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etheries1015 · 5 months

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We share the love language of biting. Now imagine TWST beatsfolk has that as an actual sign of courting. Like you're chilling with Leona, not dating or wooing him, and then you bite his cheek in affection. And all of Savanaclaw is shocked because among them, it's the same as i.e. proposing marriage. The utter chaos XD

OHH MY GOSSSHHH YOUR BRAIN >>> I LITERALLY LOVE THIS SO MUCH??? HAHAHA SODEFHSELKJD i'm gonna expand on that for a few characters...

Accidentally courting them

General warnings: Gender-neutral reader, not really proof read lol. Obvious Malleus and Lilia favoritism <3 I also decided that they ARE dating in this scenario, I think its cuter that way in my head heuheu

Featuring: Leona, Ruggie, Jack, Malleus, Lilia, ... and Rook HAHA.

TW: none! Just a bunch o' fluff of biting your non-human lover without realizing it was a sign of courtship <3

Leona

It was a typical day for Leona. You two were sitting in the lounge where most of the other students lingered, Leona becoming rather... possessive as of late. Instead of resting in his bedroom away from prying eyes as you had requested from your lover, he ignored all your feeble cries requesting privacy. Instead, he holds you in his lap without worrying what others are thinking. A form of showing others you were his, and his alone. You were conflicted in your feelings, staring at him. His eyes were closed, but he could feel your gaze burning into his head.

"How long are you-" Then it happened. You gave in. You gave his cheek a bit of a nibble. All of the sudden the chattering stopped, all eyes were on you, before they start patting Leonas back and giving him congrats while a few seemed to pull presents right out of their asses.

"Wha- what's going on?" Leona grumbled with a light blush before growling and pushing the face of someone who tried to hand him another gift.

"You all look like idiots! You know biting means something different to us. Don't be dumb." Okay, now you were extra confused. Seeing your utter ignorance, Leona sighed.

"Biting in our land is a sign of courtship, herbivore." ...Oh. You blush deeply and hide your face in his chest, Leona looking away flustered and ruffling your hair.

"Try again in a few years, and I just might bite you back."

Ruggie

You were walking down the halls with your boyfriend when suddenly you had the urge to just...bite him. an overwhelming sense of love and affection for the fact he had given you some of the bread he (probably legally) got ahold of. You smiled fondly at the bread and back at Ruggie before placing your mouth on the bulb of his shoulder, causing him to yelp in suprise and dropping his half of the bread.

"wha- huh?! What was that for?" He became flustered, bending over to pick up his bread and slowly move away from you with bright red cheeks. You furrowed your eyebrows and hugged yourself, almost embarrassed.

"I'm sorry, I just...I dunno," Your cryptic and non specific response left him with his jaw open and eyes wide, spluttering out things like "We're still in school! I don't have the funds yet-" before a familiar fist came and knocked the back of Ruggies head. Leona stood there smiling in amusement and chuckling at you.

"I don't think they know what that means to us beastman, Ruggie." Even more confused then before, you asked for clarification.

"You just asked him to marry you with that bite of yours, herbivore." Now YOUR mouth was wide open, and Ruggie managed to get flee from the scene without much notice from you nor his senior.

Oh brother. You have a lot of communicating to do with that one.

Jack

You were sitting at the lunch table eating away at your food when you noticed...Jack's biceps. You marveled at the sight of his bulky arms- it's a wonder to you how he managed to become so strong and have the motivation to train all day. With a burst of admiration, instead of biting into your sandwich - you took a bite into his muscle. He yelped in suprise and just stared at you, face slowly turning red. Ace and Deuce laughed at his reaction, ready to ask you what was up before Jack took it upon himself to... well, flustered and rapidly spit-firing plans.

"W-we are still so young! Are you sure about this? I-i never knew our relationship was at this level!" He grabbed both of your hands and looked you in your (bewildered) eyes.

"If you're serious about this, I promise I will protect and love you for the rest of my life. But before we go ahead with the ceremony, I want you to meet my parents and get their blessings. Oh, and I need to get a stable job after we finish school first, too, so I can support you and our future. know we haven't talked about marriage before but-" You quickly cut him off in astonishment before crying out,

"MARRIAGE?! Jack, WHAT are you talking about?! I am absolutely not ready for marriage! What got into you?!"

...Queue Ruggie and Leona hysterically laughing at your utter confusion, reveling in the ignorance of it all for a few moments longer before explaining properly what you had just committed yourself unknowingly to.

Malleus

You were laying in the bed of Malleus Draconias's dorm, scrolling on your phone whilst his tail wrapped around your waist as he sat next to you reading a book. You sighed lightly and leaned your head back against the board of the mattress, turning slightly to look at your handsome fae lover. Your eyes then went down to his pale and perfect skin of his neck, the way it was free from all blemishes, smooth, and bright. Something about it made you want to taint it a light shade of red... He felt you shuffle slightly to adjust your body to be in just the right position where his neck was in full view. He glanced over to you feeling you wriggle free from his tails grasp, tilting his head seeing the look in your eyes crazed as you leaned over and just...chomped down on his collarbone.

You felt his tail twitch and his hands quickly throw the book he was reading aside to grasp your wrists, turning your body around and pinning you to the bed and carrassing your cheek with his tail.

"Biting..." He murmured, "Does this mean the same to humans as it does to Fae? You wish to be wed?" Your jaw dropped and cheeks took on a rosey hue, stuttering over yourself.

"W-wed?! I mean, I like to bite when I feel affectionate b-but marriage...I mean maybe one day b-but-"

"Biting in Fae culture is a sign of courtship and ownership. How brazen of you to mark me," he chuckled, "I shall take it you wish to own the next king of Briar Valley?" You could tell at this point Malleus was teasing you, something he picked up from the time you two have been dating.

Malleus could not help but return the favor by riddling your body with his own bite marks. Although he understood you perhaps did not have the intention of marrying him with your silly little form of affection, he knew in his mind with every bite that he was very serious about your future with him.

Lilia

Lilia already knew that biting in the human world did not mean marriage, yet was akin to something more of "cute aggression." So when you have the habit of biting him in the privacy of yours or his room, he knows you simply meant it as a form of affection, letting him know that you had an overwhelming sense of love for the old fae. He bit you back consistently on many occasions, it just seemed to be the perfect form of showing love for one another.

You didn't actually know it meant something much deeper, until you were in the diasomnia lounge and unable to control yourself as you grabbed Lilias hand and bit down gently on his wrist. You couldn't help it, he was being so entirely silly and loving towards you, that you couldn't help but show this public display of affection. Much to everyone else's dismay, however. Sebek stares at you with his mouth agape, sounds of disbelief escaping past his lips yet a sentence unable to form. Malleus as well seemed surprised at this.

"(y/n)," Malleus said, "You wish to marry Lilia?" You coughed at the sudden question and let out a feeble and awkward chuckle.

"I mean...I wouldn't mind one day, of course. We haven't really talked about it. Why the sudden question?"

"HOW DARE YOU," Sebek cried out after finally finding his words, "How dare you bite Lilia and be so insolent as to not move forward with your actions in dignity! YOU MUST TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR PROPOSAL-" Lilia started snickering, cutting Sebek off with a wave of his hand.

"It's quite alright, Sebek. Biting means something much different to humans than Fae, I suppose this is the first you had seen us put on a show of affection, hence your confusion." He turned to you, who had furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips at Sebeks sudden outburst.

"Biting, my dear, is a form of courtship to us fae. It is a sign of ownership," He chuckled.

"Why didn't you tell me that?!" You exasperated, "I mean, it wouldn't have changed anything I have done, but I would have been more careful about it... especially if it means something more to you," Lilia gracefully explained he understood it meant something slightly different to humans, before gently grabbing your hand and raising it to his mouth.

"Well, now that you understand what it means," He put your ring finger into his mouth and took a bite at the base,

"Would you like to bite me once more, my dear?"

Bonus:

Rook

You bit his arm and he immediately was on one knee.

"Was that a proposal? You know mon cheri, biting one affectionately is often a declaration of courtship-" You hit the top of his head and walked away from your interesting boyfriend.

"You're not a beastman or a fae! I'm never biting you again!" Your face red and folding your arms, turning away (ah, his cute tsundere lover.)

Oh woe is Rook! He begs and begs you to bite him more, he wants to be covered in your marks. It means you were claiming him as your own, right? RIGHT??

~~~

This was so fun to write DFSEFDSFIHSLDKJF thank you for the brain rot heuheuheueheueh

Masterlist

#Twisted wonderland #Twst #Twisted wonderland x reader #Lilia vanrouge #lilia x reader #Malleus #Malleus draconia #Malleus x reader #rook x reader #rook hunt #Leona kingscholar #leona x reader #twst fanfictions #ruggie x reader #Jack howl #Jack howl x reader #Twisted wonderland fanfictions #twst fanfics #twst x reader

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luveline · 1 month

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Hey my lovely, could i equest a blurb where reader seeks one of spencer's hugs and he's all soft and mushy about it!! I just think he'd give really warm hugs and want one so bad!

shy!reader + post!prison Spencer have a hug

Spencer understands why you might find him intimidating. He did go to prison for a few weeks, and even if the idea of his being a potential felon didn’t scare you, there’s nothing wrong with being nervous around the unknown. You’ve had a few more weeks to get to know the others on the team. He tries not to take it personally that you’re closer with some of them than you are him.

Plus, you’re awfully shy.

Spencer’s been trying to communicate that he’s an idiot. He was shy, once, and he tends to be shy about things now, too, even if he’s taken to hiding that. He hides a lot, these days.

But things aren’t hopeless with you. You’re inarguably his best work friend now that Morgan’s not around, taking the desk next to his —through coincidence or insistence, he has no idea.

“What flavour do you have today?” he asks.

You show him your bag. The convenience store outside of work has the strangest sweets from all sorts of places. You’ve been bringing in a different bag each day, and you always share. “Today is apricot and peach ‘millions’,” you tell him, shaking the bright pink bag like a rattle.

Inside, the millions bounce against each other like miniscule polystyrene balls but with a heavier weight.

“Awesome!” he says, holding out his hand. “Please?”

You rip the corner and tip a generous helping of candies into his palm, doing the same in your own hand. “Ready?” you ask.

“Three, two, one.”

You both tip your heads back at the same time. Apricot and peach are similar flavours, and Spencer can’t tell the difference when they’re both in play. He can also taste apple juice and the sharp citric acid flavour they put in every candy.

He can’t tell if you like them. He quite enjoys it, will happily eat the leftovers if you’re not interested, but your attention isn’t on the candy when he looks up. You’re staring straight at him.

“What?” he asks, perturbed.

“Nothing, just. Had a rough morning. Thanks for trying the candy with me.”

He frowns. “I’m sorry. Let me know if there’s something I can do to make you feel better. I can make you a cup of hot chocolate?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Spencer’s sure that to an outsider, he and the team appear to travel to a hundred cities a month. In reality, cases aren’t as densely packed, especially with the government expanding their profiling teams, and the majority of Spencer’s day is spent answering emails and giving advice to agents, law enforcement, and his colleagues. He doesn’t see much of you (where you’re forced to work ViCAP calibration as newbies usually are, almost like a hazing) but he does take you that hot chocolate around lunch time. Just to make sure you have the option.

It’s sometime past four PM when you appear again.

“Hey,” he says, turning to you where you’re paused behind your desk chair, “you're finally done?”

“Not yet. So many case files to transcribe, opinions to cross check, signatures and…” You wince. “It’s a lot. You already know.”

“I don’t, actually. I only ever had to do ViCAP as punishment, and I was extremely well-behaved. For a while, anyway.”

You hesitate with something heavy on the tip of your tongue. You’re like every profiler wherein your tells are self-identified and quelled, but you’re still so new, and Spencer’s an expert. You want to ask him for something, but you don’t think you’re allowed. If he presses the issue you’ll shut down, and if he offers you another cup of hot chocolate you’ll simply drink it without letting him in on the real secret.

Spencer waits.

“Spencer, you don’t have to say yes, just… You’re the nicest friend I have, and you always know what I need to hear. Um, I know you don’t like touching people and I wouldn’t ask you to if you don’t want to, but it’s been a really long time since someone hugged me, and…” Your voice gets quieter and quieter, until you’re whispering, and then fizzling out.

“You want a hug?” he asks, surprised.

“If that’s okay.”

“I give really good hugs,” he warns, climbing from his chair immediately, arms opened, an unmissable invitation. “You’ll never get over it.”

“Really?”

He can’t believe you came to him specifically for a hug. He’s gonna lose his mind. Gentle, Spencer ushers you into his arms, head quick to duck down, his thumb on your shoulder.

You could’ve asked anybody in the office for a hug. Penelope would have hugged your brains out. Emily, Unit Chief and secret sweetheart, would’ve taken you off of ViCAP and given you a loving pat on the back. But you didn’t ask Penelope or Emily, you asked him.

“You don’t have to ask me first,” he says quietly.

“You don’t like touching.”

“That’s more to do with germs, and I’m not worried about yours,” he says. “Unless you’re about to tell me you have a headache.”

“It’s like this pounding behind my eyes,” you say with a laugh.

Spencer smiles, his mouth and nose to the side of your head. He gives you a good ten seconds of quiet, his palm warming your shoulder, before he murmurs, “Any better?”

“You’re really warm,” you murmur back.

Spencer resists the urge to squeeze you. “It's the oxytocin.”

“Or you’re just really, really warm.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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tropes-and-tales · 5 months

Text

Dyin' for a Taste

Day 11: Face Sitting (Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader)

(For the 2023 Kinktober event that I created on my own because I am boring and basic and am trying to keep it simple this year...found here!)

CW: Idiots in love; pining; smut (oral, f!receiving); 18+ only.

Word Count: 4096

AN: This was requested by an anonymous person!

AN2: When I say this is not edited, please know it is NOT EDITED. Full of typos and sloppy typing. Tropes is a fat-fingered old crone.

It starts with a joke.

The 141 is on a covert ops in the mountains. It’s cold—the sort of cold that burns, that makes the bones ache. You’re posted up in a perch, your sniper’s rifle at the ready if shit goes south. The rest of the team is in the square below, waiting for the drop.

“My bollacks are gonna freeze off,” Soap complains over the comms, and you snort at the whining tone in his soft Scottish brogue.

“Shoulda dressed for the weather,” you reply. “Ghost probably has a spare balaclava.”

“And cover this handsome face?”

“Won’t be so handsome when your nose turns black from frostbite.”

You hear the tsch noise he makes over the comms, the very Soap, very Scottish noise of dismissal.

“You’ll have to sit on my face then, hen, and warm me back up,” he says.

You’re rarely stunned into silence—you and the guys are always making off-color jokes—but when you open your mouth to reply, you only gape wordlessly. The silence over the comms grows, expands, until Gaz—fucking Gaz—chimes in.

“I think she’s into the idea, bruv.”

And you can’t respond to that fast enough either, which leaves another long beat of silence over the comms, which likely seems like enough of an answer.

-----

The mission goes smoothly. The team splits up as planned to avoid drawing attention. You don’t see Soap again until a few days later when you regroup at HQ.

You think, perhaps, that he’s forgotten. Maybe that’d be better. You and Soap get along well, and sometimes he flirts with you, but he flirts with everyone. It means nothing.

And yet…

And yet, it’s Soap. You might be able to lie to others, but you can’t lie to yourself: you’ve spent many a lonely night with your thoughts drifting to him. Turning him over and over in your mind.

Soap MacTavish. Handsome, almost unbearably so. He could be a cocky asshole, be the sort of man who knows he’s hot and be insufferable about it, but he’s gregarious. Friendly. He’s a happy-go-lucky sort of man—or as much as someone in the One-Four-One can be.

-----

“Been avoiding me.”

It’s a statement, not a question. Soap corners you in the mess hall, his blue eyes peering at you without guile. He looks almost concerned.

“I haven’t,” you reply. You try to shift past him, but he puts a hand out against the doorway, bars you with his arm.

“You have.” He peers at you closer, his blue eyes somber. “What’s wrong?”

“Why would anything be wrong?”

You thought, perhaps, that he’d forgotten…but those somber eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, then smooth out as he schools his expression.

“Maybe you think my offer was wrong,” he says.

“I never said that.” You duck under his arm, but he lays his hand on your shoulder and stills you again.

“You’ve never said anything about it.” You don’t look at him, but you hear his gentle snort of laughter. “Your silence is deafening.”

You feel your face start to heat up because he’s not wrong. Too much time has passed now to address that moment in the mountains. You should have said something then, spat out some rejoinder to signal that it meant nothing to you, that it was just another dumb joke between you and Soap. But something about that dumb joke conjures up the mental image of you and Soap, and your face burns in embarrassment.

So you duck from his light grip on your shoulder and it makes him laugh again, then call out to your retreating form, “the offer still stands, hen.”

-----

A month passes, then another. You get leave for a few weeks and go someplace warm, a beach with golden sand and soft breezes where you can relax and forget the horrors of what you see every day.

Then you’re back on base, then another mission. Over and over, the same routine.

Through it all: Soap MacTavish, the team’s Golden Retriever. Always with an easy grin on his handsome face, a laugh, a joke. He teases Ghost, he does a passable impression of Captain Price. He gives Gaz a hard time about their rival rugby teams, but it’s always good-natured.

He jokes with you, but that joke—the one about sitting on his face—becomes just a joke between the two of you. You don’t know if the other men have forgotten it, but Soap only brings it up when you’re alone now.

At the barracks, in the rec room, he’s sprawled out on the couch and half-dozing, half-watching a rugby match. When you walk past, he notices, sits up. Beckons you over, tells you to have a seat…then thoughtfully strokes his face with that damned smirk and comically waggling eyebrows.

“You’re a jackass,” you call out as you leave the room, but by now, it makes you laugh…and it lightly stokes that ever-burning flame low in your belly.

-----

Another time, he sidles up to you at the range as you study your targets with their tight formation of bullet holes. He points out one shot, high in the corner of the paper, off of the concentric circles of the bullseye.

“Missed one,” he says.

You scoff. “One out of….many.”

He matches your scoff with one of his own. “Might be losing your edge.”

“I’m not.” You know he’s winding you up, but that missed shot galls you.

“Maybe you’re stressed out.”

You set the target down on the wooden railing. “Maybe you’re stressing me out, MacTavish.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. His blue eyes light up in glee, and he only gets out the first part of his retort—You know what’s good for de-stressing—before you drop to one knee and start disassembling your sniper rifle, ducking your head and hiding your burning cheeks from him.

“…nothing wrong with it,” he finishes as you shut the rifle’s case, and you realize you’ve missed part of what he’s said.

“There isn’t,” you agree. You stand up and lean a bit on the courage that sees you through each mission. You look him square in the eye and add, “but you’re just flirting.”

He gazes back at you, a soft smile on his face, only a little teasing. “Not just flirting.”

“Sure.” You roll your eyes.

He makes his Soap-branded tsch sound, then he loops his arm around your shoulders to pull you in close. He smells like…well, he smells like soap, clean with a hint of something herbal. It’s nothing he hasn’t done a hundred times—in safe houses after a mission, walking out of a bar on a night out with the team—that companionable way he pulls you against him.

“It makes me sad when you don’t believe me, hen,” he chuckles, and it’s low, right by your ear, his warm breath fanning over you.

You’re not sure what spurs your next move. You’re a natural-born sniper; you take the measure of everything around you—the curve of the earth, the speed and direction of the wind—before you squeeze your trigger. You’re the same with people, cautious and feeling out every angle of their intentions before you make a move. But you know Soap, and the question around his joke is the only uncertainty.

Something makes you act without much thought. Your rifle case in your hand, your other hand tucked in your pocket, and Soap’s arm slung around your shoulders…the moment is crystalized, will be an easy memory to recall in the years to come because this is when everything between the two of you changes.

“You know what?” you ask, and you don’t allow him to hazard a guess. Instead, you gaze at him levelly, straight into those bright blue eyes of his and add, “alright, let’s do this.”

It’s comical, how the smile drops from his face, how his mouth makes a little “oh” of surprise. His eyes scan your face, quick, like he’s trying to find the joke, trying to find proof you’re just having a laugh at his expense.

“Bonnie,” he starts to say, and his voice has a rough edge to it. His voice is missing its usual teasing edge, and he pauses to study you. You don’t know if he realizes it, but the tip of his tongue darts out, licks against his lower lip, like he’s really thinking of it now that it could be a reality.

“Bonnie, are you just…are ye fer real?” His voice is lower and his accent gets thicker, and it sets a frisson of heat shimmering through your lower belly.

You refuse to blink. Refuse to look away. “I’m for real if you are.”

“I was never joking about that.”

“Then I’m not joking either.” You swing your rifle case towards the barracks, playing at bravery but willing the fluttery feeling in your stomach to calm. “So let’s go.”

Soap—gregarious, convivial Soap—says nothing else on the walk back. He keeps his arm around your shoulders, though, and his hand settles against your bicep, rubs you briskly before gently holding you there, like he’s proving to himself that you’re real, that the moment is really happening.

-----

Your nerve wobbles a little when you get back to quarters. Soap’s nerves must have a similar wobble, because he turns to you and his usual boyish grin is gone, replaced by a grave expression.

“You dinnae have to do this,” he says, “if you don’t want to.”

Part of you wants to back out, chuck him in the arm and say it was just a joke. You could still back out. Soap is flirty and gregarious, but hooking up would irrevocably change your easy relationship with him. It could change the tenor of the team. And yet…

…don’t you both face death every day? Don’t you see the absolute worst of humanity? Don’t your bodies bear the scars of your hard, unrelenting lives—countless scars, visible and invisible both? Don’t you all operate in your own bubbles of loneliness, sleeping alone night after night but crowded out by the ghosts you all haul around?

Is it too much to ask for even a moment of connection, of not feeling alone?

You gaze back at him. Sweet Johnny MacTavish. Handsome but not vain, smart but not aloof, funny without being cruel about his teasing. Is there anyone you’d rather be with?

“I want to do this,” you tell him, and there’s no hesitation in your tone. “If you do. If you really were just joking around, then no harm, Johnny.”

His somber gaze softens at your use of his real name. “Wasn’t joking at all.” Then he opens the door to his quarters and turns to you, invites you in with a sweep of his hand, and when you walk past him, he lays his palm on your lower back to guide you.

-----

In truth, you’ve never actually sat on anyone’s face. It’s one of those funny sex acts that you joke around about but have never gotten around to, like sixty-nine (always seemed more complicated than necessary) or food-play (always seemed too messy).

Soap, it turns out, has never actually had his face sat on.

And it’s adorable, how he sheepishly runs his hand through the longer stripe of his short-shorn hair and admits as much.

“Figured it cannae be that complicated though,” he says. He huffs out a breath, and you realize how nervous he must be, and it gives you courage to take charge.

“Kiss me first. Then we can figure it out from there.”

The tame command makes his face light up and he murmurs, “yes, ma’am” in his brogue, and then he does as you say.

If Soap MacTavish is generally the team’s Golden Retriever, bouncing around with a wagging tail, he kisses with far more finesse. He cups your face gently, reverently and leans forward, brushes the lightest of kisses against your lips like he’s testing the waters. Like he’s waiting for you to pull away, and when you don’t, he kisses you again.

It’s awkward at first, but only because you’re both so tentative. It’s uncharted territory. He must be aware that you’re crossing a line in doing this, you think, and he must not care either. But the awkwardness melts away quickly because Soap is a damned good kisser, skilled in how he moves his mouth against yours, his tongue against yours. One of his hands stays on your face, cupping you gently and steering you, but the other hand touches your waist, your hip, slides around to squeeze your ass gently before returning to the dip of your waist.

He tastes like something warm and spicy, like cinnamon or nutmeg. Everything about him is warm, really: the way he cups your face but runs his thumb over your cheekbone, the way his other hand holds you steady as he kisses you. And the way he looks at you when he breaks the kiss, the almost-shy way he tugs at the hem of your shirt and asks if he can take it off.

He’s warm too—his body, his skin as you bare it with each article of clothing shed. You strip each other in tandem, and the sight of him leaves you breathless. He’s like something carved by a Renaissance sculptor, but when you smooth your palms over the dips and swells of his muscles, you find that he’s warm to the touch, wonderfully so, and a wave of lust almost takes you out at the knees by how much you want to feel his body against yours, under you or on top of you, every inch of you pressed against him.

Soap must feel the same way about you—he touches you just as gently as before, almost reverent, but his goddamned eyes practically shine when he looks at you, then groans out, “fuck, but you’re stunning, hen.”

He maneuvers you both towards the bed, and then he stretches out across it, and this is precisely why your sexual repertoire has always been lacking: when a brutally handsome man is stretched out in front of you like a damned buffet, your mind singularly focuses on one thing, and you rarely remember that there’s other, more adventuresome things you could do.

You’re already turned on. Ever since the two of you walked back from the range, you’ve been on a low simmer of lust, and the desire has ratcheted up with each kiss, with each little grumbling groan of Soap’s, with each sweep of his big warm hands along your body.

So you’re already turned on, so why sit on his face when his beautiful cock—perfectly sized for you, the ruddy tip already leaking precum—is also an option?

And Soap is no dummy. He must guess at your internal battle because he says your name softly, pulls your gaze back to his face where he smiles that brilliant Soap-smile at you.

“Alright then?” he asks. He pats his upper chest. “You can sit right here, to start.”

It hits you all at once how intimate this is. Fucking, hooking up—that’s one thing. But sitting on your teammate’s face feels like you’re taking a further step into the unknown. Oral sex, to you, is already more intimate than regular ol’ intercourse, but sitting on his face feels…even more intimate. There’s a lot of trust on both ends: he has to trust you not to hurt him, not to put too much weight or force on his face or neck. And you have to trust him too, since you’re basically smothering him you with your pussy, and many men are precious little babies about eating pussy.

“I could just…” You trail off and gesture vaguely at where his erection strains and bobs against his belly, and Soap snorts before he replies, “we could do both, hen.”

When you don’t say anything, when you don’t move, he adds, “c’mon, sweet girl. I’m dyin’ for a taste of ye.”

The accent is unfair, you decide. The accent is not fighting fair. Soap’s Scottish brogue is charming in the best of times, but his bedroom version is thicker, at a slightly lower register, and it’s entirely unfair. It easily dismantles the rest of your meager defenses, so you nod and then kneel on the bed. But when you start to awkwardly clamor on top of him, he stills you for a beat and taps his mouth, says, “give me a kiss first.”

And the kiss is unfair too because it reminds you that it’s just Soap, one of your dearest teammates, a man who often holds your life in his hands and whose life you hold in your own. His now-familiar taste of spicy warmth on your tongue, and his lips curving in a smile against yours when he whispers, “climb on up, hen Don’t keep me waitin’ anymore.”

There’s no sexy way to climb on top of him. Do you just kneel by his chest and throw a leg over him? Do you straddle him lower and scoot up? You split the difference, try to straddle him on his lower chest and scoot up, but then his one arm gets pinned. Any other man? It might be a deal-breaker being so clumsy, but Soap laughs underneath you—a genuine belly-laugh full of warmth that makes you giggle too. He wrangles his arm free, then lays both hands on your hips and guides you the rest of the way.

This is unbearable intimate too, being so exposed to his bright blue-eyed gaze. You probably have tons of issues around previous men who didn’t eat pussy, who were grossed out by it, but Soap’s eyes practically glitter black with how blown his pupils are. His face rarely hides its emotions very well (he’s a shitty poker player), and there’s no disgust in his expression at all. There’s only desire, naked and apparent.

“Tell me,” he says, and his voice is a low growl that sends that frisson of heat straight to your core. “Tell me what is working for you, yeah? Don’t go quiet on me.”

You nod, and you wish you could think of something cool or funny to say, but Soap lifts his head a little and presses a plush, open-mouthed kiss to the inside of one thigh, then the other, where both are splayed in front of him, and before you can even beat yourself up for failing to think of something cool or funny, his mouth is on you in earnest.

Soap, a damned good kisser. It translates to this, his skilled tongue and lips licking at you, suckling at you, swirling against you before he breaks up the pattern with an outright kiss, then resumes his routine. He traces the tip of his tongue around the firm bud of your clit, the perfect amount of pressure before he snakes it lower, lapping at the arousal leaking from your entrance. He’s unabashed about it, groans against your feverish skin, and you love him in this moment—love that he wasn’t joking after all, love that he had led you here, where you sit perched on him while he feasts on your cunt and seems to genuinely enjoy it as he does.

Any other position, you’d lean down and kiss him, or pull him to you and kiss him. Now, as he groans against you again, you reach down and run your fingers through the longer stripe in his hair. He must like that, because he groans a third time, and his grip on your hips spasms tighter.

You remember what he asked of you, so when he purses his lips and suckles against your clit, you gasp out a startled “oh!” but then add, “fuck, Johnny. Just like t-that.”

“Good?” It comes out muffled against you, and he pauses his mouth long enough to gaze up at you with a smile.

“So good.” You shift your hand, cup his stubbled chin slick with your arousal—a gentle movement that makes his smile soften too.

“Like when you call me Johnny, hen.” Now he sounds a little shy, like he’s edging close to something beyond a random hookup with face-sitting.

“Keep using your mouth like that and I’ll call you Johnny all the time,” you tease.

“Deal.” And then he’s on you again, laving your sensitive folds with his tongue, his bit of stubble raising a warm burn against your inner thighs. His hands on your hips pull you closer, and he encourages the slow, careful rhythm when you start to actually ride his face—a languid back-and-forth, mindful of his need for oxygen, while he eats your pussy with the fervor of a starving man.

Your orgasm approaches faster than you thought; you thought you might have to fake it, since you rarely come from oral alone. But there’s something about this position. You feel powerful in a benign way, in charge, but mindful of the man underneath you. You run your fingers through his hair and Soap preens at the touch, just as he preens when you pant out praise for him, tell him how good you feel. How good he is making you feel.

He must sense it because his grip tightens on your hips, but his tongue moves faster and focuses solely on your clit—teasing with the tip of his tongue, then laving it with the flat of his tongue, then wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

“F-fuck,” you choke out. “Johnny…fuck…I’m gonna…” but you don’t finish the sentence, you keen out a garble of nonsense as you come.

The heat in your belly pools over, spills over in a brilliant wash that courses through your veins, into your trembling legs and up through your body, makes your vision shimmer and crackle with sparks. Your heartbeat, your panting breath are loud in your own ears, and you hear Soap groan but he sounds faraway. He teases your orgasm, prolongs it by licking against you until you grip his hair tighter and hold his head still while you clumsily dismount, then flop gracelessly onto the bed beside him.

You feel boneless. You feel heavy, sleepy, like you could sink into the mattress and sleep for days. You close your eyes and feel the bed shift, and Soap disappears for a moment. You hear running water—he must be cleaning his face, you think—but then the mattress dips again and he’s curling his warm body around yours, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you to him, then settles the blanket over both of you.

“Good, yeah?”

You laugh. “Yeah, that was good. Especially for someone who’s never done it before.” A beat. “Give me a moment to catch my breath and then I can help you out.”

Soap chuckles above you, and you feel him press his lips to your forehead before settling again. “No need.”

“But I—”

“Already came.”

The gears in your head turn slow when you’re sated from sex. Coming makes you stupid. “Huh? When?”

Another chuckle, another kiss to your head. “When I was eating you, hen.”

You turn your head and try to peer up at him. He looks comfortable and sleepy too, content and sated. “Seriously?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Told ye I was dyin’ for a taste.” He shifts a little, pulls you closer to him. He tugs the blanket more securely around your shoulders. “If ye want a second round, I’ll need a few minutes.”

You appraise the situation: the warm scent of Soap, the feel of his naked body pressed to yours, the warm little cocoon he’s created here in his bed. Of course you want a second round, but you’re sleepy too, and the thought of sleeping with Soap doesn’t seem nearly as terrifying as it might have seemed before he had his mouth on your pussy.

“Or we could sleep,” you offer.

“Sleep,” he agrees. “Round two tomorrow.”

The doubts from earlier start to surface in your mind, but they seem tiny and inconsequential when you’re wrapped up in Soap’s arms. You feel sleep tugging at you—he’s already asleep, you think, breathing deep and even against you—so you chance to brush your lips against the bit of him you can reach and whisper good night to him.

But he’s not quite completely asleep yet because he kisses you back, another press of his lips against your head, and he whispers back, “g’night, hen.”

#john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x reader #soap imagine #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish imagine #soap x reader #call of duty modern warfare #kinktober 2023 #tropes and tales

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 11 months

Note

ooh im glad!!! so, expanding on that then..

how about price with a civvi wife/gf, and when they’re talking over the phone while he’s gone, she’s being kinda cagey and definitely omitting something, but he doesn’t know what. so when he gets back home she tells him she’s pregnant? really just a lot of fluff (and maybe angst? 👀 like about how his job is super dangerous and he might not come home, so he has fears about it?? bc your angst is so good it makes me sob violently /pos)

ive never sent a request before, so if this is too specific or something, feel free to whittle it down or toss it, i don’t wanna bug you lol

have a good day hal, love u!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Our Remains

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: You disliked hiding things from John. Certainly something as big as this.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: Pregnancy, allusions to breeding kink & unprotected seggsy time, morning sickness, angst, major fluff at the end

A/N: This was an adorable request, Anon!! Thanks so much for sending it in.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You disliked hiding things from John. It not only felt like a betrayal of his unlimited trust in you but also a slap in the face for what you had built with each other. The both of you were always honest to a fault when it came to your relationship—like how a bird was loyal to the sky. It was an unselfish principle; a promise of pure love and devotion that transcended touch or given gifts.

You told each other things. Everything. Down to how much you had spent on groceries that day just because it was something to talk about and share; something that made you closer to one another even when you were apart. You told the Brit what you planted in the back garden—what shirt you were wearing!

But now you hold the ringing phone in your hand and for the first time in your entire relationship, you consider lying.

Your eyes bore into the icon of John’s smiling face, head covered by a black beanie and beard tilted up softly. Affectionately, his name on the device had been changed to ‘Grumpy St. Bernard,’ but now the title made your lips go thin instead of the usual giggling reaction. No heat spreads over your cheeks; no excitement.

Just an overwhelming sense of dread.

The week had started just as the last three had. A special form of hell. At nearly six o’clock you would whip back the covers with all the fervor of a terrified rabbit being chased by a hawk; the taste of bile immediately snapping you to attention as the toilet acts as your commanding officer.

You imagined John would get a chuckle out of that comparison, but when you’re hurling up your guts in nothing more than a pair of your boyfriend’s boxers and a tank top it’s hard to think about all that. The taste of bile was still lickable from your lips as the bathroom tile digs into your knees, ringing phone still in your palm.

The idea of a pregnancy test slid into your subconscious in the first week of John’s two-month deployment, the tantalizing thought that was like a hook to a fish. You had pulled on the string, of course, and had instantly drowned in air. But you hadn’t taken one until now. Too nervous, perhaps. Hesitant.

In your other hand, opposite of the buzzing phone, you held three positive pregnancy tests in a shaking grip. Pink and white plastic mock you from the corner of your vision; two double lines.

John’s icon dims.

You press the green circle in your panic, mouth opening and closing yet no sounds escaping. Would you tell him now? Later? Was it right to tell him about this now—when he was halfway across the continent? Fear overtakes your heart for no apparent reason. You didn’t want him to act rashly, especially when John could act so stubborn when he wanted to.

He was always so concerned about you when he was away but you were concerned just the same. That man was the one who was getting shot at constantly, not you.

“Took you a while to answer. Trying to give me the slip, then, Sweetheart?” John’s gravelly voice helped slightly, making your heart still, even if for a short moment. You close your eyes and tilt your head down, lips quivering at the soft chuckle over the line.

God, you loved him so much.

Blue eyes furrowed in confusion at the silence on the line, the chilled Switzerland air sneaking inside John’s compression shirt as he stood on the hotel balcony. The sounds of gentle conversation twitch his ears from inside the room—the voices of the One-Four-One a dull mumble behind the half-closed sliding door. They had been playing cards before the Captain had easily slipped away to check up on you.

He tried to call as often as he could.

John’s hips shift, one arm crossed over his chest as the other presses the phone harder to his ear. Lips pull to a frown, beard bristles going with them, before the lines on the Brit’s forehead grow larger.

“...Love?” Naturally, a sliver of concern wedges itself into his ribs but it subsides when your calming voice spreads honey over the call. John’s shoulders fall back down.

You breathe deeply, hands dropping the tests onto the bathroom counter with a small clack of plastic.

“John,” forcing away the hitch to your words, you stare at yourself in the mirror, free hand sliding up to lightly rest over your collarbone as a soothing method. Your eyes are so filled with shock that it throws you off. “I…I wasn’t expecting a call so soon.”

“Hm, been up since 0500.” the man grunts, looking out over the city and seeing the rising sun before asking softly with a deep-set brow. There was something about your tone…lids narrow at nothing. “Did I wake you?”

“No, no,” You force a chuckle, having to take a deep breath before ripping your sights from your own reflection. The disgust was settling at you trying to avoid this. But if your own brain could barely process this right now, what gave you the right to tell John when he wasn’t here? “I’ve been up for a few hours.”

Licking your lips, you run a hand over your hair, glancing out of the ajar door into the master bedroom, pushing out bland answers for only the fact that you couldn’t think clearly right now.

Jesus, this was actually happening.

You study the thrown covers from your morning rush to the bathroom, seeing the pictures on the nightstand and feeling the delicate atmosphere that was sparking—electricity between atoms. A silent moment of realization that everything down to the bare bones of your relationship was about to change. Blinking back to the tests, you dwell in the strange fuzz that took residence in the back of your mind.

“What’s been going on?” Your voice isn’t right. Too tight. Too…nervous. Why were you nervous? “Everyone good?”

The Brit frowns stiffly, shifting his feet again and sending a look back into the hotel. Hunching forward, John’s large fingers fix the position of the phone as his voice lowers, ignoring your question entirely. He doesn't want to jump to conclusions, but there were pros and cons to his line of work.

Above all, he knew when something was up with you.

“Are you alright over there, Sweetheart?” Blue eyes rove the street below, “Feelin’ okay? You sound a bit stuffed up.”

Your heart lurches, quickly stuttering through an explanation of, “O-oh, I think I just came down with something.” The irony wasn’t lost on you. “A stomach bug,” you cringe, “I’m sorry, was it that obvious?”

The laugh that exits is less convincing than you thought it would be, but it does the trick. John sighs in relief, chuckling as he shakes his head.

“No need to apologize, Love…anything bad, then? I can bring some meds from Base when I’m back if you need me to.” He was still concerned for you, but knowing that you’d never lied or withheld the truth from him before there was really no reason to believe that anything else was going on. John trusted you to the end of the earth.

The Captain rubbed at the back of his neck, cracking his spine as he bent back. It was still early and waking up on a hotel bed without you beside him was torture. John longed for home. Longed for you.

Back at the house, your face scrunches together.

Bad? You wonder, saying absentmindedly that some medication would be lovely. Was this…bad?

John had always wanted to have a kid—or, at least, he’d told you as much when he was above you, filling you to the brim and then doing it again a second and third time. Thighs quivering and eyes fighting to stay open through layered bliss as sharp pants rung in your ears.

“Gonna get you pregnant…watch you swell up…c’mon sweet thing, you can handle another one, can’t you? Need to watch it take.”

…But was that a true feeling or just a kink? You blank and realize you’d never asked him. More than that, though, was this what you wanted?

“When do you think you’ll be home, John?” You speak softly, palm flattening over your stomach as you exit the bathroom and sit on the end of the bed, gut swirling but not in a nauseous sort of way. “I…I really miss you, y’know? It would all be better if you were home.”

The brunette blinks softly, lids peeling back in shock for a moment before a thin thread of guilt worms its way into him.

“Kate said two months, Love,” John speaks slowly, the grumble in his voice trying to convey his unease at your strange behavior, “You know that.”

He’d explained his job when you both had gotten serious, how he would be gone for long periods of time, and the somewhat uncomfortable situations you’d be put in because of it. You’d agreed and never brought it up when John would have to leave in the small hours of the morning and disappear for months on end. It shocked him, really, with how well you adjusted but that was just how you were. One of a kind.

There was no one else with whom John could see himself building a life—being buried beside in some nice meadow grave plot and turning to dust together. Growing a family with.

John cleared his throat, tilting his head down slightly before pulling himself back to the present.

“It’s bothering you that much, eh?” His brows furrow, “Are you sure you’re alright? I can call hospital and—”

“No!” You slap a hand to your mouth, halting your outburst as blue eyes go somewhat wide, jaw slackening. Taking a breath over the shocked silence over the line, you dig your fingers into your cheek before letting your limb drop. “No, John…I-I’m sorry I just…”

Your voice quivers.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…

Eyes burning and nose twitching, you breathe heavily, mouth closing shut because you knew that if you say another word you’ll explode. You were shivering with cold sweat, scared and confused, and wanting John to hold you in his arms; whispering that it would all be okay into the shell of your ear.

You force through a sob, “I’m just really scared.”

John tenses, one hand going to grasp the balcony with white knuckles. His mind goes into overdrive. “Scared?” the Brit prods, muscles going stiff and mind running, “What in the hell is going on?”

Authority leaks into his tone, serious and deep. It made him nervous that he couldn’t see you right now—couldn’t stop the sounds coming from your mouth. Why were you crying? Has something horrible happened to you? Were you in trouble but were unable to tell him? John runs over your conversation again, every word and sound, as his heart races. He was wound up like a spring.

From behind him, the conversation in the hotel room halts.

You force your eyes closed, now up on your feet and pacing. Tears lightly patter to the floor.

“John, I can’t tell you over the phone,” you admit, shaking, “that wouldn’t be…wouldn’t be fair to you.” Swiping at your eyes, you spread the salty liquid away from your lashes, sniffling; praying that he would understand. “But I really need you home as soon as you’re able. I don’t want to break up what's going on over there, it’s just really important. I don’t think I can wait two months by myself. You know I would never ask this if I didn’t need to.”

John’s jaw clenches, legs unable to stay still as your anxiety leaks to him. He’s nodding before he realizes you can’t see him, taking a deep breath to fill his lungs.

“...I’ll see what I can do, then.” The brunette runs his hand over his beard pulling at the strands aggressively. What was so crucial that you can’t tell him over the phone? It was a secure line, John always made sure it was; yet, at the same time, that fact didn’t matter at all. If you needed him home so fervently—then he was coming home. That was that. “How long can you wait for me, Love?” He spares a glance inside. “There are a few loose ends that need to be taken care of here. Might complicate things.”

You blink around the bedroom, hand wrapped around your middle and trying to run soothing circles into your skin.

“I…I don’t…” John’s face softens, closing his eyes.

“Breathe, Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’m comin’ home to you. We’ll get whatever this is sorted, yeah? I need you to be brave for me until then.”

Listening, you let the words calm you down, sniffling one last time like a kid who had fallen off the monkey bars before you let out a chuckle. John instantly follows his own advice when that sound wafts over the line. His shoulders fall back once more, silent sigh exiting.

“You said that exact same thing to me when I ended up burning that loaf of bread I was making—two years ago, was it? ‘Breathe, Sweetheart.’” Blue glimmers with love, cheeky tone growing.

“Hm, nearly set the kitchen on fire, didn’t you? So much smoke I swore someone had set off a charge in the oven.” John doesn’t push you to answer him, though he’s more questions than anything else at this point. You’d said you would tell him when he’s home and he believes you. “Please, Love, at least promise me you didn’t burn the bloody house down, yeah?”

A laugh strikes his chest, and he’s chuckling slowly in retaliation.

“I promise, John.”

“Good.” You’re smiling for the first in what seems like ages, tears drying as the flood down your chin stops. You lick away the water stuck in the corner of your mouth when John grunts lowly, “I’ll tell the boys and inform Laswell. But I can’t say it’ll be less than two weeks.”

Nodding to yourself, you say, quietly, “Okay.” Your eyes fall to the framed picture on the nightstand—the image of John and you smiling brightly on your third anniversary. You’d gone hiking, both sweaty and dirt marks on your cheeks, but happy…always happy. Your veins pump blood faster. “I love you, John.”

The final comment is tender; the words are more silk and soft furs than vibrating vocal cords.

He blinks away the blush that lights his pale cheeks. John huffs, an infectious smile flickering over his face as his chest wells with affection. Acting like a bird preening itself, he smirks and says, “Well, you’re lucky then…I love you too, Sweetheart.” An exhalation echoes over the call as his tone drops, “Keep safe for me, eh? I’ll call to update tomorrow.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

When the phone is set down on the bed, tossed down carefully, you try to think over this situation more rationally. You wouldn’t say you were against this—building a family with John. In fact, if not him, then you don’t believe it would be anyone else.

The Brit was the only man for you. You both knew the risks of having unprotected sex and in reality, you think neither one of you cared about the consequences.

Nodding to yourself, you wonder how to explain this to him when he comes home as you get to fixing the sheets, one hand always drifting back to your stomach with a growing appreciation.

—

John jogged to his car in the underground parking garage, unlocking it with his fob as his bags are slung over his shoulders. He wastes no time chucking his belongings into the back seat, swiftly sliding into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut as the engine starts. His dog tags bounce on his chest, but he’s half convinced they move from the rate that his heart is going alone.

All through traffic his fingers are tapping against the wheel, grunting stiffly at red lights and shifting his hips.

It had been three and a half weeks of fixing loose ends.

“Fuckin’ hell, c’mon,” John huffs, one elbow on the car frame as his hand flattens over his lower jaw. The light slowly snaps back to green after a long minute.

Pressing on the gas, the vehicle moves forward and continues until the familiar home comes into view on that quiet street nearly twenty minutes later.

John barely parks the car before he hops out, leaving his bags in the back, and rushes to the door. Taking the key from under the doormat, his mind is focused on only you. He had been unable to stop his worry about you and your unnamed fear, watching the phone with every free instance he could. It had only grown as the days got longer, and no matter how much you assured him that you would be okay until he got back, deep-seated apprehension grew. He didn’t like living under a shroud, especially when it came to your health.

The key in his hand was inserted with a firm wrist and twisted, shoving open the door with a heavy shoulder like there was a cloud over his head.

“Love?!” He calls, not bothering to shuck off his boots before looking around the visible living room and foyer. “Where are you?”

Long legs move swiftly as an utterance calls from the kitchen, barely taking the time to close the door behind him in his anxiety, “John?”

The Brit immediately backtracks, skidding to a stop and turning with blinking eyes. His ears twitch at the sounds of dishes being dropped back into water, as his heart steadily slows at the sound of your beautiful voice calling his name.

He rushes around the doorframe, feet stomping and hand catching the wall as you come into view, staring wide-eyed.

Your digits are around the fabric of a dish towel, fingers dripping as John finally presents himself to you. You hadn’t heard him until he had called out, too preoccupied with your own thoughts to hear the lock click.

But now it was like every worry you had was wiped clean at the sight of that gruff face; the hitch in his large chest. A smile slashes your lips after a moment of shocked silence.

“John!” You laugh, rushing forward, and the man lets his face soften—bringing you close to him as you draw near and trapping you in his arms.

His breath spread out over the top of your head in a great sigh, grumbled chuckles accented by the way John’s great hands wrap around your shoulders. Fingers press you into a solid chest, digging through hair to let your ear twitch at the sound of his heartbeat.

John doesn't speak until he has held you in his arms for at least three minutes, just pressing his face into your scalp and feeling your warmth against him. You don’t pull away either, breathing in his musk as it instinctually leads to your muscles loosening.

Minutes later, the Brit pulls back slowly, gripping you by the shoulders and looking down into your eyes. His gaze filters over yours, taking you in before his lips meet yours in a brief yet deep kiss. You melt into it, hands going to grip his cheeks and spread throughout his beard hair, soft strands leaving you shivering when John’s thumbs rub circles into your flesh.

He pulls back and you fight the tears in your eyes as he connects his forehead with yours. His optics shine with love, bleeding out like trapped stars; silver flecks of devotion and a blue the color of sea storms.

“What’s going on, Love?” John whispers, concern alight and raving as his grip goes to your waist, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m here. Tell me.”

You blink slowly, lips going thin with tight brows. Swallowing through a tight throat, you nod.

“Can you go sit in the living room, please?” Speaking carefully, you tilt your head and watch John get confused—his nose scrunching and moving his lips together. You run your thumbs over his cheeks and smile slightly, obviously nervous again. “Trust me.”

Though it wasn’t a question, John replies under his breath, “Always.”

But still, he holds you, studying your expression and the whites of your eyes with stiff lungs. You were making him fear that something horrible was coming—something he couldn’t control. His heart begins to hurt, but he backs away from you, brows tight as he exits the kitchen and disappears into the living room.

Taking down a swift breath when he’s out of sight, you fiddle with your fingers above your abdomen, looking down at your still-flat stomach. You knew it was stupid to worry, but how could you not? It wasn’t every day you just told your Lover you were pregnant with his child…

“John loves me,” you mutter to yourself, nodding and getting ready to go through with the plan you’d formed over the three weeks you’d been alone. “And he’ll love the both of us. I know he will.”

Hand flattening over your stomach, you open a drawer with the other, pulling out a small cardboard box no bigger than a book. Fingers shaking, you lick your lips and feel the slight pull of a nervous, yet giddy, smile. Turning, you exit the kitchen and see John sitting with his nose resting above the clench of his fists, foot tapping. His head immediately snaps over when you come into view, hands falling to hang off his legs as the couch under him dips from his weight.

You steel yourself and raise the box.

“Here.” Placing it on the coffee table, you sit across from John in an armchair.

He blinks slowly, eyes going small with curiosity. The man sends you glances through his lashes as he stares down at the object but he says nothing. Rubbing his beard with one hand, he reaches and grabs it carefully.

Testing the weight, John is genuinely confused, clenching his jaw and feeling the material in his palm.

“...What’s this, then?” He asks lowly, glancing at you with a raised brow and lines on his forehead.

You put your intertwined hands in your lap, prompting with a tilt of your shoulders.

“Open it.” Off put by your cryptic answers, John nods firmly, grasping the top of the box and pulling lightly, careful not to disturb the contents. It was strange to think, but he was honestly quite perturbed.

What exactly was inside this box, and why had he been called home for it? He loved being here, no doubt, but the circumstances….

Blue eyes glimmer. You didn’t look overly afraid as you shifted in your seat, just plain timid—like the inside object would change something fundamental about his and yours relationship.

John pops the top off and looks as you start talking before your throat threatens to shut you up. “I…I know it’s not a life-threatening thing to call you home for,” the man stills as if he was made of stone; a statue as non-breathing and pulse-less as anything, “But I didn’t want to tell you over the phone because that seemed so—!”

Your voice is drowned out as John’s shaking fingers delve into the box, ears ringing. His fingers flinch off of three positive pregnancy tests and the soft fabric of the plain army green baby onesie that surrounds them; skimming slowly.

“I found out the day you called and I said I had come down with something.” Your laugh is strained when it exits you, and you stare at the Brit hard, seeing his features utterly halt all expression. Thumbs digging into your skin, your tone drops, speaking slowly, “...John? A-are you okay? Say something to me, Love.”

It’s only in that long minute of nothingness that you really start to get an all-consuming tenseness to your bones like a rabbit.

Why isn’t he saying anything?

John clears his stiff throat, blinking rapidly as he brings out one of the tests, dropping the box lightly to the coffee table with a dull thump. The twin red lines are ingrained into the softness of his retinas as the sun would be if you were to stare directly at it.

Pregnant.

His heart swells to an almost painful degree, blue eyes moving to look at you across the table and then dipping to your stomach. The Brit stands up slowly.

Your lungs are tight, lids moving quickly with wetness growing in your tear ducts.

“Please, John, what are you thinking—?” Large hands capture your arms, bringing you up as lips meet yours in a passionate and heart-stopping kiss.

John’s limbs wrap around your hips, bringing you up into the air as gently as a bird, face parting from yours with a series of loud and genuine laughs. You snap your arms around his neck, shocked but not at all complaining as he holds you up with ease, twirling you around in a firm but ever-gentle hold.

“You’re pregnant?” His whispers meet you, airy and deep with awe. It was like he was in his teens again, running around Herefordshire with his mates—his eyes shone with happiness; pure unabashed love. “Oh, truly, Sweetheart?”

Tears dribble down your cheeks at the sight of him glowing, beard peeled back in a large smile with wet eyes. Hiccuped giggles leave your lips as you nuzzle your face into his neck, the sight of him like this overwhelming. All stress leaves you in a millisecond when your feet hit the ground again.

“Yes, John,” you sob, overjoyed, pulling back so you both can stare into each other's teary eyes as the Brits’ fingers go to shakily wipe the waterworks from your under eyes. His orbs flicker quickly, looking you over in an entirely different light. “You’re going to be a father.”

He fights through a scratchy voice, “Me?” The tone is amused, but he can’t articulate how exalted he feels to hear that. A father…him? It was more than he could have ever asked for, and, even better—John whispers out, “You’re going to be a mum.”

You kiss him, multiple quick pecks that he returns through shared joyous chuckles.

“I didn’t want to tell you over the phone,” the confession meets the air as one of John’s hands travels to cup your flat abdomen, fingers flinching over the fabric of your shirt to sneak under. You laugh and shiver at his calluses, as his blue eyes are so soft they could be compared to butter. “And I couldn’t wait two months.”

“Christ, Love,” John lays a kiss on your forehead, needing to be as close to you as possible. You can feel his heart through his chest, and you know yours isn’t any better. This was far more than you could have hoped for. He mutters against your skin, “I’m so glad you didn’t. This is bloody amazing news—I want to be here for all of it.”

Sea storms lock onto your face with a grunt, “You’re so lovely. Perfect, yeah?”

His warm hand still rests under your shirt, and you doubt it’s going to leave anytime soon.

You feel your cheeks heat and you smile bashfully, heart about to explode.

“You are.” John reiterates. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect, Sweetheart. I’m so happy.”

The air is ripe with tenderness, a soft state of being that just keeps getting better. John had silent tears dripping down his face, blinking to clear them and not letting you leave his hold for a second.

“Oh, John,” you whisper, digging your fingers into the back of his shirt, looking up. “Me too, Love.”

While the glee is nearly physical enough to grab, there is a moment of hesitancy in the Brit. He was gone more times than not for work; put into situations that could leave him going through bodily harm. You didn’t deserve that stress—didn’t deserve to sit at home with a swelling stomach just watching the door and wondering if you’d have to become a single mother. You had a child in your womb. His child. Both of yours’ child.

A family that you both had made.

John swallows and says to you seriously, without an ounce of hesitation in his blood, “I’m telling Laswell to pull me out,” you blink up and listen, letting him continue as his press on your flesh gets even more prominent, nodding to you, “I’m not missing this—not putting you through that worry. Two years, then I’ll head back in. We have enough saved, I give you my word you’ll want for nothing.”

Blue eyes flicker down, and a small mumble so tiny it nearly disappears hits your ears. You almost start sobbing again. “This is more important. You both are more important.”

There were few moments in your life that you think you’ll remember when you are old, weathered and wrinkled, but this you tell yourself is one that you will carry to your grave. John and yours’ grave.

What remains behind, you ask? Simple.

White bones entangled with an eternity of deathless worship, and the generations that will come to lay flowers on the headstone.

TAGS:

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nanaslutt · 7 months

Note

YOUR DRABBLES GIVE ME LIFE AHAGDJSH if you ever write about virgin gojo somehow being really good even on his first time i might lose it !!!!!!!

THANK YEEWWW NONNIE<3333

virgin gojo is very special to me i will HAPPILY expand on this idea, ty sm for the ask~

contains: fem reader, dirty talk<3, virgin!gojo, established relationship, choking, size kink if you squint, two seconds of plot for context

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

before getting into a relationship with gojo you thought he was arrogant, albeit for good reason but he was always so confident and snarky, it drove you insane

the way he would flirt with the cashier at the coffee shop when he took his students out for a break, never failing to fluster them

you’ve seen the way he teases his opponents and coworkers alike

there’s no way that a man with no sexual experience who speaks like he’s trying to seduce you constantly, has never got his dick wet

even hearing yaga say something about how he wears his glasses when he meets with women, so of course you thought he had some experience under his belt (literally)

so it’s safe to say you were a little shocked when you were straddling gojos hips, steadily rocking back and forth on his growing bulge, reaching between the two of you for his belt when one of his hands left your hip and gripped your wrist, stopping you in your tracks mumbling against your lips “slow down baby, never done this before”

it’s not like he consciously tried to stay a virgin for most of his life,

being the strongest he doesn’t exactly have time to relax all that often, so before he knew it he was twenty seven and still, had never had sex

you two have been together for a couple months, you’ve had your fair share of partners, but working at jujutsu tech yourself, you and gojo didn’t have a ton of private time for things like this

sure he’s pulled you into a janitors closet once or twice to slide his knee between your legs and sloppily make out with you till you lost your breath (only adding to the illusion that he’s done this before)

coming to the realization one day that you two haven’t gone much further than that, and wanting to feel closer to him you invited him over to your place after work,

so here you currently were

pulling back from kissing him you looked into his crystalline eyes with an unreadable expression, the gears turning in your mind

memories of him saying sentences straight out of porn when he was kissing you, the way he always knew the spots on your body to caress to make you melt into him

and what did he just say? 𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦???

“did i break you baby? heh, sorry i never told you it’s a little embarrassing” he looks away for a second, rubbing his big hand over the back of his head before placing both hands back on your hips, caressing the skin there, “jus saw were things are headin n thought i would let you know.”

this didn’t make any sense to you, you couldn’t wrap your mind around it but you had to say something, “that’s- but you’re- you- how-“ okay, not exactly what you wanted to say but it made him giggle

“‘s that a problem princess?,” caressing your legs up up up, sliding his lithe fingers under the hem of your shirt and teasing the soft skin of your tummy, he snapped you out of your daze,

“sorry, ‘s not a problem, really satoru, jus had my own assumptions about you, but this doesn’t make me want you any less” you succeeded in forming a coherent sentence, squirming and squeezing around his legs as he stimulates your body, “good to hear baby, ur gonna have to show me what to do right? how to fuck you n make you feel good?,” his teasing voice returns

it was the truth, gojo being a virgin weirdly make you feel hotter, being the first one the worlds strongest sourcerer will be inside of filled you with a sense of pride, “jus sit back baby, let me do all the work.” a wave of confidence filled your chest and he returns his own sinister looking smile

“𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬” you said. so how did you end up here? currently face down, ass up with gojo’s girthy cock splitting you in two as he gives you the most devious backshots, his long middle and index fingers rubbing your own juices all over your clit, adding to the already intense stimulation you were feeling

“fu-ck ‘s-toru-uuu” words getting cut in half as he gives you deep, heavy thrusts, “cant believe ive been missing out on 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴” he punctuates with a hard thrust, knocking the wind out of your chest

“though you d-didnt kn-ow what to d-ooo,” you were trying and failing to speak in an intelligible way, “am i doin a good job?,” he giggles, biting his lip at he looks down at the thick ring of cum you’re leaving at the base of his cock

“so good ‘toru, fuckin me s-so so good.” you turned your head to look at him to the best of your ability, feeling slight better as his words might’ve seen composed but his face and chest were flushed the prettiest shade of red, his chest heaving like he just ran a marathon

“yeah? fuckin ur pussy that good? tell me more baby, tell me how good ‘m makin you feel,” not suprised gojos love of praise transferred into the bedroom, you indulged him

“dick ‘s so big toru,” you cried out, “feel you in my tummy,” your jaw dropped as his cockhead kissed your cervix, making your eyes roll back in your head

“fucckkk,” he clenched his teeth together, leaning over you and pressing his sweaty chest to your back, reaching his big palm for your face as he crashes your lips together, a kiss full of need

how the fuck was he a virgin? no one has ever gotten you this close, this fast

he pushes his tongue into your mouth, fingers spelling his name messily on your clit, cock fucking your gspot like he has a personal vendetta against you

“‘m gunna cum pretty, u close? huh? tell me ur close, gotta feel you cum on me first.” his filthy words has the coil in ur belly tightening steadily, “wan u to choke me ‘toru please.” you manage to get out, right on the edge of your orgasm

“i got you baby,” he wraps his massive hand over your throat, almost completely enveloping it, and he squeezes at the perfect strength, coil in ur tummy snapping as your pussy pulses and swueezed round his pretty cock

“oh god, he pulls back from the kiss and whines, thrusts becoming erratic, loosing his pace, “squeezin so tight, haaa-“ his jaw is completely slack, eyes screwed shut before his orgasm follows, right behind you

“yesss give it to me toru,” you smile against his slack jaw, and he’s never sounded as pretty as he does right now, cumming so hard, fucking his come as deep as he can into you, some spilling out around his dick as his large figure collapses onto your back

“toru…ur fuckin heavy.” strength in your arms completely gone as you try and fail to wiggle him off you, realizing that the strength in the rest of your body has completely abandoned you as well

“js… jus- gimmie a second, please,” all teasing in his voice completely gone, he’s still inside you and you feel his cock twitch every so often as his breath hitches against your neck

you let his weight press down on you for a couple seconds, letting him regain his own strength

“never cum that hard in my life, think i just died for a second.” he says, lifting himself off of you and sliding his softening cock covered in your combined cum, out of you

you wince at how sensitive you are, groaning as he wipes you down with his discarded shirt, “sorry heh, got a little carried away,” he giggles at your protests

coming up on your side and wrapping his arms around your figure, burring his face into your neck, peppering kisses there

“soo,” he purses his lips, lifting his head a bit to get a good view of your face, “any feedback?”

“cant feel my body, you virgin freak.” you sigh, wrapping your arms around the ones encasing yourself, “how did you just fuck me an inch from my life and you’ve really never had sex before??” you ask your boyfriend in disbelief

“porn :p” he cheeses into ur neck

“i’m gonna forget you said that.”

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oceansblvds · 5 months

Note

I SENT THE ASK ABT TEACHER CORYO IM BEGGING YOU TO WRITE TA/PROFESSOR SNOW 😝

OKOKOK IM GONNA WRITE SOME HEADCANONS BUT I MIGHT HONESTLY EXPAND THIS INTO A FULL FIC BC im a whore!

warning(s): nsfw, obsessive behavior, lowkey an abuse of power

coriolanus, almost out of university, was selected to teach a higher level math class on the account of dr. gaul saying he needed a little bit more experience with teaching and leadership if he was to be head gamemaker. so, he was a TA, teaching under a professor but was basically given full rein with the class, as the professor seemed to focus more on research than teaching the class. the second he was in the lecture discussion, he saw you walk in. you were a junior, just a year under him in university and god were you beautiful. almost mouth wateringly so. it made him sick in the head at how pretty you were.

and gods above, you were smart, almost as smart as he was (though he wouldn't ever admit that) and it was clear that you liked him. you always smiled when he complimented your high scores on tests and quizzes, and would read the notes that he put in the margins of your essays with a glimmer in your eyes. he needed to talk to you, needed to be closer to you, and the only way that he could think of was to give you slightly lower marks on your essays and homeworks. never on a test, he would never want to drop your grade low enough for it to be concerning, but he did wait for you to stumble into his office hours. and you did. you asked him how you could do better on the material, and he told you that he'd help you.

he didn't have an office, only a classroom that he was lent during his office hours in the top floor of the math building. it was there that you would meet him, every tuesday and thursday, to go over problems. he liked the way that your lip would be bitten in between your teeth when you were looking at a particularly hard problem, or when you would look at him with your big doe eyes when you asked him for help. and whenever you asked him for help, he would lean closer, and explain it to you.

one day, he finally got the courage to make a move. you asked him for help and he placed his hand on your thigh, as if he was using it to keep himself steady as he leaned over. but instead of watching him explain on the paper, you kept your attention on his face. and then he pushed his hand further up your thigh, under your skirt, and you didn't stop him. your hand came to his and you pushed it up until it was cupping your pussy. he fingered you right then and there, hoping beyond hoping that no one else would walk into his office hours for help. the two of you made out while he fingered you, going as far as to press three fingers into you, with a squelching sound, your moans echoing through the room softly.

that became somewhat of a normal thing. you two always met during his office hours, until you decided to go to his home one day for some extra tutoring. it ended with you in his large bed with your legs spread, while he put his fingers in your mouth as he fucked you with such fervor that you were sure you were going to break.

sometimes when he was grading papers, you would slink under his desk and pull his cock out, spitting on the tip and bobbing your head up and down until he gave you the attention you wanted. he always fantasized about you doing this when he was teaching another class, with you working him with your mouth as he sat on his desk and no one else knew the wiser. he would have to try that with you one day.

lots of words like how dirty you were for sleeping with your teacher. "you're such a needy thing, aren't you?" "show me how good you've gotten" when you were riding him. "you probably fantasize about my cock in class, don't you?" it was all so derogatory. and other times he would praise you. he would tell you how smart and beautiful you were. he would let you cum when you got a problem right while he sat under the desk, eating you out. when you got a problem wrong, he would stop, and no amount of begging would get him to continue unless you continued your work.

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #tbosas #the hunger games #tom blyth #angelica talks!!

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russellsppttemplates · 4 months

Text

A little hope (Lando Norris) (Part 1)

Lando will give you all the time you need if it means you will work things out

Note: english is not my first language. I don't think I've ever written a piece without closure/closing off the subject like this, so constructive thoughts are appreciated... might do a part two depending on how this one goes, let me know your thoughts on it! ✨️

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions a couple's fight, self-deprecation moments, body image insecurity, signs and symptoms of anxiety

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Here, gorgeous", Lando said as he opened the door for you, letting you in first and following suit, finding your places around the table as the meeting was about to start.

"Thanks, love", you whispered as you set your things down on the table, turning on your laptop as you gathered everything you needed to show them.

"Whatever you want to do, we'll do", Lando noted a while into the meeting already. He didn't know that much about graphic design, so if his graphic designer said they should do it, they were going to.

The frown on your face, however, didn't seem to agree, "I spoke to the marketing guys, as well", you looked at Anna as she nodded, "and they think this is also the best strategy if we want to expand it to this market", you clarified.

"Then that's how it's going to go, Y/N", Callum asserted, noticing your slightly antsy posture as you moved on to the next point of discussion.

This had been happening for a while, the thoughts plaguing you with the fact that, in the simples of terms, you worked for your boyfriend. While the relationship had nothing to do with how you got the job and position, and inside the team, no one seemed too phased by it, part of you wondered if you were taken differently because of your relationship.

"Alright, Y/N?", Tara said, calling you back to planet Earth, "yes, sorry. But I agree with that, yes, but could we do this earlier, maybe this week? It would match up with all the dates we have", you answered, earning everyone's approval as they booked the shoot for Friday.

A knock on the door startled you as a woman peeked, "I'm sorry, I'm looking for Anna? From Marketing?", she asked, looking at you, "are you her?", she pointed her finger to you.

"She's my girlfriend, Y/N, she's our graphic designer", Lando said with a big smile.

"That's Anna", you said as the ginger haired girl raised her hand, "I'm Y/N", you murmured the last part.

The uneasiness took over your body again when you noticed the woman's look directed at you, a mixture of a silent scoff and a despised expression.

"Do you need a ride home, baby?", Lando asked once the meeting ended, "I have to go somewhere before going home, but thanks anyway", you said, kissing his lips chastely and bidding goodbye to everyone.

"Is she alright? She seemed off today", Max commented as he saw your interaction with his bestfriend, "this project had been taking a lot out of her, she's been tired, that's all", he said as he looked at your back as you walked away from them, "at least I hope it's that".

Only it really wasn't that, and with your calendar and Lando's calendar, you only saw eachother again on the day of the shoot.

The fight you had the day before still resonated with you and Lando, each of you measuring your words and how you had behaved.

"In Quadrant, you are my superior and I respect that", you pointed between you two, "but I'm my own person and if there's something I say, I want to be heard as me, Y/N, graphic designer for Quadrant", you cleared, "And in the meetings, if I give an idea, I want it to be heard and seen as coming from a graphic designer with experience and knowledge, not your girlfriend who you're afraid will get hurt if you say no and always let me get my way", you explained.

"But who said that I don't respect you like that? Because I do! I've considered every idea you've said like I'd consider them if somebody else said them!", Lando attempted, "do you think my love for you is not genuine? Do you think my appreciation for you or how much I value, as a person and as a member of the team, depends on what? What do you think this is?", Lando snapped, looking angrier than you've ever seen him. He usually kept a calm stance no matter how stressful the situation was, so the slight raise in his and his tone was enough to show he wasn't his usual self.

"Is it my fault you are my girlfriend? Are we putting this relationship, our relationship, in a basket of cons for us and for our lives?", he sounded genuinely hurt at his admission.

You didn't mean it that way, and you knew he knew that, but the fact that his mind went there and considered it enough for him to say it out loud hurt you.

Despite Tara's insistence that you could be one of the models for the hoodie she claimed was made for you, you declined the invitation, feeling that it would only add to your self deprecation and the very few comments you had seen online about how "dating Lando has landed you a great gig when so many people are looking for jobs themselves". You weren't also in the best terms with your boyfriend, and since he was modelling too, it would hardly be a good idea to be so close to eachother whilst still working in front of the team.

"We printed the backdrop you sent us, Y/N!", the photographer, James, and his colleague, Kai, called for you as you went to inspect the piece. It wasn't greatly detailed, but had certain points already measured so the editing and designing would be easier for you once you go the pictures back from them.

"I've never done it like this myself, but a friend of mine from university has done this before and he said it was so much easier and the models can move freely as long as they're within the frame", you explained, sharing knowledge in case they ever found themselves with a similar issue in need of this solution.

So absorbed in the conversation about different techniques and the words they had done before, you missed Lando arriving to the studio along with Max who had started making sure everything was running as scheduled.

"First, it's model two and three", you said as you looked at the schedule Max held, "so that's...", you trailed off, looking again in the list to make sure you were calling the right names, "Lucy and Lando", you stated, looking around for them and seeing the boy laugh at something she had said.

"Guys!", Max yelled, "it's your turn", he whistled, grabbing their attention so they could get in position.

James kept telling them what worked best as Kai worked with the lights, carefully readjusting and pointing out whenever they weren't on the frame you had specified.

"Now it's just the male models", Kai said as Lucy stepped down.

"I'm sorry to bother, but do you think we can bring out the snack table around now?", she questioned as she clipped her hair back, not wanting to mess with the work that was done on the short blonde locks, "I woke up later than I wanted and I had to rush here so I didn't have much for breakfast", she cringed.

"I think we can, yes. There's coffee in there, too, so I might join you", you smiled, walking alongside her to the table the catering team had set up. You were planning to spend the whole morning in there, so food and drinks were ordered to keep everyone happy and content.

"Rough night?", Lucy asked as she say you make a triple latte from the expresso machine.

That would be a way to put it, you thought. You hated leaving things unresolved with anyone, but knowing you and Lando went to sleep without knowing where you stood, it was hard for you to close your eyes and fall asleep despite the tiredness you felt. You rolled in your bed countless times, changing the pyjamas you were wearing three times until you accepted that the choice of clothing wasn't what was keeping you from falling asleep. In total, you probably slept four hours, and you were hoping the coffee would help with that.

"I remember when me and Lando used to go out, there was this week where it was four nights!", she smiled, stirring the hot tea in her cup as she took one of the small sandwiches.

"You and Lando used to go out? I didn't realise", you asked, the curiosity killing you and the dread to know the answer even more.

"I mean going out as in out of the house and into clubs, parties and such", she laughed brightly, and even that didn't seem to settle your heart, "we found out we have mutual friends that work for the same chain of clubs. We never slapped a label on it, I think neither of us wanted the attachment or rules you had to follow, you know? He's always wanted to be free on his endeavours and do as he pleases".

"Sure", you gulped, drinking the hot coffee as you thought about her words, not going to far, probably for your own good, since you heard something fall, "I better go see what that is, excuse me", you smiled lightly.

As it turned out, there was a piece of metal holding the backdrop that had a smaller piece holding it together that wasn't the right size, "we have to tools in there, let me just change it quickly", you said, "you guys can go and grab a coffee and some snacks, they're really good", you offered, "I'll sort out the programming for the next set while I'm at it, too".

Carrying the piece to the room where you kept the tools, you turned on your laptop and ran the code, fixing the metal piece in the mean time when you heard someone walk in the room, "was the coffee that bad? I- Oh, hi", you muttered, seeing Lando walk in and sit in front of you as you worked on the table.

"Can we talk, please?", Lando wondered. Even though he was clearly tired and his usual bright eyes had required the makeup artist to apply eye drops on him twice already, he still looked as handsome as ever. His curls was bouncy and the green coloured hoodie was a perfect match against his tanned skin and the minimal jewellery he had on.

"Sure", you asked, setting the screwdriver down and looking at him.

"I want to apoligise if I made you feel unworthy, professionally and personally. It was never my intention, Y/N. I want to be there for you, and I want to protect you and help make sure nothing bad happens, okay? I'd hate to be the reason you feel bad, baby.

"But I also need you to tell me what's wrong, because I know something is bothering you and I don't care who I have to call or what I have to do to help, but you need to tell me", he stated.

Your eyes started to feel tight and threatened to spill tears you were sure had been building up for more than a week, "I'm a confident woman, I know what I'm worth", you reasoned, "growing up left from what society thinks women should behave and look like, I've had to grow thick skin and be confident in what I do. It's not that you've had other partners or flings before, it's the way I'm being labelled as your girlfriend. Suddenly, I lost my name, my identity and I'm something to someone, that's what people see.

"I love you, and I love being with you. I've had so many opportunities that I wouldn't have had in other jobs and in other relationships, but I'm not sure losing who I am is a fair price to pay", you added. "I need to think this through. I'm not in the right state to argue this and risk saying something I don't mean and hurt you in the process. I don't want to hurt you, Lando, and I don't won't to be hurt either, I'm sorry", you sighed, looking into his colourful eyes.

"I love you, Y/N, so much", he said as he took a step forward, testing the waters and not getting resistance from you which led him to press his lips on your forehead, depositing a slow and soft kiss there, "I don't want to hurt you either, but... Think about it, okay? Really give it some thought because there's a way and we will find it", he attempted, realising it wasn't his place to tell you how you should feel about something and finding a common ground.

"Sorry to interrupt, guys, but we need your opinion on something, Y/N", Kai asked, sympathetically smiling as you excused yourself from the room and back to the studio area.

Lando went outside to cool off a little, thinking about your discussion and taking the opportunity that he wasn't needed inside for a while.

Had he been a pushover? Was that how you felt? You hadn't been yourself in the past two weeks, but he had put it down to the fact that you had been to the race with him and then Quadrant had this project that you wanted to see through from begging to end and it was on a tight schedule. You wouldn't be persuaded to take it easy, so Lando did his best to make sure you were as well as possible, but he seemed to have failed.

"I don't know how long it will be before they notice I'm gone and need help, so I'm advising you to spit it out while you can", Max jumped in, sitting on the floor and against the wall next to him.

"Just tired, didn't sleep well", Lando muttered. He didn't sleep at all, truth be told, images of your shattered expression kept replaying in his head as he tried to figure out what was happening to you two.

"I suggest you tell me the truth", Max squinted, "so, try again".

"Y/N and I have hit a rough patch? Our first big fight? I'm not sure", he admitted, "she isn't telling me much, but I think it's about the fact that she works for Quadrant, as in the company I, her boyfriend, own and something about treating her like and employee and not my girlfriend", Lando let out, starting to get worked up, "she tells me this, and I've kept my distance, and that's not been good either. Didn't she say that I should treat her like the employee she is?", Lando snapped as his body language showed another set of emotions.

"She is an employee, yes, and she deserves to be treated as such. But she's also the person you come home to, she was someone before she met you, she is a person outside of your relationship and you shouldn't meddle things. You know that dating you isn't easy and she's been getting the backhand of it", Max reasoned as Lando listened intently, "the social media team have been taking care of it, but there have been comments that are less than kind about her on Instagram, the email marketing too...! It's shitty, less than reasonable accusations, but it has been there... Y/N has never liked to be discredited, and I'm not saying you do it per se, but maybe it's where you should go first", he tapped his friend's back.

"She's not letting me in, how am I supposed to know?!", Lando got antsy again, feet tapping the ground incessantly as his breath got quicker and shallower as he struggled to focus a little.

"Is this rage you feel? Anger?", Max checked, handing Lando the ice-cold water bottle so he could focus on the temperature and not spiral out, "you're good, mate? What do you feel?".

"It's fear that I might lose her", Lando said as he allowed himself to cry, "I'm afraid of losing her because of something I did to her unintentionally. Because being my girlfriend is bad for her and I can't be selfish and tell her to be with me when she's suffering. Because I can't help that I'm proud of her and I won't to belt out how proud I am of her work and that I have her?", he let it all out.

"Have you thought about how it feels for her, though? Even for you, there are comments left and right about how you got to where you are, so imagine how it is for her", Max thought out loud, letting it all sink in.

By the time they came back to the studio, the models were gone and, by the looks of it, so were you as they tidied the place.

"Lando, Max", James called, "we're just finishing up and then we'll also get going. Y/N had to leave, she said something about her mother calling her and she needed to go. Didn't look life threateningly urgent, but she had to get going. Also- Lucy, I think her name was -, she left her number here for you", the photographer said, "she asked me to make sure I handed it to you", he smiled, "do you need mine too? I'm assuming it's for the contract payments?".

"Yes, there was a mishap with her contract, but we checked and yours are still there, no worries with that", Lando lied, impressed at his ability to come up with a half decent excuse.

Walking up to his car, Lando threw the card James gave him in one of the bins outside before getting in with Max, "let me just send this text, one minute".

To lovie ✨️

I'll give you all of the time that you need, but I'm not leaving this, I'm not leaving us. You're the love of my life and I'll wait as long as you need me to, so whenever you want to talk, I'm here, baby.

I love you to the moon and the stars 🤍

"I'll be damned if lose her, Max", Lando admitted, resting his elbows on the steering wheel and supporting his head on his hands.

"You two were made for eachother, Lando. You'll figure it out", his best friend comforted.

As he was reversing out of the parking space, his phone beeped with a notification.

From lovie ✨️

Thank you for letting me do that, I appreciate it more than words can say.

I love you to the planets and around the Milky Way.

For now, it brought a smile to his face, and a little hope. And he would hold on to that little hope.

Part 2

#lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 5 months

Note

conrad thanksgiving fic please!!

This has been in my drafts for a long time...sorry. I might delete later, I don't really like it. It's not giving what I wanted it to...

Request: You’ve done Conrad dating a Haley James type of character, what about a Blair Waldorf type character? Old money, fiercely strong, rich, and outspoken. She and Belly would NOT get along, at all. He takes her to Thanksgiving dinner and Susannah is still there and she loves her

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

Thanksgiving had always been a massive celebration in your family. Every year, your parents would go all out and host a dinner with their closest friends and their families. Your mother would direct the caterer team and make sure everything was perfect before the guests’ arrival. At the end the meal by having a slice of your father’s infamous pumpkin pie — which was your personal favorite part.

This year, Thanksgiving was going to be different. Your father was in Paris for business and your mother somewhere in Europe, expanding her collection of vintage designer handbags. Had you not been in college, you would have happily joined her.

‘’Why don’t you come with me to Boston?’’ Conrad asked as you watched him pack a bag for the weekend. ‘’My mom keeps asking me when she’ll get to meet you.’’

The thought of spending Thanksgiving alone had been looming over you, and Conrad's invitation was like a ray of light.

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. ‘’You told your mother about me?’’

‘’Not really,’’ Conrad explained, picking another sweater and adding it into his bag. ‘’She heard your voice when she called the other day and Jeremiah told her all about you. He’s such a big mouth...’’ He shook his head, wishing his brother could hold his tongue sometimes.

Susannah was ecstatic to have another guest for dinner. It was on very short notice and most of the preparations were already done when Conrad informed her of your addition to the table, but she would never pass up an opportunity to meet her Connie’s new girlfriend.

When you and Conrad walked in, Susannah was all over you, complimenting your dress and how gorgeous you looked. You were quick to return her compliments, pointing out how her eyes looked exactly like Conrad's.

You met the other guests — Conrad’s father and brother, then Laurel and her kids —, and all were surprised by who Conrad had brought home. No one ever expected him to date someone born of old money. He’s dated Nicole, but she was nowhere as rich as your family.

‘’Look at this amazing table,’’ Susannah said as she brought in the turkey, looking very proud of herself. ‘’Martha Stewart can kiss my ass!’’

Your eyes went wide for a short second, not expecting such words from her. She looked so sweet and delicate.

Conrad shook his head at his mother, happy to see her being herself again.

Everyone got seated, then Susannah spoke again. ‘’Before we eat, let’s go around the table and say one thing that we’re thankful for. Jere Bear, you can start.’’

You lifted your eyes at Jeremiah across the table, who looked nothing like his brother. If you hadn’t known, you would never have guessed they were related.

‘’I’m thankful for my mom,’’ the younger Fisher began, ‘’who reconsidered trying this new treatment for us. I don’t know what I would do without you, Mom.’’ He glanced at his mother, his eyes shiny with unshed tears.

Susannah squeezed his hand over the table while everyone was trying to not get emotional.

Conrad had told you about his mother’s breast cancer having come back in the spring. He tried to hide her sickness from you, but when you found him crying in his dorm on a Saturday afternoon, you knew something wasn’t okay. It was a tough subject for the entire family — especially since it was the second time she was going through this. For that, Susannah didn’t like to talk about cancer. She didn’t want her whole life to revolve around it just because a nasty tumor had returned in her body. She wanted to live her life the way it’s always been…and take a few more sitting breaks when needed.

In turn, the other guests said what they were thankful for. It went from Steven getting a car for his birthday to Belly becoming captain of her school’s volley-ball team and Laurel being a typical mom and being thankful for her children.

‘’Connie, it’s your turn,’’ Susannah said, motioning to her eldest son.

Conrad nodded at his mom, then cleared his throat. ‘’Jeremiah took the words out of my mouth, so I’ll say something else I’m equally thankful for.’’ His lips tugged up into a little half smile and he reached over the table to take your hand in his. ‘’I’m thankful for meeting my amazing girlfriend, who came into my life at the most unexpected, yet perfect moment.’’

You smiled back at Conrad, giving his fingers a little squeeze.

Seated before you, Belly snickered lightly. ‘’Can we eat now? Mom didn't want us to get snacks on the way here and I’m starving.’’

Laurel gave her daughter a pointed glare, wishing she would behave.

Although the pumpkin pie didn’t come close to your father’s recipe, you made sure to tell Susannah it reminded you of home.

‘’I hope your parents are not too sad that you came to Boston instead,’’ Susannah said, incapable of imagining spending Thanksgiving without her family — especially her boys.

‘’Not at all, Mrs. Fisher,’’ you politely replied. ‘’My parents were both out of the country this Thanksgiving. Business related travel.’’

Susannah raised an eyebrow. ‘’Oh? What is it that they do?’’

You didn’t mean to brag, but she had asked. ‘’My mother is a fashion designer and my father is a lawyer at my grandfather’s firm.’’

You caught Belly rolling her eyes and muttering something. You didn’t care what she thought of you, you were the one who got to share Conrad’s bed at the end of the day. Ignoring her childish reactions, you continued talking to Susannah about your parents. She was very interested in your mother’s designs.

When dinner was officially over, you all vacated the table. Jeremiah and Steven went to the living room to set up a game for the five of you to play — another family tradition. You had never played cards against humanity before, but you’ll give it a try.

Before you reached the living room, Conrad pulled you in a corner near the stairs, wanting some time alone with you.

‘’Belly despises me,’’ you pointed to him, keeping your voice down so no one would hear.

Conrad rolled his eyes as he curled an arm around you, knowing how you had the tendency to exaggerate things. ‘’She does not. She’s just…having difficulty accepting that I moved on.’’

You made a face at him. ‘’Don’t you defend her. Have you seen all the sour looks she gave me during dinner? Your eyes might be the most beautiful shade of blue, my love, but I believe they are in need of a visual acuity test. You should schedule one when we get back to Palo Alto.’’

Conrad chuckled, amused by your theatrics.

‘’Belly is going to be tougher to win with your charm. Like every ex-girlfriend, she’s gonna try to paint you as a mean girl, so you just have to show her that you’re the opposite. Compliment her. Tell her you like her sweater.’’

‘’But it looks itchy. It’s probably polyester.’’

The corner of Conrad’s lips turned into a smile.

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs @gillybear17 @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713 @marzipaanz @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart @xyzstar @graceberman3 @Heartsforneteyamsully @aerangi @hallecarey1 @bxbyyyjocelyn @mikeyspinkcup @jackierose902109 @daisydark @laurasdrey @mischieftom @fanatic4niall @peterholland04 @idkwhattonamethisblogs @grxnde-dwt @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @zoeynicolas @thejuleshypothesis @multi-fandom-bi-bitch @lexasaurs634 @teeeree13 @notasadgirlipromise @thejuleshypothesis@Shasta89 @sierraluvz @specialk6802 @CZARINERA

TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777 @nomorespahgetti @lomlolivia @5sosbands @bloodyhw @depthsofdespairr @a-band-aid-for-your-heart @gilbertscurls @brandirouse86 @leilani-nichole @bloody-mf-bsc @papayaboyluvr @bchindureyes @bellysbeach @slytherinambitious @darylscvmdumpster @johannelis2302nely @aqshua @foockingasshole @straberryshortcake143 @luiise @sickntiredtoo @adrluvh @mymultiveres @Rosekar16 @hopeurokays @amysangrl @hopelessromantic727 @beth-gallagher22 @lonelywitchv2 @arinexeisnotworking @cloudrainy342 @theflcwer @alllriseabove @angelxxrose @angelxxrose-blog @r1vrsefx

#conrad fisher #conrad fisher x reader #conrad fisher imagine #the summer i turned pretty #the summer i turned pretty imagine #tsitp imagine #tsitp

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marvelmymarvel · 5 months

Text

The Sister

Shanks x LuffySister!Reader

Synopsis: It had been 5 months since you last saw your red-headed lover, but you knew that once he returned, he wouldn't be leaving without you.

A/n: Might expand more later, or might not. I'm just trying to get out of writers block so have some Shanks :P

5 months.

It had been 5 months since you last saw him, and while the ache in your chest should have lessened by now, it only seemed to grow worse by the day. You were currently trying to ease the ache by relaxing on the beach, the sound of the waves crashing into the rocks filling your ears. The sand was warm and usually comforted you, but all you could think about was how much you missed his warmth.

"He'll be here soon, Y/n"

Your eye peeked open, squinting up at the little boy that towered over you. Luffy had also been missing Shanks and had been constantly reminding you of his absence. A sigh came from you as you sat up and turned to your brother, "Luffy..."

His face scrunched up in pain at your tone, heart sinking as you tried to let him down softly. "No, he'll come back soon. You have to have faith." He fought back, face still full of pain as he rocked on his feet. Your eyes wandered out to the sea in front of you, bottom lip between your teeth as you tried to find the right words. Shanks usually wasn't gone for this long, the most he had been away was two months. While you knew that probably meant he would never return, the 7-year-old behind you didn't.

Part of you wondered if this was your fault. After all, the last time he left you made him promise that next time you would be coming with him. Which was something Luffy didn't know about.

He would be fine, of course, considering the townspeople treated him like he was one of their own. It would be hard being away from your brother but you knew your heart couldn't take another second being away from Shanks. He was your home, and you were beginning to grow violently homesick.

Luffy opened his mouth to start up again, but it slammed shut at the sound of the bells ringing from the town hall, signaling that a ship had arrived. Luffy inhaled sharply, hope filling his chest as he grabbed your hand and yanked you up from the sand. "It might be him!!! We have to go!!!"

You tried to argue with him, but it was no use. So you let him drag you all the way through the town until you reached the port. "Luffy, buddy it's probably not him-"

An arm wrapped around you, ripping you from Luffy's grasp as you were hauled back into a chest. Kisses were peppered all over your face and neck as sweet nothings were whispered in between the pecks. Your brain finally caught up with your heart and a smile burst across your lips.

"Shanks!! You're back!!" Luffy cried out as he bounded towards you two.

Shanks turned you swiftly as he continued peppering kisses all over your face. You giggled from the tickle of his stubble, relief and happiness filling every crevice of your body until you were quite literally vibrating in his embrace. "I missed you, my love," Shanks said as you pulled back a little to take him in. His brown eyes were warm and loving, and your homesickness seemed to disappear under his gaze.

Shanks acknowledged Luffy who was currently pulling at his jacket and asking a million questions about his recent journeys, which gave you a chance to look him over for any injuries. Spotting none, you grabbed his hand and motioned for him and Luffy to follow you to the bar you frequently visited. "How about we take this conversation elsewhere?"

#shanks imagine #shanks x reader #shanks imagines #one piece imagine #one piece imagines #one piece x reader #opla imagine #opla imagines #opla x reader

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twstowo · 3 months

Note

I noticed that you opened the ask box, so I came to ask for Floyd x Yuu with the scene from "The Little Mermaid", in which Ariel saves Eric from shipwreck, like it was an au where they met like that

I hope i'm not being too picky with my order ♡

♡OMG, I literally thought about this but with Azul, but then I was like, "Would Azul be able to save you?" because I have this mental image of him not being able to swim very well/being really slow. Lmao

♡Warning: Drowning

You'd always been a wanderer at heart, eager to explore the world, discover new places, and connect with people. Your adventure began when some sailor buddies welcomed you aboard their ship. Days at sea were filled with chants, parties, drinks, talks, and lending a hand to everyone. Once on land, you made the most of each day, wandering through cities and villages, documenting your experiences, and sketching landscapes. Your circle of friends in these new lands expanded so much that monthly, you'd receive a flood of cards and gifts, making it a challenge to find a spot for them all. Life was easy-going, a privilege granted by your birth into a well-off family, affording you the means to sustain yourself in these faraway places.

As you wrote letters to your distant friends, the sea's scent became a comforting constant, making you feel more at home on the waves than on solid ground. With night approaching, you finished the last letter and stepped out for a walk before dinner. It was then that one of your sailor friends, looking pale and alarmed, rushed towards you. "A storm's heading our way!" The wind had already picked up, and though storms at sea were nothing new, the urgency in your friend's voice unsettled you. "This one looks really bad, we might need your help," he said, and you nodded, following him.

With the wind intensifying, tasks on the ship became more challenging. The wind seemed determined to push everyone off the deck, and as you struggled to secure the unruly sails, your hands felt the sting of the rope. Panic spread across the crew, and for the first time, you feared this might be your last adventure. Looking at the encroaching storm, escape seemed impossible.

"Look out for that barrel!" you screamed as you watched the object land on someone's head, sending them tumbling down the ship. You ran towards them, grabbing their hand and holding it with all your strength to prevent the man from falling into the wild sea. The boat waddled with the strength of the waves, and you started to fear it would turn around at any moment.

"Don't let go!" you told him as you tried to pull him back up. You watched the fear in his face fade as he placed all his hope in your confident words. However, uncertainty crept in as the strength drained from your arms. The biggest wave you had ever seen approached the boat. You feared you'd never see your friends and family again as you said your last words before the wave hit all of you. "Fuck!-"

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

You felt so cold, your body shivering as you slowly opened your eyes. It was mainly dark, but you could see some strange light from above reaching towards you. Nothing made sense as your brain tried to process everything around you. Strange wood started sinking around you, and the bodies of the crew members slowly sank by your side in a slow rhythm. You tried taking a deep breath, but your brain didn't allow it as you realized that you were underwater, having fallen off the boat after that huge wave hit it.

You finally grasped the situation as you started flapping your arms and legs around, trying to reach the surface. Wood pieces hit you along the way, sending you tumbling repeatedly. You feared the oxygen would not be enough for you to save yourself. Your throat burned as you tried holding your breath, unable to swim back to the surface. Everything started to become dark as you dared to breathe in the water. Then, you felt a strange touch on your shoulder. The lack of oxygen was surely playing tricks on you as you watched a strange creature look at you with a curious glance. You closed your eyes, awaiting death to take you.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

Floyd observed your sleeping form on the sand. He had brought you to the nearest land he could find, ensuring that your chest's gentle rise and fall indicated life. It was the first time he had come in contact with a living human, finding you strangely intriguing. Although he had seen some humans at rock bottom underwater, encountering a living one was a different experience.

Attempting to wake you, Floyd shook you gently, his fin hands reaching for your shoulders. However, your eyes gave no signal of opening. Annoyed, he sighed and lay back on the sand, half of his long tail submerged in the water.

Minutes passed as he lay there, gazing up at the sky. Strangely, after saving you, he felt in a remarkably good mood. He wanted to talk to you, for you needed to thank him, and he had questions about the inland people. Your head leaned against his shoulder, your cheek touching him, catching him off guard. He grinned as he gently arranged your hair.

When your eyes started to open, Floyd watched as you struggled to comprehend the situation. Weak and almost unable to move, you stared at his face, just a finger's distance away. You had never seen someone like him—strange ears, unnatural skin colour, and vibrant yellow/brown eyes. "Wh-Who are y-you?" you weakly whispered, and he quickly glanced behind, sitting down on the sand with his arms, reaching for the water.

“Oh My! Y/N is that you!” a voice shouted, and you tried to sit down, looking in the direction of the man who had vanished. You swore you had seen a tail—had you been saved by some sea creature? "We need to take you to a doctor!" a friend's hands reached for your arm, trying to help you stand as you continued gazing toward the ocean.

──── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────

“A human? I wasn’t expecting you to take such a strange liking to one of them,” Jade mocked his brother with a grin.

Floyd wasn’t enjoying Jade's tone as he swam away. He had been interrupted by another landwalker just when he had the chance to talk with you, not even learning your name. Though he'd never admit it to Jade or Azul, Floyd occasionally returned to that beach, hoping to meet you again. Perhaps one day, the two of you would get to talk properly, and Floyd could finally learn your name.

#twst #disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst reader #twst x reader #x reader #disney twisted wonderland #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #twst floyd #floyd x reader #twst jade #jade leech

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lowkeyremi · 6 months

Text

Double Trouble timeskip!hinata x reader

note: i wanted to expand on shoyo as a dad

CW: past pregnancy, children, twins, established relationship

"I don't wan' the blue one daddy, I wan' da one Mia has." Nia whines when her father tries to give her the blue tube of yogurt.

"I'm sorry baby, but sissy got the last red one." Shoyo explains to her softly. It doesn't soften the blow though, her face starts to scrunch up.

"Don't cry honey, the blue one is really good! Yummy yum!" Your little munchkin starts to sniffle, "Here go, sissy, you have da red one."

Mia is such a kind little girl, sharing with her twin. Shoyo thought having twins would be chaotic because of how the Miya twins are with one another, but so far it hasn't been that bad. They are only four though, it might get worse when they get a little older.

"Thank you sissy." Nia says with a smile as she trades yogurts with her sister.

"Well, I'm glad that worked out." The girls look up at their dad, big doe eyes, one pair filled to the brim with tears the other pair glowing.

Nia wipes away her tears with her chubby little hand. Hinata follows his little girls to the table. He's on daddy duty today while you're out on a three day business trip. Hinata was going to call the sitter but she's had the flu for the past couple of days, which in terms could affect the girls and maybe just make her feel worse.

As devoted as the man is to his work, he took off those three days because he has enough sick days to do so. Taking time off of work for the children is one of the many sacrifices he makes for deciding to have kids.

"I think mama will be kinda mad I didn't take you guys to daycare today." In his defense, he woke up late, and not just a few minutes kind of late. Two hours, kind of late. It's easier for him to call daycare and say his girls were sick rather than explain that he was unprepared, so that's what he did.

"Ms. Momoko gonna call mama, right?" Mia asks. The yogurt tube is almost empty. She's a fast eater just like her papa.

"Huh? What?!" Your poor husband doesn't even get time to think out an excuse, you're calling him right now.

"Crap." He picks up your call.

"Hey darling." His voice is suave. Best to soften the blow with his sexy voice. His girls giggle at his voice deepening.

"Hey Sho, are the girls alright? I knew something was going around at daycare and Nia seemed a little bit sniffly before I left." The worry in your voice calms Hinata. Luckily you haven't caught on.

"Yeah, they're in bed right now. Do we have any canned soup?" The girls look at him. They give him that face little kids give when you're lying.

"I think there should be some miso in the fridge, heat it up for them, okay?" He nods forgetting you can't actually see him.

"Of course, I'll make clear soup for them." Nia walks up to her father, "I wanna talk to mama!"

Hinata chuckles hesitantly, "What are you doing out of bed little girl?"

You coo softly at Nia when Hinata hands her the phone. He's trying to mouth to her to keep quiet about not being sick, but of course, with her only being four she doesn't get it.

"You feeling okay, baby?" A small fake cough escapes Nia's throat. Hinata hopes you don't hear how fake that was.

"My thoat hurt, but daddy takin care of us." She whines.

"Aww your throat? You're so cute. Mama hopes you feel better, is Mia close by or is she sleeping?" Nia hands the phone over to Mia, "Nia, you still there, honey?"

"Hi mama." Mia has a silky voice which causes you to once again be in awe of the the cute little girls that were once in your womb.

"Hi Mia, Mama misses you." She smiles brightly at your voice. Both of the girls are infatuated with you. When they first started walking they would not ever leave your side. Not even to use the bathroom.

"I miss you more. My thoat hurts too, but I be okay." You find it adorable how your girls comfort you.

"I hope you get better, baby girl. I love you very much. Can I talk to daddy?" She lets out a small hum. Your husband once again has the phone.

"Okay baby, gotta go. The girls need their soup." You quickly notice how he's in a rush to get off of the phone with you.

"I have to get back to work, call you later?"

"Of course, I love you." The sincerity of his voice always gets to you. Shoyo is always so understanding and quick to help. It's one of the many things you love about him.

"Love you too." He says his goodbyes and you say yours. Hinata never hangs up on you, so you always have to do it.

"That was a close one. Good acting girls." The ginger sticks out his hand for them to high five.

"My thoat rweally do hurt." They say at the same time.

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #hinata x reader #shoyo hinata #hinata shoyo #hinata shouyou #shouyo hinata #hinata shoyo x reader #shoyo x reader #shouyo hinata x reader #shoyo hinata x reader #haikyuu shoyo #shoyo fluff #hinata fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu characters as dads #haikyuu dads #dad!haikyuu

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a-pop-of-korean · 1 year

Text

One-Page Masterlist

안녕하세요! Hey everyone! I recently got an ask about my old masterlist, which is the same as my broken-down masterlist except it has all of my lessons on one page, rather than on multiple separate posts. Some may find this expanded version easier to navigate, so I’ll keep this up for y’all! My broken-up masterlist, of course, will still be available for those who find that more helpful :)

Hangul Lessons

Consonants

Vowels

Writing/Reading Korean Syllables

Some 받침 Rules

Diphthongs

Stroke Order

Some More 받침 Rules

Irregular Verbs

The Basics

Common Phrases

Numbers

Sino-Korean vs. Native Korean Numbers (Instagram Post)

Sentence Structure and Particles

Present-Tense Conjugations and Formal Language

Adjectives

Questions

Honorifics and Casual Language

Beginner

Negative Sentences

잘 and 못

Past Tense

Future Tense (-ㄹ / 을 것이다)

-ㄹ / 을 까요? (Shall we…? / I wonder…?)

-(으)세�� (Giving Commands / Asking Questions)

Telling Time

-고 싶다 (I want to…)

How to Say “And”

-지만 (However)

아/어/여서 (So…)

Negative Commands

Spacing (띄어쓰기)

Adverbs

ㅂ Irregular

Comparatives and Superlatives

난, 날, & 내가

Upper-Beginner

-(으)면 (If…)

아/어/여도 (Even though…/Even if…)

(으)면 되다 / 아/어/여도 되다 (I can…/You may…)

-아/어도 되다: Asking for and Giving Permission (Instagram post)

-(으)면 되다 & -(으)면 안 되다 (Instagram post)

아/어/여야 되다 and 아/어/여야 하다(Have to / Should)

Present Progressive (-고 있다)

How to Say “Or”

-아/어/여하다

All About 중

How to Use -(으)로

Before & After

-ㄴ/은 채로

Intermediate

Describing Nouns with Verbs (-는 것)

Describing Nouns with Verbs - Past & Future Tense (-ㄴ/은 / -ㄹ/을 것)

Nominalization

것 같다 (I think… / It seems…)

-러 가다 / -러 오다

-(으)려고 (In order to…)

-기로 하다 (to Decide to do Smth)

척하다 (To Pretend)

-게 되다

-군요 / -구나

아/어/여 보다 (to try…)

-은/ㄴ 적 있다 / 없다 (I have / have not)

-ㄹ/을 게요 (Future Tense)

겠다

-ㄹ/을 수 있다/없다 (I can / cannot)

-ㄹ/을 때 (When…)

-ㄴ/는다면 (If)

-(으)면서 and -(으)며

-(으)니까 (Because / So)

-아/어/여주다

-(ㄴ/는)다 (Narrative Form)

Quoting

Let’s…

Quoting continued

(으)ㄹ래요? (Wanna…?)

-죠

-대로

More Quoting - 대 & 래

잘하다 & 못하다 vs. 잘 하다 & 못 하다

-아/어 가지고

-(으)려면

-는 길에 & -는 길이다

-(으)면 vs. -ㄴ/는다면 (Instagram Post)

-았/었을 것이다

-느라고

-는 데(에)

-ㄹ/을 뻔하다

Upper-Intermediate

-ㄴ/는데

-(으)ㄴ/는지 (Whether or not)

-(이)라는…

All About 아무리

-잖아요

Expressing Surprise

-시 (Honorific)

Making Comparisons

-아/어/여지다

I might…

So that…/To the point where…

Causative Verbs

시키다

Passive Verbs (part 1)

Passive Verbs (part 2)

-ㄴ/은가 보다 & -나 보다 (I guess…)

-ㄹ/을수록

Other Meanings of 싶다

-자마자 & -는 대로(As soon as…)

-긴 하다

-치고

-김에

차라리 (Rather)

-(으)ㅁ Nominalization

-기는 무슨 & -기는 개뿔

-고 보니까

-듯(이)

버리다

-(으)면 좋겠다 & -(으)면 하다

-길 바라다

Advanced

-거든(요)

-줄 알다/모르다

-ㄹ/을 테니까 and -ㄹ/을 텐데

-았/었던

아니라 and 대신에

-ㄹ/을 리가 없다

편이다, 별로, and More

-지 그렇다 (Why don’t you…?)

-ㄹ/을 걸

-ㄹ/을 까 보다

-다면서요

-다니 part 1

-다니 part 2

뜻이다 & 말이다

-다가

-더라고(요)

-더니

Some colloquialisms: 아니시에이팅 and 뭐 이렇게

-(으)ㅁ Sentence Ending

-다 보니까

What does 따위 mean?

-ㄴ/는데도

Korean Idioms

Vocabulary

Must-Know People

Must-Know Places

Must-Know Things

Must-Know Verbs

Must-Know Adjectives

Countries

Months, Days of the Week, and More

Clothing (옷)

School (학교)

Autumn (가을)

Autumn (w/Pictures!)

More Questions

House / Apartment (집 / 아파트)

Emotions / Feelings ( 감정)

Animals (동물)

Loan / Konglish Words

Food and Drink (먹을 것과 마실 것)

Parts of the Body (몸)

Counters

Modes of Transportation (교통 수단)

Colors (색깔)

Colors (with Pictures!)

Weather (날씨)

Winter (겨울)

Music & Instruments (음악과 악기)

Baking Gingerbread Cookies

Emergency (비상)

Hygiene & Bathroom (위생 & 화장실)

Indefinite Pronouns

Work / Office (일 / 사무실)

Spring (봄)

Coronavirus Prevention (코로나바이러스 방역)

How to Wash Your Hands (손을 씻기)

Time (시간)

Korean Cuisine (한식)

Summer (여름)

Summer (여름) w/Pictures!

Graduation (졸업)

Identity (독자성)

Korean Text Slang

Similar Words

Makeup w/Pictures! (화장품)

Family (with Pictures!)

Pronouns

How to Say “Still” and “Already” in Korean

Tastes & Textures (맛과 질감)

K-Pop Audition

K-Pop Fandom Terminology

Different Ways to Say “Change”

Flower Names

What Does 원래 Mean?

What does 오히려 Mean?

College

Hanja Lessons

최

수

악

식

급

동

부 & 불

애

출

퇴

예

음

중

학

습

연

생

대

입

인

문

감

과

원

특

만

후

무

Charts

Present, Past, and Future Tense

Question Words

잘 vs. 못 and Negative Conjugations

Future Tenses

-았/었던 vs. -던 (at end of lesson)

Particles

Some 받침 Rules

Gifving Commands

Conjunctions and -아/어/여서 vs. -(으)니까

-(으)면 vs. -다/라면 and Different Ways to Say “And”

How to Say “Or” (at end of lesson)

Telling Time (at end of lesson)

Comparatives and Superlatives

잘하다 & 못하다 vs. 잘 하다 & 못 하다 (at end of lesson)

Comparing 잘하다/못하다, 잘 하다/못 하다, & 수 있다/수 없다

Irregular Verbs

Pop Quizzes

Level 1

K-Pop Breakdowns

TXT - “Cat & Dog”

Twice - “Feel Special”

Enhypen - “Fever”

2NE1 - “Go Away”

Lee Hi - “Only”

“기억을 걷는 시간 (Time Spent Walking Through Memories)”

KCM - “An Old Love Story (흑백사진)”

Taeyeon - “Can’t Control Myself”

Epik High - “Lost One”

Colde - “A Song Nobody Knows”

IU - “My Sea”

Enhypen - “Polaroid Love”

유라 (youra) - “하양 (RAL 9002)″

BTS - “Ddaeng”

Stray Kids - “For You”

Woozie - “어떤 미래 (What Kind of Future)

TXT - “Eternally”

LOONA - “Heart Attack”

Stray Kids - “Muddy Water”

LOONA - “Girl Front”

Pentagon - “Daisy”

BTS - “Sea”

Semester in SK

Nami Island (남이섬)

Things to Buy at Daiso

Shopping Phrases

Ordering Coffee

Signs in Korea

Ordering at a Restaurant

Riding the Seoul Subway

Things at the 편의점

Korean Curse Words

Etiquette in South Korea

Drinking Culture

Hanja in Real Life

Holidays in South Korea

Korean Cuisine

Concert Ticketing in South Korea

K-pop Comebacks in Korea

Summer in South Korea

What I Learned

2K notes · View notes

midnightorchids · 16 days

Note

More soft Jason ideas since you deserve it and your wonderful and supper cool Girldad!Jason BRRROOOOOOO Oh my goddddddd ok like- - Jason is the kind of dad who always has music playing in the house, he mindlessly sways and hums along as he makes morning (or night-time) pancakes for you and his little girl. She'll come running up to him, her thick black hair tangled over her face, and pull on his pant leg. He'll sweep her up into his arms, her small head fitting perfectly against his chest as she watches him make breakfast, still somewhat asleep and aloof. He'll start bopping along to the music with her little hands around his neck, filling up the kitchen with shrieks of laughter and he peppers her soft cheeks with kisses. - I feel like you and him would like in a beach house, somewhere away from the city and his old job as Red Hood. Your daughter would bring home buckets of pretty rocks and sea glass that Jason keeps in jars along the living room windowsills. He has to dump some back onto the shore every time he sees her washing the new rocks and shells on the front porch. - After long summer days of playing and wrestling in the waves, you would all curl up for a post-beach nap. Smelling like salt with the prick of the sun settling into your tired bones. Your daughter would fit perfectly between you two. Jasons hand behind his head with his other wrapped firmly around you and his little girl. - Get's his daughter obsessed with reading just as much as he is. Would build her book-shelf after book-self as her collection of story-books and middle grade fairy books expands. - Helps his daughter roast marsh mellows during the beach bonfires you guys have when Roy and his daughter visit. Your daughter and Lian are best friends- playdates once a week kind of thing. - When she's little, he'll always have his daughter on his knee during big family dinners. He let's her eat anything off of his plate, keeping his arm around her as he talks with Dick. - Overall, just- every-time he falls asleep next to you he feels like crying into your shoulder, unable to thank you enough for bringing such a precious perfect bundle of laughter into his life. Huge 'my wife showed me how to love and my daughter showed me how to forgive energy lmao.

I want night time pancakes with Jason and my little baby girl wtf!!! Also, thank you so much for sending this in. I love it and I literally fail to understand how you pull up with the most amazing scenarios every time, I’m actually in love with your writing!! You’re amazing!

Anyways lol!! I’m gonna be honest, I don’t want to have biological children but for Jason… I’d do it, no hesitation. He’d be the most amazing girl dad, I love him so so so much.

I’m not sure if people have already said this before but can you imagine him learning how to do your daughter’s hair!! He has a YouTube hair tutorial playing on the TV as your daughter sits in between his legs. He’s got bobby pins in between his teeth and hair ties around his wrist. He’s using a small comb to gently brush through her little curls.

He’s learning how to braid her hair and he’s having some difficulty, but he’s a persistent man, and like he always tells his little girl, practice makes perfect! He will sit there for days, hours upon hours, trying to make the most flawless set of Dutch braids. Once he’s succeeded at his craft, he’ll admire his work and will tell his daughter to go show you his skills. And oh my goodness, how adorable does she look showing off her father’s braiding skills!!

I also saw a quote on Instagram earlier today and it said that “tenderness is in the hands” and I immediately thought of Jason. There is no one with gentler hands than Jason. His fingers may be rough and his knuckles might be permanently bruised from his past, but when he interlocks his hands with his baby girl, they are the most delicate and warmest hands she has ever felt.

He will run his fingers through her hair, as she lays her tiny head against his chest and he’ll read her favourite stories. She’ll take his hands out of her hair and just play with his fingers. Trace little shapes on his palm, measure her small hand against his big, calloused ones. It’ll melt Jason’s heart and he’ll feel like crying. There will be days where he needs to stop reading and take a minute to appreciate the tenderness of the moment, without completely crumbling.

Also, I kind of hate to say it, but it’s so true. Jason would totally try to heal his daddy issues by being the best possible parent.

He’d treat his daughter like an actual princess and not just in terms of materialistic things. He’d be there for her in every circumstance; he’d be the best moral support and the best cheerleader anyone could ask for.

If your daughter plays any sports or plays an instrument, any thing really, he’d always be there to encourage her and comfort her when it started to become tough. He’d attended every game, every practice, every performance. Like I said, the best cheerleader.

Basically long story short, I’d die for soft, girl dad Jason.

#fem!reader #jason todd #red hood #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanon #batfam

250 notes · View notes

tongue-like-a-razor · 2 years

Text

Faking It | Part I

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x F!Reader

Summary: Fake dating your friend, Bradley Bradshaw - what could possibly go wrong? Your sister is getting married and you need a date. You enlist Bradley's help and the rest is history.

CW: none that I can think of except that the reader's height is described as shorter than Rooster's.

This idea has been plaguing me so I had to get it out haha Hope y'all enjoy!

Bradley watches you skeptically. You have yet to convince him that pretending to be your date for your sister’s wedding is an outstanding idea. Your mother has undoubtedly invited a whole slew of bachelors because she thinks you might need some help in the romance department. You decidedly do not. Despite the fact that you are struggling to even get a fake date.

You make a face at him. “I will owe you,” you say. “Anything you want.”

He shrugs. “I don’t want anything.”

You roll your eyes. “C’mon, Bradshaw,” you plead. “I’ll do your laundry for a week.”

He purses his lips, not looking overly enticed.

“I’ll come over once a day and do all your dishes.”

“We’ve got Hangman for that.”

“Hangman does your dishes?” you ask incredulously, trying to picture Jake Seresin in an apron with a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder.

Bradley chuckles. “He lost a bet last week.”

You let out a soft laugh, then get back to business. “I’ll clean your room,” you offer.

“I’ll have you know that my room is immaculate,” Bradley replies.

You scoff. “Then do this for me out of the goodness of your heart!”

Bradley chuckles slightly. “I don’t know, Y/N. This is a big ask.”

“Please, my mother is rounding up all the eligible males on the western seaboard as we speak.”

Bradley laughs. “What does your mother have against landlocked states?”

“I don’t know. Political ideology?”

Bradley snorts. “Have you asked Hangman?”

You groan. “Please don’t make me ask Hangman. He will never let me live this down.”

Bradley nods. “That is true.”

“It’s just a weekend. A few photos here and there. Some superficial chitchat with my grandparents about the importance of educational funding for our nation’s youth. My niece loves airplanes so you can tell her all about your latest mission” –

“My classified mission?”

“Well, leave out the classified parts,” you retort impatiently.

Bradley contemplates your proposal while your mind scrambles trying to determine something that might make it worth his while.

“Free drinks for a week,” you say, wiping the already dry bar to give your free hand something to do.

Bradley raises his eyebrows. “You can’t do that.”

You roll your eyes. Bradley Bradshaw will never go along with a scheme unless it is one hundred percent above board. “Meaning I will pay for them. I get a discount on the alcohol.”

Bradley gives you an amused look. “So, you wish to buy my services.”

You let out a frustrated groan. “I told you, I will do anything you want.”

“Well, I don’t want you paying my tab,” he replies casually.

You lean into the bar with a heavy sigh, bringing your face closer to his. “You are really grinding my gears, Bradshaw,” you say.

His eyes lift to your face as he lets out a wry chuckle.

“Do you really think a weekend with me will be so torturous?” you ask.

“Nah,” he says, leaning back in his stool nonchalantly, but you wonder if he does it to expand the space between your faces. “I wasn't actually going to refuse. Just like to see you sweat.”

He chuckles, ducking as you go to smack him with the towel you just used to wipe the bar.

…

“Aunt Barb is a hard-ass,” you say in a low voice, turning your head toward Bradley as your aunt makes a beeline for you at the rehearsal dinner. You end up talking into Bradley’s shoulder because he’s so much taller than you and he instinctively lowers his head so he can hear you better.

“What’s that, shorty?” he mutters, and you roll your eyes at the nickname. But the next moment, you can feel his breath on your forehead and you gulp when his palm flattens against your back. You had been the one who'd asked him to pretend to be your boyfriend, but you hadn’t actually considered what that might entail. Apparently, it entails Bradley Bradshaw’s hand on your lower back and a woozy sensation in your gut akin to a 200-foot roller coaster drop. You aren’t too fond of roller coasters.

You glance up at him and your eyes meet for a split second. Bradley promptly straightens his back. You let out an unsteady sigh and say, “Aunt Barb will be questioning you; be prepared. Have you read my notes?”

Bradley gives you a pointed look. “Of course, I read your notes.”

But as Aunt Barb approaches, you feel Bradley’s touch along your back waver until his hand finally drops at his side.

“Y/N!” your aunt exclaims, giving you a kiss on each cheek. She blinks up at Bradley expectantly.

“This is Bradley,” you say. “This is my aunt, Barb.”

Bradley holds out his hand. “It’s great to meet you,” he says.

Aunt Barb gives him a crafty smile. “Is this your boyfriend, Y/N?” she asks, but her question is directed more at Bradley than at you.

Bradley returns her smile. “That’s me,” he replies, giving you a quick glance.

“Oh, good,” your aunt says. “We were starting to get worried after that whole fiasco with Steven.”

You stare at her as Bradley turns to you. “Who’s Steven?” he asks.

Aunt Barb gives him a probing look. “You don’t know?”

Bradley eyes you inquisitively. “Should I?” he asks, still looking at you.

“Her ex, of course,” Barb continues. “He’s here, you know?”

You peel your gaze away from Bradley to look at your aunt. “What? Why?”

She shrugs. “He’s friends with the groom, of course. Or have you forgotten?”

You grimace. You don’t remember Steven being exceedingly close with your sister’s fiancé, so the fact that he somehow weaseled his way into this function aggravates you greatly.

When your aunt walks away, Bradley turns to you with his eyebrows raised. “Steven wasn’t in your notes.”

You give him a sour look. “He wasn’t supposed to be here.”

Bradley shrugs. “Still think you should’ve mentioned him. Was it serious?”

“Nope,” you respond curtly, ready to put the topic to rest.

Bradley seems to sense your reluctance to engage in this particular conversation and drops the subject. “Shall we go grab some drinks?”

You’re about to respond when your mother appears before you and you nearly bump into her. “Mom!” you exclaim in surprise.

“Y/N, why are you so jumpy?” she asks.

You shoot a nervous glance in Bradley’s direction, but he appears unfazed. “Afternoon, ma’am,” he says, bowing his head slightly.

Your mother looks over at Bradley with a judgemental air. “Are you the aviator?” she asks with a hint of distaste in her tone.

“Indeed,” Bradley responds, giving you a confident look before glancing back at your mother.

But your mother is no longer paying Bradley any attention. She turns back to you. “Steven is here,” she says.

You let out a sigh. “Yes, I know, mother.”

She gives you a knowing look before glancing back at Bradley. “We all thought they were going to get married,” she says with an artificial smile.

Bradley raises his eyebrows and nods his head slowly. “You must be disappointed,” he says.

Your mother seems pleased with his response and nods at Bradley vehemently. “They have a lot of history,” she says.

You close your eyes. “Mom, stop.”

“I’m just saying, he’s here,” your mom says. “Do with that what you will.”

You blink at her. “I will do nothing.”

Bradley watches you squirm sympathetically and, when you glance up at him defeatedly, he takes you by the hand. “Ma’am, it’s been a pleasure,” he says and starts to pull you away. “We just want to hit the bar before the first course.”

“Sure.” Your mom gives him a quick nod and throws a pointed look in your direction.

You cling to Bradley’s hand gratefully, even going as far as clutching at his arm with your other hand just to get away faster. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you whimper.

He looks down at you, squeezing your hand. “It’s why I’m here, right?” he says.

“Right,” you agree, feeling his bicep flex under your fingers as his hand tightens around yours.

…

After dinner, you make your way through the crowd to the bathroom. The evening is nearly over and it seems that you and Bradley have put on a reasonably convincing charade. Bradley’s relaxed disposition has made the evening infinitely more enjoyable than you could have imagined and you find yourself feeling almost sorry that the night is coming to an end. Almost. Because, after all, you won’t be able to take a real breath of relief until you’re in the comfort of your room.

You’re lost in your thoughts as you walk back to your table and you completely miss the fact that your ex-boyfriend has spotted you and is heading your way.

“Y/N!” he exclaims as if he’s surprised to see you attending your own sister’s wedding rehearsal.

You blink at him in alarm. “Steven,” you say with a slight grimace, kicking yourself for not checking your surroundings before making your way across the open floor.

Your eyes scan the tables, desperately searching for Bradley. When you locate him, you can see that he’s already watching you.

Steven steps closer to you, holding out his hands. “It’s good to see you, Y/N,” he says, leaning in for a hug.

You recoil as he tries to put his arms around you. “Is it?” you ask, holding up your hand to keep him back. The last time you saw him, he was throwing every insult imaginable in your direction.

Over Steven’s shoulder, you can see Bradley getting out his seat and starting to make his way toward the two of you, a stony expression on his face.

“You look great,” Steven continues, finally lowering his arms.

“Uh, thanks,” you say uneasily just as Bradley steps around Steven to face him.

“Everything alright here?” Bradley asks, his eyes sliding between you and Steven.

“Mm-hm,” you say, instinctively shifting closer to Bradley as Steven continues to scrutinize your every move.

“I’m Bradley,” he introduces himself, confidently extending his hand to Steven.

“Steven.” Steven takes his hand tentatively and you can see the slight wince on his face as Bradley crushes his hand in a handshake.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Steven,” Bradley says, and you look up at him sharply.

“Oh, really?” Steven lifts his eyebrows, giving you a smirk.

“No,” Bradley replies flatly.

Steven blinks at him in confusion, clearly taken aback.

Bradley slides his arm around your waist possessively and you lean into him slightly, relieved that he’s playing his part so perfectly.

Steven gives Bradley a hostile look which Bradley expertly returns. Then, he lowers his face, saying, “Drink?”

“Yes, please,” you say, letting out a sigh.

“You take care, Steven,” Bradley says, wheeling you around in the direction of the bar.

Part 2

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joelsgreys · 9 months

Text

Lonely Too Long l (To Hell and Back Drabble)

Series Masterlist

Summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ only, minors DNI. Flashback of implied SA, but no descriptions. Soft Joel, Joel sings to reader. *If you happen to be reading the series, I recommend reading this one because it starts setting up Joel and reader’s relationship. This is also the last flashback she’s going to have since it’s a heavier one than the last two.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Dust to Dust is one of my favorite songs by The Civil Wars. I know the song did not come out until like 2013, but we’re just going to pretend. Also, I know that the gif is video game Joel, but god I love him just as much and it fits this scene so we are gonna roll with it. I know this might not be everyone’s cup of tea but I wanted to write it so I did. 🤌🏼 I am still organizing the taglist for this series, it will be start with the next chapter. This was mostly for me but hopefully some people out there enjoy it too. 🤍

You couldn’t scream.

You’re trying to cry out, but you can’t.

Chest tight, your lungs won’t expand.

You couldn’t breathe.

One hand around your neck, the other is fumbling with the zipper of your jeans.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he grinned, his fingers roughly scraping against the skin of your lower stomach.

In the corner, your cellmate is curled into a little ball in the floor, hands covering her ears and her eyes squeezed shut.

She’s probably praying she won’t be next.

She’s seventeen so even in the midst of your own chaos, you can’t help but pray she isn’t next too.

You thrashed around underneath him. It’s futile, but all you can think about is getting him off you.

Grin fading, he let out a heavy, irritated sigh. His hand left the waistband of your jeans. He reached behind him and pulled out his gun, bringing it up to into your view—it caused you to cease any and all movements. “Listen to me,” he said, pressing the barrel of the pistol against your temple. “It’s simple, really. Keep squirming and I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do you understand, dollface?”

When he received no response, he dug the barrel deeper into your skin, his finger on the trigger.

“Do you understand?” He repeated, his tone low.

Nearly paralyzed, all you could do was nod.

“Good.” He roughly flipped you over.

The sound of his belt buckle clanking rang loudly in your ears. As he yanked your jeans down to the middle of your thighs, you closed your eyes.

Both your mind and your body went numb.

A light, late night rainstorm came out of nowhere, sweeping over the town. The soft, pitter pattering sound of raindrops on the window above your bed had almost lulled you into slumber.

Almost.

You’re safe.

The words blended into a steady but silent chant.

You’re safe.

You’re fucking safe.

Slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead, you exhaled a long, heavy sigh and stared up into the the darkness of the bedroom.

You couldn’t be certain as to what time it was, but it had to be well into the middle of the night. You’d been tossing and turning for a couple of hours but somehow it felt like a hell of a lot longer than that.

You were fucking exhausted. You nearly ached for some sleep, but every damn time that you closed your eyes, vivid images of the past came creeping in and chased it further and further away.

Your brain just couldn’t seem to wrap itself around the fact that this place wasn’t dangerous.

That you didn’t have to sleep with one eye open.

That nobody was going to hurt you.

That you were safe in a soft bed in a real house.

You weren’t lying on a dirty cot in a human cage.

Sighing again, you thought about Joel who was in his bedroom down the hallway, sleeping.

It brought you comfort knowing he was close. But for some reason you couldn’t quite explain, part of you couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t close enough.

You. The same woman who vowed never to trust another human being ever again—you wanted him fucking closer. Actually, it wasn’t a want so much as it was a need.

You needed him to be closer.

Sitting up, you tossed the sheets back and swung your legs over the edge of the mattress, your bare feet meeting the cold, hardwood floors. You stood and quietly padded out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards Joel’s.

“You know where to find me if you need anythin’,” he’d assured you before he had gone off to bed.

You stopped in front of his door and lifted a curled first, knocking lightly. About a minute or two went by, and just when you started to realize that you’d made a mistake and whirled around to make a run for it back to your own room where you could hop back into bed and pretend that the thought of this hadn’t ever even crossed your mind, he opened up his bedroom door.

“Thought I heard a knock,” Joel mumbled sleepily, rubbing at his eyes with one of his hands. He wore nothing but his sweatpants, his hair looking about ten times more disheveled than usual. “Everythin’ alright?”

You swallowed dryly, trying your hardest not to let your eyes wander away from his face—it proved to be almost too difficult to keep from staring. Joel’s shoulders were broad, his chest was wide, and his stomach was soft; his sweatpants hung on the low side on his hips and revealed the trail of dark curls that started at his lower belly and descended until it disappeared underneath the elastic waistband.

You caught yourself before they could go lower.

“Somethin’ the matter, darlin’?” he asked, stifling a yawn. Thankfully he hasn’t seemed to notice you gawking at him. He rubbed at his eyes once again and then observed you, trying to figure out what it was that had brought you to his room at this hour. “You need somethin’? Are you cold? Did you need an extra blanket?”

You lightly shook your head in response. No.

He tried again. “Are you still hungry?” he asked as he gestured towards the stairs. “I can make you another sandwich if you want—”

He was cut off by another shake of your head that told him that wasn’t it.

“You just can’t sleep,” Joel realized after a minute. He frowned—he could see how tired you were and for as much as he didn’t want to think about it, he had a feeling that he knew what it was that was on your mind and keeping you awake. “What can I do to help, sweetness?”

You blinked, standing there almost dumbfounded.

Clearly, you hadn’t thought this through.

You would knock on Joel’s door and then what?

You would talk to him about what’s on your mind?

Letting out a tiny frustrated huff that was directed at yourself, you waved a dismissive hand in the air.

Forget it. There’s nothing you can do.

As you turned around to leave, Joel reached out to take your arm. He curled his fingers lightly around your elbow. “Well now, hold on a minute. You’re at my door for a reason,” he said. He watched as your eyes flickered to his hand around your arm, but he couldn’t be sure if his touch had bothered you. He dropped it, not wanting to risk pushing you too far or crossing a line, not when he had made progress with you, progress he didn’t want to lose. “You not bein’ able to sleep—it have anythin’ to do with you still not feelin’ safe?”

You hesitated.

“It’s alright, darlin’. You can be honest with me.”

The sheepish expression on your face said it all.

No, I can’t sleep because I don’t feel safe.

“Would it help if you slept with me?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, eyes widening at his proposal. At least, the way he’d said it.

Excuse me?

Realizing how it had sounded, Joel flushed. “What I mean is, would it help if you slept in my bed?” He winced. That hadn’t sounded all that much better. “You sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” he sputtered out quickly. “That’s what I meant. That way I’m right next to you and you ain’t alone.”

Gnawing nervously on your bottom lip, you took a minute to think it over.

If you wanted him closer, this was your chance.

But why? Why did you want him to be closer? Why did you need to have him at your side?

You’d been on your own for an entire fucking year.

And it had been by choice.

You didn’t want to be around other people, sure as hell didn’t need to be around other people.

And then Joel Miller makes his appearance and all of a sudden, you’re at his door in the middle of the damn night because you feel the need to have him at your side?

Finally, you nodded your head. Okay.

“Come in.” He stepped aside, allowing you in. Not wanting you to feel trapped in his room, he left the door open. “And you’re free to go on back to your own room whenever you feel like it.”

Joel picked up his discarded tee shirt from earlier, a small labored grunt escaping him as he brought himself back into an upright position, the bones in his lower back crackling with protest. Turning over his shirt right side out, he tugged it on as you took a look around his bedroom, a larger space dimly lit by the small lamp on his nightstand.

That’s when you saw it.

Perched on a stand, it was nestled in the corner.

A guitar.

Curiously, you walked over and knelt in front of it.

You reached out and softly ran your fingers across the strings, smiling to yourself at the sound it had made.

“Found that while out on patrol with Tommy a few weeks ago,” Joel stated as he came up behind you slowly. “Gibson. Little worse for wear, but in damn good condition all things considerin’. Woulda been a crime to leave it out there,” he chuckled. “I know Ellie’s been wantin’ to learn, it’s the main reason it came back home with me. I haven’t shown her yet since I still gotta clean and polish her up.” He took a brief pause. “You know how to play?”

You ran your fingers across the strings once more, and a loud, terrible noise that wasn’t even close to music caused him to wince. You then looked up at him over your shoulder with an amused grin.

Does it sound like I know how to play?

Joel couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll take that as a no, then.” He leaned over and picked up the guitar. He walked over and took a seat on the side of his bed, patting the seat beside him. “C’mere, sweetness.”

Getting up to your feet, you wrapped Joel’s flannel closer around your body as you padded over to his bed, perching yourself next to him.

Head down and focused, he began to strum a few notes. You couldn’t help but to be mesmerized by how his large hands moved on the instrument, the way his long, thick fingers—

Swallowing dryly, you cut the thought short.

Curiously, you put a hand on his shoulder.

Joel paused the tune. “What is it, darlin’?”

With your opposite hand, you touched your throat and then pointed at him. Can you sing?

He gave a half hearted shrug. “I do like to sing,” he admitted almost bashfully. “Always been fond of it ever since I was a kid.” He chuckled. “Before goin’ into construction, I wanted to be a musician. But I knew it would never pay the bills.”

You squeezed Joel’s shoulder and gestured to the guitar, then to his throat again. Will you sing me a song?

Joel felt the back of his neck burn and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Normally, I would probably say no,” he admitted. “But, seein’ as you saved my life and all, I’d be a real asshole if I said no to you.”

Lifting your chin, you shot him a smug look. That is very true. So go on then, Johnny Cash. Play me a song.

“Alright. Any requests?”

You nudged him lightly. Very funny.

“Okay, um. Gimme a minute to think of a song.”

Withdrawing your hand from his shoulder, you sat back against his pillows and pulled your legs up to your chest, hugging your knees.

Nervously, Joel inhaled and exhaled a deep breath and began strumming the guitar. Chills shot down your spinal cord as a hauntingly beautiful melody filled his bedroom. He turned and angled his body towards to you as he began to sing.

“You’ve held your head up,

you’ve fought the fight

you bear the scars, you’ve done your time

listen to me, you’ve been lonely too long…”

Your mouth fell open slightly.

“Let me in the walls you’ve built around

we can light a match and burn them down…”

The rich baritone of his voice caused goosebumps to eruprt all over your flesh. Furiously, you rubbed at your bare legs, but it was useless.

With every note Joel sang to you, more appeared.

With every note Joel sang to you, the harder you found it to breathe steady.

With every note Joel sang to you, the more beats your heart seemed to be skipping.

“Let me hold your hand

and dance ‘round and ‘round the flames

in front of us, dust to dust…”

Joel glanced up, his dark brown eyes holding your gaze as he sang the final verse of the song.

“You’re like a mirror, reflectin’ me

takes one to know one, so take it from me

you’ve been lonely

you’ve been lonely too long.”

Even if you could speak to him, you would’ve been left speechless—all that you could do was stare at him in complete awe.

Joel set the guitar down. “I’m alright,” he said with a sheepish little laugh. “My voice ain’t nowhere as nice as yours.”

You stiffened slightly.

What are you talking about?

“Don’t look at me like that. I know it was you who I heard singin’ back at that cabin when I was comin’ back around.” He gave you a crooked grin. “Earlier I was just playin’ dumb, but I know it was you. You have a gorgeous voice, and I’d love to hear it again someday.”

Hugging your legs closer to yourself, you dropped your head down onto your knees, embarrassed.

What was the matter with you?

Here was a man who had taken you in, offered you a warm bed under his own roof—gave you clothes and fed you, even offered to give up his own damn bed and sleep on the cold hard floor beside you to make you feel safe enough to sleep.

And you still couldn’t say a fucking word to him.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Forcing your head up, your gaze met his.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” Joel assured you. “It’s just like I told you downstairs. We’re gonna take it one step at a time.” Lifting one of his hands, he reached out holding it out to you, his palm face upwards. “And I swear, once you find your voice, I’m gonna do all that I can do to make sure you never lose it again.”

Biting your lower lip, you placed your hand in his.

Joel have it a gentle squeeze. “Atta girl.”

Much sooner than you would have liked, he let go of your hand and stood up.

“We should get some sleep. You’re gonna need all the rest you can get before you meet my kid. Ellie. She’ll be here first thing and I should warn you she can be, uh, she can be a lot to process.” He let out an amused snort and reached for a pillow, tossing it onto the floor. “You can have all the blankets, I’ll just take this throw here—”

As Joel reached past you for a green flannel throw blanket, you grabbed his arm to stop him. His face was just inches from yours.

Close.

But again somehow still not close enough.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, softly.

Warm and laced with mint from the toothpaste he had used to brush his teeth before bed, his breath tickled the tip of of your nose, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine.

Your eyes looked right into his as you scooter over to the other side of his bed—it was firm, cold. Like no one had ever occupied that space before. But it was foolish to think that a man like Joel Miller had never had another woman share his bed before.

You patted the spot beside you.

Sleep up here.

“You sure about this, darlin’?”

You patted the empty spot again. Yes I’m sure.

Joel squinted at you. “You ain’t gonna strangle me in my sleep, are you now?”

His half serious joke was met with a glare.

Keep it up with wise cracks and I just might.

He held his hands up in defense. “Just checkin.”

As you crawled underneath his dark green sheets, Joel slid into bed beside you, making sure to leave a good three foot gap between the both of you; he murmured a quiet goodnight and switched off the lamp on his nightstand before rolling over onto his stomach—not even two minutes later and his soft snores filled the room.

You turned onto your side, facing him. Through a beam of moonlight steaming in through a crack in the curtains, you could just make out the outlines of his facial features. He’d fallen asleep facing you.

Closing your eyes, your body sank further into the mattress, heavy with exhaustion.

Taut, tense muscles finally relaxed.

Tight jaw finally unclenched.

You’re safe.

You slowly started drifting off to sleep.

With Joel beside you, no nightmares came to visit.

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