WAS SHARING THE STORIES

VALEFOR??????? MY HUBBY????

g a w d I wanna swallow his dick so badly why is he out here being so shameless? The best? Ooooo I'll show my appreciation for saying it was the best he's had.

LERAYEEEEEE??????

I've been sleeping on him apparently because not him saying it was the best. Phew.

I'M SCREAMING... SITRI???????

PFTTTTT MARBAS JUST RANDOMLY HAS SITRI'S NUMBER WITHOUT EVEN ASKING FOR IT PROPERLY HOW DID HE HEAR THIS INFO THEN???

Nah Marbas, why you change the subject after saying you don't remember how you got this info from Sitri? Lmao omg

But yeah, the most obscene sex is from our little MC (which...I mean I feel there are some biases...B U T lol I'd like to think they'd say me too if it were I being bragged about)

Poor Gami is still hung up on the vomit scenario and I'm laughing about that. He just like me foreal.

He does suggest though that they just ask MC to come and "mess up Lucifer"

While Buer and Morax agree with Gami, Marbas scolds him again out of habit instead of praising him 💀

Meanwhile Lucifer is trying to gather himself and be prepared for MC to show up. Which is also a mood because it's like "Damn I really gotta be social today?"

Lucifer is also me when I just wanna sit here and be a recluse lmao.

So we're back from the flashback, and in Luci's private room which looks pretty swank. I'm pretty sure that's a wet bar in the background or a potion bar or something of the sort. (does he even play chess? lmao)

Gamigin asks MC to help Luci win the contest and well, they find him difficult to understand and get along with. That it was hard to look him in the eyes even with the 3 second rule and the devil who most understands that is....

Our boi Beelzebooo <3 (hey bae it's a cameo)

So he explains why it's really hard to be comfortable around Lucifer and it's due to his overpowering angelic aura despite becoming a devil and it bothers him quite a lot.

MC even asks him to confirm and he kinda stares at MC and ruffles their hair.

which means yes he's bothered he's just not gonna admit it.

And with that MC is like ALRIGHT LETS DO IT I SAID I WOULD...and...

.......why are they clumsy like my ass? LMAO

Whelp...let's go on over to part 3 and see what became of MC~

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb lucifer #whb paradise lost bois 🤍#whb gamigin #whb spoilers #whb selfie cards #L card spoilers #lmao mc already fucking up

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pearl-tarotist · 1 year

Text

ೄྀ࿐ First impressions; what will your future spouse think of you?

"People themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them forever".

ਊ→ Chose a pic of the first line to know your spouse's first impression of you. (PILE 1-2-3)

Pile 1

Ace of cups, 2 of wands, 5 of swords, page of cups + king of wands

Your future spouse will see you as someone extremely lovely. Someone that is nurturing, good and emotionally available. They will see you as an emotional person because they will realize that those emotions are easily portrayed in your face and are easy to define. At your first encounter you will be an open book for them and they will easily realize the state/mentality that you have.

They will see you as someone with a lot of ambitions and dreams as it is probable that you will encounter him/her/them in the middle of forming/working in one of those dreams, probably something new that has to do with a trip/expansion of your comfort zone. They will realize how much strength and passion you put into them and they will think you are a fighter for those dreams, you will look like someone that won't give up or bow to anyone. They see resistance and a little bit of stubbornness from you.

It's probable that your personality or actions at the moment inspire and make her/him/them happy. You could remind them a bit of their own feelings, the pure and innocent ones. You will be a blast of fresh air for them.

In general, the impression that they will have of you is someone young that's not scared to go behind their dreams. Someone beautiful and cute, innocent even, that's starting to stablish the bases of something bigger. Probably, this person will be older than you and that's why they see you as this at the beginning. They will also realize that you probably have a lot of friends, that you are quite popular or that you have a lot of power in your social circle.

She Walks in Beauty (by lord byron)

And on that cheek, and o’er that brow,//So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,//The smiles that win, the tints that glow,//But tell of days in goodness spent,//A mind at peace with all below,//A heart whose love is innocent!

M.list/Paid readings

PILE 2

The Hermit, Ace of cups, Ace of wands, 3 of swords + 2 of cups

Your future spouse may think you are more of an introvert, he/she/they will feel that you are not letting yourself to be seen fully and freely.

Your fs will feel that even if you are being nice and polite, to get to know you they will have to pass certain tests that they do not even know in what consists. They will realize that you do not let people easily into your life and that probably you see yourself above some type of people (it's not a bad thing in this case because you will just be aware of which type of people you want to hold a relationship with and of which type of people you don't).

So, you will look more guarded for him and to a point, hurt. AS you will present yourself in a more introvert way; more guarded to form new friendships and relationships, he will think that it comes from bad experiences, a sad story. As if you had your heart broken or in pain.

And I think your future spouse will see you trying so hard to meet new people and be friendly and nice that when seeing the sadness in your eyes, your fs will want to be friends or to start a relationship with you just to stop you from trying anymore.

Like, "Darling, it's okay. Let me be your friend and you will have to stop doing what you hate so much, that it is being sociable...".

It could sound pitiful but your future spouse will not think like that, it's interest more than pity because they will see you in a nice and positive light what makes them interested in getting to know you more and better. Kind of like a damsel in distress. Their interest for you comes good intentions, mutual respect and in a small part because of sexual desire.

Lana del Rey - Sad Girl.

M.list/Paid readings

PILE 3

The emperor, 6 of swords, king of swords, the wheel of fortune, the high priest

Your future spouse will see you as someone that has everything under control, someone that has high self-esteem and that's the boss. They will think that you're someone really strict but also with a lot of skills, knowledge and someone that easily gets rid off of what's not useful for them anymore. You will be in total control of a new change and transformation that you will be going through. It's possible that you don't even realize that you're going through this transformation but your future spouse will notice.

What I see is that this transformation or the origin of this transformation has made you be more professional logical and way mental.

Your future spouse will see you as someone professional, logical and mental and this impression comes out of admiration. They think you are someone really clever and wise, able to produce a lot of benefitial changes in their environment

They think you're good and if they could ask for your advice they think you would give them the best idea ever.

In your first meeting it looks like you will truly impress them with your skills, knowledge, professionalism and your easiness to let what does not benefit you behind. They will see a capable woman, not just a little girl.

M.list/Paid readings

#Spotify #pac #pac tarot #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot reading #love tarot #love tarot reading #future spouse reading #future spouse #first impressions tarot

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grandlinedreams · 6 months

Note

Ok, so reincarnation/soulmates? Reader ate some fruit that basically has them living forever, and the only thing keeping them going is knowing that Law will eventually be reincarnated every decade or so after he passes. Each time he meets our dear reader again he can FEEL a pulling.

Reader also has a collection of pictures/memorabilia to remind her of each of Law’s lives.

YES I am such a sucker for the "souls intertwined so completely that they find each other over and over" also listened to 'The Moon Will Sing' by the Crane Wives bc it slaps and its always applied to that kind of relationship so OUGH

[Heads up!: mention of reincarnation/multiple lives, angst if you squint, but mostly some fluff]

You've known him for a very long time.

You don't tell him that, you never do ㅡ you can't. All you do is let yourself orbit towards him the way he does to you, let yourself take comfort in the time you have with him, however fleeting.

It isn't like you have a choice. And even in the darker times where you have to be without him, endure that lonely, phantom limb of an ache ㅡ you take solace in combing through the things you've kept of this go around.

A pendant, a dried flower pressed between the pages of a book, pages yellowed by the years ㅡ little scraps that keep you grounded, keep you sane.

Time has forgotten you, cursed you to stand against the current of it ㅡ you see people come and go, make new names for yourself, sink into as best you can.

But you never forget him.

ㅡ

This time, his name is Trafalgar Law.

He doesn't remember you, he never does ㅡ as is the deal ㅡ and he's already been through so much by the time you meet him.

His eyes are bright and sharp even for the perpetual shadows beneath them, body inked with tattoos that make you wonder if he knows he's had them before, different symbols but same spots ㅡ little pieces that echo through the vast emptiness of time.

Having lost so much already, you can tell he fights that familiar pull, treats it with wariness and caution. You don't push him, let him take things at his own pace.

When you've lived as long as you have, you have patience in spades.

ㅡ

"You're sure we've never met before?"

It's bothering him, the odd tickle of deja vu that he feels when he looks at you. It lingers like an image on the edge of his periphery, fleeting and gone when he tries to focus on it.

"I doubt it," you say, "I was born on a different sea." It isn't a lie ㅡ he just doesn't need to know how long ago that was. "I've never met you in my life before now."

Another not quite lie ㅡ this version of him is entirely new to you. New and yet so much the same ㅡ as he always has been, over and over.

You regard him with a little bit of sadness, Law realizes. Bittersweet and tucked at the edges, like you know something he doesn't ㅡ and only when you think he doesn't know you're staring at him. Because when he looks at you properly, all you do is smile.

And despite it all, Law lets you in. Lets you smooth the ragged edges, lets you wiggle your way in where he swore he'd never let anyone be ever again.

Law thinks he's destined to lose people, and maybe that's true ㅡ but so are you. You know that your time with him is fleeting as it ever is, between one blink and the next.

And then you'll be alone for a while, tread the waters of time as you have before, let the current take you where it needs to. Then you'll find each other again, eternally bound to each other by forces outside the control of either of you.

You've loved him a hundred times, and you know you'll love him a hundred more and beyond that ㅡ but this version of him is your favorite, you think.

And for whatever time you're allowed this go around, you'll give him every bit of love that you can, all the flaws and hurt and heartbreak ㅡ all of it.

You'll love every bit of him as you always have, and you always will.

#ㅡmine.#one piece x reader #one piece scenario #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #ㅡanswered.#anonymous #–ml: law.

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its-time-to-write · 10 months

Text

bored

Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve been posting less. Life’s been busy and I’ve been tired. Here’s some angst. It’s very long.

bored

It’s not falling out of love if you still love him, right? It’s more…slipping away. You feel like you’re falling off a cliff, scrambling for a handhold and coming up empty.

You hate this part in a relationship. The slide away. The boredom that creeps in. It happened with your last relationship, too. His name was Joseph, and you were together a year and a half when he started pulling away from you. It was little things at first, not talking as much and kissing you less. Then it was missing date nights and only kissing you on the forehead and silent dinners. He buried himself in books and barely looked at you and you knew the breakup was coming, but you could’t bring yourself to be the one to leave. So you didn’t. You just waited until he dropped the news at dinner and pretended like you were ok with it, and not that you had been secretly packing up your things for weeks.

It broke you a little bit. The slow pull. The obvious boredom that he had. The dissatisfaction with you.

The waiting was torture, the aftermath was worse. Your dad was worried as you continued to dwindle into a shell of yourself. Skin pallid, eyes hallow, never smiling.

Your aunt Eileen said you needed to get out of the country and into a change of scenery, which is why you’re on a plane on your way to live with her in England.

You’re fortunate that your job in graphic design allows for remote work and an asynchronous schedule.

It’s fun to live with Aunt Eileen. She’s very loud and very Irish. She only lives in London to be near her sister, who married and Englishman (much to the chagrin of the rest of your family). Your dad, their brother, married an American which was better-received. You have your mom’s accent, which is mostly due to the fact that you grew up in America. You think maybe if you grew up over here it would be different.

Eileen does not let you be sad. And, it’s easier to forget about Joseph when there are no reminders of him around. It’s a completely new place with completely new faces.

Eileen takes you all over Richmond. You meet her friends and the locals, and begin to feel things again. Not happiness per se, but some positive neutral.

Eileen kicks you out of the house every Thursday evening. She says it’s so you can explore and have time to yourself, but it’s really when all her yoga friends come over for rosé and awful reality shows. You don’t really mind, you caught a minute of one and couldn’t handle the absurdity of it. You suppose that’s the appeal, it just isn’t for you.

So instead, you get out. You brings a small sketchpad and a pencil, and create.

You haven’t done analog drawing in forever, and it’s refreshing to be away from a screen. You draw whatever you want, whether it’s your mood or a sketch of your surroundings. Little by little, you find yourself again.

—

Richmond is a big football town. Everyone loses their mind when there’s a match, and the streets become a sea of red and blue. Aunt Eileen doesn’t watch football, and neither do you. Like reality tv, you just can’t get into it. Apparently the coach (or gaffer) frequents a pub that Eileen takes you too, and he’s American like you. He heard you talking once and came over to introduce himself.

“I’m Ted and this is Coach Beard,” he had said. “Nice to hear a familiar accent around here. What’s been the biggest culture shock for you? Mine has been the fact that the cars all drive on the wrong side of the road.”

You like Ted and Beard. They remind you of home, the good parts of home. You see them pretty regularly and they talk about coaching and football, and listen to you tell them about your designs and family.

“You takin’ new work?” Ted asks one day. “Could find you some projects around Nelson Road.”

So now you’re contracted by a woman named Rebecca to keep things up to date around AFC Richmond’s headquarters.

Rebecca is something else. She’s everything you want to be, confident and fearless. She charges ahead and takes what she wants, but does it with kindness and grace.

You suppose the kindness is what gets you the most here. Eileen thinks it’s good for you to get out and work with actual people instead of remote on a screen, and you privately agree with her. There isn’t always a lot of work to do, but Rebecca set you up with an office and allows you to work on projects for your other companies. Her friend Keeley pops in from time to time, to chat and tell you that your designs need more pink.

“It’s objectively the best color, babe,” she says. “Makes everything else pop!”

Keeley starts becoming your friend, too.

Rebecca takes it upon herself to become your mentor of sorts, and she sits you for a meeting after your first week.

“What sort of work do you really want to do?” she asks.

You tell her you love everything. You love murals and sketches and passion projects and surrealism. You love pencils and paint and digital art, but hate watercolor and charcoal. You love artsy interior designs and posters and tiny stickers and large paintings. You love making things expressive and beautiful, in whatever capacity you can.

A week and a half later, you’re redecorating Keeley’s office.

“You know what I like, babe,” she says affectionately.

And you do. You’ve known her two weeks, but she’s made an effort to get to know you and to make herself known. You’re trusting people again.

—

Keeley bursts into your office in a flurry of sequins and fringe two days after you did her office, dragging someone by the hand.

“Babe,” she says, breathless from her obvious run to you, “tell Jamie he fucking cannot wear socks and sandals.”

You look at this Jamie and see he is indeed committing a terrible fashion faux pas.

And… looking good while doing it?

You look back at Keeley. “Keels, why are you asking me?”

She looks at you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because you’re Richmond’s art person! You know what looks good and what doesn’t! And this one-” she pauses to pinch Jamie’s cheek affectionately, “won’t fucking listen to me.”

Jamie shrugs, looking embarrassed. “Sorry to bug you,” he says. “Know you’ve got other shit to do.”

This is interesting. This Jamie is looking sheepish, blush tingeing the tips of his ears. You don’t know him, but what you’ve seen of all the footballers, they have egos for miles. They’re all incredibly kind, but definitely confident. Embarrassment doesn’t even seem like something any of them are capable of, but here’s Jamie in front of you, all apologetic and shooting glances at Keeley with the clear message let’s go.

Keeley isn’t paying attention, just bouncing on her toes and waiting for your response.

You assess Jamie and say, “Actually, he’s pulling it off.” You give him your name and he smiles a little, sticks out his hand, and says, “I’m Jamie.”

Keeley frowns at you (not a real one) then grabs Jamie’s hand and marches out the door in a similar fashion that she entered. Jamie throws you one last apologetic glance before he’s dragged out the door.

You sit back in your chair, processing what just happened. This is the first time you’ve actually met someone on the team, and it was not at all what you expected.

—

You’re working through lunch on a side project the next day, when there’s a knock on your doorframe.

“Jamie!” you say, looking up in surprise, “What can I help you with?”

He fidgets for a moment then replies, “Keeley sent me to make sure you weren’t working through lunch.”

Oh. That’s interesting.

You frown, though not at him. “Don’t worry, I’m not.”

Jamie squints at you. “You fucking lying?”

He says it so sincerely that you laugh, and put down your pen. “Yes I am, but if Keeley asks then no. I’m taking my required mental break and not working.”

Jamie moves from the doorway and plops down on the chair across from your desk.

“Whatcha working on?”

You spend the better part of thirty minutes telling Jamie about a redesign for a children’s center logo and the details of keeping the essence while modernizing it and revamping the color scheme, all while he nods and asks questions in all the right places. It’s not until your alarm goes off on your phone that you both jump and say, “Shit,” in unison.

“I’m late. Roy’s gonna fucking kill me,” Jamie groans.

You feel terrible. “I’m so sorry,” you respond sincerely. “Shit, I’m sorry. Tell Roy it was my fault.”

Jamie shakes his head. “Nah, weren’t yours. Should’ve kept a better eye on the time.”

He’s halfway out the door when he turns back and smiles at you. “I’ll tell Keeley you took a real break.” He winks and and disappears around the corner.

You make a mental note to ask Keeley about this whole thing later.

—

“Oh he’s into you, babe.” Keeley says, hours later when you’re at her house for drinks and dinner.

“WHAT, no!” you protest, “He’s not! He was just- just-”

Keeley nods and smirks. “Can’t finish that sentence, can you? Y’know, I just told him to check on you. I didn’t say anything about eating lunch with you.”

Rebecca nods in agreement. “I also overheard him telling Ted that he didn’t think you were attractive at all.”

You and Keeley turn to her with matching quizzical expressions.

“He was clearly not telling the truth. I didn’t even have to see his face, I could hear it in his voice,” Rebecca explains.

“Ooh, right, yeah, Jamie’s a shit liar!” Keeley exclaims. “Oh my god babe, I literally can’t believe it. You’d be so fucking adorable together.”

Rebecca tilts her head and gives you an appraising look. “I can see it,” she says.

Your face is on fire but you’re laughing and shaking your head. “If Eileen didn’t have her yoga group over for drinks, I would be totally out of here.”

—

Rebecca was right. Jamie does like you and he asks you out the next week.

He says, “I think you’re fucking amazing. Do you want to get dinner?”

He’s radiating so much confidence that despite yourself, you laugh and say yes. Eileen is beside herself, so happy that you are going out with “such a nice young man.” Keeley and Rebecca feel a similar way. Keeley’s boyfriend Roy just grunts. You like Roy. He’d never admit it, but he’s very kind. You know he threatened Jamie within an inch of his life when he heard you two had started dating, and the sentiment almost made you tear up. Almost.

—

You slip in to a pattern. Living with Eileen, spending nights with Jamie. Dinner with Keeley and Roy, drinks with Keeley and Rebecca. Walks in the park, early morning breakfasts, family picnics. Jamie is present for everything except girl’s night. (He makes a pretty convincing argument for why he should be included, if you’re being honest).

It’s… scary. You’re still hurting from Joseph, but Jamie does his best to erase any trace of him. He tells you he’s going to kiss every inch of your skin, so that his lips are the only ones you think of. He brings you flowers and makes sure to tell you how much he loves you.

Eileen pretends not to notice that your bed is empty more nights than not, and you do your best to return that courtesy by keeping her in the loop of your comings and goings, so she knows if she should save you dinner.

You and Jamie are together like this for four and a half months. It’s wonderful and terrifying and perfect.

You’ve almost forgotten Joseph ever existed.

Until one morning, Jamie has returned from morning training with Roy.

He walks in the door and you say, “Hi babe!” from your position by the coffeemaker. Jamie doesn’t respond, just absentmindedly kisses you on the cheek and grabs a cup. He doesn’t even smile at you. You look at him for a minute as he moves around the kitchen, waiting for him to acknowledge your presence. He doesn’t. He’s out the door again in a minute, barely even saying goodbye.

You chalk it up to the upcoming match. He always gets a little more focused than usual when it’s against Man City. You tell yourself he’ll be better by Sunday.

—

He’s not.

—

Jamie’s pulling away from you.

It’s Joseph all over again.

You start to do little things to get his attention. You put on his favorite lingerie set under a “Tartt” jersey and greet him with it when he gets home. He kisses you on the fucking forehead and goes to grab dinner. He goes straight to the bed to sleep right after.

You make his favorite dinner and set the table all fancy, candles and everything. Jamie says an absent thanks. You eat in silence.

He brushes off any attempt you make to kiss him, and you can count the amount of words he’s said to you on one hand. You feel like a child, the way he’s treating you and all of the sudden, in between bites of chicken, you know.

Jamie’s bored.

This is ending.

You spend the night because it would be weird not to, but you lay in bed, awake the whole time. You’re under every single blanket Jamie owns, yet your blood is running cold. It’s the only thing you can feel, really, other than your heart beating furiously in your chest. The rest of you is just… numb. You pretend to be asleep when Jamie gets up at 3:30am for training, but the moment you hear the door shut you leap out of bed and collect your things. You successfully sneak back into Aunt Eileen’s house and sit on the floor of the bathroom until sunrise, knees pulled to your chest as you stare at the floor

There’s been a constant rushing in your ears since dinner with Jamie, one that accompanies you as you mechanically dress and head to Nelson Road. Your body is on autopilot as you head to your desk, past Ted and Beard, past Dani, past Sam, Nate, and Will. You know Jamie’s there, although you don’t see him. You spend most of the day glancing at your door, waiting for him to appear with lunch and an explanation.

He doesn’t.

—

It’s late, not too late but late enough that the boys are all gone, and you’re in the locker room making aesthetic assessments for Rebecca when you see it.

Jamie’s locker.

The voice in your head screams don’t do it! but your legs are moving on their own accord, drawn by some strange impulse. You stop in front of his locker and look inside.

Your picture is gone.

It’s your favorite one. Eileen took it at dinner one night. You’re in the kitchen stirring something on the stove, laughing at something Jamie said. He’s grinning at you and looking at you with stars in his eyes. The love is palpable.

And it’s gone.

Autopilot gives way to shock and your knees buckle. You’re on the floor and you’re not sure how you got there or how long you’re crying, but the door is opening and Nate is kneeling next to you and asking if you’re alright in a soft voice. You don’t respond, just keep crying, and next thing you know Keeley’s arms are around you as you panic on the floor of the Richmond locker room.

—

She drives you to Eileen’s, and you burst in through the front door.

“Eileen!” you gasp, “It’s happening again, he doesn’t love me and I don’t know what I did-” you ram into something solid not he threshold.

“Fuck,” says Roy, although that’s not surprising because that’s roughly 80% of his vocabulary.

“Hi babe,” says Keeley in a small voice, hot on your heels, “Forgot this was yoga night.”

“What?” you ask, Jamie temporarily forgotten.

Roy just sighs and says, “Come on. Eileen’s got rosé in the kitchen. But you already fucking knew that, didn’t you.”

—

Turns out Roy is part of Eileen’s yoga group. You swear never to tell anyone.

He, in turn, succinctly grills you on Jamie.

“What the fuck did the little prick do?” he asks in his most growly voice yet.

You’re in the kitchen with him, Keeley, and Eileen. Aunt Eileen has let the yoga group know there’s been a change of plans, and they take it all in stride. Maureen herds them all to G-A-Y and they’re gone in a moment.

So now you’re here, eyes dry but red, explaining how Jamie is bored of you.

Roy says, “Fuck.” Aunt Eileen looks like she’s ready to murder someone. Keeley just looks sad.

“You’re coming to mine,” Keeley says, in a voice that leaves no room for arguments. “We’ll put on pajamas and do face masks and Roy will make that fancy little cheese platter he’s so good at.”

Roy doesn’t even protest, just nods and slips his hand around Keeley’s waist. She settles back against him in a way that makes your heart squeeze, because it’s the exact same way you would settle against Jamie.

Eileen says, “I’ll go pack you a bag,” and then she’s bustling upstairs to your room.

—

You and Keeley have matching cucumber-mango face masks, and you’re in her bed watching Look Both Ways. You can hear Roy downstairs in the kitchen putting cheese, grapes, and whatever the fuck else on a tray. He brings it up and places it on the bed, kissing Keeley with an amicable grunt.

“I’m headed the fuck to sleep,” he says. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

You smile at him as best you can, which is really just turning your mouth into a straight line, and Keeley says “Bye, babe.”

Roy smiles (as big as he ever does) and leaves.

You reach for an olive and settle back on to the pillows.

—

You don’t sleep much, but you do sleep. Keeley is wrapped around you like a spider monkey so you finally drift off around 3am. It’s not lost on you that Jamie will be awake in thirty minutes, and that it should be his arms wrapped around you.

—

You’re in your office for a grand total of fifteen minutes when Rebecca comes marching in.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asks.

“My job..?” you respond tentatively.

She shakes her head. “You’re getting the day off. As a matter of fact, you can take Monday as well. You do good work, and you’ve never missed a deadline. You can take a goddamn break.”

Oh. Keeley must have told her.

You nod slowly then get up to grab your bag.

Rebecca pauses for a moment, then pulls you into a hug. It’s incredibly calming.

Rebecca asks, “Do you need anything?”

You shake your head. “I think I’m just going to get my things from Jamie’s while he’s at training. I don’t want to make a scene. I’ll call him tonight and let him know we’re done, just so it isn’t prolonged anymore.”

Tears appear in your eyes and Rebecca hugs you again.

“Well,” she says, “just give me call. You know how to reach me.”

—

There’s a lot of things at Jamie’s, but fortunately you keep a box in the back of your car. You’ve cleaned out your tea from his cupboards, toiletries from his bathroom, and are now kneeling on the floor, emptying out your drawer. Your hands linger a little too long over the Tartt 9 jersey Jamie gave you when a voice says, “What the fuck are you doing?”

You jump. “Jesus, Jamie. Aren’t you supposed to be at training?”

“Coach said I had to go home. What the fuck are you doing?”

You skip over the fact that he didn’t elaborate on which coach sent him home and remind yourself to kill Roy.

You blow out a long, slow breath. Fuck. This was not how this was supposed to go.

“I um, I’m cleaning out my things.” You can’t look him in the eyes. You’re still on the floor, Jamie’s in the doorframe.

Jamie is silent so you continue.

“I just wanted to make things easier,” you tell the jersey in your hands. “I… know what’s happening. And it’s fine, really. I’m not…entitled to your love, you know? So… it’s ok. I just-” you sigh, body feeling so heavy all of a sudden, “I just wanna know one thing.”

You look at Jamie for the first time. “What is it about me that’s boring?”

Jamie opens his mouth to say something, but you barrel on. “You don’t have to lie, we’re probably never going to speak again, so just tell me. Because I’ve been over it a million times in my head and I can’t figure it out. I tried to figure it out with Joseph too. I get it if I were too clingy or too talkative or something, but what is it that makes me boring?” Tears have started streaming down your face at some point. God, this has been such a shit week. All this crying is making your eyes hurt.

There are tears in Jamie’s eyes, too.

“I- you- you aren’t boring,” Jamie croaks.

He could’ve fooled you.

“Then why have you been pulling away from?” you ask, voice small. “You kissed me on the forehead, Jamie. Like I was, I don’t know, your great aunt or something.”

Jamie rubs his face with his hand. “Shit, I- shit. I’m so fucking sorry. God, babe, I’m so, so fucking sorry. Roy told me to come here, said something about fucking shit up again, so I came here and found you like that on the floor and- shit, I just fucked up.”

He’s made his way over to you, slowly, like you’re a wild animal about to spook. He crouches down on the floor next to you and reaches out a hand to your cheek.

“It’s my dad,” he says finally. “He came ‘round, asking questions and shit, and he asked about you. And I fucking hated that. He knew your name and shit. Made some threats. I didn’t- I wanted to protect you. And I thought once you knew about him you wouldn’t want shit to do with me. I was fucking waiting for you to break up with me once you found out.”

Jamie’s voice is far too raw for this to story to be made up. The only thing you know about his dad is that he exists, and Jamie never talks about him. This… makes sense. It’s fucking stupid, but it makes sense. So you tell him.

“Jamie,” you say, “that is fucking stupid. It makes sense, but it’s fucking stupid.”

He hangs his head. “God, I know. He comes ‘round and I forget how to fuckin act.”

“Hey,” you say softly, tilting his chin up to meet his eyes. “This was shitty. But we’re learning. We’ll work on communicating, I promise. I’ll get better at it too. And as far as your dad goes, we’ll figure that out.”

Jamie laughs wetly and you bring his head close for a kiss.

You two will figure it out.

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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