#when people say my gifs made them cry. like i know it's because of the baggage of that scene but i also am nervous
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for the night | min yoongi
title: for the night
pairing: drug lord!min yoongi x waitress!(f)reader
genre/rating: angst, childhood best friends to strangers to friends??, unrequited love, valentine’s day au, smut, romance, 18+
summary: Yoongi lives a dangerous life. So why is he so afraid of you?
warnings: idk what to say about these two, just a bunch of feelings (spoken & unspoken), light pining, pov switches, mentions d*ath & grieving, mentions dr*gs and violence, swearing, bl**d & injuries, p*stol wh*pping/ mild description of t*rture, crooked justice systems (it’s the wild wild west out there), mentions a robbery & a**ault (nothing involving the main story), mentions illnesses & health related topics, alcohol/drinking but no intoxication unless you count staring at yoongi for too long, black hair with the undercut yoongi, chains, rings, TATTOOS…. oh my !!!, yoongi has a gl*ck (a piece, that iron… whatever you wanna call it), everybody’s shipping these two but they’re just…yeah, eye f*cking from both parties, explicit content, the friend version of kiss & makeup??, dry h*mping, Dom!yoongi, yoongi getting head is a warning, protected s*x, gagging/deep throating, throat/face f*cking, hair pulling, crying, i’m sure yoongi has Sir kink hiding in there somewhere, manhandling, face slapping, yoongi’s fingers down your throat, missionary with your leg over yoongi’s shoulder, big d*ck!yoongi, his jewelry stays on bc why would it not?, cl*t stimulation, teasing, spitting, org*sm control, c*m shots, body worship, p*ssy eating, throat grabbing, i think that's all...
wc: 11.6k
release date: february 16, 2024; 10:15pm est
note: sorry i took forever. this is my first oneshot in a while so i apologize for mistakes. i'm just finding my footing in this writing thing again. thanks to @itaeewon for my banner and @cafekitsune who makes these pretty dividers. please follow both of them for cool graphics. anyway, happy late valentine's day. i love you guys.
masterlist | playlist | ao3 version
“Enjoy the rest of your night… and be safe!”
As you wave goodbye to the last lovely couple dining at your restaurant tonight, you express how thrilled you are of their return.
You stand in front of your father’s little restaurant and watch the lovebirds bundle up as they make their way to their vehicle, embracing each other and protecting themselves from the same frigid temperatures that threatened to ruin their Valentine’s day plans.
It’s nights like these that make the sacrifice of putting your nursing career on hold well worth it. This neighborhood doesn’t have a lot to offer as far as entertainment goes, so keeping this place in business is your top priority. This is your home, and the people you love put their all into this establishment.
You’ll make sure it thrives and continues to be a source of comfort to the community.
You’re excited to tell your father about tonight’s turn out. You know he will be pleased. It’s been busy all day with dine-ins and take outs; everyone looking for the perfect date night meal.
“The food is made with love,” is what your dad always says.
He always looks forward to this time of year, and he’s always talked about seeing you sitting in one of his booths with a special someone of your own some day.
You only nod when he brings up your dating life; sometimes his love for you blinds him from reality. You’ve never brought anyone home, or ever mentioned being involved with someone to him. Even if you came out and said it, he’d never believe you’re the problem.
A chilly breeze in the mid-February air snaps you out of your thoughts—so as soon as the couple’s sedan departs from the parking lot—you slip back inside.
The warmth instantly envelopes your trembling figure, and draws a small exhale from your lips.
Looking at your watch, you notice that it’s almost midnight. You switch the sign from open to close, but don’t bother locking the door because there’s one more visitor that should be arriving shortly.
You keep that in mind as you begin to clean the front of the house.
One by one, your father’s employees complete their duties in a haste, then clock out so they can go home to whoever is waiting for them. Their eagerness only brings a smile to your face.
As you’re sanitizing a table, you catch a glimpse of one of the waitresses dashing towards the door.
“Well, see you tomorrow, Kaci!”
She halts, then turns around to say her goodbyes—and to gossip.
“Night, boss lady,” she chirps.
Why she calls you “boss lady” is a mystery to you; your dad only left you in charge, but you’re just a manager. You still get on the floor and serve tables like everyone else.
You’re curious about the bit of mischief hidden in her tone. It’s not long before she reveals her true intentions.
“Did he stop by yet?”
And of course…she’s talking about Yoongi.
Usually, someone stops by on his behalf to collect the rent. His family allows your father and a few others to occupy the buildings on this lot for business. Payment is always to be paid in cash, so you make sure you visit the bank the morning of collections.
Your family has had a close relationship with the Mins for years, so they’ve been working with you while your father recovers.
You met Yoongi right in this restaurant at the young age of four, and from there, your friendship blossomed. You were inseparable throughout grade school, but senior year is when everything shifted.
It had to be the first time you both realized that you were on different paths after graduation. While you prepped for college, he was being introduced to the hustle that built his family’s empire.
If that didn’t tear a rift in your relationship, the underlying tension and unspoken feelings surely did. People used to always say at least one of you would eventually want something different, and you used to always laugh at them…until it became a fact.
You’ve always wondered if he ever felt the same as you did—or if he ever thought about exploring something more.
Unfortunately, you’ll never know what he was feeling. After graduation, he shut you out and never looked back. That was so long ago, though. You’ve grown, and the pain of losing someone you cared about eventually went away.
…So you thought.
Being home again brings back so many memories and forgotten feelings. Things you wish you still had, and things you wish you could have had. After experiencing so much throughout college, and learning more about yourself, you’d kill to go back in time so you can handle things differently.
You can’t help but think your friendship was torn apart by nothing more than a curious mind and raging hormones.
Yoongi’s so different now, though. However, you still see glimpses of the boy who would sneak into your window just to watch reruns of 90s cartoons with you. You smile just thinking about all the fun times you’ve shared, and all the trouble you got into.
“Look at you getting wet just thinking about him! I knew it. You’re whipped!”
“Can you keep your damn voice down,” you hiss. “Last thing I need is gossip right now.”
You’re so fed up with her teasing. If you two hadn’t just clicked when you took over the restaurant, you’d probably just kick her ass out in the cold.
“And, no. He has not. So, you can leave now, ma’am.”
“Oh, for sure,” she sighs dramatically. “Hell only knows what you two do when you are alone.”
Your jaw drops.
Sometimes this bond you share is a blessing; but other times, it’s a curse.
Kaci’s a sweetheart, but her mouth… Well, let’s just say these comments are normal for her.
And just like your father, she loves to play Cupid. No wonder he hired her.
“Just get your ass out of here.”
You can barely keep your laugh from bursting through your lips as you send a rag flying towards her. She dodges it, then proceeds to give you a middle finger. She has another shady comment ready to roll off the tip of her tongue, but then she glances out of the glass door and smirks instead.
You scoff. “Bitch, what is it now?”
Kaci then shakes her head.
“Nothing, babe. I’m out,” she winks. Kaci then points towards the parking lot and whispers, “Daddy’s here.”
“Huh? What are you talking about—”
Crawling into one of the booths, you partially open the blinds with your fingers and peek out of the window.
About seven sets of headlights stare back at you, all belonging to vehicles that are as dark as the midnight hour. A BMW sits in the center, blacked out with tinted windows and black custom rims. However, you don’t need a look inside to know who it is. No one else would pull up like they own the lot.
All the businesses are closed, which means these aren’t customers. It’s the boss.
Your heart rate builds up when the door opens and his sneakers touch the concrete. He stands there for a moment fixing his jacket and discreetly observing his surroundings.
Your eyes follow his movements. You can only hear the bass from his music and the noises coming from your throat as you try to gulp down the saliva building up in your mouth.
All you needed to see was the top of his head to confirm what you already knew.
Yoongi’s here, and he’s the one coming to collect payment tonight.
You don’t know why your heart is about to pound out of your chest like you’re hexed by some teenage crush. Maybe you are still hung up on him a little bit. You can’t deny how attractive he still is. He definitely wears age well.
The dark hair suits him perfectly. You can remember the horror stories about the color experiments gone wrong when you were teenagers. It’s a surprise that it’s still luscious and healthy as it is.
However, that isn’t the only thing that has changed in his appearance.
They’re hard to spot under his jacket, but his torso, back, and arms are covered in tattoos. You only know about this because another waitress working here loves to share the story of how she was on her knees in a bathroom giving a shirtless Yoongi a blowjob.
You would never admit jealousy, but damn; that lucky bitch.
Yoongi starts to make his way across the parking lot, pushing back his hair with his ringed-fingers to grant better vision out of his peripherals. You know he’s always watching his back; he can never be too careful when he’s making moves.
His haircut allows you to get a glimpse of the ink crawling up his neck, disappearing behind his ear. His earring dangles in the wind as he strides in your direction.
Each step is confident and dominant; his aura dark and mysterious.
A man who is about his business, it’s no shock that heads turn when he steps into the room. He’s reserved, but not afraid to enforce his authority when he deems necessary. You heard stories, and crossing Yoongi is considered a death wish.
He’s like the hot badass described in movies or books, but he actually is that guy. Handsome, street-wise, tattoos and scars; paired with money, jewelry, and you’d be stupid to think he isn’t packing.
You can smell the power and Dior emitting from his body all the way from where you are.
Each step he takes towards the entrance of the restaurant gives you a better view without being noticed. It’s a sin how good he looks and he’s just wearing a simple outfit with some sneakers. You have no business feeling these kinds of things, but it’s impossible to not.
“Can he just bend us over already?”
You hear Kaci whisper the same words you were just thinking. But she can’t know that, so you swat her again for good measure.
“Fine…I’m leaving,” she whines, walking to the door.
You back out of the booth and move over to the host stand so you can roll silverware and act like you weren’t watching him.
Kaci opens the door just as he’s about to reach for the handle, and of course, she gives him a warm welcome.
“Hi, Yoongi,” she beams. You roll your eyes the second you hear that annoying high-pitched voice she uses when she’s being coy.
“Hey, can you hang back for a bit? It won’t be long.”
“Yeah, sure. Everything okay?”
The look he gives her sends your radar up, so you set down the utensils in your hand and join them in the lobby.
“Hey,” you greet him when he notices you. “What’s going on?”
Yoongi sighs before he answers, shaking his head as he gathers his words.
“You know the alterations shop over there?”
His head nods in the direction of the Leonard’s shop a few stores down. Both of you nod because they take lunch breaks here everyday.
“Somebody hit them up about an hour ago. Left their daughter in bad shape before they stripped the registers,” he informs.
“Are you serious? That’s awful.”
“Yeah, they’re good people. Who would do something that disgusting?” Kaci asks.
Yoongi only shrugs. “Don’t know, but as soon as I find out…”
He doesn’t even need to continue. It’ll be bad; probably worse than you can imagine. One thing the Min’s don’t tolerate is disrespect. You mess with one of their people, you get handled. In this case, you can’t even feel bad for the bastard. That family doesn’t bother anyone. It’s a shame they were targeted.
“Anyway, I don’t want either of you lingering around here at night anymore. Stick together during opening and closing until we catch this motherfucker understand?”
“Yeah, got it,” you reply, and Kaci also agrees.
“Sure, not a problem.”
With everyone on the same page, you make a note in your mind to update the security system in the restaurant and think of some safety tips for employees. No one can ever be too careful, especially after what just occurred so close to home.
“And Kaci?” he calls, just as she’s getting ready to depart.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t walk home. Your pepper spray is expired. Ask one of the guys to drive you.”
“Is Hoseok out there?”
You and Yoongi share a look. He’s probably wondering what it’s about, but then again, who doesn’t know they’re fucking?
“Yeah…he is—”
“Kay, bye!”
Before the door slams in your face, you call out to her.
“Text me when you’re home!... Or when you’re able to use your hands.”
Yoongi chuckles as the both of you watch her dash across the lot. You aren’t sure how she’s able to spot the right SUV, but she does within seconds.
“This has been going on for a while, huh?” Yoongi inquires.
“Mhm. Fight, fuck, repeat.”
After a moment goes by, you realize you forgot to bring the money you owe Yoongi. You snap your fingers when you remember why he’s there in the first place.
“Oh, yeah. Come on, it’s back here,” you tell him.
Yoongi follows you toward the back of the restaurant until you reach the small manager’s office tucked in a corner of the kitchen. While you dig in your apron for the key, Yoongi checks in with you to see how everything’s going.
“How’s your dad?”
You pause to look at him and answer with a proud smile. Your father’s been working really hard on his road to recovery; it’s nice to talk about his accomplishments without someone looking at you with pity, which Yoongi never does.
“He’s been doing better. Lots of physical therapy, but he walked on his own yesterday.”
With a nod, Yoongi’s expression softens. “That’s the shit I like to hear.”
“Me too.”
Once you find the keys, you unlock the door and the both of you step inside the dark room.
“Thanks,” you whisper when he flips the lightswitch for you.
You can feel him watching you as you walk around the desk, and when you squat down to open the safe underneath, you hear his footsteps approaching.
You start entering the combination while he whistles and looks around your office.
You’re curious about what he’s looking at, but right now you can't even take a peek without him noticing. Instead, you focus on gathering the cash you owe him for last month and this month while he’s busy snooping around.
After a while, you figure he’s found something interesting because the room becomes quiet. You grab the stack you set aside and close the safe, making sure it’s locked before you do anything else.
“So how was your day?”
Yoongi’s deep voice tears a giant rift in the silence, startling you and causing you to bump your head on the edge of the desk. Thankfully, his back is turned and he didn’t hear the small thud because you’d be beyond embarrassed.
“It was okay,” you reply as you regain your footing.
Yoongi turns in your direction when he hears your words become clearer, indicating you’re no longer digging around in the safe. He meets you halfway and you extend your hand with the stack of money resting between your fingers.
“This is all of it.”
Yoongi looks at the stack before he responds. Most of the time, it’s so hard to know what he’s thinking because his expression is always so stoic.
“Just okay?” he quizzes.
“Yeah, pretty much. It was busy so I was stuck in autopilot most of the day.”
He still hasn’t made a move to accept the money. You feel kind of awkward being so close to him as is, and his lack of response makes you feel even more anxious.
Finally, he speaks. “Do you even have this to give me?”
“Yeah, we’re good. Please, take it.”
You gesture for him to take the money, and he reaches for it, making you believe he’s going to grab it.
“It’s all here. If you want me to count it, I—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he insists.
“What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said,” he shrugs.
“Yoongi, no. We haven’t paid in a month. My dad would already be mad at me for being behind.”
“Does he have to know?” The look Yoongi gives you reminds you of all the times he’s talked you into doing something wild. He’d always take the blame if you got caught, but the thrill always made getting grounded irrelevant to you. “Keep it. We’re good until he gets back, okay?”
“Yoongi, I can’t.”
“You can’t?”
“I won’t,” you declare confidently.
“So you’re arguing with me?”
Your eyes widen, realizing that he wasn’t giving you an option.
“I-I’m sorry. I was just—”
“Don’t worry about it, alright? Just keep doing what you’re doing. I only hear good things about this place,” he concludes.
“Okay, ok. Thanks, Yoongi.”
“Don’t mention it.”
As you’re returning the money to the safe, Yoongi brings something to your attention.
“I don’t see your car outside.”
“Ah, shit. It needed to be serviced. I was supposed to pick it up on my lunch, but I forgot.”
After visiting the bank this morning, you dropped your vehicle off at the dealership for maintenance, but the breakfast rush swarmed in as soon as you arrived at work. By the time you thought about picking it up, it was well after business hours.
“Um, do you mind—”
“Wanna ride?” Yoongi offers.
“Please.” Relieved, you exhale a needed sigh. “If it’s not an inconvenience.”
“Not at all, love.”
You quickly grab your purse and switch off the light in your office, ignoring that feeling you got from the little pet name.
Yoongi leads the way this time. As you’re following him through the restaurant, you’re sure to double check everything before you leave. Even Yoongi turns to ask you if you’ve secured everything.
“Good?”
“Yeah, everything’s turned off and we’re locked up tight.”
“Cool.”
Walking into the dining area, you give everything a quick once-over before following Yoongi to the exit. Everything looks tidy and neat how you like it so you step out into the cold night with your chauffeur.
He waits with you while you lock the front doors, looking around for any curious eyes. After you’ve finished turning the lock and key, you give the handle a tug to make sure it doesn’t open.
Growing up in this neighborhood will teach you a thing or two about being cautious and aware of your surroundings.
“It’s freezing tonight,” you comment.
Sometimes you like to make small talk with Yoongi, see where the conversation goes. Depending on the mood he’s in, he’ll either have one sentence responses or he’ll engage in light conversation.
You don’t mention the past much. It seems like pretending it never happened is easier for both of you. However, sometimes you have an impulse to bring up the subject, or at least try to mend what’s broken.
If that’s possible.
“Cold? This is perfect weather.”
You roll your eyes. He’s definitely fucking with you.
“Oh, whatever. You know it’s freezing out here.”
You don’t care how ridiculous you look speeding towards his car. You’re shivering and Yoongi takes forever to unlock the door.
You shuffle from foot to foot, wiggling to build up some body heat. You can hear the fabric of your jeans rubbing together due to the friction.
“You know it’s already unlocked, right?”
Oh.
You climb inside and relief washes over you. The heat is blowing warm and strong, making the leather seats even more comfortable. The seat warmers keep your butt cozy, and the vents are aiming towards your upper body. It’s perfect; you could fall asleep right here.
When Yoongi gets in the driver seat, your head lolls in his direction.
“Thank you.”
“For?” he asks.
“Your car feels like heaven right now.”
Yoongi scoffs softly.
“It isn’t always this warm. Trust me,” he replies.
“Well regardless, thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Not a problem, love.”
Fuck.
Yoongi’s engine revs as he pulls out of the parking lot. A thought comes into your mind as the vibrations travel up your body.
“Does it ever make your balls tingle?”
He coughs, clearing his throat while checking to see if he heard right.
“Uh, what?”
“The car,” you elaborate. “When you’re driving it…You don’t feel anything?”
Honestly, you’re just chatting to keep yourself from falling asleep. You don’t even expect him to answer as you stare out of the window, watching the SUVs fade in the distance.
“I guess I never really thought about it,” he responds.
You nod, vibing to the music. He’s turned the volume down since you’ve joined him, so you can actually hear each other speak.
“Hm. Sure does make your pussy tingle.”
You don’t think he heard that part. It was barely a whisper. If he did, he chose to ignore it.
“You alright?”
“Yup,” you answer. “Just ready to unwind.”
“Any plans tonight?”
You sit up in your seat, and turn to him.
“You bet.”
Yoongi laughs. “Oh, yeah?”
“I have a date with my bed, and I’m gonna let my blanket top me.”
“Gotcha. So you’re locked down, huh?”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Well, it sure sounds like it. I never see you having any fun.”
You give him a look.
“Well, look who’s talking. Besides, you know I’m dealing with a lot right now.”
“Fair enough, but you’re still allowed to do something for yourself for a change. Some of us don’t have that privilege,” he replies.
“I think everyone has the privilege to do something for themselves. You just have to be selfish enough to go for it, I guess.”
“That is true.”
Yoongi then turns the music up a few notches. You already know what that means. He’s over conversation and wants to get lost in his thoughts.
As you cruise through the streets, people may look on the surface and think this is some young bachelor taking his car for a late night drive—maybe heading to one of the city’s hot spots.
But Yoongi is all work, and no play. If it’s not about moving product, it’s placed on the backburner.
You can relate, but tonight you’re switching it up. Self care is calling your name and you aren’t hanging up this time.
“What happened to the garden?”
You’re pulled from your thoughts by Yoongi’s voice.
As he pulls up to the curve in front of your childhood home, he can’t stop himself from teasing you about your dying plants. You really tried your best with them, but unfortunately, you weren’t gifted with nurturing hands.
“You’re not funny,” you mutter, acting ignorant.
You know you’ve destroyed your dad’s flower bed, but he doesn’t have to make fun of you.
“I’m just saying, shouldn't you cover them?”
“I forgot!”
“You always do,” he mumbles.
You giggle as you’re opening the door; finally having a carefree conversation with your old friend again feels nice. As soon as you step out into the elements again, the winter air nips at your cheeks and you know you’ll be trembling by the time you get to your doorstep.
“Well, thanks for the ride.”
Yoongi just nods and tells you that he’d do it anytime you needed him to.
As you stand outside of the car, you start to get that feeling in your gut. That urge you know you shouldn’t have, but the temptation is stronger than ever.
Yoongi tilts his head, wondering why you’re standing in the cold. You’re frozen, silently debating on what you should do.
Ultimately, you go for it, knowing the risk you’re taking without being prepared for the aftermath.
You’re even sure why you’re asking, or where you expect things to go. But tonight made you realize something. You miss having a best friend.
Your best friend.
“Hey, it's late. You wanna come inside?... If you don’t have any plans.”
Regret washes over you as soon as the words leave your mouth. You weren’t ready, neither was he. You curse yourself for rushing it. The silence goes on for ages, but you’re so numb, the cold doesn’t faze you.
Finally, he gives you an answer. “You know I can’t do that.”
Well, now you know you’re the only one still holding on. By can’t, he means he won’t.
Nodding, you lie and pretend that you understand where he’s coming from. “Yeah, I get it. Sorry about that.”
You were sure he’d be more open now that time has passed. However, you’re still stuck where you left off. He still won’t hear you out.
“There’s no need,” he assures.
Still, you feel guilty. Selfish.
Foolish.
“Well look, I'll see you around, yeah?” He checks his phone and tosses it on the passenger seat. "I have to go deal with something."
“Okay, thanks again for the ride. Stay safe.”
You try not to look disappointed, but it’s probably no good. You’re sure he hears it in your voice. Or maybe you sound more tired than anything. You are exhausted. Maybe it’s your restless mind that's causing you to get ahead of yourself and open old wounds. It’s best you go inside before you can dig yourself a bigger hole.
“You'll call me if you need me, right?”
If you need him…
You always need him. He’s your rock. Well, probably not anymore. How do you learn to forget someone who’s always been there for you?
You swallow the bitterness coating your tongue before you reply. You’ll get over it. You always do.
Just not right now.
“Yeah, I’ve tried that already. Goodnight, Yoongi.”
You shut his car door and retreat to the safety of your home. You’re unsure if he says it back or not. You walk away before he can respond.
Everything in your sight becomes blurry as your vision is blocked by a wave of pending tears. You urgently open your front door in case he’s following you.
A part of you wishes that he did.
But the longer you stand there, back pressed against your front door, secluded from the same world you’ve just finished servicing—you realize that the chances of that happening are too slim to hold onto.
Minutes go by, and you start calming down. You find your strength again, and you realize that your vulnerability made you panic. You got too comfortable, and that’s your fault.
Tonight will just be another solo night; nothing you aren’t used to.
You wipe your face and rid yourself of all the negative energy. Tomorrow you’ll be fine and the blow of rejection will start to fade away. Shaking your head, you clear your mind and start taking off your clothes.
You put it in your mind that you won’t hold this against Yoongi, and whenever he’s ready to talk—if ever—you’ll tell your side of the story if he wants to hear it.
Until then, you’ll just focus on you because he was right about one thing.
You should treat yourself; you deserve it.
“Get your sorry ass up.”
Yoongi stares at his hand as he walks away from the battered man lying on the ground. His knuckles are bruised and covered in the thief’s blood. The sight would bring shame to his father. He shouldn’t be out here behaving like a street thug when he’s got power moves to make.
But when he found out there was danger lurking so close to you, he had to deliver the message himself. He’s sure it was heard loud and clear.
Possibilities played through his mind with every blow that rained down on the guy. What if it was your father’s restaurant that had been hit up? What if you had been inside?
He’s furious, enraged; but mostly at himself for how he keeps letting you down. You wanted to forgive him tonight, put everything that happened behind you and maybe try again. But what did he do?
He ruined it.
He always figured that he would, but it’s what you needed to hear. He’s not a good guy or some bad boy you can turn good. Yoongi’s in this too deep to be pulled out. There’s no way he could ever look your father in the eye and tell him that he’s put your life in danger.
That’s why he refuses to address those feelings he has for you. He’d either end up breaking your heart, or getting you into a nasty situation.
If the wrong person were to know that he has a thing for you, you’d become a weapon for an opp to use against him. Yoongi’s respected by many, but there are some who want everything he has; you’d be added to the top of that list if they knew he’d died for you.
He can’t lose what his family’s worked hard for, but he can’t lose you either.
There’s only two options if that line’s ever crossed. Either you’re with him, and you’ll have to step into his world; or you’re not; and the streets deem you fair game.
The latter infuriates him. He’d kill anyone who would ever think of laying a finger on you. That’s why he has to make examples out of motherfuckers like the one behind him.
“You need to find you something safe to do, my friend.”
Yoongi turns around just as the man rises to his feet, staggering and weak from the beating he’s received. One of his arms cradles his torso while the other wipes blood from his lips. He’d receive pity from anyone without the context, but if they knew what he did to that seamstress—they’d be wondering why he’s still alive.
This is far less than what this scum deserves. His apologies fall on deaf ears. Yoongi’s men don’t give a shit about his apology, and neither does he.
“I’m so sorry. I…I didn’t know this was your block too. I was just—”
Yoongi pulls out his glock and fires a shot near the guy’s foot, barely missing him. He doesn’t recall asking him to speak.
“You better assume every block is mine, motherfucker. I own this fucking city. Have you forgotten?”
“I—”
Another shot nearly blows his head off because once again, Yoongi never asked him to talk.
“Who told you to open your mouth?...” he seethes. “Speak again and I won’t miss.”
The man nods, lifting his shaky hands as a surrender.
Yoongi’s jaw clenches as he contemplates his next move. A few minutes ago, he was set on ending him right in this spot, but after thinking about you he’s calmed down a lot.
That’s the only reason this man’s life will be spared. His mind is somewhere else now; all he can think about is his own mistakes. This guy’s learned his lesson; no need to waste anymore of his time here.
“Look, don’t ever put me in this situation again. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Sir. I won’t. I promise.”
Yoongi knocks the guy out cold with his gun. He looks over at the officer who was escorting the guy to jail and gives him a nod, giving him the clear to take him in.
“This was a citizen’s arrest,” he insists, handing the cop a wad of cash.
“You got that.”
He dismisses his men, and goes to have a cigarette while he thinks.
After the criminal is placed in the back of the squad car, the cop rejoins Yoongi as he sits on the hood of his vehicle, having a smoke before he goes on with his night.
“Never thought I’d see you get dirty, especially tonight.”
Yoongi scoffs. “Yeah, me either.”
Yoongi looks at his personal phone, looking to see if you’ve texted him, or called. He doesn’t know why he’s checking. He shouldn’t expect you to reach out after how he left you tonight. It’d be a miracle if you ever wanted to see him again.
“It’s not too late, you know.”
“The fuck are you talking about, Shark?”
Shark is one of his longtime friends. He comes from a long line of crooked cops.
He’s been present through the ups and downs of his friendship with you. Shark’s always been rooting on your side, always telling him to reach out when you left for college.
Yoongi has never taken his advice, though.
“I’m just saying. Maybe you should just call her,” he explains.
“Who?”
“You want me to say her name out here?”
Yoongi shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”
Both of them share a laugh at Yoongi’s reaction, but then silence falls over the night.
Now that the adrenaline is wearing off, Yoongi’s hands are beginning to throb with pain. He tries focusing on something other than that awful feeling, but he can only think about you.
Why couldn’t he just hear you out? That would have been fair. He’s regretting more and more as time goes by, wondering if the opportunity has slipped away.
He notices the way you look at him, the way you perk up when you see him. He knows there are a lot of unspoken words because honestly, he’s always had deeper feelings for you. It was way before you realized you like him as well. He bottled that shit up throughout high school, and when he had the chance to tell you how he felt, he fumbled.
You even gave him a second chance to come clean, and he still couldn’t get it together.
“Seriously, what happened tonight? I see it all over your face.”
Yoongi sighs. “I took her home, and she invited me inside.”
“And you said no? Dude, no way.”
Yoongi looks over and finds his friend’s face stuck in a grimace. He feels shame creeping up his neck, so he quickly shifts his focus somewhere else.
“What was I supposed to say? You know I can’t let anyone see me walking in her place,” he argues.
“You could have invited her to yours, explained things a bit more. I’m sure she’s capable of making decisions for herself.”
Yoongi’s at a crossroads, but every way he turns leaves him with doubt. It’s like he’s damn regardless.
“What if it doesn’t change her mind? What should I tell her dad, huh?” Yoongi rants. “He asked me to keep her safe, man.”
“And what do you think he meant by that?”
Shark looks at his watch and turns to Yoongi as he prepares to leave.
“Look, my shift ends soon, so I gotta go. But I think you know as well as I do that you have the old man’s blessings. Just stop overthinking it. You’ll screw yourself.”
With that, Shark walks to his vehicle, and puts it in drive.Before he pulls from underneath the overpass, he rolls his window down and yells out.
“It’ll be alright, brother. Trust me!”
When Shark leaves, he switches cars with his right hand, not wanting to double back to your part of town in the same ride. As he starts driving away from the secluded area, he thinks back on how tonight has gone so far. That’s when something you said hits him…and it hits him hard.
“You said you needed me,” he whispers.
All day you’ve been surrounded by people, loving each other; only to go home to an empty house. You just wanted some company, a distraction. You wanted a friend.
It’s then he realizes that he’s hurt your feelings more than a little. You weren’t hung up on a crush you had over five years ago. He’s so stupid. How did his brain not perceive what you said as an invitation to hang out?
Just like you used to.
Yoongi does a U-turn and heads straight for your house. He has no idea what you’ll say to him, or if you’ll speak to him at all. But he needs you to know one thing; he gets it now. And he won’t ever let you down again.
No matter how many times you watch it, the horror classic Thirteen Ghosts never gets old. Your dad laughs whenever you call it your comfort flick, but he’s also not a horror fan so he just wouldn’t understand.
That bath worked more magic than you could ever imagine. It’s super late, and you should be in bed, but you’ve been thinking about the bottle of wine you bought the other day since earlier.
You aren’t really a drinker, but the bottle was cute. You figured tonight would be the perfect chance to eat some snacks, watch a movie, and give it a try. But as soon as the glass touches your lips, your doorbell rings.
You’re not expecting anyone this late. When you don’t answer, they pound on the door, startling you. Wine spills all over your hands. Quickly, you use your shirt to dry them off before making a bigger mess. You drink what’s left in the glass in one gulp before checking your Ring camera, letting out a gasp when you discover who’s standing at your doorstep.
“Yoongi?” you whisper.
Placing your phone and empty glass on the coffee table, you go to see what he wants. If you’re honest, you’re a bit worried. Did someone break into the restaurant?
Your dad would be devastated.
Without a second thought, you open the door, and interrogate Yoongi before he can even open his mouth.
“Is everything okay? Did something happen to my dad’s—”
“Oh, fuck. No! No, that’s not why I’m here,” he interrupts.
You breathe a sigh of relief, clutching your chest as the panic slowly leaves your body. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No, it’s okay. What’s up? Are you okay?”
Now that you’re not shaken with worry, you notice how disheveled he looks. His hair is messy; his expression seems anxious, his knuckles bruised.
“Were you fighting?” you quiz.
“Huh?” Yoongi looks confused but then suddenly seems to remember his injury. “Oh, this is nothing. I’m good. I just came to uhh… To see you.”
Your eyebrow raises curiously. “To see me?”
“Yeah,” he confirms.
“Okay, well… that’s nice of you, but I was planning on going to bed in a bit. I have to get up early.”
You aren’t sure why he’s acting weird. Is he in trouble? Surely, he’d tell you if he was. If so, why would he come here?
“Um, okay. Sorry,” he answers.
You tell him goodnight and attempt to shut the door, but Yoongi lodges his arm into the opening.
“What are you doing—”
“I’m listening.”
“What?”
You open the door once again, fully believing this man has lost his mind. It’s freezing out there, and he’s just standing there babbling.
“I said I’m listening,” he repeats. “Tell me.”
“Tell you what, Yoongi?”
You’ve never been more confused. First, he drops you off and hauls ass across town. Now he’s pacing at your doorstep, fumbling all over his words. Something’s going on.
“You wanted to talk, but I ghosted you, remember?”
Oh. So he remembers that.
“That’s water under the bridge. Just forget it,” you insist.
“So now I’m water under the bridge?”
“What?! No! That’s not what I said.”
“Well, explain,” he pleads. “Or just tell me it’s too late.”
“Yoongi…”
“I just wanna be friends again, but this haunts me. If you have feelings for me, I can’t—”
“I don’t,” you admit.
This is the first time Yoongi has stood completely still since he got here. He stares at you with wide eyes, not uttering a single word.
It took you a long time to understand your feelings for Yoongi. You had to experience a few unnecessary hook ups and break ups to realize you weren’t in love. You just wanted to fuck him like everyone else.
Who knows where things would have gone? But it would have been nice to let things happen naturally than to bottle up feelings.
You open the door again, and step to the side.
“Come in. It’s cold.”
This time he doesn’t reject your invitation.
Yoongi follows you into your living room, looking around and probably reminiscing over the past. Nothing’s really changed other than the furniture. However, the memories of the days you two used to run around while your mom scolded you for messing up the floors are still present.
You point to the couch and offer him a seat while you stand there gathering your words.
“You can sit here.”
“Thanks,” he replies.
Yoongi sits and does that thing he does with his hands when he’s nervous. His fingers intertwine and he just watches his thumbs chase each other in a loop. He used to do it all the time whenever he’d stay too late at your house and his dad would come looking for him.
Your parents always were able to calm Mr. Min down before he could reprimand Yoongi. It took him a while but he finally understood that you and his son were best friends, and your place was Yoongi’s second home.
There are so many evenings he’d miss basketball practice to hold you while you cried after your mom died. Yoongi never left your side. Even when you were unrightfully resentful and angry with him for still having his mom in his life; he understood every stage of your grief.
So no, he’s not just water under the bridge to you. He could never be. He may be wrong for shutting you out, but everyone has their breaking point.
“I wanted to tell you that I was in love with you. That I wanted you to go with me to college,” you confess.
Yoongi’s jaw nearly hits the floor. You can tell he’s shocked because he starts tripping over his words.
“I-I… I didn’t know that. I’m sorry. You—”
“...Was confused,” you add.
You can’t help but laugh at yourself and at the situation. All this time you’ve been scared to rip the bandaid off, and the wound’s already healed.
“I didn’t have anyone to talk with about dating and stuff; not from a young woman’s perspective, at least. I would watch rom-coms and thought I had butterflies whenever I saw you. Whole time…”
You fold your arms and lean against the wall, watching the television with a blank stare. Already, it feels like a weight is being lifted off your shoulders. So much tension has built up over time, so many unspoken words and unresolved feelings that it’s a relief to get it all out.
“...My pussy was throbbing.”
Yoongi picks his mouth up off the floor, and straightens in his seat. Once again, he’s caught off guard.
“Huh-What?”
You snort. “I was horny, curious… I just wanted you to bend me over and deflower me.”
“Deflower you? The fuck?”
Yoongi’s laughter erupts from his chest, lightening the vibes in the room. It’s nice to hear him laugh, like genuinely grin and reveal his cute smile. You didn’t realize how much you missed seeing the image until it’s presented to you at that moment.
“Well, it’s true!”
“I see you are still an over-sharer,” Yoongi chuckles.
“And you’re still stubborn.”
Both of you look at each, shaking your heads and sharing a fond smile. You can tell this has been weighing on him as much as it did you. He’s regretful of how he handled the situation, and you’re sorry for staying away so long.
You should have tried harder. Yoongi always did whenever it got tough.
Regardless, it’s in the past. It’s time to move on.
You walk across the room with your arms open, inviting your friend into an embrace.
“Seriously? No way,” he grimaces, trying to get up before you can close him in.
Unfortunately, he’s not fast enough.
“You know you want to. Come here.”
Wrapping your arms around Yoongi, you giggle when he acts like he’s all tense. He always pretends he doesn’t want to hug you at first, but then, he gives in.
“Fuck it,” he groans, pulling you closer.
You melt in his arm almost immediately. You don’t even care if you slide to the floor. All of your weight rests on him, but he still holds you up while complaining about you smothering him.
“I wish I could breathe,” he gripes.
“Fine…”
Yoongi expects you to back away; but instead, you climb on his lap.
“What are you doing?”
You shrug. “My bad. I thought we were cool.”
Maybe you did move a little too quickly, but it’s nothing you haven’t done hundreds of times. You’ve shared beds, seen each other naked… accidentally found each other’s Pornhub accounts. You were just acting on instinct.
You’re about to stand, but Yoongi stops you. “We are, but aren’t you mad at me?... From earlier?”
“A little, but…”
“But what?”
“Can’t friends kiss and make up?” you propose.
His hands rest on your bare thighs, fingers gently nudging at your big t-shirt. The room seems warmer now that there’s no distance between you. Or maybe it’s just the fires building in your belly that’s making you hot?
“Maybe…”
You trace his lips with your finger tips while looking in his eyes. You could spend the night like this if it were up to you. He’s beautiful; inside and out.
“Wanna try and find out?” he whispers.
You respond by softly connecting your lips, moaning instantly as your entire body begins to tingle.
Yoongi pulls you closer, holds you tighter, and encourages you to deepen the kiss you share by parting your lips with his tongue. You don’t deny him, and he invades your mouth—taking over and leaving you dizzy from the lack of oxygen.
Suddenly, he pulls away, and you’re quick to whine.
“I smell wine,” he comments. “Are you—”
“I had a sip, and the rest spilled all over my hands.”
You show him the stains on your hands and shirt, and he just stares in disbelief. “Only you.”
“Whatever,” you dismiss, trying to steal another kiss from his wet lips. “I need you.”
You drag your crotch across his lap, seeking friction. You’re shocked when he grabs your waist, thinking you’re overstepped once again.
“Hold on.”
Yoongi reaches under his shirt and grabs his gun from his waistband. He shoves it in the folds of your couch, and throws you a wink.
“We’ve kissed. Now let's make up.”
With a smile, you get up and grab his hand.
“Follow me…”
“Get on the bed,” he moans against your lips, pulling away to take off his shirt.
You begin to move, but a thought pops up in your mind.
Instead of climbing on the bed, you watch him remove his t-shirt and reveal his ink covered body. You bite your lip in awe at the masterpiece standing in front of you. He has no idea how hot he looks while simply undressing. You’re ready to pounce on him right now, but you pace yourself.
You have all night.
When Yoongi notices you’re still standing in the same spot, he tilts his head with a puzzled expression.
“Change your mind?” he quizzes.
You shake your head, and close the small space between you. Before he can say anything else, you drop to your knees. With skilled hands, you pull on his belt until it's free from the buckle. You flash Yoongi a smirk when you discover he’s watching you with those dark eyes.
As you pop open the button on his pants, your other hand flattens over his denim covered dick, noting the way it begs to be freed.
“I can’t wait,” you murmur, stroking it over his jeans.
Once you’re finally able to access his underwear, you reach inside and retrieve his thick, warm cock. You don’t care if you moaned before your lips even touched it. Shame is long gone, and you aren’t afraid to show Yoongi how long you’ve been waiting for this.
“I can tell,” he scoffs.
You let his smart remarks slide for the sake of your impatience, and move in to run the tip of your tongue up and down his slit. His precum oozes out and coats your taste buds, giving you a tiny sample of what he’ll taste like when he dumps his load on your tongue.
Yoongi hisses, probably reacting to sensitivity. You keep going, giving him a moment to ground himself before you give him the real deal.
While you tease him, you admire his girth. He’s heavy in your hand, but his dick is the perfect size to wrap your hand around it. It’s smooth, but textured and veiny—just like his hands.
No longer able to wait any longer, you part your lips and let your saliva cover the tip. You use your fingers and palm to lubricate the rest of his shaft so that it slides into your mouth with ease. Only when he’s dripping wet with spit do you take him in, and his reaction is golden.
“Ahh, fuck.”
If you could smile, you would right now. Knowing you have him on his tiptoes almost feels as good as the blunt head of his dick touching the back of your throat.
You can feel his muscles tenses up once your head begins to bob up and down, purposefully slurping loudly to create sinful noises.
“Fuck,” Yoongi curses.
His voice is rough as he pants through his words, attempting to keep his composure, but failing.
When Yoongi’s hand finds the back of your head, you look up to see what he’s doing. You keep going as you watch him whisper profanities into the air, running his ringed fingers through his dark strands.
He gathers your hair in his palm, making your scalp tingle and sting due to his strong grip. He starts controlling your movements, managing how much of him you take in at once. It’s not long before you’re choking and gagging on his cock.
Drops of your spit and tears fall to the floor. Your head starts to spin from the vigorous motions, but the feeling doesn’t prevent you from allowing Yoongi to fuck your throat until it’s raw.
Craving more, he thrusts into your mouth. The look on his face and the desperation of his movements lets you know he’s almost near his peak. However, once he realizes what’s happening, he swiftly pulls out, leaving you coughing due to the sudden intake of air.
“Look at me,” he commands after you catch your breath. “You’re fucking hot for that.”
“Thank you—”
Yoongi’s hand smacks the smirk off your face. You’re caught off guard, but that doesn’t stop your pussy from gushing at the change in his tone.
“But is that what I told you to do?”
You try to shake your head, but he’s still holding your hair.
“No, use your fucking mouth.”
When you try to speak, he shoves his fingers in your mouth, pushing them deep enough to gag you.
“You like using your mouth, don’t you?” he asks, but you know he isn’t looking for an answer. “So speak.”
“I do,” you croak around his digits.
“Now get the fuck on the bed like I told you to the first time.”
Yoongi snatches you up, and you scramble to the bed. You sit and wait for him to take off the rest of his clothes, trying to remain patient as you see he’s not in the mood for disobedience. You weren’t bothered the slightest by his lack of respect.
In fact, you crave more; and if you have to beg for it, you will.
“Second thoughts?” he asks randomly.
You notice that his wallet’s in his hand and after a few seconds he pulls out a condom. You get butterflies the moment he places a knee on the bed. For you, it’s not even happening fast enough.
“No way.”
“Good,” he winks. “Because I’m not gentle.”
“And I’m not glass.”
Yoongi growls when he hears that response, crawling over to you at lightning speed.
“Come here.”
He grabs your thigh and pulls you closer, pushing your legs apart so he can access your center. His fingers trace over your lace panties until he ultimately decides to rip them off of you.
You squeak in surprise when you hear the fabric tearing.
“Yoongi!”
“Shh,” he coos. “They’re ruined anyway.”
With a face burning with embarrassment, you turn away and stare at the wall while Yoongi puts the condom on. You can feel his eyes on you, observing the way he makes you fidget and squirm.
You get too comfortable lying there in your own thoughts. The sensation between your thighs catches you off guard.
“Ooh, shit Yoongi!”
Your body reacts the instant his dick rubs against your clit. You’re already worked up and ready to be filled, but Yoongi doesn’t want to skip the foreplay.
“Damn, it’s wet.”
He rubs the tip over your crevice, taunting you each time he passes your entrance. Just when you think he’ll slide in, he moves up to your throbbing clit and repeats.
“Please stop teasing,” you beg.
Yoongi laughs. “Why should I?”
“Because—”
You begin to whine and complain, but your words get stuck in your throat when Yoongi suddenly enters your pussy.
“Oh my god.”
Your wetness allows him to slide in easily, but your body wasn’t prepared to take him all at once.
You grip your sheets for support, but the initial shock of him moving so quickly takes almost a minute to subside.
Yoongi’s patient, giving your body time to adjust before he worries about pleasure. His thumb slowly massages your clit, getting you to relax under his touch. When your grip on the sheets finally loosen, he makes tiny strokes to test the waters.
“Good now?” he asks.
“Mhm.”
With your approval, he positions himself over you and fucks you a little deeper. Once he finds the perfect rhythm, he moves your right leg and places it on his shoulder.
You’re already moaning loudly, not caring who hears. You cry out everytime his dick digs into your cervix, exploring places you never knew could be reached.
You’ve begged guys to go deep, but they’ve always been scared to test their limits. Not Yoongi; he’s giving you everything he has, and even though you’re barely holding onto your sanity, you’d probably cry if he stopped.
“Take that damn shirt off,” he growls, gripping the giant t-shirt draped over your body.
You almost can’t figure out how to get it off, but by a miracle you manage. Now completely naked, you toss the clothing aside and start groping your tits while you lift your hips to meet his thrusts. You thought Yoongi would enjoy watching you, but he’s not impressed.
“Who told you to touch yourself?” he presses.
You don’t answer quickly enough for him. Honestly, you weren’t going to reply because your mind is so far away that his words just drift through your ears.
A hand around your throat snatches you back to real time. He’s pissed, biting his lip and trying not to spill his load before he’s ready.
“Answer me.”
This time you speak up immediately. “No one.”
“Hm. So you just do what you want?”
The sound of his deep voice mixed with the sound of your slapping skin and squelching juices turns you on beyond explanation. That familiar tension starts to build in the pit of your stomach, informing you of what’s soon to follow.
“I don’t like rules, Yoongi.”
“Oh, you will,” he promises.
Yoongi’s thrusts get stronger, making your body shift towards the top of the bed. He somehow keeps you in place using the hand he has wrapped around your neck, but you’re still being bounced around like a ragdoll.
“Since you don’t like it, I’ll finish up and leave.” His movements suddenly become faster, and it doesn’t take you long to figure out what he’s implying. “You can make yourself cum, right?”
“What?” you shriek. “No!”
His laughter resonates through your bedroom as he mocks your desperation. You try reaching between your legs, attempting to induce an orgasm yourself but he forbids.
“Uh-uh.”
He pushes your hand away and pins your wrist to the mattress, leaving you with no other resort.
“Yoongi, I wanna cum. Don’t be an asshole.”
“Better watch what comes out of your mouth then.”
You groan, realizing he’s too stubborn to give in. He’s not bluffing; he’d actually leave you stuck.
You can taste the pleasure on your tongue. You’re so close, but Yoongi’s thrusts are starting to become wild. If you don’t give him what he wants, you won’t get what you crave.
“Tell me now…” he grunts, lust oozing from his lips. He leans forward, pushing your leg to your chest as he tries to come closer. The coolness of his chains pressed against your feverish skin brings you a little relief, but it’s not nearly enough. “You sorry?”
Fuck.
“I am.”
He chuckles. “I know.”
Yoongi’s thumb then wipes the single tear rolling down your cheek. Your body’s restless and seeking some relief from all the tension building inside your core.
He finally slows down, pacing himself so he’s no longer ahead of you in the race to ecstasy. His finger gently tugs at your bottom lip, silently asking you to relax your jaw.
“You’re mine, right?”
You nod. “Yeah.”
“Good... Now open.”
Gauging your reaction, he smirks when you don’t oblige. You stick out your tongue, waiting for what you already expected.
Yoongi spits directly into your mouth, and you don’t even flinch. You look into his eyes as you close and swallow. He’s pleased when you reveal that nothing’s left when you open again.
“Good girl. Good fucking girl,” he moans, repositoning himself.
Whatever he says after that is lost between his swearing and muffled cries as he presses his lips against your leg. He slowly picks up his speed this time, allowing the heat to fill up inside of you before he drills you like before.
“Fuck, you feel so good.”
“You too, Yoongi.”
You’re desperate for more tension, but you’re afraid you’ll be punished if you chase it yourself.
“More, please.”
“More?”
“Please…”
“I got you,” he assures.
Without another word, his thumb finds your clit. His name rolls off your lips over and over, surely traveling far outside your bedroom. Your body tenses aside from your fist pounding the bed.
“Cumming!”
You can hardly breathe, air getting trapped in your lungs as his hips snap violently into yours. Your back arches as a wave of pleasure hits you like a ton of bricks. Your cries begin to fade away and all you can hear is your rapid heartbeat erupting through your ears.
Yoongi doesn’t let up, giving you his all until your body slowly falls back on you. He then pulls out and peels the condom off of his pulsing cock. As soon as it’s freed, he releases his hot seed onto your skin—painting your stomach and breasts white and sticky.
Both of you stay where you are, panting and struggling to catch your breaths.
You can see Yoongi through your heavy eyelids, slumped over and exhausted from everything he’s given in the past few minutes. His hair hangs over his eyes, but you know he’s just staring at your pussy, replaying everything that just happened in his mind.
“Yoongi?”
“Hm?” He snaps out of it at the sound of your voice, gently lowering your leg before he crawls toward you.
You feel like you’re melting when he kisses your lips. It's almost like a dream being this close to him again. Even after so long you remember the way he smells, the way he breathes… You remember everything like it was yesterday.
“You’re so perfect,” he whispers against your skin. lips make one final journey over your body, kissing every inch of you and not caring about the taste of his cum staining your flesh. He gives you endless compliments and praises, making you bury your face in your pillows. “I can’t forget to taste you.”
“Wait!” you gasp when he spreads your pussy and devours you.
Your sensitive clit throbs in his mouth as he slurps up all your juices. Your body is limp by the time he’s done, eyes nearly shut and your mind shut down for the rest of the night.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he mumbles into the darkness.
Whatever he says next is a mystery because your tiredness ultimately puts you into a deep slumber.
“I’m so fucking stupid.”
You groan as the sun pierces your eyes. Throughout the craziness of last night, you forgot to bring your phone to bed with you. Now, you’ll have to walk and—
Or you can ask Yoongi.
With that in mind, you roll over and unfortunately find an empty bed.
Of course, he left last night. He was probably out of the door as soon as you shut your eyes. You can only hope it’s because he has work to do and he’s not avoiding you after everything you talked about. You won’t even let your mind go there.
Instead, you get out of bed and stumble to the living room—finding your phone on the coffee table right where you left it. You’re still getting notifications as you pick it up; most from Kaci, one from another employee, but nothing from Yoongi.
Before you make your daily morning phone call to your dad, you text back that server regarding time off, and see what Kaci’s fussing about.
6:58am Kaci: BITCH YOU’RE STILL AT HOME!?
7:10am Kaci: you so got fucked last night. i want all the detail STAT heaux
You roll your eyes. She won’t be getting anything other than the usual shoulder shrug. Last thing you need is for her to make a scene every time Yoongi’s in the room.
7:23am You: omw. please cover for me.
7:23am Kaci: already am. get some ‘good morning’ dick sis
“I swear I wanna kill this girl sometimes,” you sigh.
Before you can leave the messaging app, your phone rings. The number isn’t saved so you answer it with caution.
“Hello?”
It’s Yoongi.
“Hey, what’s up?”
You hope he doesn’t hear the puff of air you let out as relief washes over you. You were sure you’d lost him again after the things you did and said to each other during the heat of the moment. Not like you didn’t mean everything you said, but you aren’t sure if he did.
“Nothing, just late for work. What’s up with you?”
“Not much right now. I might go home and catch some sleep,” he replies. “Your car’s outside, by the way.”
“Really?” You walk over to the window and open the blind, shocked when you see your car parked in front of your house. “How did you…”
“I told them I was taking it as collateral.”
“What?!”
Yoongi laughs. “I’m kidding.”
If he was standing next to you, you’d punch him. You don’t know how you fall for it every single time.
“I have my ways. Just um… do me a favor?” he asks.
“Yeah, anything.”
“I think my phone’s somewhere in your house. Can you check later?”
You look around to see if maybe you can spot it but it’s nowhere in plain view.
“I know you’re already late so…”
“Oh, yeah. For sure,” you respond. “If you want, you can stop by and look. The spare key is in the same spot it’s always been.”
“It’s cool. I’ll wait until you’re off work.”
“That works.”
Both of you stay silent, waiting on the other to speak. You realize you should be getting ready for work so you decide to end the call.
“Well, I have to get ready so… I’ll text this number later?”
Yoongi clears his throat before he answers. “Yeah, it’s a burner but I’ll get the message.”
“Kay. Bye then.”
“Hey,” he calls out before you can hang up.
“Yeah?”
“Still mine?”
A smile grows on your face, and you don’t try to stop it. You didn’t want to bring it up, but you were definitely still thinking about last night, wondering what it would mean today.
But you can’t let him have what he wants so easily, can you?
“Maybe,” you tease.
There’s a pause, but when Yoongi does speak his tone grows dark.
“You still haven’t learned, have you?”
You smirk. “I suppose I haven’t.”
“Well, then. I guess I’m coming over later.”
Shit.
If you didn’t think the restaurant would burn to the ground without your presence, you’d tell him to get his ass over here now. The mere thought of a repeat of last night has you clenching your thighs together.
No working late tonight. You’re sure it’ll be slow anyway.
“I guess you are.”
“I’m not being nice this time either,” he warns.
You bite your lip, trying to conceal your excitement, but you’re really bursting at the seams. You’re sure you’ll be anticipating his visit all day, letting your mind flood with scenarios. You decide to go ahead and taunt him some more, adding fuel to the already roaring fire.
“Good. Neither am I.”
He begins to speak but you end the call before he can get it out.
As you stand in your living room giggling, a wave of nostalgia hits you. You remember he’d do the same to you after you’d complain about something silly. You’d be pissed, so the thought of him tasting his own medicine puts you in the lead on your imaginary scoreboard.
You’ve probably done a lot more that got on his nerves in the past, but who’s counting? It’s your job to push each other’s buttons and make up.
Isn’t that what friends are for?
hope everyone enjoyed !!! let me know what you think !
#yoongi x reader#yoongi fanfic#yoongi smut#bts x reader#bts fanfic#bts smut#bts fics#yoongi fics#yoongi imagines#bts imagines#min yoongi smut#min yoongi fanfic#aaagustd.fics
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he makes you cry
expl: he doesn't usually care about others' feelings, so how was he supposed to know what he did to you was mean?
a/n: appalled that this is my first time doing my favorite geo boy, appalled and ashamed; also exhausted this might not be my best work, requests sent will be fulfilled soon, i just need some rest! just got hired at a job that i went for an interview with today, so work will slowly be coming out later and later, sorry!
ask me anything
masterlist
second-person writing no pronouns used, 2,818 words
Xiao was not fond of caring about others' emotions, nor did it ever occur to him that he should care. He tried to keep his life as simple and as peaceful as possible because he deserved it after everything he went through before. Which was why he was so confused when someone would cry in front of him. Xiao never cried when times were hard, what made those salty tears escape human eyes so easily?
Most of the time, he never saw people cry, and if he did, he ignored it. That's how he was taught to deal with emotion, he'd ignore it.
It began when you were up in your room at the Inn, minding your business and trying to figure out how to make the woven bracelet that the Traveler had taught you. Frankly, it was pretty difficult, and when the Traveler was teaching you, you were so busy watching them that you never actually learned.
The hours were beginning to fly by and you could hardly make out the original pattern you were trying to replicate. Repeated failures over and over and piling yarn began to stack up on the bed next to you. It was when you had finally gotten it down to only mess up again because something distracted you was when you finally snapped.
Throwing the bracelet across the room where it rested under the table, streams of hot tears began to roll down your cheeks in frustration. You were doing everything right, why wasn't it working!
It happened to be the same time you were leaving your room when Xiao was strolling down the hallway. The two of you made eye contact and his eyes flew to where the tears were running toward the bottom of your neck. His eyes widened only a little bit and his mouth opened and closed like a fish only to not know what to say.
You also stood still and stared at him. Why? Maybe you were just waiting for him to comfort you or you were curious about what he had to say. But when it was clear that he'd keep gapping like a fish, you started to walk off again. Only for him to grab your wrist before you made it too far and pull you a bit toward him.
"Are you okay?" He asked in a soft voice, hardly making eye contact with you and finding his shoes on the floor more entertaining. It was shocking to see him show such concern in general, but you remembered why you were upset and started to ball again. Pushing yourself into his chest and crying warm tears into his shirt.
His hands fumbled on the sides of you for a while until he rested them softly on your hips. Awkwardly patting you in a form of reassurance he'd never shown anyone before.
His face was pretty flat when you began to show signs of distress and sadness. Albedo was too focused on his experiment to even realize that something went wrong on your end. The sound of a beaker crashing to the floor sounded across the room, but he still kept looking forward, hardly hearing anything at all.
That sound kept up for a while, you were pretty sure you broke at least 5 beakers in the time it took for you to get them from the spare cabinet. It wasn't until the 6th beaker that you managed to catch did Albedo actually turn around to see what had happened.
His experiment seemed to be going fine, the color of the liquid sitting at the bottom of the beaker matching the picture right next to it perfectly. You sighed when you saw he had already beaten you to make the antidote.
"I don't know how you do it 'bedo. This one is probably the most difficult I've done." You said before wiping your forehead which was littered with sweat from how hard you'd been concentrating.
"Just try again, I'm sure you'll be able to complete it." He said, his encouraging words going little to no length and falling straight to the floor. It didn't help that the trashcan full of your previous broken beakers was so close. It was extremely discouraging to see how much damage you've caused just trying to learn how to brew the antidote.
Then Albedo took his leave, putting his things down when he realized the clock read 9 PM. Bidding you goodbye, he looked back one last time with his handle on the doorknob and spoke. "Humans sometimes do not carry the skill to complete such a difficult task, do not push yourself to do something you simply can't achieve."
And then the door shut. All you did was stare at where he previously had been, his words repeating in an endless loop shrinking infinitely into your mind.
"Huh?" Was all you said before a warm feeling rushed down your cheeks and landed on the toe of your shoes. Did he just call me stupid? You thought to yourself. The frustration you felt along with the fact that he just said that, caused a rush of salty tears to leave your eyes. Your eyelashes stuck together as tears mended them together.
You continued to stand there and cry, until the door opened again and the alchemist stuck his head back in the door, announcing he forgot something towards the floor. That was until he lifted his head up to see you standing there, crying. For once, he stood still and just stared at you unable to conjure any words for the scene he was witnessing.
The sniffles and the silent sounds of tears padding the floor were all that was making sound in the room. As Albedo continued to stare at you like the two of you were playing a game of freeze tag.
"I'm stupid aren't I 'bedo?" You said, which made him flinch when the sound of the nickname you gave him came out in a harsh and rude manner. "Too stupid to figure out the dumb potion because I'm just a mere human in your eyes."
"What're you talking about?" He said, with the quietest and most emotion-full voice you've ever heard him use. Albedo continued to step closer to you, almost as if he was never moving at all. When he finally did reach you, his hand brushed against your cheek and his eyes held so much concern it could fill up the sea.
"I don't think you're lesser than me, is this about what I said? I didn't mean it like that..."
You kept sniffling while looking at him, still stubborn for more than what he was giving you. His arms reached around you and held you close, something he often did when Klee would sob, which he learned from Jean.
The two of you stood like that for a while, until the blazing sun rested its eyes in the distance, and the sorrowful moon began to creep up the valley.
"What is wrong with you??" Tighnari's harsh voice came out in a way you only heard once in a while. His irritated look glared at you from where you stood, all you had done was knock down a few books, but it looked like other things were really beginning to upset him.
You expected to greet the forest ranger and spend some time together, seeing as the both of you made those plans a while ago, but it seems that he was really busy with something that he was supposed to finish a while ago.
He whipped his head back to look at the beakers on the table, making a very loud and audible sigh at your appearance here. "I'm busy, so make another time for..." He waved his hands around dramatically and quick, "Whatever it was you were planning and leave me be."
You stood silent for a while, shocked that he was giving you such an attitude, but at the same time, you had no idea how to respond to what he said. So, you did just that and didn't respond, turning on your heels and leaving. Unfortunately, Tighnari didn't hear you leave and assumed you were still sitting there waiting for him like usual. So when he turned around and opened his mouth to address you and apologize, he stopped in his tracks to see you weren't there.
When you saw Tighnari again, it was actually just his voice you had heard and your eyes didn't flicker to see if it was actually him. Collei was holding some sort of dinner for the forest rangers in the area, to both thank them and congratulate her for beating Eleazar. But you finally did see him when it was too late, and you were bumping into the forest ranger with food in your hands.
A shocked gasp came out of your mouth till the echoed noise of a bowl rumbled onto the ground and crashed down, the food flying along with it. Your distressed state increased, and you immediately flew down to try and clean it up.
In fact, you were so busy trying to clean the bowl of food that had spilled over that you didn't even realize the forest ranger was standing behind you with his hands behind his back. Until the call of your name was repeated for the 3rd time, did you turn around to look at him, tears in your eyes from how frustrated you were?
Tighnari's eyes widened before he immediately dropped to his knees and put his hand on your shoulder for comfort. It shocked him to see you in such a vulnerable state, especially with how cheery you always seemed around him.
"What happened? Are you alright?" Tighnari said, before moving his eyes down to the food splattered all over the dirt. You didn't even realize how much helping out at the party would stress you out. As soon as Tighnari muttered the words are you alright, tears flooded out more and more as you tried to hide your face in your hands. Your shoulders and body shook with how much you were crying. Tighnari moved closer to you and shielded you with his body.
Not only did he treat you terribly before, but the first time he sees you in days, you were crying? His heart felt like it could break then and there. His hand came around your back to soothingly rub circles on it while you continued to sob. His ears even flattened a bit on his head in guilt.
When Collei had come around the corner to see the pasta salad splattered on the ground, and Tighnari hugging you with his tail between his legs. She smiled and sighed a bit, before walking away to leave you two be.
It felt like a long time while the two of you sat like that, his hand never stopping to rub your back. You finally pulled away to look at him and Tighnari rested his hand on your cheek in a comforting manner.
"I'm sorry I treated you like that, I was irritated and you came in at a bad time. I never want to hurt you." His guilt-written face and ears practically flattened to his head making your heart beat in a painful rhythm.
"You can make it up to me by helping me clean this up?" You said as a sly grin grew a little bit on your face. He smiled back and rolled up his sleeves to begin cleaning.
Scaramouche was a mean boy, everyone knew that he had no filter and he acted as if he didn't care about anyone when in reality it was the exact opposite.
"You're pathetic!" He yelled at the top of his lungs, looking at your shocked expression and stance from across the room. You had just failed to do the task that Nahida assigned you again, and it seemed like the newly-found anemo holder was growing more and more impatient watching you fail over and over.
"Excuse me?" You spat back, clearly irritated with his outburst and pushiness. Scaramouche scoffed again before trailing over to where you were, Nahida watching the interaction from her desk.
"You've been doing it all wrong, and that pathetic idiot brain can't seem to comprehend that." His fingers flew a swift flick to your head, pushing you back a centimeter. "If you keep failing, shouldn't you be trying something else instead of pushing the same solution over and over? Moron."
His insults over and over were hurting, sure, but you were used to it. When you felt good. Right now, this was the last thing you needed after failing again and again. At one point you even glanced over at Nahida after failing and saw her face look a bit reluctant about your skills. Which increased your anxiety tenfold.
"I never knew someone could be so stupid. I even worked with morons every day in the Fatui, but none match up to how idiotic you are." Scaramouche just kept blasting insult after insult at you. What was with him today? Was he really that peeved you didn't wait for him in the morning to walk over here?
Moving aside and putting your hands up defensively, you made way for the prince and his smart brain. He moved in front of you and began looking down at what you were doing. It looked like Nahida was still working with you on Fermat's Last Theorem, which was an extremely difficult math equation, back in the 17th century. Scaramouche made a noticeable eye roll before sitting down to begin writing out how to solve it.
What he didn't see was your reaction to the last flinching insult he threw your way. He didn't witness the tears swell up in your eyes and he also didn't see you walk away and leave the sanctuary. Only witnessing your presence gone when he looked up to turn another sarcastic comment towards you. Scaramouche's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before looking around him to see where you went. He turned towards Nahida when he couldn't find you and she looked up at him before looking back down at her papers.
"Tsk, whatever." He pushed his seat back and sat up to leave, wondering what he should have for dinner instead of concerning himself with where you went. It wasn't until later in the evening when he saw you again, sitting back at the desk, not uttering an obnoxious sigh or an irritating "What does this mean??"
He eased himself over to you with his hands in his pockets before leaning behind your shoulder to see what you were doing. You were working on the problem again, but his copy of it was nowhere to be seen, that is until he looked towards the trash and saw his handwriting on the paper barely crumpled and resting near the top of the bin.
"You threw away my paper?" He said with irritation lining every letter. You kept writing though and paid him no mind. The silent treatment seemed to be really riling him up because he continued to berate you over and over as you sat there taking it and continuing to work.
It was only an hour later that it really started to bother him with you being quiet. Maybe what he said earlier was too harsh, he didn't really feel that bad, but if it meant you weren't going to speak to him then he had to do something.
Leaning over you again, he placed his hand on your upper arm, grabbing your attention from the unusual act. His eyes met yours and held the stare for a couple seconds before he spoke,
"I'm sorry." That was all he said.
You raised an eyebrow at him, before squinting your eyes in confusion and responding.
"Sorry for what..?" The sarcasm dripped from every syllable and landed on his fragile ego.
His eyes widened and he took his hand from your arm, frowning and shouting back,
"I don't repeat myself! Accept the apology I gave you."
"You're such a child, does saying sorry really hurt that bad?"
"You heard me!"
Your eyes rolled and you turned back to your paper as if you were going back to ignoring him, his eyes softened again and he grabbed your arm once more.
"I'm sorry I said those mean words to you. I didn't mean it, I don't like it when you leave without me and I don't like it when you're upset."
When he grabbed your arm, you didn't turn to face him again, but after hearing the words he spoke, you turned again with a smile on your face and leaned closer to his.
The blush was evidently growing the more you leaned in, and you could see his adam's apple bob with nervousness.
"I accept your apology Kunikuzushi."
#genshin impact#genshin impact imagines#genshin impact x reader#xiao x reader#xiao imagines#albedo x reader#albedo imagines#tighnari x reader#tighnari imagines#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche imagines#atskiruma
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Hiii
Lando x reader pls where she is just really introverted and its her birthday and lando wants to celebrate it by going in the club actually she doesnt want to but she still says yes and when they are in the club she just starts getting uncomfortable and then she tells lando the truth and he is just so sorry then and takes care of her the Rest of the day/night.
Only the Best for My Girlfriend - LN
I can definitely do this because this would a hundred percent be me, so probs gonna smash this out with ease. Always so easy to write something I relate to (which is like 100% of my fics ahahaha)
Lando likes to spoil his girlfriend, whether it's showering her in gifts, attention or giving her little things that he thinks will remind her of memories they have together.
But her birthday is a day he wants to go above and beyond. So he wants to dress her up, take her out and get her to party. Originally, he was going to hire the whole club out for the night and make it invitation only but she insisted she didn't want a whole party dedicated to her. Lando still wanted to have a big celebration for her though.
So he bought her a designer dress, which his jaw dropped at once he saw her in it. And made sure it looked good with the jewellery she likes to wear (with a couple new pieces she got as gifts from him and others for her birthday).
He's put in the time to set this up to make sure he doesn't have work trying to interfere with anything.
"Drinks?" Lando asks as they get up to the bar in the group since it's not just the two of them.
"I don't want to drink alcohol." Y/n murmurs while Lando smiles ordering her a coke since he doesn't really drink and he knows she prefers not to as well.
Y/n does love that so many people showed up to come with them to celebrate her birthday. But she is just feeling her skin crawl and her need to keep herself from wincing every time someone squeals at her or nudges her with a happy birthday.
It's about 20 minutes into the night that she finishes her drink and decides to try and escape.
"I'm just going to the bathroom." Y/n murmurs into Lando's ear, feeling his arm that has been pretty consistently around her waist as they (mainly him) stood and talked to others around them.
"Ok, don't be long." Lando smiles kissing her softly before letting go of her as she moves away.
Y/n does go to the bathroom, where she spends the better part of 10 minutes trying to keep tears from falling and ruining her make up which she did put a lot of effort into.
Lando was so excited about bringing her out to celebrate her birthday and she really wanted to force herself to enjoy it even though she kind of knew that this isn't really how she wanted to spend it. His excitement was contagious at least in the way that she couldn't say no or let it show that she wasn't nearly as excited.
When she steps out though, Lando is waiting outside the women toilets and the better lighting of the hallway away from the strobe lights means he sees the bloodshot shininess of her eyes.
"Hey, sorry. There was a queue." Y/n tries to lie since Lando has been so happy so far and ruining his mood might actually make her physically sick.
"Want to try that again?" Lando asks making the urge to run and hide in the toilets nearly overwhelm her before he holds out his hand for her to take, though it takes him making a grabby gesture for her to link her hand to his own then allowing him to guide her back through the club to the other side where they get out onto a balcony that seems to be used mostly for going outside to smoke. "What's going on baby? Why are you crying?"
"I'm not crying...I made sure of it." Y/n murmurs then sighing as Lando deadpans an expression at her which makes her gut twist to the point that she's sure it gurgles in warning she might actually spew on the floor right now.
"Baby, it's your birthday. I just want you to have the best time ever. But you're clearly holding back tears, please...I want to make it so you're not sad."
"I want to go home." Y/n whispers, so quiet that it's obvious Lando even straining to hear her couldn't get a grasp on the words.
"Are you not feeling well?" Lando frowns moving closer to her.
"No. It's not that it's just...I don't need to go out and spend the night partying in a club. I wanted to spend my birthday with you, just chilling and cuddling and spending time with you. Partying in crowds of people with loud music and people fussing over me, it's not what I imagined-As much as I appreciate you putting this all together and your excitement for tonight made me not want to ruin it and I tried to enjoy it but-"
"Let's go home. We can go home, I doubt anyone will even really notice." Lando shrugs smiling lightly at her which makes the ball of guilt contract. "I want you to spend your birthday in a way that makes you happy. It's your birthday baby and I want the best for your birthday, you choose what the best way to spend your birthday is."
"But you put so much effort into this."
"Because I thought you were looking forward to it. If you aren't happy then we're leaving." Lando dismisses with a smile while cupping her face. "Come on, birthday girl. You are spending the rest of your birthday however you want to spend it."
-
Lando set up the shower while y/n got off her clothes and make up before washing off the residue of everything and when she got out, he'd dressed down and was awaiting her to cuddle with.
"Hey, baby. Look at you. So beautiful." Lando grins standing up and moving towards her. "What do you want to do?"
"Can you just...playing with my hair and we binge-watch Rick and Morty?" Y/n asks with a small pout earning a laugh from the driver before he grins at her and nods, kissing her softly.
"We could climb into that bed and literally just lie there staring at the ceiling if that's what you wanted. I love you so much." Lando grins making her smile so brightly, which is the exact expression he wanted to get from her today. It's what matters to him really and is the most important thing to him.
He wants his girlfriend to just be genuinely happy about how she is spending her birthday and he knows the difference between a smile she's giving someone just to make them think she's happy vs a smile she's giving someone because she's so happy she can't stop herself from smiling.
Lando ordered food to the hotel with all her favourite snacks and drinks with a wide variety in the selection so she doesn't just have to choose one.
They curl up with the food and drinks in arms reach and Lando positions her so her head is on his chest and his hand is up in her hair and they watch her favourite show (currently since next week she'll be on something else).
It's simple, and he does slightly mentally scold himself for not thinking about the fact his girlfriend really is minimal when it comes to things to do with herself. She doesn't feel the need to go overboard or make everything a big deal about herself, but he knows that there's no point in kicking himself about it because she's happy now and that's all that matters.
"I'm going to remember this for your next birthday." Lando whispers feeling her begin to shake a little with a laugh.
"God, can we not talking about me aging another year already, there's a whole 365 days till then and right now I'm just enjoying this moment with you." Y/n smiles looking up at him as he twirls strand of her hair around his finger. "We've got your birthday before then. How do you want to spend it?"
"Mmm...maybe on holiday but like this?"
"Noted."
#f1#fanfic#formula 1#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris x y/n#lando#lando x reader#norris#lando norris imagines#mclaren#lando norris one shot#lando norris x you#lando norris fluff#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fic#ln4 one shot#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fluff#ln4 fic#mclaren f1#ln4 x you#ln4 x y/n#ln4 fanfic#mclaren formula 1#mclaren racing
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Alexia, mi reinita, mi amor, mi todo | Alexia Putellas x Reader
A/N: Not me wanting to get this out still on Alexia's birthday like I'm turning an essay in at midnight. Ok honestly I would write a part two of this but that's only if people are interested. Again requests are closed for now.
So it's a little angsty, has a little hurt/comfort (I know this woman gives the best hugs let's be real), and some Alexia fluff.
Based on this prompt list: #4, #20
Warnings: Anxiety/panic attack symptoms
WC: 1860
Alexia had resolved it in herself that she would use whatever leverage she had to have you stay at Barcelona. She was not the type to use that card…she was not that kind of player…the type to threaten to leave to get what she wanted, but the thing she wanted was you. She had tried to speak with some of the staff about it but they were “conveniently busy”. With no success, she texts you “Voy a casa, te veo pronto, amor” (I’m going home, I’ll see you soon, love) before driving over to your shared home.
Barcelona was dragging their feet with regards to your contract of whether you would be renewed or be traded to some other club, some other league, some other country. You had spent 4 years dedicated to Barcelona and had earned your spot in the midfield. The statistics you pulled throughout your career there were phenomenal, the kind that made your girlfriend proud to see because she was there from the beginning. So why was Barcelona playing a cat and mouse game with your livelihood?
______________________________________________________________
“Alexia, mi Reinita, mi amor, mi todo (my little queen, my love, my everything),
You know that I am better with my words written on paper than spoken to you. You still make me nervous when I look at you; I still blush as quickly as I did when we first met. I write this to you because I’m going to America to Bay FC…the deal has been done and the announcements will be out in a couple of weeks, but I wanted you to be the first to know.
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The amount of times that Alexia had found you at that kitchen table with your head covered by your arms crying out your frustrations at another deal that went nowhere. She would never say a word and just quietly wrapped her arms around you and kissed the back of your head before laying hers on it. Once the crying stopped her hand would gently rub your back until eventually you began to move and pulled her into a hug with your head at her abdomen with a quick whisper of “let’s go to sleep”. Her only words would be “of course, cariño (dear)”.
______________________________________________________________
I know how you are mi amor (my love) but fighting the club is not worth it. It is hard to swallow the reality that the club that I grew up watching, grew up to play in, does not carry the same love and dedication I had for them…for me. You were one of the first people I met 4 years ago when I transferred from my club team in Mexico. It was a big move and you were there to just welcome me in, you knew immediately that I did not take change very well and was uncomfortable with everything.
______________________________________________________________
Alexia, at some point, blocked some sports news outlets on your social media because of how overwhelming the “(y/n) Transfer Rumor” posts were getting for you. You did not want to leave Barcelona, you had made a home there with Alexia and the thought of leaving all of what you had terrified you.
You could already hear the comments from the “fans” questioning your loyalty, why you couldn’t just confirm that you would be staying at Barça or leaving the team all together, why you were silent on the rumors? Alexia would be there with her head on your shoulder quietly holding you in the kitchen quieting the noises in your head with a simple kiss to the temple.
“Mi princesa, go sit down.. I’ll make dinner” she’d whisper into your hair as she led you to the table and made dinner while you watched with warmth at the woman before you.
______________________________________________________________
I remember you would tease me about my accent when I spoke Spanish and said you would give me lessons if I made you a bag after you saw me crocheting mine on the bus to my first away game. I know that the Spanish lessons were just a way to spend time with me. You could have asked me to be with you at any point and I would have said yes. I remember you teaching me how to dance in our kitchen one night after saying that I was worried about making a fool out of myself at my brother’s wedding. I’m going to miss our 3 am dances we would do when I was pacing the kitchen stressed out of my mind on this transfer.
As you said, “Here I don’t want you to walk back and forth alone, just dance with me instead…I'm here”. I still remember the feeling of you under my palms; every curve, every line as I would take the lead of the dance and you would look at me calmly guiding my hands like how you did when you first taught me…yeah I’ll miss those quiet moments the most.
______________________________________________________________
You had not gone to practice that morning due to stomach issues and you had to basically push Alexia out of the door so that she went to practice.
“I’ll get some rest do not worry, mi Reinita” You say as she answers with a quick kiss.
She grabs her bags and gives another kiss pulling you in,“I’ll be home as soon as I'm done ok?”.
Alexia entered through the doorway of the shared home and saw several moving boxes littered on the floor. Confused, she looks for you as there is not the usual soft music that you play when you are doing chores and finds you wrapped in a blanket sound asleep on the couch.
Her bag is gently put to the ground as she rounds the corner of the couch. She sees the coffee table littered with papers and your phone with an unread message from her.
She quietly looms over the papers, seeing a copy of your original Barcelona contract, the proposal, the rejection to the proposal, another club offer and, finally, the letter to confirm intention to transfer. Your phone lights up with another notification; getting the attention of Alexia who notices the handwritten letter that remained unfinished under your phone.
You were a semi - heavy sleeper so she picked up the letter and began to read as her soft smile appeared, fell and then reappeared. The boxes made sense now, you were organizing your things ahead of time to leave. Seems that you received the news that morning, explaining why the staff were busy when Alexia tried her best to speak with them.
She looked down at your handwriting again…she’s so familiar with it as you have always littered her spaces with sticky notes of encouragement, love and everything in between. You always thought she had thrown them away but on your 2nd year anniversary she showed you the box where she had kept every single note that you had written to her.
It didn’t matter to her; she kept all the ones that said “Hi Ale, can you get some milk?”, “Reinita, there is dinner in the fridge”, “I’m too lazy, I ordered pizza oh and I guess Patri is coming over?’
This letter no matter how long she will keep especially close to her.
Alexia sat at the other end of the couch and began to read the last bit of the letter.
______________________________________________________________
I know that I will be so far from you and that you will miss the things that I do. You were always a romantic like that mi amor (my love). That’s why I am going to leave you my favorite book, the one that I always read way too many times and have cried over just as much. The only thing that I ask is that you don’t open it until I am gone and you are missing me. Just saying not to is going to make you want to open the book even more but please listen to me on this one. :)
I don’t know what the fixtures of the NWSL are yet but I know that you will want to -
______________________________________________________________
You stir and stretch out your legs pushing Alexia in the process. The resistance pulled you from your sleep.
Alexia laughs softly as she pats your leg, “Sleep well, cariño (dear)?”
You only nod as you rub the sleep from your eyes. Without a word, you sit up and look at Alexia who fiddles with the note that you had written.
“I wish I was at least awake when you found out, amor (love)” you start as you shift over to be closer to her.
“Are you mad at me?” your head now lying on her shoulder.
Alexia looks, almost, offended at the comment as she turns to you.
“This is your decision, cariño, you know that I will support in whatever you do and wherever you go…I’m sad, yes, but seeing you living out your dreams has been a honor for me…so no I’m not mad solamente bien orgullosa de ti (only very proud of you)”.
She pulls you closer, her hand softly rubbing your arm as she hears the small sniffles coming from you.
“Promise me you’ll watch at least one game” you say softly.
Alexia laughs and kisses the top of your head, “Amor, I’ll watch every one”.
______________________________________________________________
The announcement came and went and so did you. You found yourself preparing for the inaugural season for Bay FC. The fans had taken a liking to you immediately and the management welcomed you with open arms.
Alexia, remained in your shared home that now was quieter without your presence. The spaces that normally were filled with little posts were bare, the days for chores weren’t filled with your questionable music, and Alexia no longer needed to dance in the kitchen at 3 am.
After a particularly hard practice, Alexia returned home missing you more than usual. As she plopped down on the couch her eyes fell on your book that you left behind for her.
She remembered that you had asked her to not open it until you were gone to your new club.
Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe by Fannie Flagg, it was the book that you read every year during the summer without fail. No matter how many times you read it, Alexia would see you tear up and close the book to compose yourself before continuing.
She got the book and opened to the first page and seeing a small, sticky note,
“I miss you, mi reinita”.
Alexia flipped the page and found another one,
“You can text my mom for her soup recipe, she’d only give it to you”
A laugh escapes her as she continues through the book finding more and more of your notes that you had written out. She skips to the end and finds an older looking note.
“I love you, Alexia Putellas…” with the date of your 1st anniversary with Alexia.
And below with newer ink and dated the day that you had left.
“And I… I still love you, even after all of this time”.
#woso x reader#woso imagine#barca femeni x reader#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas x y/n#woso fanfics
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Sharks V
Meadema x Child!Reader
Summary: It's your birthday
"This is a big thing, liefje," Mummy says to you, smoothing back your hair," And you have to promise me you can be responsible."
"I can!" You say.
You've just come back from your birthday party. Well, it was more like your birthday celebration. You didn't have enough friends for a party so Mummy and the Arsenal girls took you to the aquarium and Peanut and her mummies flew over from Spain to join you too.
You showed Peanut everything at the aquarium and she even gave you a whale shark that she and her mummies adopted for you that you could track anywhere in the world.
Mama couldn't come with you today and that was sad but she got you up this morning and made you a special birthday girl breakfast.
You missed her today at your celebration but Mummy's being very secretive and said that Mama's got a surprise for you.
You let Mummy take off your shoes and hang up your coat as Mama comes down the stairs.
"Mama!" You cry, running into her arms and letting her squeeze you nice and tight.
"Hey, liefje," She says," Did you have a good birthday?"
You nod. "Me and Peanut saw the seahorses."
"Wow, that sounds fun."
"Is it my surprise now?" You ask," Because Mummy said you couldn't come because you're making my surprise."
Mama laughs and nods. She covers your eyes with her hands and Mummy helps you up the stairs.
You have to concentrate really hard to work out where you're going. You know you've moved past the adult room and your one too but also the office. You think you're going into the spare room.
It's kind of like your play room but it's mostly empty.
"Okay," Mama says, sounding oddly excitable," Are you ready, birthday girl?"
You wiggle.
"Ready!"
"Okay, one, two, three!"
Mama takes her hands off your eyes.
The play room is different now. For one, the big light is off. You like that because you're not a fan of the big light in this room. It's too bright and it buzzes sometimes.
Instead, the only light is coming from the backdrop of the massive aquarium that's been moved in while you were away.
You're practically vibrating as you run over to it.
Mama's done a very good job because it's massive and takes up a lot of the room. There are plants and little hideaway caves and coral everywhere and you gasp when you spot the creature floating along the bottom.
"Wobbegong!" You exclaim, pressing your face up to the glass as close as possible without scaring it. "Mummy! It's a shark!"
Mummy laughs and nods. She doesn't seem to want to come any closer though. "Yeah, you're right. It is a shark."
You look between her and the wobbegong. It's not very big so you don't think it's very old yet. You kind of know how big adult wobbegongs get so you step back to look at the series of interconnecting tanks to see if it will be big enough.
It is.
You smile and point at it.
"Mama! You got me a shark!"
Mama, unlike Mummy, comes forward. "I did. Do you like it, liefje?"
"Love it!"
You giggle when Mama tickles your tummy and sends you on your way to thank Mummy too.
You know that Mummy doesn't really like sharks. She thinks a lot of them are scary looking so you don't make her come to you. You hug her really nicely though.
Mama drags a chair over so you can stand on it and see your shark better.
"Do you know any facts about wobbegongs, liefje?"
"Er..." You think for a second. "They're lazy 'cause they sleep all day and come out at night."
"Wow," Mama says," What else do you know?"
"The mummy wobbegongs don't lay eggs. They have live babies like people do."
"Very interesting. Are you going to give it a name? I don't know if it's a boy or a girl. Sorry, liefje."
"Hmm." You look at the shark, studying it closely.
"Carpet," You say.
Mummy laughs. She's still keeping her distance from it all but she's got her phone out and you think she's recording. "Why do you want to call it Carpet, liefje?"
"'Cause wobbegongs get called carpet sharks like how I get called liefje!"
Mama grins, stroking through your hair. "I think that's an excellent name."
"Mummy," You say," Can you send a picture of me and Carpet to Peanut's mummies?"
Mummy laughs. "Alright. Go on and pose and I'll take a picture."
"Peanut got me a shark in the wild and you and Mama got me a shark at home!" You say," This is the best birthday ever!"
#woso x reader#meadema x reader#beth mead x reader#beth mead#vivianne miedema x reader#vivianne miedema#woso community#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso
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i. the likeability paradox.
pairing. joel miller x fem!reader
synopsis. joel miller is not a man who strives to be liked, with a chip on his shoulder and a scowl on his face, until his world is flipped on its axis when the pretty young thing living under bill and frank's roof, with an irritatingly unwavering smile and the literal sun shinning out her ass, says those five damned words: i don't like you, joel.
warnings. no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, slow burn ( i have several oneshots planned for this couple ), unrequited love ( except you will never catch joel miller admitting he feels anything beyond grief, hunger and exhaustion ), pining, poor communication no communication, no seriously joel is down bad it's actually disgusting and highkey 🚩toxic🚩 but luckily red is your favourite colour, sunshine!reader, grumpy!joel aka canon joel, kinda perv!joel ( if you squint ), implied queer!tess, undefined age gap ( reader implied late-20s ), descriptions of canon-typical violence, smut ( oral- f receiving, fingering, degradation, panty stealing, hair pulling, dirty talk, dubcon due to intoxication, joel kinda gives her a wedgie at some point and honestly i don’t know what i was hoping to achieve with that, discussions of a lacklustre sex-life pre-apocalypse ). reader is a) hinted at being shorter than joel but it’s not central to the plot and b) described as lithe but the meaning intended is graceful, not thin!
word count. 12.9k
hyde’s input. half-way through, the regret of choosing to write this from joel's pov started to settle in but lmao i was too far in to not commit to the bit. don't come at me for the fact the timeline or events may not seem plausible with canon, i just wanna write this silly little depraved fic about joel in peace :( anyway, enjoy my first attempt at writing for tlou, forming a prayer circle rn in hopes that this doesn't flop because i will cry and you will hear about it
taglist. @kayleezra @newavenger + add yourself to the taglist here !
read on ao3 ! ( capitalization available )
distaste is not new in the life of joel miller.
in particular, one that is loaded, aimed and fired directly at him. he is not a likeable guy, often by choice and rarely by accident. the years of pain from a bleeding wound have now scarred over into nothing but an empty shell of the man that once was, from a world that no longer is, and he’s tried little to fill himself back up.
if anything, he’s made himself more empty.
rid himself of feelings, that which saves him the weakness of appearing sympathetic. discarded the need for luxuries, for which he’d scarcely cared for prior to his world ending. lay to rest what was left of the optimist inside him, leaving behind the danger of hope for it to rot with the rest of the infected.
an apocalyptic world brings out all sides of man that one would never dare to engage with in normal civilisation. joel learned swiftly that he was built to endure, quick to evolve and adapt to the new world order. the man who once worked his hardest to keep the peace among his neighbours, smiling that little bit wider on days he’d catch them scowling to themselves in hopes of brightening one part of their day for even a simple moment, would be at odds with the man who wears a heavy layer of enjoyment when met with the scowling glances and the hushed voices, all the watch out for that miller guys passed between cowardly members of fedra and the keep away from mr. miller's lawns spoken harshly from mother to child becoming music to his failing ears.
this plague of fear-driven dislike keeps him alone, how he likes to be, no one to lose and nothing to be taken. somewhere along the years the idea of safety in numbers has morphed into an illusion, something people say and never truly mean, to distract themselves from a reality more bitter than a snowstorm: in times of survival, people become dead-weight.
“so that’s all i am to ya, huh? dead-fucking-weight?” his brother’s voice still echoes in that damned space he calls a home, weeks or months or years since the day he’d departed for something else, somewhere else, leaving joel to do what joel does best: endure.
somehow, silence was easier than telling the man he’d taught to tie a shoelace, to shave his beard, to tune a guitar that he was the dead-weight, doomed to drag all those who remained too close down into his pit of despair.
she was an exception, his tess, buried 5-feet-under in her own swell of darkness, nothing but the tips of her fingers stretched out above her head to feel the sun upon her skin and keep her from going that last foot deeper. they’d made a home for themselves in one another, one where he keeps them fed, and she keeps them safe, and neither of them keeps the place clean.
she never asks for more, and he never offers it, both content to survive without the weight of affection smothering them. contrary to the belief of any misfortunate soul who’s encountered the pair within the quarantine zone, she is the one who holds the leash, tugging joel along close by her heel and keeping him from wandering off into the wild to surrender himself to a feral lifestyle.
which lands him here, sat at a table playing happy family, each time he dares to snark out a few words being met with the sharp kick of tess’ foot against his shin.
“... and then,” frank struggles over a cough, so excited in his story-telling that he fails to separate taking a breath from taking a sip of his wine. with a roll of eyes and a disapproving grunt, bill’s no more than two seconds away from clapping down on his back, urging the other man’s wind-pipes to unblock and welcome back airflow. “otis dragged his muddied self over the whole house. we were finding paw-prints for days!”
joel’s unamused, too keen to think of what a nuisance that would be. as if incapable of feeling the buzzing energy of disinterest, the german shepherd drops its head further up his lap, begging for a morsel of anything that sits atop the table.
“which means i was cleaning paw-prints for days.” bill, the only one at the table besides himself who wears the looks of a cynic, grumbles out before shovelling what remains on his plate into his mouth.
frank is quick to shush him.
“i’m sorry, again, bill,” he doesn’t mean to break eye-contact from the mutt at his thigh, but the voice calls to him like a siren calls to a ship in the night, like a flame dances and seduces a moth into its brightly burning touch of death, a spotlight in the dark which promises- or threatens- more light to come. “i’d no clue there was a storm coming till we were already a good few miles away, and there was nowhere to take cover to wait it out.”
there you sit, parallel to him.
the sun rests lower in the sky as time carries you all into the late noon, its rays a beacon of light bursting out just behind your head, painting you in the glow of the golden hour and staining a mockery of a halo above you. it hurts his eyes, this brightness that you so easily bask in, forcing him to squint and deepen the frown on his face.
you catch him with his sights on you, at some point, and the smile you meet his scowl with has him cursing at the sun, and the moon, and every star that sits between.
the threat of a great war looms in the air as you rush to rise up and help clear the table of the remnants left behind- none of which joel can account for, mouth to keen and body too starved to skip out on enjoying the mundane luxury of a fresh, home-cooked meal. the battle ends swiftly as you surrender to bill’s hardened stare, and frank’s disapproving head-shakes, and tess’ own plan of action to simply force you down back into the seat you’d been sat in- the one you always sit in.
“you, sit. no one should have to clean up the food they made.”
they get no fight out of him when they insist he’d done enough catching the so-called food.
silence casts its shadow over the table, dampening the light and painting you both in a mockery of greyed tones- truthfully, it is the disappearance of the sun hind a large cloud that causes such a thing.
being alone, with you, is something joel’s never mastered. the affliction of your presence is so much greater when there’s no one else to balance out your natural shine- the kind that has his head spinning and his cock aching-, no one but him.
were he not a sick bastard, he’d try harder to not make you sad.
something bumps his hands, ripping him out of his moral self-condemnation. the dog meets his gaze, eyes a widened mess of puppy-dog pleading that punctuates its existence with an impatient whine.
just like your owner, he finds himself thinking and not saying- never saying-, yet to find your bark.
the ball’s a sticky mess of slobber and dirt, and joel touches it all the same, throwing it up in the air once, then twice, before tossing it across the yard. he’s slumped back in his chair by the time he registers the dog’s departure, a ball of dark fluff bouncing its way across the garden, and all the man can think is fuck, he’ll be feeling the effect of that throw on his shoulder come the morning.
the pain is not enough to stop him from tossing the ball again, and once more, and then yet again, sending the dog in a never ending loop of chase, grab, retrieve- a parallel to his life of wake, survive, sleep.
“he likes you,” you never leave things the way he wishes them to be, bursting his bubble with the vocal reminder of your presence.
as if on queue, prompted by your addressing of it, the dog drops its interest in joel, and the ball, and the chasing, tail wagging uncontrollably by the time it reaches your side. standing on its hind legs, it collapses the front of itself into your waiting lap, and joel watches how you wrap your arms so easily around something that could cause you harm.
to envy a creature that licks it own shit off its ass is a new low for joel.
“thinkin’ he might like ya more, sol.” the nickname rolls off his tongue with ease, the safer option than uttering your name, a vice and virtue he’s only permitted himself in idealistic fantasies that play out in his own troubled thoughts.
“most people do,” whether you mean to make it seem like you’re degrading his very existence or not, he’s unsure, but it rouses a chuckle out of him.
he takes note of how you don’t protest the name he’s branded you with, not like how you’d fought tooth and nail against it every other visit he and tess have made.
“you’ve got a whole load in common, you know? i think that’s got something to do with his fascination-”
“how the hell’s a man like me got somethin’ in common with a four-legged mutt?” there he goes again, making that smile slip down your cheeks with a simple use of his voice. it helps as much as it hurts, frown loosening up and eyes no longer strained beneath the bright shine of your visceral optimism.
“well, you’re both... hairy,” he restrains himself from reacting, washing down a laugh with the help of the dregs of wine that lay collecting at the bottom of his glass. he’s let his appearance grow more rugged over the past few months and your noticing of this brings an unwanted warmth to his aching bones. “and have the most kickass women in your lives to stop you from dying.”
he’s interested to know what life would be like under your protection.
discovering the answer brings the threat of pain, and loss, and an openness to vulnerability he can not afford himself, so he takes the safer option: “‘s easy stayin’ safe when you live in this fantasy land. doubt your mutt’d last any longer than a day out in reality.”
with you as its protector.
he doesn’t say it and, still, it somehow hovers in the space between you both, a heavy, syrupy implication that slips down your throats and threatens to suffocate you. he watches you choke on it, coughing on his cruelty and feigning it to be a simple clearing of your throat. your eyes glue themselves on the dog, delicate fingers smoothing over the well-groomed hairs down its back.
survival has turned him into a man who knows when to seize an opportunity, and this is one he takes with both hands, basking in the simplicity of staring, watching, observing you without the crime of being caught.
but i could keep you safe.
he toys with the danger of uttering such a thing aloud. it’s not the first time he’s thought it. truthfully, he’s unsure when it first nestled its way into his mind.
his memory, which ails him more than it aids him these past years, would have him believe it was way before the dog had even appeared, back when it was just bill, frank and you. a few whiskeys in and a campfire lit for you all to gather for warmth around- why you’d all chosen to sit out in the gardens on a winter’s night joel remains unsure of to this day-, it was frank who’d prompted the question. “where were you all when... this started?” tess went first, braver than most people he knows, sharing stories of a version of herself he’ll never meet.
he never imagined her working in a bank.
bill, with reluctance, took the next step, keeping his account factual and to the point. “was shit-faced drunk and getting my stomach pumped.” he’d been quick to skim over the story of the young nurse who’d guided him to safety out the hospital, losing her own life in exchange for his survival. she was barely out of school. “i knew her dad, bit of an asshole, but boy, was he proud of his baby for graduating.” frank couldn’t let him swim too deep in his thoughts, afraid a current of guilt would trap him and drown him in the depths of it, and so he raised his own voice and began his tale.
joel had always been a good listener. being a single parent to a teenage girl required him to be, or so... she would have had him believe, nights at the table set for two spent listening to the playground he-said-she-said gossip. years later and he at last prefers things this way, a rare gem of safety found in the act of saying nothing and hearing everything- that his hearing will allow. all this to say, he’d tried his best to pay attention to frank’s impassioned retelling of his heroic misadventures that had lead him to the unintentional arms of bill.
but you weren’t smiling.
he watched you, you watched the dancing flames, face stoic and drained of that natural shine his eyes had only just started to be able to gaze upon without the threat of being blinded by such light.
the desire crept up on him like a tiger to it’s prey, hiding in the far off bushes until the opportunity to strike presented itself and the feeling lunged for joel’s back, gripping him in its claws and piercing his ribcage with its gnashing teeth. with each bite, it plagued him with the delusions of a wandering mind, imagination left free to run laps around his head with visions of you from another life, another time, another set of people gathered round a dining table. he’d wanted to hear about the ones you’d lost, and comfort you with all the things he hated hearing (“you’ll keep ‘em alive, in spirit and memory!” “those we remember never truly die!”). he’d needed to bend a knee and swear a vow to be the one to stand between you and death, to fight for your survival on your behalf. ‘could keep you safe. there, then, the thought did cross his mind.
he’d washed it down with a swig of lukewarm, flat beer.
“-could fix it, you know. i’m good with my hands.”
he almost chokes on his own breath.
i'm good with my hands, it swims in circles round his mind, replaying and echoing off the walls of his skull. and he knows- oh, how he knows- that he’ll be replaying it in those moments of solitude for the next few nights, weeks, months- however long it may take till he forgets the way such thought-provoking words sound on your lips.
“what?” the question leaves him harsher than he intends, drawing an enemy line between you both with the foul sound of it. in the corner of his eye, he swears he sees you flinch backwards, physically recoiling from the disdain-filled bullet he fires in your direction.
the mutt in your lap retreats, hackles rising as it turns to face joel once more.
he sees it, in the dog’s brutal protectiveness over you, this similarity you claim exists.
“your watch, it’s broken.”
“hadn’t noticed,” he’s retreating into his own space now, mentally and physically, scraping the legs of his chair against the ground as his mind works to strengthen those walls that threaten to crumble so often in your presence. “don’t need ya to fix it.”
you pull a face, brows furrowing and lips pouting. confusion.
“don’t you want to know the time?” you ask, as if time could ever be relevant in a rotten world where down is up, and up is down, and joel miller is not the overprotective father to the most delicate creature the god he’d stopped believing in had gifted him, just to force him to watch as life snatched her away.
“i don’t keep it for the time.”
you smile, and this one’s a killer, piercing straight through the cages of his ribs to carve itself into his withered heart.
the german shepherd relaxes with the rebrightening of your aura, shaking out the tension from its body before sauntering its way back over to joel, ball in mouth and tail wagging excitedly, as if it hadn’t just contemplated having its first taste of human flesh.
he’s throwing the toy in a matter of minutes, enjoying the repeated run and retrieve game, and the renewed silence that comes along with it. nature sings its tune with rustling leaves, cawing crows, and pounding paws. it’s almost so easy to leave your offer, your words, his broken watch in the rearview mirror of this otherwise pleasant afterno-
“ooh, so there’s a story to tell!” you’re blinding him with your excitement, lithe limbs leaning forward in your own chair in an attempt to reach closer, table between you be damned. “i’ve never heard any of the joel miller backstory, this should be-”
“i get that likin’ everyone is your thing, but would’ya give it a rest?”
nature falls silent.
skies grow dull.
you juggle sadness.
there’s a crash that comes from within the house, followed by the unmistakable sound of tess’ sailor mouth, cursing whichever delicate dish she’s broken into smithereens with the help of her accident prone hands. the dog’s lain itself down upon the grass, ball between it’s paws as it begins to bite, and chew, and break it under the pressure of its canines.
joel wonders what the mutt’s practicing for.
“sure,” then, with the return of your voice, all sounds resume, harmony upon planet earth once more. only, the gates have been shut in his face and joel finds himself forced to watch as everything unfolds from the outside, an unwelcome visitor forced out into exile with the fungal freaks and the inhumane. “but you’re wrong. i don’t like everyone.”
“‘s that so.” his eyes roll. the hole he’s dug for himself sinks deeper, casting you higher up on the pedestal joel will always be wiling to place you on.
“yeah,” you’ve risen out your chair, gifting him the view of how the fabric of your dress dances above your knee, a final twist of the knife in his heart that he lets you pierce his flesh with each time he surrenders himself to your existence. “i don’t like you, joel.”
the hours come and go, but your words linger like a bad tattoo, shamefully engraved into his skin and banning him to a life of noticing the horrendous thing each time he passes by his own reflection.
we’re staying, for tonight. tess had called the shots, and he’s been learning not to argue when she gives him one of her stern looks, biting down on the comments he’d wanted to make of the dangers of being out of the qz for too long, which would likely earn him nothing but a shrug and the reminder that they both were off duty the following day
the nights are beginning to grow darker as winter grows nearer, leading bill and frank- mostly frank- to excuse themselves to bed, bidding the two visitors with a final reminder to make themselves comfortable in whichever room they can find. if only joel could remember which door leads to yours.
the two women in his life remain awakened, passing a bottle of wine between each other as you both converse back and forth, catching each other up on one another’s life, satiating that craving for mundane gossip.
tess recounts the scandal of the poor boy who’d been caught sleeping with a fedra agent’s wife, you whisper that frank and bill had been fighting again recently. the memory of being ambushed by raiders- now dead raiders- comes to life once more with the help of tess’ voice, while the promise to uncover what exactly bill and frank were hiding from you as of late is sealed in your words.
at some point, he lays himself to rest atop the couch, legs stretched out and arms crossed over his chest, ignoring the squeeze of the fabric over his forearms as the too-small flannel struggles to contain the muscles forged by the need to survive. at another point, he’s lulled to sleep by the lullaby of your mingling voices, a safety blanket draping itself over his tired body and enveloping him in the comforts of having that which he struggles to care so little for, so near him once more.
-n’t tell me you’re a virgin.
the words are muffled as the man slips back into consciousness, a frown coming to rest on his forehead as he battles against the demons urging him awake, the nightmarish memories of car crashes, and soldiers, and so much red chasing him away from the sleep he longs for so badly.
a protest rings true in his head and his ears.
was gonna say. knew you were young, but not that young.
it’s the sound of your laughter that awakens him fully, saving him from the tortures of his own mind.
“god, no! me and my ex, we... a few times. it was alright, i guess. i just, yeah, there’s not much to miss.”
he’s unwilling, unable to reopen his eyes, curling in on himself as he rolls over onto his side. a groan slips past his lips, one he’s hoping tess and you will dismiss as nothing more than the sleep-filled rambles of a dreaming man.
neither of you make any acknowledgement of him.
“not much to miss?! sweet christ, you’re breaking my fuckin’ heart.” he’s learnt over time the common traits of a drunken tess. each word becoming an exclamation, curses becoming more frequent, and that irritating habit she’s picked up of imitating his own accent. there’s no need to bother opening his eyes, joel’s already sure he’ll find his companion with flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “i’d give up a hand for some head!”
you must do something, pull a face or shake your head, for the sound of tess’ renewed shock fills the room. he wonders, as the sound bounces off the walls, how late into the night it’s grown.
late enough that the cicadas singing outside the window are now accompanied by the hoots of an owl.
“you’ve got to be shittin’ me.”
“it bores me!”
“it bores you!?”
the couch beneath joel creaks as he shifts once more, turning his back on you both as the ability to contain his laughter grows harder with each word you exchange and each gasp tess gives. the last thing he needs is to be caught eavesdropping on your sex life like some dirty old pervert.
the crueler part of his mind replays your voice, i don’t like you, and the knife twists in his guts this time.
you like tess. love her, even. it’s been that way since the first time you’d met the duo, eyes giving one look over the woman before the smile on your face grew even wider, voice as sweet as honey sighing out finally someone with a pair of boobs, i’m bored of the sight of my own. joel’d gotten caught up in the thought of how he’d never tire of such a sight that he’d failed to acknowledge your greeting towards him, catching just the moment you drew your outstretched hand back to your side and offered him an understanding smile.
maybe that was the moment you decided you didn’t like him.
“must not have been doin’ ya right,” the bottle of southern comfort is working its wonders on the older woman, accent growing further and further from its true nature with each glass she nurses. joel hears the faint sound of ice smacking against glass and knows it must be yours. you’ve always struggled with liquors, slipping as many ice cubes as you can manage into a glass in hopes that they’ll eventually melt and water the alcohol down. it’s oddly endearing, you think no one has noticed. “this fella of yours.”
joel has no right to despise the idea of you and some fella.
he does so, regardless.
“well,” he imagines the shape of your meek smile and the way you shrug your shoulders. “we were each others firsts.”
“that’s no excuse! trust i left mine cryin’ into her pillow the first time i went down.” tess and he have a silent agreement to never speak of the nights joel would take refuge on their beaten-up couch while tess indulges herself between someone’s thighs in the bedroom. no discussing the sounds she pulls from her concubines, no addressing the wet patches left behind to stain their shared sheets, and definitely no speaking on how his hand winds up stained in his own cum.
you scoff and follow it up with a saccharine laced giggle, so sweet its bound to rot your teeth if you even attempt to hold it in. “what, are you offering your services?”
this he likes less than the image of you with some fella, the thought of having to lay upon a mattress on which tess had raised you to heaven while he once again remained locked out in the dark leaving his skin crawling with unwarranted rage.
“‘as sure as i am that you’re sweet all over, ‘fraid to tell you i like my women a little older than you.”
he knows he should do the same, should lust after those women his own age who shoot him carnal looks in the streets of the qz. it should be skin his own age that he longs to taste, and eyes who’ve seen as much as his own he wants to stare into, and lips as cruel as the ones he owns that he fights off the urges to kiss. but he can’t, and he won’t.
and you’re the one to blame.
you, with the glow of a thousand suns. you, with the hands that tend to flowers instead of corpses. you, with the gentle nature he’d have to spend the rest of his days fighting off every other living thing just to protect.
his own self being the first he’d need fight.
joel wonders what he’d missed in his hours- if it had even been so long- of rest, how the playground gossiping dissipated into reminiscing the pleasures of supple flesh and the sins of unfulfilling lovers. sleep steals him away once more before he can find the answers.
the next time he awakens, he’s drowning in a plight of cruel memories, a cold and brutal ocean of faces, places, and traces of the ephemeral sentiment of happiness he’d possessed once upon a time, back when the price of letting one’s guard down was not so high.
he’s learnt, with time, that losing her comes in waves. some small, meaningless little things, that ripple joel’s surface and coast gently over his dirt ridden skin. others, tsunamis. big, angry, all imposing. they’re born in ground-shaking explosions of grief, building speed, and height, and weight the closer they grow to crashing over him.
amidst the passing of time, he’s tried to keep himself busy in his awakened hours, to keep his mind occupied and avoid thinking about her too much. but the waves always come back, no matter how hard he tries to fight them or swim away from them. they catch him off guard, crashing over him when he least expects it. in the middle of a raid, lost in thought and standing ten inches deep in grime, blood, infected, and suddenly the weight of her absence will hit him like a ton of bricks.
the currents grow more violent whenever he closes his eyes.
this evening, it had been a minuscule wave, yet it’s damage still leaves him with sweat slicked skin. he reenters the land of the living choking on his own fear and shooting up-right, hardly registering his surroundings till his feet hit solid ground. the gentle, barely-there croon of a sinatra record punctuates the room alongside the dim glow of a lightbulb which flickers with the threat of expiring and leaving naught but the moonlight to wash over the dark of the night. across from him is tess, nursing a half-emptied cup against her chest and wearing tired eyes. snoring comes from below him, where joel finds he’s a mere foot away from having stepped upon the sleeping dog, curled in on itself and laying soundly by his side.
you take up no space of this room.
neither the dog nor the drunk pay him any mind as he pushes up onto his creaking knees, stretching out his limbs in a fight to undo the tension in his aching bod. languid steps carry him out into the hall, where he freezes under the self-questioning of where he’s going.
there are three answer to this: where he should, where he could, and where he would.
he should find himself a bedroom, perhaps be ostentatious enough to rid himself of those stale clothes and let the warmth of running water wash away the sins he’d committed throughout the day. a good night’s sleep, atop a mattress where springs do not dig into his back and the sheets are clean as could be, it would do him good.
he could head towards the kitchen, quench that thirst that he’s awoken with, cottonmouth and a headache to go with it too. perhaps he’ll find himself something to eat, indulge in the luxury of readily available food just this once, he’s sure frank wouldn’t mind. bill definitely would, but that’s not something he’ll need care about when he’s miles out and heading back to the qz.
he would try find you, open whichever door it is that leads into the haven that must be your bedroom. he imagines its clean, and organised, and smells of some syrupy lavender that is bound to nauseate him as he smothers his face into your bedsheets, eyes shut, and mind relaxed, the threat of those violent waves no concern to him as he anchors himself with an arm around your warm skin. skin he’s never felt, yet he stands firm in his belief it must be the most soothing thing to touch, as gentle and inviting as the heart it keeps safe within it.
i don’t like you, joel.
those words stop him from trying.
he tells himself it’s for the best.
with a mind of their own, his legs have made the choice for him and deliver him outside the opening to the kitchen. he swallows down a gulp of his own saliva at the prospect of a glass of water. the door’s already half-opened, and joel nearly thanks christ for it as the fear of waking anyone with the squeaking of the handle is eliminated. the darkness of the night encompasses the room, even with the moon’s shine reflecting off every surface it touches: the counters, the knife stand, the metal drawer handles, the refrigerator.
the refrigerator.
it’s open, a blue light shining out of it and illuminating anything it its proximity. a subtle beeping noise rings from it, and suddenly joel’s back in his thirties, dead-beat yet well-intentioned brother stealing the food off his own plate as he beckons his pre-teen daughter back into the kitchen.
keep leavin’ this open and it’s a job you’ll be gettin’ this summer, not a dog.
she never lived long enough to get either.
he catches something move beneath the artificial light. cautious at first, it’s all the more startling to find the object of his ire and the embodiment of his desire stood leaning back against the countertop, a glass full of orange liquid pressed to a mouth that parts and welcomes in the sugary sweet delight.
“why aren’t ya sleepin’?” the words rasp out his throat, catching and scratching on the parts of him that still yearn for something to wet his tongue with.
beneath the light, you shrug, “could ask you the same thing, texas.”
he curses tess for teaching you such a nickname.
he curses himself more for the way you saying it twists up his insides.
you’re teasing him, smile a little looser and eyes less focused than he’s used to seeing. whether you’re tipsy or simply delirious with exhaustion, joel remains unaware.
he grunts, daring to take a few steps further into the kitchen. the door behind him closes over and give the illusion of the space becoming smaller, tighter, more compact.
“i asked first.” you laugh, at him. full on chest-rumbling, hand over your belly, head thrown back- so abruptly it nearly crashes against the corner of the opened cabinet door. the corner of his mouth is curling upwards before he can catch himself. he hopes the refrigerator light shows less of him than it shows of you, bare legs, and messed hair, and pointed nipples all on display for his undeserving eyes. “‘s so funny, huh?”
“nothing, nothing,” he successfully fights off the urge to follow the drop of orange juice that spills down the side of your mouth, over your chin, down your neck, disappearing beneath the collar of your dress. perhaps he is not as successful as he believes. “just never heard the joel miller say something so childish. you’ve usually got your panties all in a bunch if someone so much as looks at you for too long.”
you make way as he inches closer, sliding yourself over to rest against the island counter. a fragrance of things he can’t quite pinpoint, but enjoys nonetheless, wafts in his face as he travels down the path to the sink. uncouth and unbothered, joel opens the tap and cups his hands beneath the stream of water.
“you know there’s a cupboard full of glasses right next to you, right?” you call out behind him as the man brings water to his dry lips, splashing and just about guiding his head beneath the stream. the thirst does not budge. he hums an acknowledgement of you, yet continues with his method.
by the time he switches the water off, you’ve made yourself busy, back facing him while you work at something atop the counter, a consistent chop-chop-chop filling the silence that settles between you both.
“i’m making soup,” you state, like there’s nothing quite more logical you could be doing at whatever-o’clock in the morning it is. “make sure you take some with you when you leave. tess said she’s been fighting off a cold the past few days, need you to keep her warm and fed for me.”
would you do the same for him, if you knew he’d been the one to catch that damned cold in the first place? four days of just about coughing up his lungs, and not a single soul- not even his tess- had offered soup, nor warmth, nor sympathy. he’d not needed it, until now, when he hears you gifting it to someone else.
i don’t like you, joel.
of course you would do the same. not because you care, nor because doing otherwise would way heavy on your conscious, but because you’re nice. nice in a way he’ll never be, has never been. patient, welcoming, comforting, warm. all words that spring to mind when one thinks of you. they violently oppose the closed-off, angry, dark cloud that had rolled in years ago and casted it’s shadow over joel’s entire persona.
he straightens his back, weight shifting from one foot to another as he contemplates you from behind. the sway of your dress as you move has him in a trance, beckoning him closer before he can even realise he’s taken a step. his hands drip water onto the floor in a rhythm, and the record player sings in the distance as a reminder of tess, and your sweet out-of-tune humming fills the empty kitchen with a brightness greater than the moon, but that’s not what joel hears.
i don’t like you, joel.
i don’t like you, joel.
i don’t like you, joel.
i don’t like you, joel.
over and over, you taunt him without even trying, nailing the words into his head and heart, impaling him with your sweet condemnation. you’re not the first to say it, to his face or otherwise, yet you’re the first to evoke such a reaction out of him, to leave a lasting impression hours after you’d declared such a thing.
and, suddenly, joel’s angry. at you, at himself, at the sound of that damned knife in your hand slicing down onto the chopping board. the fog of his ire blurs his vision, rendering him to move blindly through the night.
only when he finds himself looming over you from behind does his vision clear.
a hand meets the curve of your hip and you gasp, leaving joel to wonder if it’s because the shock of his cold, damp touch or, simply, because it’s his touch. without a thought spared, he firms his grip, fingers squeezing tight enough he feels your flesh bulge between each one, a bruising promise joel gifts you.
you may leave your marks emotionally, but joel’s will always be physical.
“why,” he pulls in a breath, loading up the will to keep his voice a low rumble, a quiet disturbance in the night for no ears but your own to hear. “don’t ya like me?”
if not for the pause in your practiced movements, knife stilling midway through slicing a carrot, he’d believe you’re unaffected by his proximity. “why do you care?”
he scoffs, “i don’t.”
“hmm,” this hum is far less delightful than the way you’d been following along to whatever melody tess was playing in the living room. “sure sounds like you do.”
“yeah, well, i don’t,” he insists, and he swears he almost feels the way it only digs deeper the hole he’s created for himself.
joel knows he cares. it’s been burning at his skin and itching on his mind since the moment you’d welcomed yourself to a little bit of unfiltered honesty, dropping the perfectly poised and eternally polite mask you’d worn since the moment he’d first met you, an attitude he loathes as much as he anticipates surrounding himself with it each time he’s tugged along for the trek to bill and frank’s.
what joel doesn’t know is why he cares. there’s nothing to be desired about him, no traits to respect and certainly no looks to admire. he’s near crafted his entire being in a way that makes sure of this, the more undesirable his presence is, the less likely he is to be approached, be it by other people or fate itself.
maybe there was a part of him that had wrongfully imagined you being the exception.
instead, you’re stood barefoot in the latest of hours, knife working away the vegetables in front of you, dress sticking to skin beneath his damp hand, and you don’t like him.
not one bit.
joel grabs at your hips harder, his free hand curling round the shape of your left forearm. his feet shuffle forwards, until there comes a point where one would struggle to make out where you end and he begins. his chest pressed to your back, his muscular legs trapping your soft thighs, his forehead digging into the side of your head so intensely it threatens to shatter both your craniums and leave nothing but dust made by bones blown into smithereens.
he inhales, and finds you don’t smell of lavender.
“for the record,” he watches your movements over your shoulder, entranced with the back and forth sawing of the knife through unidentified vegetables. ‘s like how i sliced that raider’s throat, he thinks, and instantly regrets it. no part of him should ever be compared to you. “i don’t like ya either.”
he’s lying through his teeth, hoping you don’t notice.
the knife never ceases its movement. back and forth, back and forth. chop, chop, chop. blurs of greens, and oranges, and more greens cover the counter before you. it’s oddly soothing, this repeated and unbroken pattern, reminding joel of times he’d found comfort in the mundaneness of cooking a meal after an emotionally exhausting day. perhaps, this has the same affect on you, a momentary lifejacket to keep yourself afloat amongst the waves that haunt you awake.
the hand on your forearm travels, mind of its own, drawing up the shape of your shoulder with featherlight touches that contradict the way his nails dig deeper into the the skin you hide beneath the waistline of your dress.
“that’s not news,” you must think he’s blind to the hitch in your breath when his fingers slip over your pulse-point.
it’s his turn to respond with a hum.
“you only like yourself,” words more untrue have never been spoken before the man who’s every moment is spent drowning in his loses. his wandering touch halts. “a little selfish, if you ask me. but, that’s just what i think.”
this strikes a nerve. fury commands his hand into a fist and fingers find themselves tangled in the tresses of your hair. the realisation of how surprisingly soft it feels barely finishes registering when he’s pulling on it, dragging your head along with, till it lays flat on his puffing chest and your eyes stare up at him. “d’ya know what i think?”
even upside down, your beauty is striking.
“no, unlike you i don’t care what you think about-” joel tugs on your hair once more.
“i think you’re a brat. a silly little girl who thinks she can smile and get away with murder.” you could. he’d forgive you as you soak your hands in the blood you draw from him. knife in the heart, bullet through the brain, bat to the face, he’d slip away easily from this life if only to have you smile as he goes.
“you’re hurting me,” you whine, joel growls.
animalistic, beastly, a rabid animal sinking its claws into its defenceless prey. his gaze dances over your features, catching himself before he can sink deep into your captivating eyes, tracing the shape of your mouth, slipping down the peaks of your collarbones.
your dress- red, a colour joel miller will no longer associate with bleeding wounds and stained weapons- sits tight on your chest, squeezing the swell of your chest beneath the fabric, and gives away all your secrets.
“you like it,” he speaks in awe, unable to pull his eyes off the two stiff buds that poke against the red fabric.
“no, i don’-” dampness follows wherever his hand goes, fleeting as he makes the journey around your waist and up your side, crawling higher and higher to where he can feel your heart beating from within your chest. “joel.”
he retightens his grip on your hair, aiding you with the way your curve your spine and force yourself deeper into his uncaring, ungentle, enamoured touch. whoever joel had been in a past life must have moved mountains or performed miracles to grant him the luck to be holding you this way, the fingers he’d gifted with nothing but the cocking of guns and the feel of his own pulsating lust now expertly tweaking at one of your stiff nipples, all thoughts of the fabric scratching at your sensitive skin dissipating into the abyss as he realises you’re enjoying the pain.
“heard ya, earlier, in the living room,” at the time, he’d been mortified to be overhearing such intimate words between you and tess. the blood that insists on rushing to his crotch now wants you to know, to hear the admission of guilt be spoken from his own mouth. “ talkin’ bout your past.”
he doesn’t specify.
he doesn’t need to.
you give away your shock with parted lips, widened eyes, frozen eyelashes, pupils staring up at him like a wounded fawn he’s about to take his first bite out of and, hopefully, it won’t be the last one.
“tess turned you down,” the hand on your chest switches sides, donning your other breast with some much needed attention. his hand must still carry residue of the water, for you gasp and shut your eyes in the shock of his touch, your own fingers shooting up to scratch at his wrist. near convinced you mean to push him away, the pressure against his hand that pushes deeper into his unholy affection has him realising otherwise. “i wouldn’t.”
you say nothing. joel pulls harder.
“too bad i’m-” you cut yourself off as he presses himself closer to you, your poor hips bound to awaken with bruises from the counter he’s got you pressed against. with a distance so small he can hear your teeth grind, joel watches you like a hawk. the twitch in your brow, the flutter of your eyelids, the bobbing of your throat as you silence what he imagines would be an otherworldly kind of moan, a whine he’d let kiss his ears and wind up poisoning himself with the torture of it replaying in his head each waking moment till he kicks the bucket, once and for all. the want to see you fall apart evolves into a need. “too bad i’m not offering you the chance.”
joel miller is a hot blooded man, at his core, weak to emotions and vulnerable to the warmths of flesh. with notches on his bedpost and a tally of lives beneath his belt, he sees little wrong with taking what he needs.
“who said anything about an offer?”
the descent to the floor is far from graceful, with bitten back groans of pain as clicking noises resound throughout the room while his joints bend and break in an effort to get him where he needs to be, where he’s needed to be for far longer than merely this exchange on kitchen grounds: on his knees for you.
a part of him would prefer it if you weren’t wielding a butchers knife.
the other part wishes you were facing him, eyes full of that repressed anger, hatred and discontent you likely harbour for him as you point the blade down at him and threaten to paint the floors with his blood. you’ve yet to do that, and so he takes it as his queue to progress.
smoothing his hands up your legs, he admires the landscapes of your body from this angle, with legs longer than any tree in the amazonian jungle and curves with peaks that resemble the mountains of the himalayas. arriving at the top of your knees, the hem of your dress both welcomes and conceals his touch, inviting him into the wonderful world it hides beneath it yet denying him the privilege of feasting his eyes on your paradise, an island of safety amongst the open ocean of his mind.
your breathing is measured, precise, too rhythmical to be natural, the subconscious action now turned into a practiced routine you mean to maintain nonchalance with. perhaps you’re yet to realise that, while he may remain indifferent to those that surround him, joel knows how to read people. and, right now, you’re a whole novel of lust, awaiting for someone to open up your pages and drink in every lyrical prose you promise to tell.
joel finds purchase mid-way up your thighs, hands sliding around to the front of them to grip the buttery smooth skin and ground himself in the reality he kneels before.
you breathe in, you breathe out.
one knee buckles, ever so slightly, the weight of you collapsing into his welcoming hold. he revels in the feeling of supporting you, in every meaning of the word, thumbs not even waiting on a command from his consciousness to begin soothing your tingling skin with a gentle back and forth movement to match the knife in your hand.
inhale, exhale.
your legs straighten once more, a hand of his winds its way back out from under your skirt and shoots up to grab your free one, dragging it down his pits of desire.
“hold,” he’s parched all over again, mouth drier than the texan wastelands on a hot summer’s day. all he can do to survive is peel up that infuriatingly soft, red fabric of your dress, skin unveiling itself to his hunger struck eyes. with the skirt bunched up, he shoves it into your awaiting palms, pinning your hand against your own waist. “don’t move.”
where he expects protest, he receives more breathing.
lace covers your skin, a delicate shade of a colour his eyes can’t quite distinguish in the dark of the night. one flicker of his sight to the very core of your body and he notices it, that tell-tale sign that you’re enjoying this little display of attention, despite what your measured breaths may have him believe. a wet patch, your wetness. the stickiest, sweetest of honeys that only a woman like you can possess, and a man like him should never bare himself witness to.
curiosity gets the better of him- one day, joel hopes, this will get him killed- and his touch is reaching for the lacy fabric, fingers curling themselves in the waistband of your panties and the fabric that covers your right asscheek before curling his hand into a fist, tugging upwards.
in and out, shaky breathing comes from above.
the lace pulls tight on your delicate skin, no choice but to nestle itself in the slit of your cunt as two pretty soaked lips peak out from each side. a heady smell he can only begin to describe as stiflingly sweet, tongue-tingling tanginess hits his nose. he makes sure to take a deep breath, letting the blood rush straight to his head- the one that sits packed uncomfortably in his tightened trousers.
delectable as sin, you keen back into his fist, back curving ever so slightly. there’s a tremor in the hold you have on the fabric of your dress. joel basks in the visual affect he’s beginning to have on you, no need to doubt if the fabric of your underwear rubs at your likely aching clit. he wonders if the sting of the lace digging into your skin hurts. he thinks it must hurt.
his fist curls tighter, pulls higher.
“ah,” at last, a ripple in your surface. though you still wield a knife, the carrot you’d been failing to chop rolls off the counter and onto the floor, lost somewhere in joel’s peripheral vision.
“shut up,” he grunts, like it doesn’t make his balls throb to hear you whine. “people are tryin’ to sleep.”
you scoff, and for a moment you seem to have rediscovered your composure. “tess is drunk as a sailor, and the old men could sleep through nuclear warfare.”
“‘s that an invitation to see how loud i can get ya,” he’s still caught in the way you mold against the lace, slickened skin carrying a reflection of the moonlight. this, he thinks, is what all them poets were writing about in their prose of love and beauty. “or a challenge?”
“it’s an invitation to stop lecturing me on volume control,-” you catch yourself, he realises, right before you can gift him some nickname a sweet girl like you would never use. asshole, dickhead, bastard, he’s heard them all and, still, he wants them on your tongue, in his mouth, condemning him for all the brutish, oafish ways he masks his obsession for you.
as coquettish as it may be, painting a picture worthy of a front-page on some playboy magazine, the sight of lace becomes a nuisance he no longer holds the patience for. so he strips you of it, hand moving to pull the garment down, down, down the length of you, till it hits your ankles. he awaits no movement of your own, taking it upon himself to lift each of your feet individually out the leg-holes.
it’s merely impulse that has him shoving the soiled lace into his back pocket, though he’s sure he’ll make use of them on lonely nights.
“you’re drippin’” his proclamation is ego-driven, pride swelling in his chest as he takes in the full sight of your bare heat. the view is a little obscured from behind you, but with the right amount of tilting of your hips at a certain angle and the widening of your legs, he’s bound to sit front row and centre for your private show. “‘s actually a little pathetic, sweetheart. is it cause ya like it when men get mean wit’ ya?”
he can imagine the way you’d roll your eyes at his words, and it has him thinking about how you’d look with your eyes rolling back for different reasons, reasons he’s about to gift you.
but first, he curls one hand around your ankle and tugs the limb along as far as he wants it. much better, he now faces no blockage in the path up to your slit, freely letting his wandering hands ascend to his newfound heaven. perhaps he’ll revisit the life of gospel, if you promise to be the altar he prays before.
cool fingers to warm skin, you swallow a gasp a little too late for joel to not notice as he drags the tips of his middle finger up the length of your slit. soft, puffy lips part for him, until he presses against that special button that’s bound to turn on your engines.
rolling his finger over your clit a few times, he refamiliarises himself with the female anatomy, with your anatomy, memorising each soft bump and meaty lump he finds along the way.
it happens so sudden, and unwillingly, the way his mind switches to thinking of tess. he wonders what exactly it is she does to those poor things she sends home on shaky legs, where she even begins to touch them. joel imagines she makes use of what she has and starts with her fingers.
so he does the same.
working over your slippery wetness, he coats the tip of his middle finger with it, till he finds what he’s been searching for: the gateways to your heaven, your entrance. he breaches your walls with that single digit and somehow that’s enough to have you squeezing around him so tightly he wonders if blood still manages to flow to his digit.
two, three, four pumps of his hand and he’s introducing his pointer finger too, pressing them both into you to witness the ways you mould around this wider stretch, the lips of your cunt a pair of cushions his knuckles collide against each time he fucks his fingers in.
“so now you shut up. ‘s the matter, huh?” he’s contradicting himself and he doesn’t even care, too busy focusing on curling his fingers inside you, delighting in the feel of that spongy tissue they press against. “am i too borin’ for ya?”
“you’re the most infuriating man i’ve ever- oh!”
a tongue meets skin.
the knife clatters onto the counter.
you lurch forward.
his hand pulls you back.
“tess was right, ya know?” he can still taste you on his tongue, nothing more than a simple lick over your slit and your salty pleasure already seeps deep into his veins, staining his very being with the memory of his new favourite flavour. he pulls his fingers out, slipping them up to your clit. three little taps to the pulsing bud- tap, tap, tap- and he’s slipping them into his mouth, tongue working overtime to clean up every last drop of you that coats him. “that boy of yours wasn’t doin’ ya right.”
the common sense that screams at him to not feel envy over some ex-lover, someone who was likely barely even an adult at the time and no longer appears to be around, is no match for the green eyed beast that commands him to tell you, without using words, that he can do better- touch you better, protect you better, fuck you better, if you’d just let him.
‘could keep ya satisfied.
that’s a new thought, one he’s never needed before yet never wanted more, a burning ache to be worthy of your trust, affection, lust. he’ll never forget the first time he thinks it, mouth salivating at the sight of you.
“is this the part you say some cheesy line straight out a porno? what ya need is a man, a man like me!” the softness of your giggle is still sharp enough to cut through the tension, god it’s never sounded sweet, and joel finds himself freely smiling into the darkness, yet still too stubborn to laugh at the deep voice you attempt to imitate him with.
“well, was you who said it,” his mouth finds it’s way back onto your soaked heat, taking his time to work his tongue up the length of it, his saliva mixing itself in a nasty cocktail with your wetness. he imagines the air is cold against your skin, and that you like it, memory of those hardened nipples hidden beneath the fabric of your dress. “but if ya insist.”
diving in head first had always been his style, from his first lover to his last, and to now, knees aching on the kitchen floor. the tip of his tongue dances round your clit, tantalising you to grind your hips to the rhythm of his sinful touches.
licking into you, he’s reminded how much he enjoys that swelling in the chest that only comes from bringing another pleasure.
he’d not been a perfect lover, far from it, but he’d liked to believe at one point he’d been trained by only experience that comes with age, years of touching wrong and kissing badly to learn the right ways to make those he shared a bed- or a counter, or a backseat, or a club bathroom- with see angelic white as they writhed and squirmed under his touch. you’re lucky to have him now, matured by past lovers and broadened by age, with all the knowledge he needs to open your eyes to how a man pleasures, kisses, loves.
he’s out of practice, sure, with recent years adding notches to his belt that were merely frantic, unexpected, barely undressed run-ins with strangers, in strange places, cock barely getting a moments affection before he’d be spilling his seed and tucking it, limp, back into the confines of his trousers and locking it away beneath a zip.
what a perfect excuse you are, for joel to remaster the arts of lust.
it’s messy, wet dripping down his chin and staining itself into the stubble of his growing facial hair. it’s noisy, his mouth openly groaning depraved joy into your warmth as you sing him a song of sweet euphoria, slowly building towards that crescendo on the horizon. it’s animalistic, barely human as he revokes all earthly needs such as rest, and food, and socialising, his mind, and soul, and heart, and cock all screaming in unison to spend whatever days he shall possess on his knees before you.
and all the while you writhe and wriggle, some times running away from him touch, other times rutting so far back into him that you threaten to suffocate him somewhere between your warm thighs, and sugar sweet cunt, and the two well-rounded globes of your ass.
his only saving grace is that he can’t see you.
hearing your pretty whines, and hand-muffled moans, and heavy intakes of breath is enough to curse him for the rest of his waking days, condemned to wander the wastelands of earth knowing the noises you make on the brinks of pleasure, with a touch-starved man satiating his hunger for flesh and blood with the sugary sins of your soaked cunt.
burrowing deeper into you, his consciousness rips through the fog of his lust to curse out his perversions as the tip of his hooked nose bumps against the puckered entrance of your ass. it does nothing to stop him tearing his tongue away from your clit, flattened as he drags it over the expanse of your cunt, and over your taint, and up the crack of your behind.
“n- ah,” you can’t deny him while sounding so eager for more, the tip of his tongue now circling your back entrance, mimicking the treatment previously given to your little pearl. “no, don’t, not there.”
next time, he thinks, we’ll try that next time.
sights returned to his previous desires, he works to rip every sigh, and every whine, and every dirty little song you’ll grace him with. the sound of whatever record tess has put on in the other room becomes a safety blanket, dousing you both in the warm protection of not being overheard.
and, then, he does it, he makes the ultimate mistake.
his eyes flicker to the left and he finds himself faced with the stove that sits within bill and frank’s- and, by an extension he does not enjoy to remember, your- kitchen. there’s little that’s remarkable about the appliance, just your standard, everyday oven that he’s sure you’ve spent countless hours cooking up those comforting meals he’s come to anticipate each time tess tells him they’re due a visit.
except, the oven door is made of glass.
glass which now paints the most pornographic masterpiece for no eyes but his own. you, with hands gripping the island’s counter like your life depends on it, and the skirt of that goddamn dress he’s envied all evening for the way it got to rest against the warmth of your thighs now bunched up in your tight grip, and your head thrown back, curving your spine in a way that has him wondering about the other ways he’d be able to bend and break you beneath his touch.
and then there’s him, down on his knees like a devotee laying himself down to worship his goddess, face burrowed in the space between your legs, mouth devouring you from behind with the help of his hands, the same ones that had strangled a man less than a day before and reigned fire down on countless others for years, that now grip the meat of your thighs to pull you back onto him, fucking his tongue into your sopping heat.
the image will haunt him more than the face of any man he’s killed.
“d’ya touch yourself, sol?” you don’t answer him, but that’s okay. in a sweet change of pace, joel miller’s perfectly fine with talking enough for the both of you. “yeah, bet ya do. late at night, right? once you’re all alone in bed. ya seem like the kind who can make herself scream.”
you back into him, smothering him under the weigh of your body. becoming his holy grail, he drinks from you like it’s the key to eternal life, and what a way of living this would be, time disregarded as nothing but meaningless while your bodies melt together in the heat of passion.
fucking his fingers back inside, he becomes frantic beneath the need to make you cry, fall completely apart with only his hands to hold you together. “let me do the honours this time though.”
you don’t scream, can’t scream, hand over mouth muffling whatever profanities and theatrical proclamations he rips from within you with the stroke of his agile tongue, the only muscle of his that’s yet to develop aches and pains. he imagines that will no longer ring true once he awakens past sunrise.
he’s unsure how much longer he works his tongue over you, slipping and sliding through the liquid pleasure, but it ends with fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him away and tilting his head up.
you’ve never looked more holy, moon casting it’s shine around you, eyes glossed with unshed tears, lips parted and swollen from the pressure your own teeth had bitten down on them with. your expression, he can’t quite read. not sad, not happy, not mad.
your eyes catch on something, abandoning his own for something closer to the floor, to which he follows and finds exactly what you’re staring at: the evidently dark patch that now stains the front of his jeans.
the discomfort of trekking back to the qz will now be tenfolds worse in the stains of his own pleasure.
“joel...” his name is nearly a beg, a prayer, an invitation. hand still in his hair, you tug, pulling him upwards off the ground. legs open wider and back arches deeper, a seductive sight that your body pleas for him with.
he swallows a groan, knees alleviated at last from the floor, and presses himself against you once more. strong arms crush you in an embrace, pulling you back into him as his head slips to rest against your shoulder. he’s capricious with the way he lets himself litter a few wet kisses over your neck, breathing in the smell of you.
“that,” you grind back into him, a torturer who takes his aged body as her victim and toys with his barely recovered cock, the cum in his trousers sticking uncomfortably to his skin. he pulls tighter on your body, grounding himself in the weight of it against his own to find the sanity to finish his sentence. “shouldn’t have happened.”
joel hopes no one awakens as he slams the door on the way out of the kitchen.
people once spoke of how the only certainties in life were death and taxes but, nowadays, the words don’t ring as true and the guarantee of life with taxes has morphed into something else entirely; a reality where death and time go hand in hand. as sure as tomorrow will arrive, death will come too, eventually. not today, however, and joel miller finds himself stood throwing a ball back and forth for a dog.
it chases and retrieves, trailing it’s happy self all the way back to him only to spit the ball down at his feet, siting and waiting to repeat the process once more. there’d been a time where this is all he’d wanted: white picket fence, dog in the yard, home-cooked meals filling a house with warmth.
that dream seems so far away now, even as he stands within it.
he cracks his back, huffing out a groan. “no, not again. my back’s fucked as it is, buddy,” with no one around to witness, joel lets himself crouch down onto his knees- both popping obnoxiously as he does so- and rakes his hand over the german shepherd’s head. it whines and makes an attempt to nudge the ball against him, protesting in the only way it can. a scratch to the ear does the trick to distract the animal, to which it tilts its head and forces itself deeper into his blunt nails. “not so bad, are ya? huh?” never in a million years did joel think he’d be talking to a dog when him and tess had set out for their routinely visit to the bill and frank’s. never would he have thought that would be the least shocking event to unfold on this trip.
he hears you before he sees you.
“you planning to make your knees familiar with every surface of this place, texas?”
he tries to rise, he truly does, but the four-legged foe he’d been petting mere seconds ago betrays him the instant it catches sight of you, charging past him and knocking him over in the process, ass to floor and head to sky.
the world above is a storm of greys, clouds swallowing one another with a looming threat of danger on the horizon and not a lick of the sun’s warmth seems to make its way through.
so instead, it sends you.
peering over him from above, hair a tangled mess, eyes a wreck of under-bags and sleepless tears, the collar of your jumper lowered just enough at this angle that he can see a tease of cleavage, you radiate a brightness like no other, more dangerous to his naked eyes than uv ray could ever be. he’s squinting again, frown etching itself on his forehead with the threat of becoming permanent soon. a few more years and his face will be nothing but frown lines and crows feet. at the very least, he considers, i’ve survived long enough to wrinkle.
the smile above him is worth a million laugh lines, a kindness laced within it that matches perfectly with the hand you hold out. when he does nothing but stare at it, you wriggle your fingers, enticing him to take a hold. he does most of the work, truthfully, but you play a part in pulling him back to his feet. upright once more, he can’t help but bask in the way he’s able to physically look down on you.
“thanks for tiring him out,” you’re the first to talk. you’re always the first to talk, and he curses you for it. “won’t need to walk him as far tonight.”
a queasy feeling overtakes him at the thought of you walking the dog alone at night, nothing but the moon to light your way. he’ll need to remember to tire the dog out next time he visits. “no problem, thanks... for feeding tess and i.”
“no worries!” you’re so kind, so good, smiling at him with a cheerful chirp in your voice. he can’t wrap his head around how you can bring yourself to treat him this way. “oh, actually, that’s why i came out here, i was looking for tess-” of course you were, when would you ever be looking for him? “hold on!”
you shoot off back inside so quickly that otis just reaches the doorway by the time you return. with an idle pet to his head as you pass by, joel once again sees, in the way such little affection can have the dog so elated, that resemblance between them you’d spoke of. in your hands, you carry an array of containers full of food- soup- each filled to the brim.
“i wanted to give you these, before you guys leave,” you’re explaining yourself, and joel wonders if it’s nerves that bring you to need constant babbling to fill any gaps of silence. he can’t imagine how he could make you nervous and therefore that thought is quick to be discarded. “i know the journey up here and back can be long, consider them a token of my appreciation towards you both for-”
“why don’t ya like me?” he cuts you off.
pathetic, he knows, but he can not stop himself, a deer caught in the headlights of your brightly burning, too-good-to-be-true, too-pure-to-be-fake personality.
you show no signs of hearing him, smile unwavering as you continue to hold out the boxes to him, “there should be enough to last you a few days, if you watch your proportions.”
it’s too much for him to handle- the food, the smiles, the sweetly glistening eyes-, and joel just has to know, needs an answer before the heat of his confusion consumes him entirely in its flames and leaves nothing but his smoking remains.
so he tries again, louder.
“why don’t ya like me?”
“and i’d probably say you’re best to heat it up, especially for tess,” you ignore him, again, lips stretching what can only be described as uncomfortably wider. “winter is sure coming in faster than last year, isn’t it?”
he grabs at your arm, fingers curling round the swell of your bicep as he speaks through gritted teeth, "answer me." like a frightened dog backed into a corner, he bares his teeth and yells his bark.
"for someone who doesn't care,” you try his patience, knowingly or not, and his grip tightens. you don’t flinch, welcoming the sting of his blunt and bitten nails against your flesh. “you sure do talk about my opinion a lot."
"answer the damn question, girl.”
“or, what?” you’ve got him there, he’ll admit, holding no real plan as to how to punish your silence. “you gonna give me the same treatment as last night?”
had he known you’d be so unabashed to mention the events on the kitchen floor so flippantly, as casually as one would speak about the weather, he’d never have dared to get on his knees. truthfully, he’d not given things a second thought, disregarding the later for the now, living in the moment with caution thrown to the wind over what the morning would bring. perhaps he’d hoped you’d been intoxicated enough to dismiss the memory as a nightmare, maybe he’d wished you’d keep away from him to free him of the volatile grip you have on his soul.
instead, you stand tall, proud, eyes fiercely staring back at his own as you challenge him to retaliate, mock you with none of those saccharine smiles you hide harsh tones behind.
joel says nothing.
“how about this, let’s make a deal, like the ones you and bill make.” inching closer, crowding in on his space and forcing him to take note of the smell of freshly cleaned clothes mixed in with your own fragrance. clean, warm, inviting, scents he’d never given meaning to before now. “you get me something, i’ll tell you what you want to know.”
he grunts out a response, hands meeting his hips as he juts out one knee, the shifting of weight between feet a perfect distraction to the rising tension in his worn-out jeans. “what d’ya want? ‘cause if it’s somethin’ like a gun, think again. i ain’t messing with none of bill’s strange politics on you havin’-”
“a dress.”
“a dress?” the statement has him quirking his brow, burning questions swimming in the depths of his eyes as he stares back at you.
“yes, and don’t look at me like that!” it’s hypocritical, he believes, for you to berate him for the looks he sends you when all you do is cast stones his way with your gaze yet shake him to his very core each time you smile. “i need a new one, my favourite one got ruined whilst making soup.”
unaware he’d even began to lean closer, joel’s quick to recoil, as if your words are bullets and his skin the target you hit on the bullseye every time.
“joel!” his name resonates from somewhere in the house.
neither of you dare to break eye contact. again, his name is yelled. this time, he manages to identify tess as the owner of the voice. habits have him used to running to her whenever she calls, but habits have never been caught between the choice of tess or you.
his feet remain glued to the ground.
tess yells once more and, though you speak up, you don’t dare look away. “think you might be needed inside, macho man. your missus is calling.”
“she ain’t my-”
“you two just gonna stand and stare at each other all day, or will you help a woman out already?” tess enters the scene somewhere behind you, a blur of her familiar shape standing out the front door.
only when your head spins and he no longer finds himself lost in the black of your eyes does joel take her in completely, hair clearly damp and complexion a little paled by her hungover body. in her arms, she struggles with the weight of a folded table. you approach first, he follows, his two hands aiding in carrying it out into the front yard as you retighten your grip on the boxes of soup in your arms.
“i should probably,” laying the containers down on the now unfolded table, you fidget with the sleeves in your hands, eyes downcast with something he can only read as guilt. he decides he much prefers the fire they hold when you berate him. “go check on the food, before it burns.”
you’re in the door and out his sight before he can so much as ask you to stay.
tess and him hit the road by noon. earlier than predicted, later than he’d wished for. the bite of cold already marks the air, despite the sun heating the world with its rays. he walks a little ahead, feigning ignorance to the repeated coughing coming from tess and racking his brain for answers.
answers to why he’d never noticed how hoarse she’d been sounding till you pointed it out. answers to what awaited them both upon returning to the qz. answers to when will be their next chance to visit the safe haven bill’s created. answers to why you don’t like him.
i don’t like you, joel.
it motivates him to walk quicker, faster, racing to put as much distance between himself and that damn kitchen floor, miles upon miles not enough to rid him of the dull ache in his knees that goes hand in hand with the throb within his too-tight-jeans. if he were alone, he’d break out in a sprint. but tess is here, he’s not alone, and home will simply have to wait on the passing of time to drag him back to it.
till then, he needs to find a dress.
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Astro notes- 22
Having a Neptune in the 1st house can feel like your living in a dream. It’s harder for you to not get taken up by your imagination. This placement is known for dreaming with their eyes open. A lot struggle from Maladaptive Daydreaming. Meditation/ Breath work can help with grounding these people.
Aries placements (especially the moon & rising) have amazing eyebrows. They’re all so perfect arched and full. They’re eyebrows can sometimes make them look intimidating as well.
Libra in your big three usually have buck teeth or they just have really big teeth in the front.
People with Pluto risings cannot stand fake energy. Being around too many fake people can literally make them go insane & snap on everyone. These people normally March at the beat of their own drum which causes many people to flock to them for advice.
Aquarius moons emotions can come out really robotically. Like you don’t know if they really care when you vent to them. They act very nonchalantly and bored when people open up emotionally to them. I started crying in front of my aqua moon friend once and she just stared at me & patted me on the back😭😂 she tried tho. Also I notice aqua moons have a weird thing with physical affection. They are the times to give like 2 seconds hugs or just not like to be touched much in general.
Sagittarius suns have a habit of embarrassing themselves to make others laugh. They really have no shame. They will say and no the most outlandish shit just to get a giggle out of someone. They can sometimes embarrass others tho if they do too much. They can be really extra.
People with Gemini & Sagittarius in their big three we’re probably class clowns
Leo suns never wanted the same things as anyone when they were little. They always wanted something that made them stand out from the crowd. (Ex: everyone had pink tiaras for my cousins birthday and my Leo cousin threw a fit because she wanted purple instead so she didn’t look like everyone else) 😂
Aquarius suns are chameleons in social settings. They can fit into any group & usually have a big people pleaser personality. Not in a weak way however but they just understand what people like & how to engage certain people properly.
Capricorn stelliums can end up being rich or famous. These people are really hustlers. I’ve seen these people start businesses in their 20s with this it worked 3 jobs to get the life they need. One thing these people know how to do is work.
Cancer and Libra suns tend to loose themselves in partnerships the most. I’ve seen these people make their partners their world while they completely neglect other areas of their life. They are both really blinded by love.
Uk an Aries sun women likes you when they start teasing/bullying you. (Playfully!) arguing is foreplay to them bizarrely lol.
If Jupiter is prominently yet negatively aspected in the chart it can show narcissistic or sociopathic tendencies.
Virgo moons tend to like very fresh light scents. Like fresh linen, laundry smells, light floral scents. Nothing to heavy.
Taurus placements look best with minimal to no makeup & Libra placements normally look incredible with a full face of makeup or just glamour looks. It’s really interesting how the two sides of Venus play out. Taurus gives more of an earthy goddess vibe & Libra gives me a more chic fashionista insta model/influencer vibe. Both value beauty & aesthetics but in opposite ways.
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> Ascendant Aspects < How you Appear to be, and how your treated based off your appearances >
why you look like a clown without makeup
Ascendant aspecting Sun - I like your smile. Did you put it on for me, or for yourself? yes your charismatic, yes we noticed why your so confident, yes your literally the greatest person do you really need us to shower you in affection all the fkn time? your extra but too many toppings ruin a good pizza. your the embodiment of the cheesy smile from that cat in alice in wonderland. main character energy for sure you get the attention and you know how to use it
Ascendant Aspecting moon - 🌚 < dont they look like that.? idk but you guys look like someone you want to grab the cheeks of and treat like a baby, your like a sugar glider. but we know your emotional so we have to be careful with how we grab your cheeks 👀 please stop crying its just a joke > also; big ass eyes. you are so sweet that everyone just wants to take you home and feed you till you become so obese you cant leave
Ascendant Aspecting Mercury - the most devilish and cheeky smile all at once. they look like a kid about to do something bad, or have just been caught doing something bad and are now trying to explain why they had to do that dumbassery. but no matter how much you explain yourself, we will still question you because its funny watching you come up with explanations. you give me the vibe of any character from cartoon network or nickledoen - timmy turner, southpark, phineas and ferb, ed edd and eddy, or fkn bart simpson, you act like a cartoon yes.
Ascendant Aspecting Venus - I dont normally do this but whats ur number? is what your used to hearing presumably. and its not necessarily because your attractive... okay you are, you can stop pouting now. but its because you know how to get attention and you clearly love getting it. but they act so superficial, and oblivious sometimes... like they purposrfully look away just so its easier for you to look at them, 💀 then they look back playfully and it gets you in the feels. remind me of doctor who's bitches (any of them) they all act the same idc what you say
Ascendant Aspecting Mars - so pissed off lol but its hot. they are fierce > if they want something they are going to get it, and even the mere consideration of negotiating what they want will just get them more mad. which makes them more attractive? idk people love their ferocity, and as much as people say they don't like aggressive types, they don't ever get in their way when they pissed off (ik because im hot head) your basically a hornet > and no one gonna fight a hornet without the proper precautions
Ascendant aspecting Jupiter - Yall are excellent at impressions and being impressionable, idk how you do it so well. You just act normal but then pull off this funny shit and return back to normal like its nothing. you guys perfected just being, and this energy makes people want to be around you. Your like a firework, the explosion is awesome, but when it goes away your like damn that was awesome wish it stayed; but thats what makes it so good, because we never know when its coming, and when its gone we want it back lol
Ascendant Aspecting Saturn - batman without the mask sucks. thats you. batman without the mask.... why so serious???? > "because life shouldnt be taking for granted and fuckery aint apart of my Repertoire" - is some whack ass shit yall would say. you have great dignity, but people get insecure around you because your on top of your shit. oh and you tell people to get on top of their shit all the fkn time lol. > your like a crow, you look like one and act like one.
-
Side note- one time i had a stand off with a crow: I was chilling at home and i was on top of these tile blocks, then this crow came along. I tried to scare him, by like staunching him just a bit. but he responded by gripping the tree branch he was perched on, by twisting his claw foot; and he did it with so much ferocity it made this bone cracking noise (from the strength of his grip gripping the tree) and suddenly i was intimated.... by a fkn crow. okay moving on
Ascendant Aspecting Uranus - how did you even become like that. no one really understands why you act the way you do, you do some really eccentric things which are eye grabbing but also disturbing the more you think about it. your like a sword fish. theres probably more effective ways to kill fish, but i mean a sword works, we are just wondering how you attached a sword to your face. also try to calm down, you doing so much and acting so bizarre that im actually more worried about you, even though im laughing my ass off.
Ascendant Aspecting Neptune - your like a mirror of all that i ever could want in a person, and this mysterious allure you so easily pull off is truly enchanting. its like being around you makes it feel as if reality can so easily be readjusted into what i would like it to be. but this quality of urs is addicting, and no wonder people project onto you. but you cant even blame them, you literally shapeshift into whatever you want, and typically you like to show it off. your like a chameleon. or a axolotl
Ascendant Aspecting Pluto - you scare people easily lol. your a spider. but spiders are sexy.... look at the BUNDA. okay but those teeth yeesh, have you ever seen a spider like lick its lips, bro its fkn scary. theres a reason arachnophobia is the most popular phobia and its because spiders are fucked. and yall are fucked. you move like a spider, and i swear to god you smile like one too lol. but people low key wanna be eaten by a spider..... so go ahead choose yo prey you fkn creepy crawler
#astrology#astrology blog#astro community#astrology notes#astrology observations#astrology placements#ascendant aspects#astrology aspects#astro observations
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I want to be appreciated
🖤Charles x Fem!reader
🖤summary: Charles reached his limit after his results at the Austin Grand Prix and needs his lover more than ever
🖤warnings: angst, fluff and a lil suggestive at the end ;) French sentences are translated
🖤a/n: this is my first fic so please have mercy on me. English is not my first language so i am happy for any feedback <3 ENJOY BABES
Charles was always a giver. His friends needed him to take them somewhere? Alright be ready in 5. His Team Principal called him last minute for a team meeting? Of course anything for Ferrari.
It never bothered Charles because that’s his way of showing care and appreciation to what he has. He loves seeing others being well and happy and him being the reason for that but what about his needs? Why is it so hard for people to appreciate him?
It hit him hard when he ended up in P6 and was later on disqualified at the US Austin Grand Prix. People rushed to him and tried to cheer him up but nothing worked and that’s when they realised, they‘ve got no clue on how to help the one that always WAS the helper himself. All Charles needed right now was the warmth of one person. You, (Y/n). His lovely girlfriend that somehow notices everything about him.
Charles enters his driver room and sees you already waiting for him with your arms wide open and a gentle smile on your face.
„Come here mon amour, laisse-toi aller, tu es en sécurité ici“ (my love, let it all out, you are safe here)
It‘s in that moment that Charles finally let‘s go and crashes in your arms with quiet sobs and a tight grip on your shirt. He keeps repeating „why me, why? what did i do?“ as he hides his face in your neck.
(Y/n) doesn‘t say anything and keeps softly caressing his back and scratching his head and let‘s him cry it all out. You remind him that he is safe here and that you‘ve got him. Charles slowly stopped and sat down on his bed and rubbed his eyes.
„It‘s always like this ma cherrié, i just want to leave…peut-on retourner à l'hôtel s‘il tu plaît?“. (can we go back to the Hotel please?)
(Y/n) nods and grabs his bag that she already packed because she knew charles wouldn‘t want to be around anyone. (Y/n) messaged Joris and Andrea and let them know that they are leaving. You handed Charles his sunglasses and hat and grabbed his hand.
„Lets go Cha, just follow my lead okay baby?“
He only nodded and followed you like a lost puppy into his rented Ferrari. Fans, journalists and photographers tried to take pictures and ask questions but you shieled him and asked for distance and respect. Once at the car, you wanted to enter the passenger seat but got tugged back slightly by Charles.
„Can you please drive… i just… i just don‘t want to…“
With no hesitation, you let him sit and took the seat behind the steering wheel and drove the two of you back to the hotel. Once there, you helped Charles enter through the back door and you both immediatly made your way inside your room and let him lay down on the bed. Charles heard your footsteps and turned his face to look at you and saw you disappearing into the bathroom.
(Y/n) tied her hair up and started to run a warm bath for Charles with lavender scented bubbles, a scent to relax the mind. While the bathub was getting ready, (Y/n) went back to Charles and started to take off his shoes and his clothes.
„Let me take care of you my love okay? All you have to do is enjoy and relax and nothing else“
You kiss his forehead as he looked tiredly and hopeful at you. Charles nodded and let you guide him into the bathroom that is filled with the aroma of lavender which immediatly calms him down slowly. (Y/n) guides him into the bath and let’s him relax his tense muscles.
„Close your eyes mon amour and let me massage you and take care of you. Tell me if you need anything ma vie“ (my life)
You kiss his lips softly as he closes his eyes and sighs in content. You start to massage his head and move down towards his shoulders and arms. You make sure to massage the sore spots and gently start to also massage the rest of his body. Charles felt like he was on cloud nine as he could finally relax and only focus on you and your touch. Usually it’s a big havoc inside his brain when its a race weekend but with this? He never wants to go back.
After cleaning and massaging his whole body, (Y/n) also washed his hair and made him step out of the bathub once finished. He put the towel around himself and you gently took his hand and brought him back to the bedroom. You helped drying him and made sure to moisturize is body and face gently.
During the whole process you would give him soft kisses and tell him how proud you are of him and encourage him.
Charles watched you with nothing but loving eyes as he felt his whole body feel the warmth of your kind soul. Every touch and gaze from you made him feel loved, cared for and… and appreciated… finally…He almost teared up again at the thought of having you by his side and how blessed he was.
You lightly laugh at his teared up eyes and hold his face.
„I love you Charles, whatever goes inside of that incredible brain of yours just know that with me you will always be loved and appriciated.“
(Y/n) kisses him and Charles automatically wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to him. You sit on his lap and keep admiring him with a soft smile.
„Merci mon amour, je t'aime du plus profond de mon cœur et de mon âme.“ (thank you my love, i love you from the deepest part of my heart and soul.)
You were about to stand up and grab some clothes for Charles but he held your wrist and gave you a pleading look.
„Mon amour… please…je veux que tu touches tout mon corps, qui brûle de désir pour toi.“ (I want your touch all over my body, its burning in desire for you)
You looked down and saw his bulge growing underneath the towel and Charles blushing red in need and want for you. His hold on your wrist gets tighter and his whines get into your head.
„Je serai un bon garçon pour toi, mon amour“ (I‘ll be a good boy for you my love)
There are definitely more ways of showing appreciation…
HOW YOU GUYS FEELING ABOUT THISSSSSS? This was hunting me all week long after seeing the results of the race :(
Reblogs, comments & feedback are very much appreciated!
#formula 1#formula one#formula one smut#formula 1 smut#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x y/n#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#y/n#scuderia ferrari#fanfic#austin grand prix#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc imagine#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1#f1 fluff
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I loved Lando x Actress reader. Can I have Lando x singer reader? Thank uuuuu 🫶🏻
Sing your heart out because he ripped your heart out! Lando Norris x Singer! Reader
Plot: You are a famous singer who was in a pretty toxic relationship and have been single and 'off the grid' for 2 years since your breakup. You come back online dropping a new album that gets people stirred from the tea but the tease at your new relationship.
Credit to quadrantslandonorris for the GIF
"Today here on Off Camera with me Sam Jones we have Y/N Y/L/N here to talk about everything, from her new albums and songs, to her hiatus, to her sightings, to her relationships" he smiles looking over at you.
"Thank you for having me, it feels great being back and you know talking and meeting new people and I've always wanted to be on a podcast like this so I'm very excited!" you smile and get comfier into the nice seats you guys are in.
"So i think we've got to ask how are you feeling after your time away from the media?"
"So refreshed it was really healing to take myself away from everything. I think a lot of things were being said about me when I first deactivated everything. A lot of them being outright lies, and you know I didn't want to be aware of what people were saying... naturally" you starts and he nods for you to continue.
"But everyday I'd have my friends coming to me saying... have you seen what Taylor Swift has tweeted about you, have you seen what Beyonce and RiRi said. And I'd be like no and I don't even want to know. But when she showed me the love I was getting from all of these amazing people I've worked and collabed with over the years, movie stars who I've walked red carpets with and been in cameos of their movies, models who I've walked runways with all sticking up for me saying how they couldn't imagine anything said about my relationship to be true" you explain and he nods again.
"Yeah, it was actually really moving seeing all these people coming together for you in support! I think even after what certain people said about you the large majority had your back..." he admits to you.
"Yeah, I mean i have some great friends in the industry that you know would message me and always check up on me, so its nice to know that I have people in my corner, after everything that happened!"
"Yeah of course, and I think your new album really shows your raw emotions and I think a lot of people have easily related. So lets go through the album, we have Vicious, which talks about obviously Y/E/B and the emotional scars he's left on you. One of my personal faves is 'bet u wanna' where you talk about being mistreated in relationship and calling it off only for them to want you back. Nonsense which obviously has made your fans go stir crazy- wondering whose got you feeling this way. Bad for Business which obviously has a similar tune to Nonsense in whoever you are talking about, and may i just say people will listen to the happy songs because they are incredible! But talk us through the creative process and how your time away released all of these on the album and more!"
"I think, when you go through something like i did. Where you don't necessarily see and end you have these raw emotions that just tend to write themselves on the paper. I had many nights where I'd be sat in the studio hair pulled back, a massive slice of Pizza on my left and a bottle of water on the other and it would honestly just write itself. There were some nights where I'd just cry and sit there. I think things really sped up when I met my current partner" you blush, thinking how much that silly vroom vroom man had helped you.
"Who is he, and how did he help, how did you both meet if you can tell us!" he asks leaning back a little.
"Well, I'm currently dating F1 driver Lando Norris which when this podcast airs and sure will be a shock to everyone. We met when I was in a really weird patch. I think it had been about 8 months I want to say of being single and dealing through my grief and not really knowing what to do with myself. My ex of 5 years was now dating and having a child with the girl he cheated on me with, and honestly I was a mess. My dad decided to take me to a race, it was the one in Austin, we had paddock passes and that's where I met him" you grin thinking back to the day.
*Flashback*
You were at the Circuit of the Americas for race weekend, you were tucked behind your dad who had found some mechanics he was animatedly talking too. Your dad always had a real love for cars, and when you'd made it as a musician you brought him and your mother a larger house with a big garage for a car collection you'd help him grow.
"Damn you've got loads man. How's your girl affording all of this?" the mechanic asks not having seen you as you were wearing both sunglasses and a Ferrari cap.
"I have a ... lucrative job" you croak out a little, if you were being honest with yourself this was probably the first interaction you'd had with a stranger in months, even just any human at that as your contact had been very limited over the past 8 months even to friends and family.
"Ahhh, so what's your fav car in the collection Mr Y/L/N?" the mechanic asks, and some nods from his pals also tells you guys that their interested.
"Oo that's hard it's got to be a toss up between my Mclaren 650S, the Ferrari F8 Spider, or my Rolls Royce Ghost" your father admits trying to think to his collection.
"Not the Porsche?" knowing you'd got that for him for his 50th.
"Mmmmm I forgot about the Porsche" he admits with a chuckle. The mechanics just all looked very shocked at the sheer amount of cars your dad has in his collection.
"Give me a second, I want to see if I can get you guys a garage pass upgrade. I bet you'll want to check out the car's yeah?" he asks making your dad nod very quickly.
You pull your glasses off to give them a wipe as the heat was making them fog up a little and the mechanic gasps, you cock your head realizing he's recognized you.
He scurries of, running back to the Aston Martin garage, he tells all of his friends but says to keep it quiet as he could tell you'd been going through it. Aston Martin didn't have any passes left, so he went to the other garages begging to give you a pass.
"Who did you say was here?" Lando had asked from beside his team mate Daniel Ricciardo.
"Y/N Y/L/N but don't make it public knowledge she's clearly just here to watch the race with her car enthusiast dad. Who did you know owns over 10 super cars that Y/N has brought for him, he was telling me all about his Ferrari" the mechanic starts to ramble before Lando gets him to stop.
"Take me to her, and I'll give her the pass" Lando had offered, wanting to meet you, it wasn't uncommon knowledge that he liked both you and Taylor Swift and had even DJed some of your 'nightcore' remixes.
"Okay! Okay come with me" the young mechanic said, darting of making Lando run after him asking him to slow down a little.
"Hello, this is a Mclaren Driver he's ..." the mechanic starts before you offer him a small small.
"I know who he is Dean, thank you for introducing us" you smile, and he grins at you. You and your father get handed the passes and your walking back to Mclaren at Lando's side.
He was attractive and most certainly your type. He had that goofiness about him that had you laughing for what felt like the first time in 3 years. Yet a seriousness and passion for his sport when talking to you and your dad about the car he was more than happy to show off to you.
"So you'll only be cheering for me right?" Lando flirts as your dad introduced himself to Daniel Ricciardo and Zac Brown.
"I think that depends Mr Norris, are you going to give me a cheer worthy race?" you question looking up him. His face lights up and a big grin comes onto his face.
"Always, you'll see the Papaya on a podium today I'm sure of it!" he offers and you smirk.
"You get that podium and I'll take you out afterwards"
"On like a date?" he asks a little cautious with his tone.
"Yes a date" you nod and his face lights up.
"Yeah alright, your on" he smirks, he turns away to get ready for his race, but turns back placing a cheeky kiss on your cheek making it your turn to blush.
True to his word, Lando came second on Sunday. You took him out on your guy's first date and the rest is history.
*Back to the podcast*
"Wow, that really is such a beautiful story. And from how you talk about him we can tell that you are really happy" he smiles genuinely.
"I don't think I've ever felt so secure with a person. I think it's safe to say I've found my person. I went through a lot with Y/E/B and Lando has helped me overcome a lot of the trauma from that relationship, and I cannot thank him enough for how patient, caring and loving he has been for the past year" you smile, before turning your gaze to the side to look at a teary Lando who had come to the podcast with you, you were scared and didn't want to go alone.
"Well I think it's safe to say we are all so happy you are back, thriving making music and doing what you do best!" he smiles.
After that your asked a few more questions which you happily talk through and answer, before it's wrapped up and time to leave.
"How was that baby?" he asks knowing this was your first media thing to help ease you back into that 'lime-light' life.
"It felt good to just vent, and talk about everything" you smiled at him. It was truly healing for your soul.
"I love you so much, and I'm so proud of you for today!" he grins at you, pulling you in for a kiss. He holds you close, while another hand travels up to caress the side of your face.
"I love you most, which is why I need you to help me announce the 2023 tour... and my new album!" you grin, and he grins back.
"What are they called?" he mumbles into your neck that he'd found retirement in.
"The Grid!" you grin, Lando didn't know but you planned your next tour for 2023 around the 2023 races.
"Hmmm and what does that entail" he smirks.
"Well, I'll get to come to every race weekend with you this year, my tour is roughly going to follow the races. I'll venture out as well when you have breaks and stuff but I don't want to be away from you for too long, and I want to get back on the scene. I'm ready!" you admit and he smiles at you softly before lifting you up into a huge bear hug.
"Did i mention how much I love you?" he asks.
"Every day Lan, every day" you smile at him, pulling him in for another bruising kiss.
It was safe to say, that even though you'd been treated like shit in the past, Lando Norris was the love of your life. Your soulmate that held the other end of the invisible string that had kept tugging you both closer together.
Taglist:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1#formula one#formula one fanfiction#lando norris#lando norris imagine#ln4 fic#ln4#ln4 imagine#ln4 fluff#ln4 x reader#mclaren f1#lando imagine#lando x reader#lando#lando norris fluff#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x reader
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Hihi I was hoping I could request enemies to lovers Zuko x fem!reader?
The reader is a traitor to the fire nation and can bend fire (also a street peformer before she joined the gaang? 👀) 💕💕
Omg getting a request just made my day I love these!!!
I hope you like it 🫶🫶🫶
YOURE STILL A TRAITOR
Id like to say that my life is good, that I’m happy where I am but I’m not. I’m upset and frustrated; but most of all I’m living on the street, preforming stupid acrobatic tricks just to feed myself. I’ve left everything behind. My family and wealth but most importantly someone I never wanted to live without.
I’m upside down when I see them; soft flames coming from the soles of my bare feet. Resting on my forearms and twisting and contorting my body.
“You.” A teenaged girl approaches me and I turn right side up, “you’re a fire bender aren’t you!” She says, “what’s your name?”
“Uh” I stare at her and smile nervously, “y/n Huǒ” I repeat slowly, and quietly. People of the fire nation know the traitor I’ve become outside the walls of the fire nation. Meeting the avatar, going against my friends for his life. All because I believed in something greater than all of this.
“I know you” a boy says, bandana around his forehead, “your grandpa, Yújìn. I know- or knew him” He says
“Oh.” Realization hits my face, “you’re the avatar!” A short girl slaps me.
“Wow way to tell everyone!” She retorts, god are little kids sassy.
“You could teach Aang firebending” Katara says, it’s hard not to know someone’s name when there’s wanted posters all over town.
“I’m good at fire bending but I’m no master” I say, “I thought Prince Zuko abandoned the throne to teach you” I ask
“Well he’s uh.. learning a new way to firebend” Toph laughs a little and I smile awkwardly.
“I don’t bend very traditionally” I reply, “but if it will get me off the streets I guess why not” I stand up straighter and brush my hair out of my face.
“You brought that back?!” Zuko shouts, we’ve had a long history. One that includes a betrothal, and a knife to the gut. He looks at me with disgust which I’m not surprised at.
“I’m a girl. Not a thing!” I cry out, “the only reason I’m here is because Aang needs a firebending teacher because you suck!” I scoff out at him, there’s fire burning in his hands but I never raise mine.
He groans at me, “you’ve always been like this! Even when”
“Zuko I don’t want to talk about that” I warn, there’s a plea in my voice but he accepts that, “it was a long time ago”
“Yeah like it was that long ago” he sasses and I roll my eyes.
“Zuko!”
It doesn’t take long for things to settle down; I’m essentially useless now that Zuko has gotten his bending back. Even if he did it how I told him to do it all along but whatever.
The bickering still happens, and I want to throw a knife at him but part of me still loves him. I didn’t hate being betrothed to him as much as I thought I did.
“Did you ever miss us?” I ask him, “after you were banished. I refused to Azula to give away your location and then the Avatars when you wrote me” I confess, “so I left”
“I think. At first I did, but I don’t— I don’t think we would’ve worked together. We fight all the time. I hated you at first. And you hated me” He admits, looking down slightly. He sighs heavily
“Yeah. I guess. But I didn’t really hate- hate you” I admit, “I missed you. I liked knowing you”
He nods, “I did like knowing you too, you’ve changed so much. I mean your fire it’s pink” he laughs
“Maybe it’s from my bubbly personality” I tease, he laughs
“You. Have a bubbly personality!” He laughs and it’s so good to hear, “you were so shy, like if I sneezed too hard I would scare you”
I smile softly, “I’ve changed so much sense I was twelve” my hair falls around my face and he tucks the loose strand around my ear
“What now that you’re fourteen?” He teases softly, his hand lingers behind my ear. But he removes himself quickly.
“Zuko. Im fifteen” I remind him, it’s embarrassing when he says he knows how my heart flutters and I feel weak in the knees.
“I remember, once you turned eighteen we would’ve” he looks away with a blush on his cheeks
“Yeah. Gotten married” I laugh, and I keep laughing because the thought of getting married feels so small and childish to the war we’re supposed to be preparing for.
He laughs; rolling laughs that make me keep laughing. My laughs turn short and wheezy before his face straightens, “are you ok? Can you breathe?” His face turns to me and he smiles seeing my smile. It’s a smile that makes my cheeks hurt and heart race.
“As the Prince of the fire nation. I’m supposed to hate you. Because you’ve betrayed our nation. But as Zuko. As your Zuko. In this moment I don’t feel anything but hate. I feel love for you. A fire that I never want to put out” he tells me, scooting closer to me. I let him cradle my face, “I never hated you”
“I never hated you either” a weak laugh escapes me but he kisses me before it truly develops. It’s a kiss that devours me whole, wrapping itself into my heart and soul.
“If we make it through this. Let’s make good on that betrothal”
#fire lord zuko#zuko#prince zuko x you#zuko x reader#zuko x you#atla zuko#prince zuko#zuko fluff#avatar zuko#avatar aang#avatar#netflix avatar#avatar the last airbender#atla sokka#sokka#atla suki#Suki#toph beifong#toph#louiseabilenewrites#lourequests
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Arrowhead Jr ||One Shot
New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring all my work here slowly!
Summary: Daryl has baby fever
This was a request on my old blog: "ever since i saw daryl holding baby judith ive dreamt about him having absolute baby fever w reader and after babysitting him pestering reader about one?"
18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: Profanity, birth, babies, mostly fluffy
"Check this out." Daryl said excitedly, holding up a camo onesie he found. You were on a small run with a few others in search of some new clothes for little Judith, since she had outgrown most of the ones she had.
"This is for newborns." You told him, taking the tiny outfit out of his hands.
"I know.." He shrugged, taking it back and setting it down.
"Oh, god. Don't start." You begged. "Not again."
You had been with him since the prison, after Woodbury fell. You were one of the many refugees Rick had taken in after the town fell apart, and the archer took a liking to you from the beginning. You guessed it was partially due to your friendship with his morally-gray brother before his unfortunate passing, but it was mostly just because you were you. He loved you for it. However, recently, with the safety of Alexandria's walls, he somehow caught one of the scariest diseases; Baby Fever. Especially after the two of you spent a day watching her so Rick could work and Carl could go do normal teenager things for a change.
"Not startin' nothin." He mumbled.
"No, but you're doing that thing again!" You argued.
"What?" He shrugged.
"That! The sad face and the--"
"That place is perfect." He explained. "The--"
"I know, I know. The big walls and the pretty houses and the people and the--"
"I see you with Judith. I see how you look at her, how you rub her nose to get her to fall asleep and all them lil songs ya sing when she cries."
"So what are you saying?"
"Just that we could." He admitted.
"Just 'cause we could doesn't mean we should." You sighed
"I know that, it's just... I wanna."
"Well that's easy to say when you don't have to carry and birth a child to get one."
"Forget it." He huffed.
The rest of the trip was in silence, and not the comfortable kind you so often shared. You were both frustrated. Him, because ever since he held Judith for the first time, when he fed her that first meal she ever had and felt the rush of nurturing a crying, sweet little baby, a hole formed inside him and it grew bigger every day. He never could have seen himself as a family man before that moment, but ever since, it was a primal urge he couldn't resist. To love a woman, to father a child, to protect and provide for his own family. He had already achieved finding a woman worth his affections, which was you, of course, but he still didn't have his own family and it ate him up.
Your frustrations were sourced elsewhere, though. For one, giving birth sounded absolutely terrifying, especially in a world lacking in hospitals, epidurals, prenatal and postpartum care. You could handle a fair amount of pain, but birth was an entirely different playing field. Not to mention the risks. You had heard what happened to Judith's mom. How could you risk that? How could he expect you to? And that was just the tip of the iceberg. What kind of world would this be for a child? What kind of life would it have? Alexandria was always too good to be true, and sooner or later something would happen, and you'd all be running for your lives again. It was only a matter of time, to you. To be pregnant would mean no more runs, no more fighting, none of the things that made you useful. You'd just be a big burden with swollen ankles.
You didn't speak when you all arrived back home, or during dinner, or after. It wasn't until you went to take a shower, until you had already stripped down and stepped into the steamy stream of water. He had silently snuck into the bathroom, undressed, and surprised you by pulling the curtain aside and joined you. You had your back turned to him, allowing the water to rush over you and wash away your racing thoughts. He grabbed the bar of soap and lathered it in his hands until he was satisfied, then he began to wash you. You loved when he did that, it was one of your favorite affections he'd show. He always started by massaging your neck and shoulders, then your back, then your arms, and he'd turn you around and work on the front. With little explanation needed, that was his favorite part.
"Can we at least think about it?" He finally asked, eyes and hands stationed on your bare skin as you watched his face.
"We can think about it all we want but it doesn't change anything."
"But this place is safe. And there's a doctor here. And-- Hell, this house alone is more than either of us could've given a kid before the world turned to shit." He argued. You sighed.
"I just can't shake the feeling that none of this is permanent." You confessed. He stopped washing you for a moment, considering your concerns.
"What else?" He asked.
"What else what?"
"The other reasons. What else?"
"This place could fall."
"Don't mean it will."
"The doctor could die."
"I'll make sure he don't."
"There could be complications."
"That's what the doctor's for."
"I can't help on runs or fight or--"
"Got plenty of people that can do that."
You took a breath. Was he gonna have a rebuttal to each argument you made?
"Well," you said, "pregnancy makes us crazy."
"You're already crazy." He smirked. You rolled your eyes.
"What about medicine? Epidural? You need and anesthesiologist for that and we don't have that which means I'll feel everything and it's gonna hurt!" You rambled. His smirk grew into an amused grin. "What?" You scoffed.
"You're scared." He said.
"So what if I am? I should be. You should be. I could die. The baby could die. It could die down the line when we can't protect it--"
"Now you just insult me. I'd never let a damn thing happen to you or that kid." He snapped. You gritted your teeth together.
"You can't control everything. What about childbirth? Women died during birth when there were teams of doctors and surgeons. What about now?"
"You wont." He shook his head.
"Why would you want a baby with me anyways?" You groaned. "I don't even like kids!"
"Now that's just lyin' to yourself, darlin'."
"Is not!"
"Might've been able to convince me if you never let me see you with Lil Ass Kicker, but you're a natural."
"Jesus. Are you gonna give our baby weird nicknames too?" You asked as the two of you switched sides in the shower so you could was him too.
"Our baby?" He repeated. You eyes widened.
"Hypothetically." You corrected. "Our maybe, hypothetical, improbable baby."
"Nah, I was thinkin' Arrowhead Jr for ours."
You couldn't help it, you laughed.
"You're insane." You shook your head, massaging his shoulder with the suds.
"Look," he sighed. "I'm not gettin' any younger and I want a family. I already got the girl, now I need the girl to have my babies."
"Babies?!" You gawked. "How many do you expect me to have? I'm not a damn fetus factory I can't just spread my legs and pop them out on a fucking conveyor belt."
"I was thinkin' two."
"Two." You repeated, hoping that hearing the word from someone else would wake him up, maybe make him understand how ludicrous he sounded.
"Mhm."
Guess not.
"Two!" You said again. "Two babies that you want me to grow and birth."
"Yep."
"Do you know what you're asking me to do?"
"Yeah." He said, turning around to face you. "I'm askin' you to be the mother of my kids and spend the rest of your life with me."
"Um, the rest of your life. Women live longer than men, statistically speaking."
"Then think about it. Make the rest of my life mean somethin'."
"Ugh." You growled. You really weren't going to win this one, no matter how hard you fought. "If you wanted kids so bad why didn't you find someone who had the same goal?"
"Don't want no one else. Just you."
"And a kid."
"Two kids."
"Let's start with one." You relented.
He grabbed your face as soon as you spoke the words and kissed you excitedly.
"Better start workin' on it then." He said, lifting you off the ground and pressing your back to the wall. Things only got steamier from there, and not because of the hot shower.
----
"Shit!" You whispered, staring down at the third test you'd taken. "Shit shit shit shit!"
To say it was panic would be an understatement. It was sheer terror. You guessed you knew this was coming but you weren't ready for it yet. The only solace you found was the fact that Daryl would be home soon, and you'd get to see his face light up when you handed him not one, not two, but three positive pregnancy tests.
He came home shortly after you wiped your tears and pulled yourself together. You were in the kitchen making him a pot of coffee, one that you'd usually share. Yet another thing you wouldn't be able to do for the next nine months.
You heard the door open, you heard him kick his boots off and set them by the door, and you heard him greet you as he entered the kitchen.
"Hey." He said casually as you turned to hand him a steamy mug of black coffee, just how he liked it.
"Hey." You replied, sitting down at the table across from where he took his usual seat. He gave you a weird look when he sat down. He could read you like an open book, and there was very obviously something going on with you that day.
"No coffee?" He asked, taking a sip of his own. You shook your head. "You okay?" You shrugged. "Talk to me." He said.
You decided to let him see for himself as you failed to form the words. You were terrified for a lot of reasons, but most of all your pride wouldn't let you say the words, because as much as you hated to admit it, you were also happy. You were happy to make him happy, and you were excited to have someone else to love.
You reached in your pocket and set the first test on the table. He stopped blowing on his coffee and stared at it for a moment before looking back to you. Then, you set the second one down. He pushed his eyebrows together, either out of confusion or shock, you weren't sure. Then you slapped the third test down beside the first two. He set his coffee down and stood, leaning over them to examine them. You realized he probably didn't know what a single line versus a double line meant, so you gave him a second to read the tests before he reacted.
The second it hit him it showed. His head snapped up at you, eyes wide.
"F'real?" He asked quietly. You nodded once and he rushed over to your side, gripping your cheeks between his hands and kissing you over and over and over. You couldn't help but chuckle as you tried to push him back.
"Oxygen, Daryl!" You giggled. "The baby needs to breathe!"
"C'mon. We gotta go tell Carol. And Rick. And Glenn. And Maggie." He rambled on and on, adding names as they popped in his head while he pulled you to your feet and ushered you to the door.
"Daryl!" You protested. "Wait I need shoes!"
---
You could barely hear Carol as she coached you through pushing with each contraction. The pain was insane and Daryl's hand was probably broken after you had been squeezing it so hard. Denise, the new doctor after Rick may or may not have killed the last one, was also talking you through, sending encouraging words as the baby's head made an entrance.
"Okay. Breathe. Breathe. One more big push." Carol cooed to your right as Daryl encouraged you from the left.
"C'mon, (Y/N), you're kickin' ass." He said. Admittedly he spent most of the time it took you to get to this point silent, shock written all over his face. He had no idea how to help you through this, he realized, but he fed off Carol's energy and began to give small words of encouragement when he heard Denise say she could see the baby's head.
When the next contraction hit, you screamed in agony, pushing with all your might, just like Carol told you.
"It's just like doing a sit up."
You could feel when the baby was out, but you were so exhausted your head just fell back on the pillow as you caught your breath. It wasn't until you heard the baby cry that you looked down at Denise to see her wiping the baby clean and wrapping it in a blanket. She walked over and set the baby down on your chest. "Skin to skin contact is important." She told you, before looking over to Daryl. "For you too, if you want to take your shirt off."
Daryl was too stunned, just watching in awe as you stared down at your crying newborn baby with admiration. It took him a minute, and a little nudge from Carol who had walked over to his side, before he snapped out of it and leaned in close to you. He got a good look at the baby before he asked, "Boy or girl?"
"Boy." Denise smiled. She was ecstatic, having successfully aided in the birth of your child.
"We have a son." Daryl laughed, although it was more of a happy cry. He wiped a tear from his eye as he stood up and removed his shirt, holding his arms out in hopes you'd let him hold his boy.
"Yeah, we do." You grinned, giving your baby a kiss on the head before you passed him over to his father. Daryl was breathless as he scooped the infant into his arms, bouncing him and whispering sweet nothings.
"Hey, little Arrowhead." He laughed. He had called him that for the entire pregnancy.
"I was thinking about naming him (name of your choice). What do you think?" You asked.
He nodded and kissed little (baby name).
"Hey, (baby name). I'm your daddy."
#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon#twd daryl#the walking dead daryl#daryl fanfiction#daryl x reader#daryl twd#daryl x female reader
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Can you do a teen reader (younger than Damian by 1 or 2 years) x batfam, where he is spider man? (I mean kinda like miles morales, he has electricity powers but his webs are organic too and doesn’t need a web shooters.) he is Bruce’s biological child and his mother died, yk his canon event and what not. So he has to move to Gotham and isn’t happy about. Just distant and all. One night He sneaked out and bought a train ticket and went to New York, and was only spider man and just slept in somewhere. So the batfamily tracked him to New York, and while looking for him, they bump into him as spider man. They have to team up to find a villian but reafer gets hurt in the end and his mask fell off and they see it’s reader? They bring him and just have a talk when he wakes up and they come to conclusion for him to join the family in their fighting in Gotham?
Oh, that sounds good. Yes... Also, 2.7k words and so sorry for taking so long to write this... Hope you enjoy. I changed it a little bit, so my apologies, but I got into my writing spirit lol.
Summary: (Y/N) is Spiderman. The fam doesn't know that.
Warnings: (Y/N)'s mom passes away, funeral, sad (Y/N), he loves his city, angst, running away, fighting with Green Goblin.
(Y/N) had a great life in New York. He was very happy in his city. He lived with his mom and everything was fine. Okay, he did get bitten by a radioactive spider and got cool powers with it. Did it cause some troubles? Oh yeah. Electricity was a bit problematic to control, but he managed.
Did he get grounded because of it? His mom sure thought so. His dad visited with the rest of his brothers every month. (Y/N) understood why he couldn't come more. Being a CEO and all that stuff, (Y/N) really understood. He didn't love Bruce any less. Bruce was involved in his life, which was nice.
He loved his brothers and father, more than anything in this world. Alfred was the best though. Whenever he came, he would bring his food and (Y/N) and his mom would enjoy it too, often asking for recipes. Or they would exchange recipes.
All of those were very fun times. And his time as Spiderman. He really loved it. He loved patrolling and helping the people and maybe get a hot dog from the stands that worked through the night. He loved it all. It was nice that his webs were natural and they, like mentioned before, they also came with electricity.
His enemies hated him, but (Y/N) loved being Spiderman. He loved what he represented in New York and he wouldn't change it for anything in the world. He is a New Yorker through and through.
But life decided to be a bitch and strike that luck and happiness.
(Y/N)'s mom passed away. She was hit by a drunk driver. The worst thing is, the driver survived. When Bruce got the news, he got into the car and drove to New York. (Y/N) was told just before Bruce came and (Y/N) felt his soul shatter.
He broke down in Bruce's arms, crying and screaming. It took him a while to calm down, but he couldn't stay alone. Bruce knew that and he knew that going back to Gotham was not an option now. At all. Bruce called Alfred and explained everything and told him that he would stay to arrange the funeral.
Alfred understood and the brother called (Y/N), wishing that they could be there. (Y/N) thanked them for it and then sat up all night, unable to sleep. Bruce tried to comfort him in the best way possible, but it was difficult. Bruce's former fling, (Y/N)'s mom, was the most important person to (Y/N). Without a doubt.
Bruce knew that he would have to bury her in New York, otherwise his son would have raised hell. Without a doubt. After funeral, (Y/N) would have to move to Gotham. Which is another problem on its own. Bruce didn't know that (Y/N) was Spiderman and (Y/N) didn't know that Bruce was Batman.
Match made in hell, so to say.
The funeral was held a few days after the incident and (Y/N) thought that New York cried with him. The sky was dark and the rain was falling. (Y/N) was torn. There were way to many people who were saying sorry and while he appreciated the care and worry, he just wanted to say goodbye on his own.
His brothers have stood it with him. (Y/N) didn't even have the courage to be next to the grave, while they lowered it, but Bruce held him hand through it, keeping him close to him during the entire process.
At the end, he found some strength and came closer, allowing the rain to soak him. It felt appropriate. When she was lowered, (Y/N) threw a rose in there and wiped his eyes. He took a deep breath as they started putting dirt over her coffin and (Y/N) never felt so mad. Why did this happen to him? To him out of all people?!
Bruce recognized that look in (Y/N)'s eyes. He knew that rage, sadness and frustration in his eyes. It was going to be difficult to let go and have a new life in Gotham. But (Y/N) had to try. He had to put some effort.
" (Y/N), we have to go. " Bruce said gently as he shielded his son from the rain with an umbrella. (Y/N) kept looking as the coffin got buried under the dirt. He swallowed before nodding and following Bruce to the car.
" Why do I have to go to Gotham? " (Y/N) asked and Bruce sighed as he started driving.
" We have been over this. I have a company there and your brothers are there. I know you don't want to leave, I know that, but you have no choice. " Bruce explained as he drove and (Y/N) turned away from him, biting down on his tongue so that he wouldn't lash out against Bruce.
" I know you are not happy, but you will be happy in Gotham. "
" Sure. In a city ran by a clown and a bat. Sounds like heaven. " (Y/N) said sarcastically.
" It's actually a nice city once you live in it long enough. "
(Y/N) huffed, but kept his mouth shut. He didn't want to lash out at his father, he really didn't. His dad was doing something he needed and Bruce wasn't at fault.
It was the driver's fault.
But he was pissed and he just wanted to be alone. Bruce saw it and didn't say anything, driving back to Gotham. It was the most awkward drive Bruce has ever done in his life. The hour was quiet and once they parked in the yard of the manor, (Y/N) took a bag with his personal stuff, his Spiderman suit included, and made a beeline for his room.
He ran past everybody and they all looked at him with sad looks.
" Do you think he will be better soon? " Dick asked, glancing at Bruce.
" I don't know Dick. He is sensitive and he will need some time to process it. I don't think I can even introduce him to our line of work. He found justice, they got the driver. " Bruce said as he rubbed his chin and the boys had to agree to a certain agree.
" He just needs some time. The first few days are the toughest. He will get better as times passes. " Alfred said as he took one of the boxes out.
Those few days have passed and (Y/N) didn't really feel good. He didn't like the fact he is starting a new school year here, without his friends and a sense of familiarity. He would have to start a new, without... He cried a lot during the time and he just wore black. Alfred had to make sure he ate and Bruce was there to comfort him and make sure he is okay.
Another thing that was painful, alongside his mother's death was the fact that he couldn't be Spiderman. He couldn't go out, he couldn't save his fellow New Yorkers or chat with them. He saw the news talking about his absence and he wanted nothing more than to go back to New York.
Nothing more.
But... There is a problem called big brothers plus a dad.
They were always around, watching him. Always popping in his room to make sure he is okay and not hungry, knowing that eating wasn't easy. Everyone popped in to make sure he is okay. (Y/N) was sure they thought he would hurt himself somehow, but he wasn't doing that.
He would often sit down in his room, when he knew that his family was on patrol, he would take his suit out. He would watch the spider symbol, wishing he could be back in New York. Gotham was nothing compared to New York. New York was much better, still is better than this city. New York is alive, vibrant, full of colors.
And then you have Gotham.
But (Y/N) has had enough after 2 weeks. With a little bit sneaking around, he managed to buy a ticket, his suit underneath the normal clothes he was wearing. While his family was on patrol, he sneaked out and made his way to the station to leave. He was happy, but it was bitter sweet. It would remind him of the things he loved and yet... It would remind him of his mother.
He had actually had some money left for a few flowers to lay on her grave... (Y/N) put his head on the window, watching the scenery change. Left his phone at home so that they couldn't track him, so he spent his time looking out the window and stretching.
After a few hours, (Y/N) has arrived. He smiled as he saw his city. He took a deep breath in and walked around, just remembering the time in his city.
" My apologies New York. " (Y/N) mumbled as he started walking to the cemetery. It would be a long walk, but he had time. He really did. Once he came, the flower shop was open and he has paid with cash, making it difficult to track him. After getting a beautiful bouquet he walked to his mom's grave. He put them down and smiled...
Bittersweet beyond belief.
He kept knelt down on one knee, smiling at the gravestone. He smiled and wiped some of his tears away, not wanting to cry.
" Hey mom. I'm back. Dad wanted me to move, but I think I will stay here. " (Y/N) said as he got up and started walking to his apartment. He missed it, he really did. He could only hope that it's unlocked, but his neighbor had an extra key. He knew it.
And she loved him.
While (Y/N) was happy, the family wasn't really paying attention whether or not (Y/N) was in his room. They were thinking that he has slept. They couldn't have been more wrong about it. (Y/N) already had a whole night ahead of him as an advantage.
Alfred went to check and a few minutes later and he called out for Bruce in a panic. Everyone dropped the cutlery and ran upstairs to see if their butler was safe. Jason and Tim nearly tumbled over one another more than once. Damian jumped in first, ready to fight with the non existent intruder.
They were all shocked to see that there was no intruder. Another problem? There was no (Y/N). Jason checked the bathroom.
" Not in here. " He declared, closing the door.
Bruce wondered what the hell happened. Oh no. Where is he?
" Did anyone see him? " Bruce asked his sons, leaning on the wall.
" No... I thought he was in here. " Tim said as he looked out the window. " Where is he even? " Tim wondered. Bruce pondered for a moment.
" Lets go to the cave and check the cameras. " Bruce said as he pushed himself off of the wall. Everyone followed and soon, they were looking through the cameras.
They all paled when they saw that he went to the city. Bruce pulled all of the cameras he could and thanked God for facial recognition. He pulled it all to find (Y/N).
" Why did he escape? " Dick wondered out aloud. Was it the fact that they were checking on him too much? Was he smothered? Did they smother him?
" Shit. " Jason said next to Bruce as the two watched the screen. Everyone turned their heads to look at the screen. A train station. Bruce connected it.
" He went to New York. " Bruce said as he tracked (Y/N)'s phone.
" What the hell? " Tim wondered out loud.
Everyone frowned when the location turned out to be the manor. Everyone was now worried.
" He has to be in New York. He has to be. " Damian declared and everyone had to agree with it. They knew that (Y/N) coming here wasn't his choice and that he wanted to stay back in New York. Bruce couldn't blame (Y/N) for any of it, nobody could blame (Y/N) for trying to run to New York.
" He has an entire night as an advantage. " Damian said and everyone has agreed with him. That is one hell of an advantage.
" I'm not sure whether or not to be proud. " Bruce said, trying not to smile.
" A mixture of both. He passed the security. " Jason mumbled and Bruce chuckled.
" Yeah, I have to be a mixture of both. Lets do some more investigating and then lets go to New York at night. " Bruce said and everyone nodded.
(Y/N) has had fun during the day, but it seems that Green Goblin wasn't happy with the fact that he was gone out of their city. The fight has been going on for a while and (Y/N) was slowly getting exhausted. Ever so slowly.
(Y/N) knew that he couldn't lose his cool now. That's something that Green Goblin wanted him to do this entire fight. Green Goblin was taunting him and by God, (Y/N) was ready to kill. His wrists were hurting like never before.
He was ready to strike once more when he saw a familiar face. His dad and his brothers. Oh God. Were they all looking for him. They landed near him and (Y/N) swore that his heart was about to jump out of his chest. He really thought so.
" Hey Spidey, you need help? " Dick, well, Nightwing asked and (Y/N) shrugged his shoulders. " Could use some backup. " (Y/N) said, voice breathy.
" Arch nemesis? " Damian, well, Robin asked.
" Yup. "
" Sounds tough. " Dick said and (Y/N) got ready to strike once more. He saw an opening and took it.
(Y/N) was struck and he flew back onto the rooftop and something fell of as he landed. He couldn't pinpoint it, but every part of him screamed that something was wrong. He froze when he saw his father, covering them both with his big cape.
" (Y/N), why didn't you tell us? Is this why you didn't want to leave? " Bruce asked, glancing at his son, trying to see if he was injured.
" I... I didn't know how to... " (Y/N) admitted shyly, looking away from his dad.
" I'm not blaming you. But we have to talk about this later. We can't just leave it like this. Put on your mask and lets finish this. " Bruce said with a firm voice and (Y/N) nodded as he did so and with the help from Bruce, got up.
" Lets get the bastard. " (Y/N) said with so much determination and Bruce smiled proudly. He really is his son with that much determination.
The fight was tiring beyond belief, but the Batfamily was determined and persistent. And Green Goblin wasn't expecting the back up that (Y/N) has gotten out of nowhere. Soon, Green Goblin was taken into custody. Now it was all good. All good.
If you remember that (Y/N)'s family was still there, waiting to talk to him. He didn't really want to talk, he just wanted to avoid it. He didn't want to. By God, he wanted to go to sleep. But he knew that talk would happen eventually.
" Now, " Bruce started as he glanced at everyone. " I'm not mad you, but... You could have told us. We told you. " (Y/N) tried to say something, but Bruce stopped him. " Now, what happened happened. However, you can use your talents back in Gotham. "
(Y/N) shifted on his feet, nervous about it.
" No need to worry (Y/N). " Jason started, hands on his hips. " NYPD is more capable than GCPD. "
Everyone laughed at it. To some extent it's true, but (Y/N) wasn't convinced.
" You don't have to lose your Spider symbol. You can keep being Spiderman. You can be a spider and the rest can be birds. " Bruce said as he put his hand on (Y/N) shoulder.
" It's difficult to leave my city behind. " (Y/N) admitted and Bruce nodded in sympathy. The brothers hugged their brother, hugging him tightly.
They all were saying something, but (Y/N) couldn't understand. But he knew that they were all saying something positive.
" Now, lets go home and get you situated. " Bruce said and (Y/N) just looked at the sun.
" It weird to see you guys in this time of the day. " (Y/N) mumbled as he was led to the Batmobile. Everyone laughed at that. It was true. He really didn't want to leave New York city, but he knew that he could help them in Gotham.
He knew it would work out in the end.
#dc x male reader#dc comics#x male reader#batfamily#bruce wayne x male reader#batman x male reader#jason todd x male reader#red hood x male reader#tim drake x male reader#red robin x male reader#nightwing x male reader#dick grayson x male reader#damian wayne x male reader#robin x male reader
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soo could you write about dazai, chuuya and tecchou's red green and beige flags?
…My Flags?
— Their green, red and beige flags ft. O.Dazai, N. Chuuya, S. Tetchou
— Warnings & Notes
sfw | Mix
|| thx for the request, made me have an unwanted reality check lmao
|| kinda angsty but also fluffy and funny, those are based on my own thoughts and opinions!
m.list | writing rules
— Dazai
The green flags
He tries his best to be a good boyfriend. Of course it takes time and effort, but he really tries to give his all for you and you notice it (most of the time). He just tries his best for you (even though he has his moments)
He showers you with compliments. He wants you to know what he feels for you every step of the way. Some compliments are actually just so ridiculous it’s funny
“Mh, ‘bella! You’re so beautiful I would definitely steal your photos, make a fake account, and impress other people online!”
“That’s, uh….creepy but cute, thank you love…”
Conversation with him are never boring! He will find thousands of stupid topics just to talk to you about them! He wants to hear you laugh and see you smile as you state your opinions on all these weird things. (He probably doesn’t want to do his work smh)
The red flags
He tends to gaslight you…a lot. Mostly about that you’re just paranoid that he gaslights you. He doesn’t do it on purpose most of the time, it’s just how he is.
Unfortunately he still flirts with other women. He isn’t cheating, but the sweet words and looks still happen sometimes. He does it unintentionally, but it’s there, it happens. He says he tries to get rid of these habits, but you’re doubtful.
 Dazai runs away from his problems. Always. Whenever there is a conflict between you two he tries to brush it off and act like everything is okey. That is until he notices you’re genuinely upset with him, then he just leaves. He leaves and returns after a few hours or days of no contact and acts like nothing happened again.
The beige flags
 When he notices that he accidentally made you cry, he will jump on top of you to aggressively suck the tears off your face like some human vacuum in order to make you laugh and feel better. It’s ridiculous but it works.
Whenever you ask him what he wants to eat he always, always replies with “you” or “nothing”. No in-between, no specifics. It was funny at first, but at some point you just started to sigh and shake your head at it.
He keeps his undies that have holes in them so that he can surprise you by walking out the bathroom and tearing them off his body only leaving the waist band. He calls it the “grand reveal”. Always whenever you least expect it. Makes you question many things.
— Chuuya
The green flags
He notices the little things. You have a sparkle in your eyes whenever you see a flower you like? Expect a bouquet of these flowers on the table the next day. You pick out a vegetable from your food because you don’t like it? He noticed, and he made sure that that vegetable never appears in your house ever again.
Yeah so he is always trying to impress you with things. He often makes a fool out of himself because of it, but it brings a smile to your face so you let him do his thing.
Chuuya loves to gossip about people with you. You know the second he says “you won’t believe what happened.” Means you’re in for the hottest, spiciest tea spill in history. His gossip is always so juicy it leaves you gasping with every sentence. You love how he trusts only you with it.
The red flags
The way he expresses his anger makes you feel unsafe sometimes. You never know when he will accidentally harm you during one of his anger outbursts. It’s very worrisome to you and actually him too.
He is an alcoholic already a separate red flag, so stuff happens when he is wasted (which is often). Chuuya often tells you hurtful things during that time. It’s things he would never, ever allow to leave his mouth while sober, but we all know drunk Chuuya is not your Chuuya anymore.
Always needs to know where you are and what you’re doing. He is very, very controlling. Is it because he is worried? Possessive? Obsessive?? No one knows. But he is, and it’s suffocating sometimes. You basically have no privacy. (It’s probably because he has trust issues that you’ll leave him at some point just like others ekhem Dazai )
“So, where are you going? Who will you be with?”
“….to a bar, with just some friends..?”
“Is that so? What friends? Actually, I’ll have some of my men go with you to be sure you’ll be fine.”
“……”
The beige flags
Whenever he spills the hot tea of the day in the mafia, you’re no longer “love, dear, doll or baby” etc. No, no, that’s when you become “dawg” or “bro” and you deal with it. He is not aware of it and you never tell him. You are dawg. That’s final.
Whenever he misplaces his belongings, the first thing he does is ask you “what did you do with my (insert item)?” It doesn’t matter what it is, his phone, his hat whatever, he thinks you took it.
When you guys go to bed he scoots closer and closer over the course of the night in order to cuddle you, except he always scoots a little too much and you always end up falling off the bed, and then when you try to get him to move back a little he will complain that it’s late and you should be sleeping instead of waking him up. (He is only half awake the whole time, forgive him for being a bitch)
— Tetchou
The green flags
He respects your boundaries. When you say no, it means no, and he understands.
He never flinches when you order something no sane person would eat. That's because he also does that. (It should be a red flag that his taste in food is horrendous, but he will never judge you sooo forgiven)
He always listens to you. He might not understand a thing you're talking about, or might not get why that thing is so exciting but he will listen, and agree with everything you say to show you he is interested and is paying attention.
The red flags
Puts his job above you. You always come second. He loves you, but if the job required him to break up with you, he would without a second thought. I’m sorry, justice above all.
He is lacking in emotional intelligence. He doesn't really know how to comfort you or empathize with you which leaves you to mostly deal with the emotional distress yourself.
Sleeps with his socks on during summer. Thats all, that’s the reddest flag.
The beige flags
Whenever he's hungry and you're not he will starve himself, because he refuses to eat when you're not eating. It makes him feel bad and you don’t get why.
Whenever you ask him a question he will answer without elaboration. —
"How was work?"
"Good. As usually."
— A man of few words, but you need him to spill the details, right now.
He can't use emojis. He thinks “🙄” is someone looking up, not an eye-roll. It makes texting more difficult than it should…
Copyright © 2023 Aeshiiteiru.
#bsd#bungou stray dogs#bsd tetchou#tetchou x reader#bsd x reader#bungo stray dogs dazai#bungo stray dogs x reader#bsd dazai#bsd chuuya#chuuya nakahara#dazai osamu#tetchou suehiro#dazai x reader#chuuya x reader#bsd fluff#bsd flags#bsd angst#bsd crack
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“i’m so sorry for everything i’ve said to you before.” / “you didn’t deserve that.” reader x eddie
i feel like eddie would definitely say things he didn’t mean because he was afraid of how reader made him feel.
I'll keep you safe E.M.
Warnings: angst, mentions of death, blood, scars from the bats, fluff, happy ending
Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader
Word count: 1.4k
stranger things masterlist
-
The water feels cool against your skin, your feet are dangling in the water. It’s dark out but the moon brightens up everything around you. You hear the laughter of your friends as they sit around the fire, you excused yourself for a moment, needing a few minutes to yourself.
You’re spending the week in a nice cabin by the lake, it belongs to Steve’s parents. It was his idea to come here, a little getaway is what you all needed after the fight against Vecna a few months back.
Three days have passed since you came here and it was nice until this morning.
Eddie was acting weird around you all day, ever since you woke up in his arms earlier that day, he has been distant, avoiding eye contact and mumbling responses whenever you’d ask him something and it hurts. He was the one who pulled you into his arms in the first place, he was the one who refused to let you go after you fell asleep on the couch together during your movie night, you woke up around midnight and tried to get up and sneak out of the living room without waking him up but he put his arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest, 'please, don't go.' He whispered.
He was making things so difficult for you.
You care about him, just like you care about the others but with him, it’s just different. He means so much to you, he makes your heart flutter, he makes you smile, he makes you happy and god, you want him so bad but he clearly doesn’t feel the same. You always knew it but especially after today.
He snapped at you when you tried to touch his hand after asking him if he’s okay, he slapped it away and told you to leave him alone, his face was red and his eyes looked dark and filled with anger, when he yelled, ‘stop getting on my damn nerves, girl! I can’t stand your bullshit sometimes!’
Your bullshit, he meant your kindness, your sweet smiles, your caring side that you especially have for him.
It wasn't the only thing he had said to you but it was what had hurt the most.
You looked shocked and terrified when he yelled at you, you were too busy processing his words and the anger that was directed at you to notice the guilt in his eyes after he had spoken those words.
He pushed past you afterwards, he left you standing there with tears in your eyes. Steve was there, he saw it all. Your first instinct was to run away, feeling too ashamed that someone else had witnessed that scene but he didn’t let you, instead he pulled you into his arms and let you cry.
He knows that feeling all too well, when people call you bullshit, when they ask you to leave them alone after they make you care.
Your eyes well up with tears again as you think about him.
You hear footsteps approaching, sighing, you wipe away the tear that rolled down your cheek.
“I’m fine, Steve,” you mumble, “go back to the others.”
When he sits down beside you and you smell his cologne, you realize that he is not Steve. He’s the man that you have been avoiding all day since this morning.
You turn to look at him with a frown on your face. The anger in his eyes is long gone, his face doesn’t look tense anymore, he looks apologetic.
Eddie stares at you, noticing the glassy eyes right away, the smile that hasn’t been there at all today, all because of him. He feels guilty and horrible for what he said to you, for what he did.
He can’t stand himself for hurting the person that means the most to him.
His feelings for you were always there, from the moment he first saw you, he has loved you. He never thought that you could ever feel the same though, to him, you are this perfect girl with a bright future, one where he doesn’t belong in but then you got closer and he saw the way you looked at him, the way you cared for him, the way you loved him.
And then, you almost died for him, you took the scars that were meant for him, you were bleeding out on the cold ground, waiting for death to take you and when Eddie scooped you up into his arms, you still smiled at him because you knew that he would be okay, even if you wouldn’t be.
You would give your life for him and it scares him, your love for him almost killed you and he hates it, he hates how far you would go to keep him safe.
He doesn’t feel worthy of your love, he doesn’t feel like he deserves it in any way and he is also scared of his feelings for you, he has never loved anyone the way he loved you. He is scared of messing things up not realizing that he is already doing so.
As he looks at you, his heart begins to hurt in his chest, how could he hurt you?
You tear your eyes away from him, blinking a few times as though it will do anything to keep the tears away. You take a deep breath before you pull your feet out of the water and push yourself up but before you can even place your feet against the wood, Eddie places his hand on your arm, “please don’t go.”
Your eyes flash with confusion as you look down at his hand before you look back into his eyes again, even in the darkness you can see the sadness in them, the regret.
You should go, you know you should but you can’t, you can never walk away from him, so you sit back down and stare at him.
He lets go of your arm but he places his hand on top of yours, squeezing your hand gently.
“I’m so sorry for everything I’ve said to you before,” he whispers as he looks into the eyes of the girl that stole his heart, “you didn’t deserve that.”
Your quiet sniffles break his heart, he knows you try not to cry, that’s why you turned away from him just now.
“It’s okay, Eddie,” you whisper, “you can go now.”
His shoulders slump and his face falls, he fucked up, he knows he did. All because he's afraid of his own feelings.
“No…”
You wipe your tears before you turn back to him, “I’ll stay away from you, I’m sorry that I’ve been so–”
“Stop,” Eddie sighs as he scoots closer to you, he reaches out to cup your cheeks, surprising you with his touch, “please just stop, I don’t want you to stay away from me.”
“But you said–”
“I know, I was lying. Everything I said was bullshit, sweetheart,” he mumbles, shaking his head at himself, “I just– after this morning, I-I’m just so… scared.”
“Of what?”
“You.”
Your brows knit together and you draw back, staring at him confused.
“Me?” You whisper, “but why?”
He smiles at you, for someone so attentive and observant, you sure are clueless when it comes to his feelings for you. He caresses your cheek, opening his mouth to speak but then he chooses to do something else.
He kisses you.
You whimper in surprise, staring at him wide eyed as he kisses you softly. It takes you a moment to respond to the kiss. Your heart is racing, your skin feels hot, your lips feel tingly already.
Just as he is about to pull away from you, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back.
Eddie smiles against you, heart fluttering when he finally feels your lips moving against his. It feels so good, you feel perfect. He lets his hand slide down to your waist, grabbing you tightly, he pulls you on top of him. You tighten your arms around him and kiss him deeper until you are both out of breath.
“I love you.”
You open your eyes and look into his, you see nothing but honesty in them. Happy tears and a smile resting on his face.
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he admits, he squeezes your waist, “you’re perfect and I’m just–”
“You’re perfect,” you whisper, interrupting him, “everything about you is perfect, Eddie.”
His gaze softens.
“I don’t deserve you, especially after this–”
“I love you too, Eddie. I love you more than anything,” you whisper as you press a kiss to his cheek, “I understand why you are so scared, I’m scared too.”
“You don’t have to be,” he says, “you’re safe with me.”
“You don’t have to be scared either, Eds, you are safe with me.”
He knows, you have done everything to prove it to him.
He runs his fingers over the scars on your left arm as he pulls you in for another short but soft kiss.
“I’m so sorry, I was so awful to you.”
“It’s okay, you can make it up to me,” you whisper as you put your head on his shoulder.
He smiles, putting his hand on the back of your head, he plays with your hair. His heart feels at ease again but the guilt is still deep inside of him.
He will make it up to you.
“I will, sweetheart. I promise.”
#eddie x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson imagines#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson angst#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson drabble
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Brothers
Daryl Dixon x fem! Reader • Quarry • Fluff
This took so long and I am not happy with it at all. I am so sorry to the anon who requested this! I don’t know what’s gotten into me, I just could not figure out what to write for this request. Again, so sorry. I hope to get back into writing more soon!
Part 2
Chaos. Everything was complete chaos. Gunshots, groans of walkers, the kids screaming in panic, Shane shouting orders. A rifle thrown in your hands, fingers trembling as you took shots, walkers falling to the ground. Lori, Carol, and the two kids were hustled into the RV, and you stood guard by the door.
Rick and the group came back from Atlanta suddenly, yelling and shouting and putting more guns in more people hands. Your eyes kept flicking to your brother, Shane, as he took down geeks. Everything was going so fast and your head was spinning.
And then, silence. It was eerie, how so much panic and chaos could turn quiet so shortly. The once bustling camp enjoying a fish fry now was now nearly half the size. The earth beneath your feet was covered in blood, some red and fresh from the people, some was almost back, the walker blood.
Andrea dropped down to her sister and let out a cry, and that's when you finally turned away, opening the door to the RV and letting them know it was clear. A hand dropped to your shoulder and you flinched, the tips of your fingers brushed the knife at your waist before you realized.
"You good?" Shane asks, and you give him a jerky nod. He pats your shoulder once more and parts from you. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and survey the camp.
There's bodies everywhere, both human and undead. You can't stand looking at it, you can't stand Andrea's cries as the background noise. You turn on your heel and begin walking away, towards the woods. Maybe it wasn't safest, but you needed a breather away from everything. They were beginning to stab the brains of the dead, and you couldn't watch them put down the people you once considered friends.
You sit heavily on a overturned tree, the rifle you swung on your back makes a metallic noise when it hits the wood. You sigh, bringing your elbows to rest on your knees as you bury your face in your hands.
You're only alone for a moment before you hear footsteps and you shoot your head up, heart racing and eyes glancing about before you spot Daryl. You huff out a breath and take your eyes off him, hastily brushing a stray tear from your cheek.
"You're getting sloppy, heard you from a mile away," you tease, your voice teary. Daryl scoffs and plunks himself down on the trunk beside you.
"Didn't wanna scare you." You nod, because you knew he had purposely made himself known. You'd been hunting with the archer enough times to know he was never sloppy.
"Did my brother send you?" You ask, still staring down at your shoes out of embarrassment that he'd seen you like this. All teary eyed and pathetic looking.
"Nah, too busy starin' at Lori and Rick," he says. It's your turn to scoff now. "You alright?"
"Yeah," you answer, risking a little glance at the man beside you. He was biting his lip in a way that made you believe he was worried, so you force a little smile. He doesn't look convinced.
"No Merle?" You ask. Daryl shakes his head, breaking his gaze from yours. "I'm sorry." Daryl throws you a little glare out the corner of his eye, but it lacks any sort of real anger. "I am."
"Sure," he says, sarcastically. You narrow your eyes and bump his shoulder with yours.
"Ok, I know me and him weren't exactly besties," your emphasis on the word makes Daryl give you an exasperated look. You just smile. "But I can still be sorry, I know how much you care about him." Daryl hums. "Besides, I don't think anything will take down that man. I'm sure he's fine."
"Yeah, probably," he says with a huff of air escaping his lips. You're both quiet for a moment, and Daryl eyes you worriedly. "You sure you're alright?"
"Yeah," you say with a shrug. "Just... worried. About everything."
"I get that." You get silent again, and Daryl starts to bite and pick at the skin on his thumb. "But you don't gotta be."
"I don't?" You ask, brows pulled forward and looking at Daryl intently. "Why's that?" Daryl shrugs and decides that the ground is more interesting than looking at you.
"'Cause I'll always look out for you," he answers, quietly. You smile and place your hand on Daryl's shoulder in a gentle manner. He flinches just a bit before turning his blue eyes to you. He has a soft expression on his face, the one that's reserved for only you
"Thank you," you say, in a sincere and soft way Daryl's never heard directed at him before. He nods, shakily. "I'll always look out for you, too."
"I know," he answers, standing up. "Come on, ain't safe out here."
You aren't completely sure when the unlikely friendship of you and Daryl began. A cop and a loud, brash redneck wasn't exactly an expected duo. Although, you do know a much different Daryl than most. A much kinder, softer version of himself, one he keeps locked behind a very tall, very solid wall.
You're sure the only reason Daryl has shown this side of himself to you was because you're the only one to treat him like a person, not like some ticking time bomb. Not like some untamed animal or uncontrollable being, just a person. You had shown him a kindness he wasn't used to, and even after a few attempts at keeping you at arms length, you're closer than ever with the man.
You’d admit that maybe your feelings for the man weren’t completely platonic. But that’s to be expected considering you spend so much time with him. He’d taught you some hunting tips, so you hunted with him most days. All that time together, it wasn’t a complete surprise that a little crush would form.
Daryl leads you back to your tent, avoiding the mess of the dead loved ones. It seems most have agreed major cleanup can wait until morning, and have returned to their reserved tents. Dale stayed on watch, mostly for Andrea's sake, just incase she wouldn't be strong enough to take out Amy, you assume.
Daryl lingers at the opening of your tent. You have a unsure, nervous look to you. Your hands wring and fumble with themselves, and your bottom lip in firmly in place between your teeth. He's not fond of your anxious presence.
"I don't want to be alone," you whisper. You grimace, eyes screwing shut briefly before they open again. "Sorry, that makes me sound so pathetic." You let out a breath of air that's supposed to resemble a laugh, but it falls short. "I'll be ok, I'm not even really alone anyway. Shane's tent is right next to mine—"
"Wanna stay with me?" Daryl asks, before he can even think. The words just escape him, embarrass him, and he's about to take it back before you answer.
"Would you mind?" Daryl wants to say absolutely not, of course he doesn't, but what comes out is a grunt and a shake of his head accompanied by a shrug. Daryl turns towards his tent and juts his chin at it.
"Come on." You follow behind him to his tent. His and Merle's are beside each other, both farther from everyone else's tents. They have their own small fire pit and some tree stumps for chairs. Not far behind is a string of cans, a perimeter for the campsite.
Daryl leads you into his tent, holding the flap open for you to climb in behind him. It's small inside, some clothes and spare bolts for his crossbow laying about. A thick blanket is splayed out to act as a barrier from the hard ground. It's Daryl's turn to be nervous and fumbling, watching you take in the small space.
"Cozy," you say with a smile, laying down on the blanket. Daryl hesitates, sitting near the closed entrance and as far as possible from you. You frown. "Lay down. There's room for both of us." You pat the spot on the blanket beside you.
Daryl's eyes flick from yours to the space beside you. He eventually obeys after seeing your unrelenting gaze and lays down beside you, kicking off his boots and keeping them close.
You watch as Daryl does so. His muscles are tense, even as he lays down. He's stiff as a board, arms crossed on his chest as he stares up at the ceiling of the tent. He's ridged, and you feel the tension radiate off his body in waves.
"Am I making you nervous?" You ask, a teasing tone to your voice. It’s mostly to cover up your own anxiety over being so close to him. Daryl scoffs and turns his face away from you.
"Yeah, right." You laugh softly, and Daryl feels a smile twitch at his own lips at the sound. "Just ain't used to sharin' the covers, better not be a blanket hog."
"I'm not, I promise."
It gets quiet, both just laying beside each other, sleep not catching up with either. The gears in your head spin at a million miles a minute, and Daryl glances at you every few minutes, his own thoughts racing, until finally, you speak.
"Do you ever think..." you pause, and Daryl watches you carefully. "That you just aren't good enough? No matter what you do?" Daryl's brows furrow. Where did that come from?
"Plenty," he replies. "Have I ever thought you weren't good enough? Nah, never." Daryl adjusts so his arm is resting behind his head, he keeps his gaze straight to the ceiling even as he feels your eyes burn into him. "Where's this comin' from?"
"I don't know." You shrug. "Been thinking about it a lot lately. About if something happens and I can't save Shane, or Carl. You." Daryl's heart flips.
"Took out a lot of walkers today," Daryl says. "I think you'd be right there if anyone needs your help."
"I'm not strong enough."
"Stop," Daryl snaps, he whips his eyes to yours.
"I'm not. I'm not my brother, and I'm not like you or Rick. I'm not strong, I'm not meant for this." Your voice grows weaker as you go on.
"You're a cop, you helped people, right? You took out, what? Ten walkers all on your own? I saw you." You let out a humorless laugh, tears spring at your eyes.
"The only reason I became a cop was because Shane did," you admit. "I felt like I had to follow him, to do something."
"Don't matter." Daryl's brows furrow. He isn't sure where this is all coming from. Sure, he'd seen you seemed to always be behind Shane, following whatever he said to do. It bugged him a little, how he always bosses you around. He didn't think it ever bothered you.
"It does matter," you say with a scoff and sit up. Daryl follows, slowly sitting up next to you. "I was never meant for it. I could barely even take statements sometimes without wanting to cry."
"Just means you care 'bout people." You shrug.
"It means I'm weak." Daryl shakes his head and nudges you with his elbow.
"Ain't weak. And you ain't pathetic, neither." You hang your head.
"I wish I was like Shane, he's strong, he helps people."
"Yeah, well I like you just like this," Daryl admits, even as he feels his face heat up.
"Yeah?" You finally smile, shyly, turning your head just slightly to peek at Daryl. Daryl clears his throat and lays down, turning his back to you.
"Ain't saying it again. Go to sleep." You laugh, actually laugh, and lay down.
"I like you just how you are too, Daryl," you mumble, before sleep finally overtakes you.
Everyone is up early the next morning, you suspect nobody really slept. You had kept waking up every hour, and Daryl was still up staring at the ceiling when you'd glance at him. Footsteps and movement around the camp began right when the sun came up, and you and Daryl followed right after.
Everyone is bustling around now, burning the walkers and burying the dead, as Glenn had insisted. It isn't long before panic shouting is heard from Jacqui.
"Jim got bit! Jim's bit!"
Even more panic, angry shouting from Daryl, and arguing ensues. Daryl wants to kill Jim right then and there— which earned him quite the glare form you— thankfully it quieted him down a little. Rick wants to head to the CDC for a potential cure, and your brother is adamant Fort Benning would be the best bet. You were little ways away from their discussion, chatting with Carl.
"Y/N, what do you think?" Shane asks, suddenly. You sigh and take a few steps closer, away from Carl. You were hoping they would just figure it out and leave you out of it.
"Well," you begin, and Shane's slight narrow of his eyes doesn't go unnoticed. He wants you to go along with him. "I'm sure if there's a cure, Fort Benning would know. They are military, must have doctors."
Daryl scoffs, and you glance to him in surprise. He holds your gaze, but you can't place his expression. Your brows knit in confusion.
"There you have it, Rick," Shane says cockily, breaking you from your trance. You look away from Daryl.
You walk away, leaving the boys to argue further. You honestly don't care where you end up. From the looks of the city, there's nowhere safe, not the CDC, and not Fort Benning. It doesn't matter to you where they decide to go.
"Hey," Shane says, approaching you where you're taking down your tent. You drop the pole you're holding and stand up straight. Shane has a pissed off look on his face.
"CDC then?" You ask. His expression darkens.
"You could've had my back a little," he whispers angrily, getting closer to you. You turn away to hide your rolling eyes. You return to your task.
"I don't care where we go, Shane. It's all the same to me." He grabs your upper arm, not tight enough to hurt, but it's enough to pull your attention back to him.
"Yeah, as long as you get to follow your boyfriend, right?" You narrow your eyes, reeling away from Shane slightly out of shock. His face is close to yours. "Saw you come out of Dixon's tent this morning."
"So what, Shane," you say, yanking your arm from his grasp. "You aren't my father." He exhales heavily through his nose.
"Stay the hell away from that guy," Shane demands, his finger coming up to point at your face. You set your jaw, a fist balls at your side, and you smack his hand away from you. And then, for maybe the first time ever, you don't just do whatever your big brother tells you to.
"Leave me the fuck alone, Shane."
You drop down heavily into the truck's car seat. Daryl glimpses at you from the drivers seat, and he looks at you questionably. You don't say anything, instead glaring out the passenger window so viscously, Daryl's surprised it doesn't shatter.
"You ain't goin' with Shane?" He asks. You scoff.
"No," you answer, shortly. Daryl shrugs, mumbling an 'ok' and starting the engine. He takes off towards the CDC, and you continue your angered glare.
"So, you got your own opinion on this whole thing, or do you always just follow along with whatever your brother says?" Daryl suddenly asks, making you whip your eyes to him. He's staring straight to the road, and you scoff loudly.
"Oh, that's really something coming from you," you say sarcastically, letting out a sharp laugh. "You followed your brother around like a lost puppy, but I'm the one always going along with my brother? Bullshit."
You regret bringing up Merle as soon as you finished your sentence, but anger is clouding your judgment. Your frustration at Shane mixed with Daryl's unwarranted comment is just about too much to handle.
Although you feel a twinge of guilt, Daryl's comment was ridiculous coming from him. He always would follow his brother around, do whatever he said to do. He never even seemed to care whenever Merle went on racist, sexist, something just plain mean tangents, even if Daryl never agreed or joined.
But still, Merle was his brother, no matter how awful, that you understood more than anything. Shane was one to ruffle a few feathers too, and you understand better than anyone how oppressive it can be to forever be in the shadow of an older brother. Never getting your own opinion, or word in, forever just following along.
"You're right," Daryl says. You turn your head to him quickly in surprise. He doesn't face you, his eyes looking at the road in front of him. "I've always gone along with Merle, no matter how shitty he was, or what trouble I'd get in."
"You're right, too," you admit with a loud sigh, your anger fizzling at Daryl’s sincere tone. "I've never really done, hell, even said what I've wanted. I always just followed what Shane's doing."
“Think it’s about damn time we do what we wanna do,” Daryl says, after a few moments pause.
“Yeah, yeah you’re right!” You exclaim, smiling brightly. “Screw Shane!” Daryl laughs, and you turn your head to fully look at him.
He’s biting at the skin on his thumb, and he gives you a small, crooked grin when he notices your eyes on him. The sun cascading through the window of the truck makes him glow, and you can’t help but think that he looks just beautiful. His bright blue eyes sparking, how his light brown hair looks almost blonde in the yellow light. You’d never noticed just how handsome he is.
“The hell you starin’ at?” He asks suddenly. Your face flushes violently at being caught ogling, and you whip your face towards the window.
“Nothing,” you fumble out, he just hums an unconvinced noise of acknowledgment.
You bite your lip harshly to stop the grin that threatens to split your lips. You sneakily take another glimpse at Daryl, taking in his calm expression, the way his eyes narrow to block out the brightness from the sun.
Maybe it was just a crush, or maybe you’re head over heels in love with him. It doesn’t matter now. All you know is that Daryl understands you like no one ever has, and you aren’t letting that go any time soon.
#daryl dixon#the walking dead#the walking dead daryl#twd#twd daryl#daryl fanfiction#daryl x you#daryl dixion imagine#daryl dixion x reader#daryl dixon oneshot#daryl imagines#the walking dead daryl dixon#daryl x reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl x y/n#daryl dixon fluff
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