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bby-deerling · 5 months

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can't help it (zoro x reader nsfw)

midnight snack (gone sexual!!!)

18+, nsfw, mdni, wc: 1.3k masterlist

cw: light bondage, fingering, soft zoro, devious backshots, semi-public sex kinda? (in the kitchen no one else is around), established relationship, artist!reader but can be read standalone

tagging: @eelnoise @sleepymarimo

A cold, blue-toned light casts in through the kitchen window; the Sunny rocks through a quiet stretch of sea, with most of the pirates on board tucked into bed or at their posts keeping watch, save for two. Leaning over the kitchen counter, you let out a content sigh as the last bites of a chewy snickerdoodle cookie melt in your mouth; the sweet goodness lingering on your tongue is quickly washed down by a cool glass of milk. Remnants of the drink stick to your upper lip until messily wiped away by the back of your hand. The sensation of being refreshed and content clouds your senses, to the point where you lose awareness of your partner’s presence, giving him the opportunity to snatch your wrists and pull them behind your back.

“Gotcha.” Zoro teases. His words have a gravel to them that sends tingles down your spine as he murmurs them into your ear. His bandana, fabric still warm from being tied around his arm, twists and knots around your wrists, holding them in place as he presses himself against you.

“You got me…” you say playfully, adjusting just the slightest bit in his grasp to feel all of him against the thin fabric of your nightgown, “what are you gonna do with me now?” The cool, night air suddenly becomes humid and hot as his wide palms creep up your thighs.

“I think you know.” he whispers huskily; though you can’t see him, you can feel the smirk on his face, and the thought alone is enough to send heat crawling through your body. He’s slow and lazy with his touches, massaging and groping every bit of skin he can get his hands on as he works his way upward. The way he grazes his fingers along your folds elicits a whimper from you; pleased at your reaction, he grips your hips tighter with his other hand, eager to draw out more slutty sounds from you. His teasing touches leave you hot and feverish, making you squirm, wrists rubbing against the cloth that binds them.

“This alright?” he asks tone laced with concern, tugging on the fabric of the bandana to emphasize his words.

“Mhm!” you say reassuringly, nodding your head as best you can while bent over the kitchen counter with your hands behind your back, “You make me feel safe, Zoro.” you add, voice gentle and serene. Something in the air shifts, turning the mood of the spontaneous late-night tryst into something intimate, soft, and meaningful. He lets out a low, content hum as his heartstrings pull and his pride swells at the trust you place in him. “Damn right, I do.” he says as he teases your entrance with his wide, calloused fingers. His movements build a deep craving that doubles upon feeling how ready you are for him, coating the tips of his fingers with your arousal. “Now, quit squirming and lemme take care of you.” he whispers, trailing one of his hands along your thigh as he pushes two fingers inside of you.

It's almost silly, the way you turn into a wet, needy mess for him when subjected to such trivial touches. It was so easy for him to make your heartbeat drop to your core; it was so simple for him to render you a twitching wreck with the press of his fingers against your clit, but as he drags his soaked fingers along your walls, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Want me to give it to ya’?” he teases as he slips his fingers out of you, smacking his tip against your needy bud before dragging it along your slick folds.

“Please, Zoro, I need it…” you whine softly, pressing your toes upward in a failed attempt to get more friction. He’s amused by your impatience, and teases you a few times, pushing just the slightest bit of his tip inside of you until you let out a growl of frustration, fed up and wanting to be filled by him.

“Alright lil’ demon, I’ll give it to ya’.” he murmurs with a low chuckle as he sheathes himself inside of you. Though the emotions hanging between you were nearly tangible, he’s still rough around the edges; each indent left in the flesh of your hips by the tips of his fingers, every deep thrust of his cock as he buries himself inside of you, and the slowly healing red and purple marks from past encounters serve as proof—Zoro loves hard.

“Look at you, taking it so well...” he rasps as his hips snap against yours. He winds you up tightly like a spool of thread with slow, deep strokes; it’s enough to keep you on edge, reeling, and whimpering without sinking your head completely underwater in a pool of ecstasy. “That’s why you’re my girl. No matter what I give ya’, you can take it.” he praises, grasping the plush skin of your ass, making you whimper underneath him.

The way he stretches you out as his head brushes against your sweet spot with each thrust is so dizzying that everything starts to melt away except for the sensations of his cock, his touch, and the cool, drool-coated surface of the counter. Zoro’s hand dips to massage your clit, and stars start twinkling along the surface of your closed eyelids; you’re so close that it’s impossible to hide, and the way you begin to flutter around him makes him give it to you harder.

“Let go for me… wanna feel ya’ come for me, pretty girl.” he rasps, voice shaky as he tries to hold back from spilling into you; the sight of you under his thumb and at his mercy is tempting and tantalizing; with your nightgown pushed up, your hands tied behind your back and your thighs slick with arousal, it’s hard for him to not crack and give in. His rigid self-discipline bends but remains unbroken as you shatter, red hot and spasming around him; soft whines of his name fall off your lips like an incantation, but you’re the one entranced, mind left blissful and blank.

“That’s it—good girl.” he coos; his tone is soothing, but the momentum of his thrusts remains punishing. Unraveling around him only spurs him to give you more as your walls quiver and pulse; the growing pool of arousal that seeps out of your sex lets him give it to you harder and faster, scrambling your brain into a set of mixed-up puzzle pieces. “My good fucking girl, taking all of me—”he murmurs, voice barely above the sounds of the smack of his hips against yours. He’s close enough to start rambling; parts of it are incoherent, but all of it is dirty, filthy, and leaves you speechless and whimpering.

As the afterglow of your high ebbs, he can’t hold back any longer. Thick, white ropes paint your walls; the fresh, red marks where his hands had grasped your hips, complement the sight of his seed dripping out of your core—he’d claimed you inside and out.

You wriggle your wrists out of the now loosened bandana and turn to face him; as he gazes down into your starry eyes, he’s never seen anything more precious. Still flushed, wrecked, and messy, there’s an overflow of raw emotion in your eyes as you pull him down into a soft kiss. He’s always stunned by your ability to melt him, always reinforcing but never reshaping him. And yet he was so irrevocably changed by your grace, into a man who allowed himself small, secret pockets of happiness with you, far from the prying eyes of others.

“Need another snack now?” he teases, his lips curling into a smirk.

You giggle; the song of your laughter is cut by a raspy hoarseness in your throat.

“No, but some water would be nice.” you reply with a smile.

#one piece x reader #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x you #roronoa zoro x you #zoro x y/n #roronoa zoro x y/n #zoro smut #roronoa zoro smut #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario #mdni #i love him so much #so so so so much

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fuckmyskywalker · 9 days

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thinking about religious reader and stepbrother!sam (with corruption kink) going to catholic school together

18+, smut, Catholic!Reader x Stepbrother!Sam, stepcest, slight dubcon (if you see manipulation as dubcon).

I've been having an awful block so I hope this is good ;)

“Give me my notebook back.”

“No.”

“Give it to me,” You repeat, launching your arm over your head in an attempt to snatch it off Sam’s hand, which is pointless. His soft chuckle infuriates you, to him, everything is just a game. “Sam, I’m being serious. I need to finish my homework.”

“Lemme just borrow it,” He insists, like he has been doing for the past ten minutes. “I’m just gonna copy your Classical Studies homework.”

“No!” After another failed attempt, you give up, defeated arms falling, frown forming. “No one is going to believe you wrote that. You are not that smart.”

This time his chuckle bounces sarcastically around your walls, looks like he isn’t giving up. Sharing a household with him is already bad enough— share school, classes, work is just the cherry on top. Sam can be quite a pain in the ass if he wants to; with little effort to continue his studies, the only reason he agreed to join a religious college was because it was his only option. Join or get kicked. Bothering you is just a plus.

Stubborn, dense and miserable, Sam is quite the fit. Sticking like a sore thumb, he enjoys how you lower your eyes and hide your face behind your binder every time he drives you both home. Is easy to read what's going through your mind, how you wish the world just swallowed you. People talk— the more religious, the more toxic is their venom— something that is part of Sam’s everyday life. Not yours.

You hide under long skirts, friendship bracelets and psalms. The role model that would never be able to break a plate or hurt a bug. The kind of girl you'd see every Sunday; which only makes it more entertaining to taunt you.

“Give me a kiss and I’ll give it to you,” He smirks, leaning down. Your eyes admire his piercings, the dark circles under his eyes— pure sin. The juxtaposition of your disgust and his amusement is enough to pump blood… all the way down.

“Ew,” You squint. “No.”

“Fine. Then show me your tits and I’ll give you the notebook.”

The request alone brings a wave of discomfort down your spine— but surprisingly you find yourself considering it. The thought lasts no longer than a few seconds, barely even acknowledged by your mind. Sam notices. Blue eyes drinking your expressions, how your eyes zone out for a moment, perhaps he hit a soft spot, or perhaps he was truly experiencing God’s blessings.

“Give me a kiss or show me your tits. Either way you'll win,” Threading carefully, there’s a purpose, a chance.

You pout, a habit of yours that indicates frustration. “I’m not going to kiss you.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot you are saving your first kiss for your husband,” Dangling the notebook over your head, Sam leans down. Just keep pushing, he repeats to himself. Just keep pushing. “Look. Showing me your tits isn’t that bad. I’m not going to touch you or anything.”

“It's just as bad!” You argue, biting the inside of your cheek. “If I’m saving myself for marriage, no one should see me.”

Gears working at maximum speed, you ignore how his eyes change focus. “ Now you are wrong, little sis. Your husband is the one who will touch you and enjoy your flesh. I will simply watch,” His words aren't even convincing, far from truthful, close to deceiving. “Just lift your grandma’s dress, I know you wear those fucking briefs underneath. I won’t look anywhere else.”

“How can I know that?”

He is so close. He can almost taste it.

“I swear to God.”

This is the first time you have ever heard Sam say that.

With a regretful tremble, your hands find the hem of your dress, lifting it slowly. Your eyes stay glued to the door, praying that no one walks in. He says it is not that bad— yet it feels like it. Your heart is racing, palms sweating, as if this wasn't supposed to happen.

“Well, if it helps, I think your bastard future husband will be more than happy.”

Not sure if his compliment is a backhanded comment, the second your eyes meet Sams, he lifts them, agreeing to break contact with those round, precious pieces that he thinks are in fact a blessing. A beat goes by. You know you should let go of the fabric now, he got what he wanted, right?

The notebook hits the carpet with a muffled sound just in time for Sam to launch forward. Pushing you down with strong hands on your shoulders, you let out a choked gasp, wondering when did you stop staring at his eyes to now focus on the white ceiling.

His tongue flicks your left nipple teasingly, the sudden jolt of pleasure both terrifying and exhilarating. “I said no touching,” He whispers, the devil’s voice dripping down his lips. Circling your nipple with said lips, you arch your back, surprised by your own response; the soft suckle is enough to drown your loud thoughts. momentarily, at least. “But I didn’t say anything about sucking.”

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya answers!#anon #sam monroe #sam monroe smut #sam monroe fanfiction #sam monroe fic #sam monroe x reader #sam monroe x you #sam monroe x y/n #sam monroe x reader smut #sam monroe x fem reader #life as a house #hayden christensen x reader #womp womp bitch

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soap-ify · 5 months

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hi ruru! thank you for your kind words on my post today 🫶🏼 can i please get a little something about soap x reader who’s been working really hard lately (to the point where she can’t pull herself away from her laptop at the end of the day)? how would johnny boy help her relax/ take her mind off work?? could be fluffy or smutty 💛

CHERRY!! reader is just like me... i overworked myself so much yesterday and aa we should take more care of ourselves!

cw — fluff, praises !! he is so in love, fingering and lots of smooches.

johnny had experienced it all before too numerous times, being overworked to the point where one just loses themselves in their work.

he tried to catch your attention throughout the day, either by poking your sides or just sitting beside you on the couch, earning nothing but dismissive huffs from you while your fingers furiously typed on the keyboard, glazed eyes frantically reading the stuff on your screen while your brain constantly thought about all the other work you still had to finish.

“ye need to leave tha’ shite alone for a minute, hen.” his voice was quiet, laced with concern while his hands acted more firmly, snatching your laptop from you and saving the file, ignoring all your protests. he didn’t care if you’d be mad at him, the only thing he cared about at this moment was you and your health.

after making you drink a glass of water, considering you didn’t drink one at all throughout the day, he gently led you to the bedroom and eased you on the bed, your muscles starting to ache as soon as you collapsed on the bed, head feeling dizzy and too active.

“johnny…” a weary groan left your lips, watching him get on top of you, his callused hands gently cupping your face, pressing sweet little kisses on your temple, easing the tension beneath your brows. you hadn’t even realised how tired you were, and all this attention from him was making your heart heavy with emotion.

“ssh, i know…” he nuzzled his nose against yours, your eyes getting all droopy while your hands lazily tugged on his sleeves.

“ye work so much. nae takin’ care of yerself at all. hurts my poor heart.” he mumbled in a playful manner despite his words being very much true, his stubble tickling your skin as he peppered kisses on your cheeks before finally meeting your lips, kissing you in such a sickeningly gently manner that it made your heart ache in a good way, eyes fluttering shut as you relished the way he comforted you, strong hands rubbing your hips soothingly while he lightly nipped on your bottom lip, his blue eyes half-open, filled with undying affection.

“lemme help ye.” he cooed softly, his hand sliding down in between your bodies, caressing your stomach before going down to gently tug down your trousers and panties. you shuddered at the sudden contact of his skin against your skin, goosebumps forming quickly while your hands gently held onto the back of his neck, wanting him as close as possible.

“gonna make ye stop thinkin’ so much.” his hand slowly caressed the plush of your thighs, coaxing your legs apart.

his fingers made contact with your puffy folds, gently gathering some slick before beginning to rub up and down your slit, loving the way you were starting to get wetter, slowly moving over to focus on your clit that was basically begging for attention, your body aching for a release. his fingers begin drawing soft circles over your clit, causing a broken whimper to leave your lips, your hips bucking forward to somehow get a bit more pressure.

“so perfect and so smart… always doin’ great in everything ye do.” his face was so close to yours, lips repeatedly pressing soft kisses on your temple, whispering soft praises into your ears. “m’so proud of ye, y’know.”

his words made your insides warm up with love, blood rushing to your cheeks as you leaned your head forward slightly to nuzzle it against his neck, breathless noises leaving you while his fingers continued to give your clit the attention it deserved, rubbing and tugging it gently.. “i love you so much johnny, love you so much…” you repeated over and over as if it was forever ingrained in your brain, which it probably was.

johnny didn’t pull any of his playful stunts this time, his actions full of tenderness and care he craved to give you, his other hand gently holding onto the side of your hip. “ah, i love ye too.” he chuckled under her breath, his blue eyes softening up even more.

heat pooled between your legs while his wet fingers continued to glide on your slit occasionally before focusing back on your twitchy and hard clit, loving the way it slid so easily across your cunt.

“ye close, hen?” he asked once he felt the tremble of your thighs, your breathing quickening up while your lips were parted in awe, head nodding.

“s-so close… need to cum so bad, johnny.” you voice was quivering and laced with need, your chest rising and falling gently.

he gently eased a finger in your tight cunt, and then another, given how you were already soaking wet, curling them up inside you while looking for any signs of discomfort on your face. when he found none, he gently began to thrust his fingers inside your weeping cunt, finding all your spongy sweet spots with ease. it was insane how his fingers were enough to quickly push you over the edge.

your eyes rolled back once his thumb begin rubbing your puffy clit once more, your walls tightening around his fingers while your legs tried to wrap themselves around his hips, the pleasure getting sweetly overwhelming with each thrust of his fingers until you finally came apart, your orgasm hitting you in waves that lasted for a good few seconds, your body trembling underneath him as you moaned shakily and hid your face against his shoulders, fingers clinging onto the fabric of his shirt tight while he helped you ride your orgasm, fingers gently sliding out of your fluttering cunt, giving your clit a few more rubs before he stopped and pulled his hand back, looking at the way your slick coated his fingers, his mouth cheekily wrapping around his fingers to taste you. a satisfied hum left him before he began pressing repeated little pecks on your lips, causing you to whine and squirm.

“did so good f’me, hen. feelin’ better?” he asked softly, earning a nod from you, a blissful smile adorning your lips while your brain felt all fuzzy and dreamy.

he definitely didn’t stop at that, fully intent on making you forget about all your work. his fingers were quick to stuff inside you again, determined to pull a few more orgasms out of you.

the night ended up with you fast asleep in his embrace, head craddled against his chest, his heartbeat soothing your nerves.

#you overworking yourself is a crime in johnny's eyes #like how dare you!!#soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #soap mw2 #john mactavish #john soap mactavish #cod x reader #call of duty #rurufic #ruru mail

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elioslover · 7 months

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Little Angel, Only Freak? - Grapejuice.

🎃 Halloween Flashbacks 🎃

This can be read as a stand-alone piece! 👻 I've really been wanting to include some flashback moments from Harry and Klutz's past, so I thought Halloween would be the perfect place to start!

Premise: Harry has been pining over Y/n - his best friends slightly older sister - for as long as he can remember.

GRAPEJUICE MASTERPOST / Other Writing

NB! Y/n's (Klutz) brother's name is Jack. In Grapejuice it's mentioned that Harry may have wrote some songs about Klutz. These events were inspired specifically by two of his masterpieces lmao, so lemme know if you notice any references hehe. - Em. xo

Warnings: Drinking/smoking (this oneshot contains quite a bit due to the fact that they are attending a lot of Halloween parties). Age-gap (2yrs). Self-insert she/her.

Word count: 5.4k

🍷 2011 🍷

Sitting with your legs criss-crossed, on the kitchen counter which is perhaps the highest off of the ground you are most comfortable with. Your firm belief in keeping your feet on the soil, neither under deep waters nor up in the air.

That aside, you are eating a toastie, courtesy of your own cooking- rather surprised that not only did you manage to get ready on time, but actually finished with plenty to spare.

Indulging in your meal, the sound of Travis Scott accompanying your chewing, Harry's sudden appearance in the kitchen is startling, but nothing out of the ordinary. Besides, there have been plenty of worse and compromising interactions in the past.

“Aren’t you too old to be trick-or-treating?” You mumble through your food-filled mouth, eyeing him from top to bottom, shamefully admiring his choice of costume. Perhaps you were a sucker for a sexy pirate- though a large part of you believes the 'sexy' part was unintentional.

Harry only smiles and meanders further into the kitchen, invading the fridge for god knows what before giving up, strolling over to you, invading your space in an instant and with audacity you have never witnessed prior, he snatches the half-devoured triangle of a toastie and takes a hearty bite before speaking through muffled chews,

“Age is but a construct.”

“I guess I agree.” You shrug, thoughts travelling to the dangerously explicit fantasies you experienced at the mere existence of Tom Hard, your brain concocting a dreamland in which a 15-year age gap would be graciously welcomed.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Harry archives the moment. An entirely separate dreamland surrounds him and yourself. But, you still seem so far away, Harry is aching to extend the conversation, “Where are you off to, a Tarantino-themed party?”

“That my dear, is none of your business.”

“Well for what it’s worth,” he informs both sweetly and sultry, “you make a beautiful *Viper.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Styles.” You open the gates and let your guard down, needing him to know you notice him- see him, and if vulnerability is the way to make that clear, god willing, something inside you wishes to share it.

Harry is stunned- your words are one thing, your tone is another. He wants, no, he needs to hear your softness, again and again. Then there is an invasive double honk and it can only belong to the red Mazda parked in the driveway, stark headlights shining through the kitchen curtains.

You hop off the counter without a care in the world, straighten out your costume, and check your makeup in the reflection of the microwave before strolling straight past Harry and into the entrance hall, grabbing your matching purse. You raise your voice to address both your brother and the sexy pouting pirate stunned to silence,

“That’s my ride." Certain they've both heard, you open the front door and as an afterthought, call over your shoulder, "Save me a Mars bar!”

👻

The boys are in line for the entrance to a club that Jack stated would be "popping", but there is a clear age limit and Harry's anxiety is already reaching its limit. He turns to Darth Vader- ignoring how ridiculous his friend is- and Harry cautiously ponders aloud,

“Are you sure we’re even gonna get in?”

“Trust me.” Jack sternly enforces.

“What is this hold you have over me?” Harry concedes.

By what could either be deemed a miracle or exceptional finesse, it's not long before the boys have their left wrists stamped with a small ink jack-o-lantern, and are entering the club.

“See! Am I ever wrong?” Jack projects against the booming bass, but Harry certainly hears him, more focused on the dissipating nerves being replaced with confidence.

“Drinks!” Jack doesn't allow a retort, making his way to the bar with the assurance that Harry is following close behind. Harry was, and after a few other patrons are tended to, the boys order their choices and cheer a duet of tequilas in celebration of their success.

The tequila is still travelling down Harry's throat when a voice, so sweet and so familiar, almost causes him to choke, his eyes opening, neck dropping to look at the person who had exclaimed "Oi!". Unsurprisingly, you are standing there, arms on your hips, a look of disappointment painted across your face,

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“To be fair, I didn’t expect you to be here either.” Jack shrugs.

“I thought you were trick-or-treating, Jack." You chide.

“Oh, please, we’re seventeen. You knew that was a cover.” His eye-rolls with a jovial smirk.

“Still. I thought at least a house party.”

“Which is exactly where you said you would be.”

“Shut up.” Your last line of defence.

“C’mon, Y/n. Go have fun, it’ll be like we’re not even here.”

With a dissatisfied sigh, you grab your drink from the bar counter and gather within the group of girls all dressed with glamorous uniqueness, disappearing into the mass of dancers, praying that Jack’s statement would prove correct.

But, as expected, this promise was broken within the first hour after the desperate need for a Marlboro was lulling in your lungs, and for some useless and godforsaken reason, smoking is banned from the bar and dancefloor- bar vaping- however, due to the lack of an outside area, the designated smoking zone was the hallway.

After a trip to the bathroom- which had vanity counters, ladies waiting near the cashmere wash towels to unnecessarily aid in drying your hands; each bathroom is garnished with gold framing and every stall comes with a little glass table attached to the wall; perfect for cutting lines of coke- you decided it was time to settle down for a good smoke, spotting an empty, luxurious maroon and velvet two-seater sofa.

Your focus is on the ridiculous custom silver bear lighter you bought second-hand, your head bowed, smoke balanced between your lips, so it comes as a great surprise when you glance up and Harry is standing before you. By the time your cigarette sets alight, he is settled next to you on the lounger,

“Fancy seeing you here.” He teases lazily.

“You lost Jack?” You shift your body to better see him, simultaneously handing him your smoke.

“Always do.” He softly chuckles, knuckles brushing your fingertips in exchange, and he takes a good drag, hoping it will miraculously cure the anxiety that seemed to return the moment he found himself alone.

“That guy’s a menace.”

"This is the strangest hallway I've ever seen." He comments, glancing around the room of scattered stoners and straight smokers. Then he remembers the house he visited less than three hours ago, "And that's saying something."

"Our hallway is not that bad." You lamely defend- this conversation has been ongoing since youth.

"Can't believe we're sitting on a chez lounge." Harry marvels, hand stroking at the smooth material.

"This place truly is something." You agree, proceeding to ponder the answer to a premonition she needs confirmation for, “What are you doing over here?”

“Just needed a breather.” He admits. “You?”

“Guess I’m doing the same.” You consider.

“What’s the matter, klutz?” He reads your mood like a medium- some sort of magician.

“Boys are shitty.” You allow him the tip of the ice burg- it has been bugging you, perhaps not as much as the other things bothering and plaguing you.

“We are.” He agrees lightly, knowing it would be detrimental to pry.

“You aren’t. most of the time, anyway.”

“I thought I was the most annoying person you know.”

“You are. Maybe ever.” You dramatise your distaste, “But you are by no means shitty.”

For a reason Harry had always known, yet never questioned, he found your presence as relaxing as falling asleep cradled by a fluffy cloud. He briefly wonders if you feel the same, but knows better than to embrace hope. Nevertheless, he says what he can guarantee will suit your interesting demeanour,

“I’m sorry about… whatever you’re going through.”

“Thanks, Harry.” You smile earnestly as the pair of you proceed to pass the cigarette back and forth, comfortable in the presence of taking a cool-down.

But, with your vulnerability out in the open, it becomes mandatory to verify the reason he is currently sitting beside you,

“Why aren’t you down there?”

Harry knew it was coming, thought about what to say, and came up with a few reasonable excuses but as soon as the question leaves your quirked and lush lips, the truth comes pouring out and he cannot do anything but witness his honesty,

“I feel out of my element.”

“That’s all in your head.” You try to reassure him, knowing it isn’t that simple, yet hoping he might allow you the chance to prove it, even for just a moment.

“Oh, is that right?” He smirks.

You are standing before he can blink twice, singing your cigarette in the ashtray and reaching your arm out for him to join you,

“C’mon, I’ll show you.”

He doesn’t protest- he doesn’t even hesitate as he wraps his hand in your own, raising from the chair and allowing you to drag him wherever you please.

This results in descending stairs, weaving through a crowd before finally reaching the destination; the bar. He shouldn’t be surprised, but the pleasure and subconscious pride he wore as you tugged him about, moving closer, sometimes a few steps apart, but never letting go of his hand- even if only one finger was hooked to his own.

The bartender arrives with such haste that Harry is almost certain it has something to do with your beauty- it does- but mere moments later he finds out that you are in fact a regular visitor- and a loved one, at that.

Harry is so enamoured and floored with such an overload of new information about you that he hardly registers when you tilt over the counter and order four tequilas.

And when the tequila arrives, there are five, offered as, ‘on the house’. Your reaction is mischievous and Harry feels exhilarated at the promise of your mission to make his night memorable.

“Bottoms up.” You command, double-parking and encouraging Harry to wrap both of his shot glasses in each palm. He does as follows, giving you awkward cheers before copying your skill and tossing back the tequila one after the other. You then guide Harry to drop both glasses on the table and immediately grab the lonesome shot glass, still filled to the brim.

You go in for half a sip, savouring the sharp spirits slipping down your throat but leaving half the glass full. Handing it over to Harry he finishes the drink and turns to you in anticipation for further instructions. Your shoulders can’t resist a consequential shudder, and then you clap your hands together and cheekily beam up at him,

“Now, we dance.”

“I can’t dance.” His pitch is one of panic and protest.

“Neither can I.” You answer proudly, wrapping his hand in your own and leading him onto the dancefloor.

🍷 2016 🍷

Your boyfriend has caused yet another scene, taking it personally when some poor guy dressed as a zombie accidentally stepped on his foot.

Before he had the chance to toss more furniture, you plan an escape and make a beeline for the kitchen- somewhere likely to be devoid of party-goers. But when you round the corner, the sight of Harry, dressed in a white and red striped shirt, hair quaffed beneath a goofy matching beanie, and eyes framed by large, black round glasses. He's sitting on the counter, his light jean-clad legs dangling, shoes knocking against the bottom cabinets.

He seems too calm for such a festive evening, especially when he is as notorious as Jack when it comes to turning into a playful nuisance- affectionate, chatty, and likely to end up attempting to dance.

You walk straight over, only coming to a halt when your sternum presses into his knees, and beneath those gaudy glasses, you don't miss the way his deep green eyes swell and his lashes bash beautifully with bafflement.

"Ah, here's Waldo." You beam up at him.

"Y'got me." He lightly shrugged, a sneaky smile painting his cheeks.

"What do I win?"

Eyes widening with an accompanying Chesire cat smile, your tone tainted with taunting cheeriness. But, nonsensically you lean in closer, bare abdomen grazing his denim.

Whether intentional or not, Harry is set alight, his burning knees spreading along his stomach, trailing up his chest, simmering his heart and throat, coals burning at his cheeks and brain. He is so stoned on placebo, that his mouth is unable to project his profession,

"Anything you want."

You are experiencing first-degree burns, bathing yourself in diversion,

"Are these your real glasses?" You lean your face forward, lining up with his own, your hands gently clasping the black frames and examining the determined false lenses. "Guess not."

There are less than zero reasons for your bodies to remain so stuck, relaxed in the sanctuary of physical contact, but neither of you makes an attempt to move, unaddressed and absolutely mad. You deem it time to turn things around,

"Avoiding the party?"

"A little." He shrugs.

"Bad company?"

"The worst." He tilts his chin to the ceiling before returning his gaze to your own, "Though I can't imagine I'm much better."

"Anything is better than the mess going on outside." You meet his pondersome eyes with a competitive roll of your own.

Now Harry understands the crash he had heard through the kitchen window. Your expressions of annoyance and disappointment emit all of the information he needs to know,

"Dickie acting up again?"

"You know that's not his name."

"It should be."

Harry has never shied away from expressing his distaste for your boyfriend- simply because you were dating him. Harry was hardly around, and when he was, you were almost guaranteed to be absent due to plans with Ricky.

With a sudden bough of frustration, your hands press into Harry's upper thighs to properly balance yourself. he does everything- and more- to avoid physically reacting to your unusual closeness. You breathe out and it matches the mournful furrow of your brow,

"He's just... why does he have to be so aggressive?"

"Yeah, that table certainly didn't deserve that." Harry leans in, looking down at you with a worrisome but sensitive demeanour. And then he leaps and lightly wraps his hand around your hip.

His eyes are studying your soft face, his heart focused on your sweet features and the feeling of your skin separated by his clothes, but his head is still stuck on the confusion currently holding you captive. He can't help by prying,

"He's not... aggressive with you, right?"

"Not yet." The words trail off of your tongue. And then you toss everything aside, pressing your fingers into his thigh "I don't wanna talk about it right now."

Harry doesn't know how to react, sudden shocks of arousal emulating at the discomfort of your digging nails, the desperate desire to destroy the distance between your lips, loop his arm around your neck, softly cup your cheek and express how special you should be treated- with such certainty that you never forget,

"I like your costume. Might be your best so far."

It definitely is, you are rather impressed with how well your Other Mother costume turned out. Though, your already tragic bank account has taken a traumatic bashing,

"I spent way too much money on it."

"How much?" His grin is mischievous.

"Too much."

"Now I have to know." He pleads, but know you will never utter the shame you suffer. He won't let you off the hook so easy, though, "Just to rub it in, I'll have you know, I only spent three pounds."

You huff, leaning further into his touch, enjoying the feeling of his fingers on your flesh. He has to tilt to see you fully, and you aid him craning your neck to meet him in the middle, dismissing the deemed unnecessary distance,

"Well, you've done a terrible job at making it hard to find you."

"Maybe I wanted you to find me." He shrugs with suave.

"That was ambitious."

"It worked, yeah?" He is seeping with playful pride, though he cannot prevent his need to compliment you- perhaps the only way to get his attraction across was through words, true words at that, "You really do look beautiful."

"Not just sexy?"

"Sexy as fuck." He groans, fingers pressing into the plush fleshyness of your waist, "But not just sexy."

"Filthy." You scold seductively.

And then you seem to find yourself sinking further into his touch, trying with everything in you to get nearer- his neck so biteable, collarbone begging for loving bruises. Harry is on the same page, body pressing into your own, his palm trailing up and settling on your lower back.

You think he might kiss you. You think you are out of your mind... But, you think you're going to let him. The only thing to pause your seemingly-senseless thoughts is the defensive, stern, and frankly, threatening boom of your boyfriend,

"Hey, what the fuck are you doing with my girl?"

Like velcro being violently ripped apart, you have never moved with such haste in all of your current existence to date. Harry is now at least three feet away from you, and your boyfriend is berzerkly striding towards him. Harry calmly and rationally raises his palms in defence,

"Nothing, mate."

"Ricky-" You edge closer.

But, your boyfriend has already aimed his fist at Harry's face, and instead of reacting with returned aggression, he interjects,

"Mate, chill out." Harry reasons with a casual shrug, "She's like a sister to me."

An invasive feeling of disappointment pangs at your heart at the sound of sister, and to this day you will not analyse why. It was something you were guaranteed to repeat in the future.

"Am I supposed to believe that?" Ricky scoffs but his arm drops to his side nevertheless.

Harry hops off of the counter with ease, stepping past your boyfriend with effortless confidence. He glances over at you for a mere instance- not long enough for you to comprehend the event that just unfolded.

He reaches over to the nearest countertop and grabs his solo-cup and before turning his back completely, he addresses Ricky with finality,

"Believe what you want, Batman."

🍷 2018 🍷

Harry knocks for a third time before Jack finally answers the door- and when he does, dressed Pennywise- a red balloon tied to his wrist- Harry instantly regrets his entire life, attempting to prepare for a chaotic Halloween party. Whenever Jack finds himself in an extravagant, far-too-detailed costume, two things are certain; there will be a magically, monstrous punch bowl, and Jack will be dancing on any piece of furniture that catches his eye.

“So, this was your last-minute decision?” Harry works hard to keep the disturbed feelings from projecting across his features.

“It was this or Heisenburg, okay?” Jack sighs, audatiously comparing his- what can only be described as a slutty Pennywise to simply purchasing a hazmat.

“How much time did you spend on this?” Harry finds his amusement increasing.

“Too long.” Jack admits with distaste. But all in all, This is the best of his costumes to date, and Harry certainly agrees.

“I’m sure the ladies will love it.” He commends, and Jack nods avidly, his face mimicking that of confidence.

Harry ponders halfheartedly as they enter the home Harry knows so well- the home he spent at least a quarter of his 28 years. It's only as he reaches the living room, packed with both familiar and unfamiliar faces. Many of them seem older than he, and Harry can only assume these are friends of Jack’s college, and your work colleagues.

A pang of panic threatens to become a full-blown wave of disappointment and regret. Missing out on the life he could have had.

Before he can be swept away by his newfound unfamiliarity, Jack has led them to the makeshift bar- a dining table decorated with spooky decorations, all surrounding the notorious monster of the eve- the Halloween punch. Harry doesn’t protest- by this point he deems it necessary.

Lightly tapping their cups together in cheers. Jack takes a hearty sip before his brows suddenly raise in realization,

“Huh. That’s funny.” Jack finally takes a moment to acknowledge his best friend, emulating the Devil himself.

“Hm?” Harry asks halfheartedly, eyes scanning the room for something and he doesn’t even know what.

“I just noticed your costume.”

Harry’s gaze snaps back to Jack, giving him a puzzled look, masking a sudden bough of insecurity simmering beneath the surface,

“I look funny?”

“No, Y/n told me she was gonna be an Angel. Coincidence, huh?” Jack shrugs.

“Is she here?” Harry tries to hide the sudden panic.

“Not yet. You know she’s gonna lose her mind over it.” Jack grins, always bemused by the so-called banter between his sister and best friend.

Harry’s panic is substituted by an odd sense of relief- he now knows what- or who- he had been searching for. With a bough of mischievous confidence, he mimics his best friend's grin and informs,

“Just what I wanted to hear.”

👻

Upon the news of his holy crush’s imminent arrival, Harry finishes his first punch cup and then heads towards the ‘bar’ to pour another.

Pleasantly, someone is already attending to the punch- an old teammate from his high school football team has the same intentions, finishing up on filling his cup before recognizing Harry and enthusiastically initiating a catch-up. One that proves helpful, replacing his thoughts of you with good conversation and in turn, allows him to react.

It’s unclear how long this chat persisted as the boys moved from the make-shift bar to a spot on the porch- already scattered with smokers and an extremely tense game of beer-pong.

Eventually, the punch has caught up with him and Harry has to excuse himself in favour of the bathroom. This should be an easy enough task, but this monstrous punch has proved poisonous as it lags his movements and encourages him to take a long, good look at himself in the cobweb-framed mirror.

Impressed with his costume, and impressed with how calm and cheery he felt. Things don’t seem so bad- the intrusive thoughts were offering silence for the sake of letting him have a good time.

His best friend’s home has always had the oddest of hallways. A complicated combination of narrow to wide, with unnecessary corners and nooks. These proved sacred during the times of childhood, the perfect place to out-smart the person trying to yell, ‘Tag, you’re it!’ Now, this hallway is treacherous and Harry longs to find himself back in the living room, especially with the amount of party-goers crowding the corridor.

Looking back, Harry wonders if he would have even seen you wedged between a pair of what seems to be Cersei and Jaime Lannister. It would be hard not to, with the way the shimmering satin dress and the sparkling halo create a ring of glory around you.

But you certainly see him, meandering down the hallway dressed in a costume to match your own. Your first feeling should be annoyance, but unfortunately, your thoughts are redirected to just how good he looks.

The duo you were humouring are a thing of the past as you mutter an “excuse me”- gaze and mind already set on intercepting Satan himself.

He’s leaning against the wall- being extra careful to not knock over any picture frames. His head is bowed, contemplating his next move and it suddenly and forcefully occurs to him that his original plan to find you was diverted by a pointless side-quest.

As if the thin veil of Halloween was thoughtful enough to grant him instant gratification, a set of white heels, laced to the upper calf is walking his way. He lets his eyes trail the length of soft thighs up to the seams of lacy trim, savouring each fleshy, smooth thigh before finally addressing the owner's face.

When his eyes are met with your own, glittering with each blink, Harry’s widen in surprise, jaw threatening to slack as you stop before him. Giving him a good glance before mimicking his stance and balancing yourself against the wall.

“Well, well, well.” Your tone is both amused and annoyed.

A sudden rush of ease and euphoria washes over him at the coolness of your mood- though, that was subject to change rather quickly in the presence of Harry.

On a whim you attribute to both a poisonous punch and the devil standing before you, Harry is taken off guard by the sudden contact of your palm on his chest, even more, surprised as you push and guide him into the nearest alcove.

But that was as far as your thoughts had progressed, what was the plan now? This is a result of impulsivity, and when you concede and don’t go on to say anything further, Harry takes the opportunity to back you into the corner, arms balancing loosely on the wall near your face.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” His smile is cheesy.

“I’m sure you’re enjoying this.” Your eyes roll, arms crossing your chest in distaste.

Harry tilts down ever so slightly, aligning his lips with the shell of your ear,

“Loving it.”

“And I’m supposed to believe this is just a coincidence?”

“Believe what you want, Angel.”

He returns to his previous position, aching to get a better look at your face, hoping that the blush pink scattered across your cheeks is a product of not makeup, but himself. You cannot admit that it’s a combination of both- not even to yourself- instead opting for a classic eye-roll and continuing to do what you do best,

“I see you chose to go costume-less this year.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“You’re the Devil.” You try, “Truly.”

By now, your hands have dropped to your sides, securing distance but still unexplainably allowing Harry the chance to wander closer if he wishes. He does, but only enough for your chests to brush, his head bowed to gaze your way, one of his hands reaching out to fiddle with the accessory adorning your head,

“Why, because I make you want to ditch that pretty little halo?”

“You’re insane.” You chide, palm raising to his abdomen in protest.

“And you want me.” He articulates with certainty.

“Correction, you’re psychotic.”

But you like the feeling of his muscles tensing beneath your hold, the musky and fruity aroma invading your senses. The curve where his shoulder and neck meet is aligned with your chin, and for a split second, you ponder the impulse to get closer, latch your lips to his skin and sink your teeth in.

Harry likes having you so near, he can smell the Chanel and cocoa butter seeping from your skin, the crown of your head smells of something fruity and fresh. And when your hand absentmindedly trails further along his stomach, settling on his shoulder, Harry almost stops breathing when his impulses get the best of him, wrapping his free arm around your waist, and when you don’t protest and your free arm goes to rest along his shoulder, he thinks he might have a chance,

“Are you sure, pretty Angel? Your body seems to think otherwise.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

“You’re more than welcome.” he smirks, loving the way your eyes simmer with conflict, “…To shut me up, that is.”

You decide that fame has done a lot to him, not just the typical singing, stadiums and superstardom, so why the hell is he talking like a… man? Like he knows how to seduce a woman, and why the fuck does that make your stomach churn with curiosity.

But, you remind yourself that age equals experience and that makes you the superior. Besides, from the way he’s currently behaving, you have an inkling that his ego has likely inflated.

This could be fun. Two could play at this game, and no matter the amount of fraternizing Harry may have committed, you were competitively and egotistically prepared to knock him down a peg.

Raising to the tip of your toes, hand tightening on his shoulder, nails softly scratching at his back, your other hand reaching to wrap around his neck, your thumb stroking the crook of his chin. Batting your eyelashes with a lick of the lips, you ensure he hears each and every word,

“Is that what you want, sweet boy?” You coo, and Harry stiffens in an instant, blinking rapidly as you push on, “Want me to take care of you?”

“You can do whatever you want.” He blurts out before the ‘ou’, fist flexing against the wall, his body aching to be tangled up with your own.

It's cute, and unnecessarily arousing, and as much as you know you shouldn’t, there’s an ache in your chest that chants for you to crumb him along for just a little longer,

“Pity. After all, this is just a costume.”

“Prove it.”

His eyes are eager, nose bumping along your forehead, and your hand comes to its finale as it holds his cheek in place, gently pulling his face nearer to your own. You pout, but the sly smirk prints itself at the corners of your lips nevertheless,

“A Devil certainly isn't deserving.”

“Prove it anyways.”

Harry thinks he’s about two sentences away from begging for something he didn’t know he needed so desperately. As much as it pains you to put a pin in this, the confusion of juxtaposition of attraction is threatening to make you light-headed.

“No.”

So, to Harry’s utter dismay, you release him from your hold and tactfully slip out between the space you once occupied. With one more sympathetic pat on his shoulder, you smile at him and make your way back down the hallway, feathered wings taunting him in your wake.

🍷 2019 🍷

Harry was lucky enough to have been in town for Halloween- he can't count how many holidays he missed over the last half-decade. He’s dressed as her favourite thing; a teddy bear- fuzzy ears and makeup to match. Your brother, Jack was hosting his famously chaotic annual Halloween celebration, and Harry was far too giddy at the guarantee of seeing you again. He can't count the missed holidays, but he can certainly count how many years it’s been since you last spoke- mar the quick birthday wishes, and periodic congratulations and praise.

But, after an hour or so, he is starting to doubt his certainty, gaze shamelessly studying the room, hoping he had merely missed your arrival. Two solo cups of warm beer later, Harry is itching to locate you- this is your tradition after all, and he was so sure that this time would end differently, that she would finally see him for the man he was becoming.

He definitely wouldn’t be asking Jack why you weren’t here- partially because he seems preoccupied with a makeshift gravity bong. Instead, Harry seeks out one of your oldest friends, Nova, who is dressed as a Harley Quinn, but before he can even reach the group in which she mingles, his boot trips on a rug and unable to help it, the contents of his cup comes spilling out, splashing and coating Nova’s front with the sticky substance. After apologising profusely- even if just to come off polite- Harry musters up the humility to ponder your lack of presence.

Disheartened and disappointed when she responds with, “She’s in Italy”, Harry is once again confused by Jack’s lack of mentioning the news. Though none of his business, the dichotomy of standing his ground and avoiding the question versus caving in and simply asking Jack has him in quite the frenzy.

The rest of the evening is a bore- Harry switches to ginger ale, and though he attempts to mingle, maintaining interest proves to be impossible, and for the first time, Harry makes the decision to head home early.

But, now, with a make-up-free face and his favourite jammies, he is tucked beneath the fluffiest sheets and your mere existence is pulling the sheets tighter, trapping him in a series of thoughts of yours truly, thinking about you.

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mamasbakeria · 1 year

Text

their favorite parts of the braiding process

summary: lmfao it’s just the title

genre | includes: headcanons, sfw, black reader, gn reader, established relationship

characters: eren jaeger, mikasa ackerman, armin arlert, sasha braus, jean kirschtein, connie springer, levi ackerman, hange zoe, erwin smith, historia reiss, ymir (not fritz), reiner braun, annie leonhardt, bertholdt hoover, marco bodt, miche zacharius, nanaba, zeke jaeger, yelena, onyankopon, pieck finger, porco galliard

author’s note: got my hair done a few days ago and i’ve been experiencing insane aot brainrot so here we are. ignore the way these got progressively longer lol. this was fun and i have some other ideas, maybe college won’t kill me before i post them. enjoy and lemme know what you think :)

the take down – you can’t really place them. they never want you to take your old hair out, but are all giggly with the scissors when you assert that it’s time. they can’t help it. even with all the build-up on your scalp, they think the return of your natural hair is something out of a fairy tale. they love the curl pattern left in your hair after weeks of being in braids and they love separating the braiding hair from your own. the scene stays the same: you’re on a pillow on the floor between their knees while a shitty hallmark romcom plays on the tv in front of you. both of you are armed with rattail and wide tooth combs, mentally preparing for all the shedding and breakage you’ll be brushing off the couch for the next few weeks. it’s routine at this point for them to jokingly hover the open scissors over the part of your braid where you know damn well your hair is and ask if they can cut from there. it’s also routine for the scissors to get snatched right out of their hands as you proceed to cut way below where your hair could logically be because “after all the time i spent fighting people in walmart for the mielle oil, i better have a natural 40 inch buss down under all this xpressions”.

EREN, ymir, PIECK, zeke (cut your hair like an inch from the scalp while removing butterfly locs one time and, to this day, you’ve never seen someone more terrified), nanaba, YELENA, onyankopon

the wash – they’re probably more excited about your hair getting washed than you are. they miss giving you scalp massages without having 6 weeks worth of gel and leave in conditioner left under their nails. what they didn’t get was why it took so long. it probably sparked an argument because they never spend that much time washing their hair, so why do you? it wasn’t until you made them watch as you and your detangling brush fought with your curls under the stream of water and nearly blacked out from the heat that they realized why the water bill was so high. to save your aching arms (and hopefully some extra cash) they offered to wash your hair for you. they nearly waterboarded you the first time, but with practice, they got better. now, nothing relaxes them more than lathering shampoo through your hair and occasionally spraying water in your face when you look too at peace. they buy you a salon wash basin for christmas so you both can stop crouching over the tub which is great, but where the fuck are you supposed to install it?

MIKASA, erwin, sasha, REINER (has the cutest smile when you sigh in response to him scratching that one spot on your scalp), hange, jean, annie, porco

the blowout – they don’t realize, especially if your hair is type 4, that detangling during the wash is only half the battle. it doesn’t matter how silky smooth it got in the shower, the second the blow dryer is out, it all goes to hell. i hope you’re not tenderheaded because the fight between them and your curls is long and painful. but it's a battle they refuse to let you fight. god forbid you try to blow out your own hair– they get sooo upset. which confuses you because the way they grumble under their breath while passing the comb attachment through your hair has you convinced they’re only doing it to work out some unresolved stress. the truth is, they just know you’ll forget to use heat protectant and wind up frying your hair. and they know how upset you get when you realize some of your roots didn’t get stretched. so they’ll (gently) muscle their way through the most stubborn tangles any day if it means getting to see you smile at how healthy your hair looks and how much it has grown since the last time you saw it like this. they love how your hair now floats around you. they don’t love how sore their arms are. “damn, no wonder you’re so strong.”

connie, PORCO, BERTHOLDT, armin, miche, MARCO (probably cries when the comb extension breaks in your hair)

the beauty supply runs – the simultaneously dull and fluorescent lighting casts an otherworldly glow over the aisles of gel, deep conditioner, kankelon hair, and wig glue. for some reason, there’s always a childlike gleam in their eye as they scan the wigs along the wall. you have to hold their hand every time so they don’t wander off. it’s not like the store is big–you could probably read each other’s lips while standing on opposite sides–but if given the freedom to roam, you’d be leaving $250 poorer than you planned for with bags full of stuff you absolutely don’t need. “babe we have matching bonnets, we don’t need them in zebra stripes too.” if you can convince them to stick with you, they’re snatching every bottle you pick up out of your hand. before you can even begin questioning them, they’ve already started reciting information about the ingredients of the products and why it isn’t good for your hair’s porosity. you can only stare dumbly as they hand you a better option to try because you have no idea when they would have had time to do any of this research. the favorite part of the trip for both of you is picking the color you’re doing next. the average passerby would think you’re trying to decide which wire to cut so you don’t detonate a bomb with how hard you both scrutinize the packs of color 30 and 350 in front of you (ginger is always your color)

HANGE, marco, mikasa, ONYANKOPON (will give you the dirtiest look if you so much as glance at a cantu product), pieck

the parting – this is the first step of the actual installation process that you involve them in. before they used to sit next to you on the couch as you did it all yourself, committing every movement your fingers made to memory and keeping you company. they would frown as you cursed your lack of ability to see perfectly behind your head and parted the same section over and over again. they wanted to offer help, they really did, they just didn’t trust themselves enough. so when you both started working from home and you didn’t care what your parts looked like, you let them try. it wasn’t perfect the first time, or the second. for about a month, you rock faux locs with a scalp that looks like the drawing on your fridge gifted to you by your 5 year old nephew, but that’s what beanies are for. rough start aside, they pick up on it quickly. they figure out how much gel you really need for your braids to look neat and don’t overdo it. wielding the comb with confidence, they cut through your hair like butter. soon they’re parting your hair into boxes, hearts, arches, diamonds, and whatever else you could imagine like moses did the red sea. “babe do you think it would look good if i make one of them look like my initials?”

ARMIN, eren, levi, ERWIN, ZEKE, historia (got really good really fast… hisu who do you fuck in the city when i’m not there?), bertholdt

the braid down – they’re in awe of the dexterity of your stylist's fingers as she adds pieces of braiding hair to your own and hardly looks down while nimbly braiding all the way to the ends. they sit through all your appointments–locs, press and curls, protein treatments, wig installs–but nothing fascinates them as much as the art of a simple braid. they ask all sorts of questions about what your stylist is doing and even start putting hair on the rack to make the process go smoother. they pay even more attention when you do it yourself because they aren’t worried about distracting anyone from doing their job. before long, they know almost everything there is to know about your braids except for how to do them. and they want to know so badly. the opportunity arises when you both relocate to a new city and all the “stylists” are charging $300+ for smedium mid-back knotless braids. you’d do it yourself, but you broke two fingers during the move-in process and aren’t skilled enough to work around it. you think you need to coach them through the process, but are pleasantly surprised when they get the grip right the first time and are halfway down by the time you’ve picked what movie trilogy you want to watch. turns out they’d been watching youtube videos and taking lessons from your old stylist so they could do it for you one day. at least that’s what they tell you, they really just like popping your head with the comb when you move from where they positioned it. “ow! stop pushing my head around” “keep your head still and i’ll think about it”

LEVI, yelena, YMIR (does the thing where she talks on the phone with it tucked in between her shoulder and her ear while braiding at top speed, like just put it on speaker), onyankopon, mikasa, armin, ANNIE

the finished product – they are NOT here for delayed gratification. they want to see your hair done and they want to see it now. they get more restless than you do and they’re not the one getting their thoughts and dreams braided for 5 hours. like why are they more upset about the infamous last braid that gets split into 4 more than you are? “man what the fuck are you so upset about? this is not your scalp??” it’s nice having them around regardless. whether or not they’re helping with the actual braiding, they’re your biggest supporter. they’ll grab you (and the stylist if you aren’t doing it yourself) mcdonalds, boil the water to seal your ends, oil your scalp, mousse your hair, trim the flyaways, sweep up the stray hair, etc. knowing how tired you are, all the time consuming clean up is their self-allotted duty. but once all of that is done, they get to do what they’ve been waiting for: admire you. without fail, the second you stand up they’re taking pictures from every angle, showering you with compliments (ginger really is your color), peppering your head with kisses, but most importantly, just looking at how beautiful you are. you outdo yourself every time and they tell you as much, even if it embarrasses you.

HISTORIA, connie, pieck, hange, SASHA, reiner, JEAN (the heart eyes this man has for you…and don’t get me started on the sketches he makes of you with every new style you get. he is SO whipped)

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awooghan · 1 year

Text

24 to 25 ✧.* y.ji (TEASER)

➳ PAIRING: jeongin x fem!reader

➳ GENRE: fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers

➳ WARNINGS: none (teaser only)

➳ WORD COUNT: 1.5k for teaser; 25k+ for full fic 😵‍💫

(UPDATE: i gravely underestimated my final wc t’s actually 47.7k 😭)

➳ SUMMARY: “stay for christmas?” was a phrase jeongin first uttered to you when you were both ten years old, but neither of you had any idea the bond those three little words would hold as the years go by.

➳ NOTES: hey besties! this is a backup account for @//plutominho , i got shadowbanned on there and just made a new account so ppl can actually see this come up in the tags 😭 this is my longest fic yet and i’m honestly still writing the last few parts of it 🫠 but i rly like how it’s turned out so far and i hope y’all will like it too! it’s a rewrite of a fic from last year. i’ll save the actual long note for when i post the final product but thank you so so much to @svtbabies for helping me throughout the course of writing this fic. you’ve helped so much in fleshing out the plot and the little details that i got stuck on and i absolutely adore what’s come out of this. also ty for the lovely banner ahhhhh ilysm 🥹🫂

ALSO LEMME KNOW IF U WANT TO BE TAGGED IN THE FULL FIC <3

@starlighthan @starseungs @crispy-chan @gloseoks @pearlychai @sulfurcosmos …uh hey i’m alive 👁👄👁

“Come on, Y/N, you can’t cling onto my shirt forever,” your mother urges you with a small chuckle.

You stiffen up in your spot at the edge of the picnic bench, and your eyes bounce between the several children on and around the playground equipment. Mixtures of squeals and cheerful laughter ring above the christmas song playing from the outdoor speaker your new neighbors, the Choi family, set up. You forgot if it was the one with the son older than you or the son your age, though—you didn’t exactly bother to learn their names when your mother introduced you.

“Go on, Y/N.” Her voice fills your ears again as she gently pushes you off the bench. Speak of the devil.

Shoving your hands in your pockets, you kick the dust with your feet and you keep your gaze cast down on the ground. You didn’t want to socialize—why would you want to make new friends when you had perfectly good ones back in your old neighborhood? Why couldn’t you just go back there? Or just snatch your mother’s dingy old flip phone for a couple minutes to send them a message?

Besides, most of the children here don’t seem like ones you’d be particularly… compatible with. You shouldn’t be one to judge, but the majority of the ones doing laps on the playground equipment couldn’t have been older than five or six. At your big age of nine years old, there’s not much you would have in common with a literal kindergartener. Plus, it seems like they had all formed a friend group of their own, and you’re more than content just watching them chase each other around, gleeful, high-pitched squeals bubbling from their sticky mouths.

Turning your head slightly, you find a group of teenagers sitting around another bench several feet away from all the adults, two of which had their bottoms perched on top of the table as they faced their friends. You would approach them, but just like how you wouldn’t exactly favor befriending the five-year-olds with crayons up their noses, the teenagers likely thought the same of you. Closing your eyes in despair, you groan to yourself and resort to dragging your feet across the dirt.

Why did you even have to move?

As you let out a sigh, you perk up at the fact you could see it in the cold air. It sparks an insurmountable amount of joy for some reason. Perhaps it’s because of the timing of the puff of air with the line, ’Jack Frost nipping at your nose’ that rings from the speakers at the other end of the small neighborhood park, but it causes a giggle to slip past your lips. It’s almost like a new light under the already-dimming sky, the soft pinks and oranges slowly dissipating as the sun begins to dip behind the mountains and give way to the overcast above.

However, you quickly get distracted by the sight of a boy your age—or at least, you assumed—and you hesitantly step closer.

And there he was.

He was short, upside down on the monkey bars, and wearing the most obnoxious shade of purple you had ever laid eyes on. You aren’t sure what hurts more: the sun in your eyes or staring at his sweater.

Looking away from the light gray clouds that hung above the park, you let your gaze fall to the boy. He watches you quietly as he continues to hang upside down, and you notice the small smile that paints his slowly reddening face.

Here goes nothing, you guess.

“Um… hi.”

He stays silent, staring at you with his beady eyes.

Gulping, you continue. “I'm Y/N.”

He mumbles something back, but you can barely make out what he says and you tilt your head slightly in confusion.

“Huh?”

“My name is Jeongin,” he repeats, only the slightest bit louder.

A smile of your own quickly forms on your face. You raise a hand up for him to shake, and he just stares at it for a second before moving one of his outstretched arms to meet you, his hand grasping yours at an awkward angle. You both can’t help but giggle as you give your best attempt at a handshake.

“Nice to meet you, Jeongin,” you say, slowly pulling your hand away and letting his drop above, or rather, below his upside-down head. “I'm Y/N.”

“You said that already,” He says, and his bluntness makes you chuckle.

Slowly, Jeongin maneuvers himself so he’s sitting on top of the monkey bars instead of hanging upside down. Once he gets upright and steadies himself from the blood rushing down from his head, he stares back down at you.

You stuff your hands into your pockets and heave out a sigh. “My mom says I need a friend,” you explain your current plight to Jeongin, and you find his soft gaze once again. It’s strange, really—you've only exchanged a few words with this boy, but you already feel comfortable enough to complain about your mother’s nagging to him.

You suppose that helps your next words spill out more easily.

“Want to be friends?”

You watch Jeongin expectantly as he looks down, picking at a piece of lint on his hideous purple sweater. He ponders your question for a minute, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you when he finally nods in response. If your mom wanted you to have a friend so badly, there you go. You got one.

You stand there awkwardly, your eyes drifting back up to the sky for a moment. It occurs to you that you’ve never asked someone to be friends with you; it’s always just kind of happened.

And now you’re stuck, unsure what to do next.

You let out another huff of air, another smile tickling your lips as you watch the faint, white puff form in front of your eyes. Then you look back up at the boy in the obnoxious purple sweater, who seems just as amused by the cold air as you as he lets out his own breath, exhaling like a small dragon.

A chuckle escapes your parted lips as you watch him, kicking his legs lightly as he stares up at the sky. After another minute, you speak again.

“Can I sit up there with you too?”

Nodding his head, he mumbles a small “yeah” and the corners of your mouth twitch up as you hurriedly climb your way up onto the monkey bars. You dangle your legs through the same section as Jeongin’s, and you shift your position slightly as you steady yourself.

A gust of cold air causes you to shiver and as a response, you pull your puffy coat closer to you. This seems to make Jeongin chuckle fondly, and you feel his eyes linger on you for a second before he looks out at the horizon. Neither of you are tall enough to see much above the houses in front of you, but you figure you can use your imaginations to picture what lies beyond that. It’ll have to do.

You both remain silent for a while like this, allowing the chatter and Christmas music below to fill the air around you. It’s comfortable, it feels like a weighted blanket wrapped around your shoulders—which is funny to say because you’re sharing this moment with a kid you’ve barely known for ten minutes. You don’t mind, though. By the looks of it, and the friendly glances you exchange with each other, Jeongin doesn’t seem to, either.

Suddenly, a cold, wet spot falls onto your nose, causing you to gasp and look up.

“Is that…”

Jeongin tilts his head up as well, and he chuckles when another wet drop lands on his face. Meanwhile, you’re in awe. You let your mouth fall open, and your eyes swirl with pure wonderment as you watch the white crystals above you flutter down. It sends chills down your spine, but wraps you up in a cocoon of warmth at the same time.

“Snow…” is all you manage to mumble.

Jeongin turns to you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Have you never seen snow before?”

You glance at him once, shake your head, and look back up at the sky.

The boy’s jaw drops. It almost mirrors your dazed expression, except his features are twisted in surprise. But it’s true—snow was something you had only witnessed in movies. As far as you were concerned, the fluffy, white particles only ever graced the stop-motion characters on the old-timey Christmas cartoons you rewatched every year, or the main couple in whatever cheesy Hallmark movie your parents decided to indulge in.

That is, until now.

You didn’t know at that moment what type of future you had in store, but you know one thing: the snow is beautiful. And as you follow Jeongin down the monkey bars and to your first snowball fight, you have an inkling that you’ll be sticking with him for a while.

Maybe this move won’t be so bad after all.

full version release date: december 25 (hopefully)

#stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfic #skz #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz x reader #stray kids written #jeongin #yang jeongin #jeongin x reader #jeongin fanfic #jeongin fluff #jeongin angst #jeongin imagines

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sunarinsstar · 2 years

Text

suna rintaro

“pull the fridge!”

“you’re so annoying.” rin groans as he grabs the fridge to pull, “why are we doing this?”

“first of all, stop whining. second, we’re doing this because we are deep cleaning the apartment and this is part of it.”

“and you’re making me do this because?”

“you’re strong.”

“no i’m not.”

“have you seen yourself play volleyball?”

he rolls his eyes before pulling the fridge halfway out, “get back there.”

“why?”

“so you can clean it.”

“no. you just want to smoosh me back there.”

he squints his eyes at you, “who told you my plan?”

“nobody, i’m just smart.”

“mhm.”

“pull out the fridge.”

“fine.” he rolls his eyes before pulling it out with an exaggerated groan.

“good job buttercup.”

“you annoy me.”

“good!” you hum before looking back there, “see! it’s gross.”

“just like you.”

“have you smelled yourself after practice?”

“no.”

“well i have and you stink.”

he, of course, rolls his eyes again, “wow.”

it’s your turn to roll your eyes before you attention is stolen by a piece of paper behind the fridge, “oooooo!! what’s that?”

“i’ve no idea.”

“weeeeeeeell, let’s find out! get back there.”

“bossy.”

“well i wasn’t expecting there to be much more than crumbs or dust back there but there’s a mystery paper.”

“if you say so.” he says before he reaches back there to grab the now dubbed mystery paper.

“what does it say?”

his eyes widen a bit, “it’s nothing.”

“then why did your eyes get all huge?”

“dust.”

“mhm, lemme see!” you shout before launching yourself at him.

“get off you annoying rat!”

“says the one that looks like one!” you stuck your tongue out at him before snatching the paper, “so, let’s see… roses are red, violets are blue… hmm, it’s unfinished.” your eyes light up, “did you try writing me a love note?” you ask with a teasing voice and a sly smile.

rin’s cheeks are bright red now, “nope.”

“i wonder who else it was. perhaps our rabbit?”

“yep.”

“wow, she’s so smart. i didn’t know she could do that.”

“neither did i.”

“well, i’m gonna go ask her talentship if she wrote this love note and help her finish it off.”

“you do that.”

you laugh before hugging him, “i know you wrote it. it’s clearly your handwriting.”

“innocent until proven guilty.”

“guess i’ll go call tsumu.” you say before letting him go and leaving the kitchen.

“why?”

“to ask him if he wrote me the love note.”

“you do that.” he stares behind the fridge for a moment, “wait, why would she ask him of all people?” he thinks while speed walking, definitely not running, out of the kitchen to now save you from the clutches of your mutual friend.

this is for @augustinewrites simple pleasures collab!! would have been done much sooner but i have such a goldfish brain during the summer 😭 and no, we won’t mention that i joined this collab in march 🤩

hope you enjoyed!!

#suna fanfic #suna rintaro fanfic #suna rintaro fluff #suna fluff #suna rintaro scenarios #suna scenarios #suna rintaro imagine #suna imagine #suna x reader #suna x y/n #suna x you #suna rintaro x y/n #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro x reader #haikyuu suna #suna headcanons #ambi writes stuff #ambi collabs

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adrift-in-thyme · 7 months

Note

Hiya Trin! I’d love the commentary on this bit from your one whumptober fic :D It hurts so much, Time’s rambling is just. hhhhhh. much ow.

As gently as possible he pushes Time back onto the log, even as the older hero tries to wrench himself out of his grip. Twilight can feel the panic building steadily within him like water boiling in a kettle. If he can just get him to settle down before it grows out of control…

“You can’t–” The old man gasps, breathless and trembling. “Twi..Twilight…I have to…No!”

Abruptly, he reels back. Before Twilight can react, a fist collides with his face. The rancher stumbles. His grasp slips. With surprising speed, Time lunges for his sword.

“Ganondorf is coming!”

The fear is blatantly visible on his face now, terror audible in his voice. Twilight freezes, hand stopping halfway through its journey to touch his newly bruised cheek.

He’s not the only one with the arm strength of a moblin, apparently.

“Sweet Ordona…”

Time whirls and the rancher is forced to leap out of the way of his sword’s reach.

“Have to get the sages, have to save Zelda…” He takes a stumbling step forward. A particularly violent shudder races through him and the weapon slips from his grip to land with a dull thump on the earthen ground. “Get to the castle….can’t lose this time–all going to die…what a terrible fate…”

Twilight ducks down and snatches Time’s claymore before he can reach for it again. At that moment, Wild scrambles up to his side.

“Here!” He grabs the sword and presses a potion into Twilight’s hands instead. “Lemme get this out of reach and I’ll come help you hold him down.”

Twilight nods. He clenches his hand around the bottle, forcing an inhale through his nose. Time’s words have cut him straight to the core and left him winded and shaky. Never before has he seen the old man this vulnerable, this scared. It just isn’t right, to see his mentor gaze at him like a child seeking refuge from the monsters that stalk the night.

…a child with the world on his small shoulders.

“Time.” His voice trembles the slightest bit and he clears his throat. “I need you to trust me.”

Time freezes before him, teeth chattering, breath coming on haggard half-gasps. He crosses his arms tightly over his chest.

“N-no.” He shakes his head. “Only have three days. The clock resets — e-everything’s over. Have to sta…start again and I can’t… please don’t make me.”

He’s speaking pure nonsense now — at least Twilight desperately hopes that’s what this is — but it’s enough to shatter his heart. What nightmares has the hero endured to inspire a plea like this? What secrets haunt him?

…what regrets?

Ooh I had a lot of fun writing that part lol

So this fic — and this snippet — came out of a mixture of my combined mission to write what I want to read (which in this case was a Time sickfic XD) and to allow Time to be vulnerable. Because while none of the boys are particularly great at being vulnerable I feel like he’s one of the worst (in part because he kinda becomes their unofficial leader/parental figure leaving him no choice but to be strong). And what better way to get a guy to open up about all that juicy trauma than to give him a dangerously high fever? XD And if I could throw in some angst with Twilight (who I’ve realized during a recent reread doesn’t actually know much of Time’s backstory) learning in the worst way some of the stuff his mentor has endured? Even better.

So Twilight is thrown into this situation that no one wants to be in — seeing the terribly human weakness in someone they look up to. And I wanted him to see all of that weakness. I tend to forget how traumatizing OoT was for Time because Majora’s Mask’s creepy vibes made the haunting moments of that journey more prominent for me. But I made a point to make myself remember that here (hence the stuff about Ganondorf, the sages, and Zelda). Plus, at this point I headcanon that Time knows at least a little about the Downfall timeline and his fate in it. So, he references that too (saying that he can’t lose this time).

Basically, Time feels like a kid again. He’s scared, he thinks the sky’s gonna fall at any moment. But so does Twilight. Because here’s two extremes: the hero who soldiered on all day and the broken man who is still trying to save everyone despite being dangerously sick. It’s terrifying tbh. Plus this dude just punched him and he isn’t even sure what to think about that (besides OUCH and RUDE lol).

And Wild’s thrown through a loop too. He’s not as close to Time as Twilight is but they definitely are close. And he’s seeing some of himself in Time rn. He knows what it’s like to have your worst memories come back at the worst times. Which is why he immediately wants to jump in and help Twilight (he also feels bad his brother got punched lol).

Basically a bad time (hehe) for all

And Twilight’s definitely gonna have some questions for Time after this. He may not ask them outright (he doesn’t want to pry). But he always wondered what caused Time to become the Hero’s Shade and now he’s thinking…is all this crazy, nonsense-sounding stuff what basically tied him to this plane of existence? He needs some answers

I feel like I’m rambling so I’m gonna stop now lol but thanks!! <33

#asks #trin answers #snippet ask game

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eveandtheturtles · 11 months

Text

Started with a Kiss - Chapter 10: Where do we stand?

Summary: Best Friend Talk and a trip to the lab.

Ship: Donnie x Kara (OC)

Rating: PG-13 so far

Tags for: @madammuffins @tinkabelle19 @leosgirl82 @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @sharpwindow @m1dnyt3-w0lf @pheradream-15 @pheradream-15 @dilucsflame33 @scholastic-dragon

A/N: Beta Read by the one and only @thoughtfulraven Lemme know if anyone wants to be removed from the tag list or added! Hope you enjoy this, comments bring me so much joy lol As always crossposted on AO3. Masterlist of chapters is pinned on top of the blog!

When Cheryl came to visit Kara she didn't expect to be tackled and dragged away to the more private section in the lair. It was actually Donnie's "snack cave" by the garage. It had a fridge, heaps of random junk shoved on multiple shelves, and a couch. It was also where April would hide her snacks as well. The only place Mikey was too afraid to snoop.

Kara dropped the bomb.

Cheryl needed a moment. Her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped a little. <ALMOST? Girl, you can’t just drop things like- I thought you wouldn’t- WHAT?!>

Kara needed to pace for a moment, to gather her thoughts. She pinched the bridge of her nose and rubbed her face before she flopped down on the sofa next to Cheryl.

<Okay, okay, just- run me through this slowly. First, you and Donnie - yay or nay?> Cheryl straightened up. <Wait, is this why you wanted me to grab the wine on my way here?>

Kara nodded. <Did you get it?>

<You know I did,> Cheryl said then reached into her bag and pulled out two bottles of red wine. <Glasses?>

<Bottle is good enough.> Kara snatched one. <This is a bottle for each conversation.>

They grabbed a corkscrew and were ready to go.

<Alright, start from the top,> Cheryl said after they had the first swig.

Kara took another one before she started sharing. <Well, you know I told Donnie about Ryan-,>

<Yes, you were hyperventilating about this to me on that night, I remember,> Cheryl nodded, interrupting Kara. <Go on.>

<So, I just, you know, didn’t know if he looked at me any different. I don’t want people’s pity. God I couldn’t look at him, I was freaking out.> Another swig.

<Slow down or you’ll get smashed before we get to the good stuff.> Cheryl reached her hand out to Kara’s bottle, ready to take it away for now.

<Right, sorry.> Kara let out a breath, she was holding. <Anyway, so Donnie got shot with the nanites, so I made an EMP, and saved his life, yeah?>

<Yes,> Cheryl knew this stuff so far but apparently Kara needed to organize things in her brain first.

<So… What you don’t know he kinda told me something after he first came to. He was tripping balls after the amount of morphine we pumped into him. But-,>

<What did he say?> Cheryl straightened up. Kara left that bit out the last time they talked.

<Well, one he doesn’t trust me as far as he can throw me - can’t blame him though,> Kara grimaced and reached for the bottle again. <But he does want to make out with me.>

Cheryl snorted the wine as she was mid-swig. <What?>

Kara rolled her eyes and took another swig. <Then HE started avoiding me, which I’m pretty sure meant he remembered everything. I took pity on him and didn’t bring it up, so we got on talking terms again.>

<That’s good,> Cheryl nodded.

<And yesterday! We were like working together! You know! And I thought: I might as well get everything straight, yeah? So I told him I won’t backstab them and- I don’t know!> During the whole speech she got up from the sofa, pacing around, stopping for each sentence then back to making a trail on the already worn-out carpet.

<Okay?> Cheryl was getting confused about where all that was going.

<He leaned to kiss me! We were holding hands!> Kara flopped down on the sofa again. She grabbed the bottle and drank deeply. <We didn’t kiss because Raph came in to get us for dinner.> She held the bottle in her hands, staring ahead of herself, head empty, until: <Do you think he has brain damage? Should I do an MRI on him? I could probably download some schematics, and build the machine up to his specs… Or maybe it’s me. The kidnappers did toss me around.>

Cheryl recognized Kara rambling. She quickly waved a hand in front of her face.

<Slow down. Nobody is having brain damage,> Cheryl tried to calm her down. <Just breathe. You’re both just experiencing a very common symptom of joined insanity called a crush.>

Kara looked at her friend like she was completely deranged. she paused and looked horrified at Cheryl. <Oh god.>

Cheryl clinked her bottle against Kara’s. <Congrats on having feelings.>

Kara rubbed her face and stretched her skin to the sides, processing the new discovery. <That can’t be happening.>

<But what if I’m wrong! What if something happens-!> Kara’s breathing was quickening. The multiple ‘worst case scenarios’ began to zip through her mind like frames in a movie projector.

Cheryl quickly got up from her spot on the sofa and snapped her fingers in front of Kara’s face. <Hey, look at me. You’re okay. Nothing happened yet. One step at a time okay?>

<Cheryl, he knows-,> Kara started but Cheryl gently took her hands in hers and lowered them.

Kara shook her head.

<Then that’s a good thing! And look on the bright side - he could throw you pretty damn far if he tried> Cheryl joked a little. Kara looked at her confused for a moment, then smacked her with a pillow.

<Thanks.> She glared at her bitterly.

<That’s what friends are for,> Cheryl replied with a wink.

Kara snorted and then hugged Cheryl tightly. Cheryl returned the hug gratefully, taking it as a good sign. Her friend hadn’t dated seriously ever since The Incident. Which she couldn’t and wouldn’t blame Kara for. That shit messed up a lot of the already limited trust her short friend had for other people. This would be a big step if it worked out in the first place.

They parted finally and Cheryl noted the redness in her friend’s eyes. She smiled. Silly Kara.

<When you two do kiss though, I need to be the first one notified,> Cheryl stated firmly, sitting back on the sofa.

Cheryl noted the panicked look on Kara’s face. She very slowly signed: <Well….> spreading her arms wide.

<What?> Cheryl took a swing from her bottle, watching Kara from the corner of her eyes.

The wine spray that happened would definitely have a 10/10 rating if wine spitting was a competition.

<WHAT?! AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME?>

The two paused, stared at each other then broke into uncontrollable laughter.

<Is there anything else I should know?> Cheryl asked once they calmed down enough.

<He’s Moira.> Kara informed her.

<Of course he is, Jesus Fucking Christ,> Cheryl snorted. The wine was definitely getting to her. <Any other secrets?>

<Well…> Kara paused for a moment and Cheryl lowered the bottle immediately frowning. Then she noticed the way her friend's lips were quivering at the corners.

<You're a dick,> she laughed and threw a pillow at Kara.

The short woman caught it, giggling.

<I'm sorry.> She grinned.

<How do I even put up with you?> Cheryl rolled her eyes and sighed heavily. But right after that, she smiled. <So wanna hear some university gossip and finish the wine?> She asked.

<Sure, sounds good.> Kara agreed, making herself more comfortable on the couch.

Cheryl smiled. To be honest she had a bit of her own secret but that one was more of a surprise. She needed to talk to the turtles and Splinter about it first though.

The two passed out on the couch much later with empty bottles on the floor. Later, Donnie came to investigate. He snorted seeing Kara sprawled on the low table, laying on her back, mouth open and snoring. He shook his head. That couldn't be comfortable.

Cheryl was in a much better position, laying on her stomach and snuggling a pillow.

Donnie sighed and decided to move Kara somewhere nicer. Like a bed. When he leaned down and carefully moved his arms under her to pick her up in a bridal carry Kara briefly woke up. She noted the purple mask and her mouth moved to the softer skin just under his jaw, sucking on it lightly.

Immediately, Donnie dropped her, jumping away as if she was radioactive. Alright. She can stay right there. He quickly left the nook. Just to return five minutes later with two blankets which he threw over the drunk women. And slid a pillow under Kara's head as gently as he could from an arm distance.

There. He was guilt free.

The next day between her and Donnie were… jumpy to say the least. She wasn't exactly sure but he would always put some sort of distance between them. Was it really reasonable to behave like that over a kiss that didn't even happen?

<Where is Leo?> She asked, annoyed by the cold shoulder Donnie was giving her.

"He's not in his room?" Raph looked up at her from his knitting.

She shook her head. <He kind of left late afternoon yesterday, right?>

Raph set down the needles and yarn. <Donnie should have a tracker on him.> He got up from the sofa and went to Donnie's control center. <Why do you want to talk to Leo?>

<Humans need to see the sun sometimes. I have been stuck here for too long. Plus, you guys took care of Big Boss or at least most of his operations, which by the way, you’re welcome.> She argued.

<None taken.> While Raph didn't regret smashing the Kraang serum, there were days when he wanted nothing more than to be able to just take a walk down the street without causing a scene. He could imagine being stuck in the sewers wasn't ideal for her.

Raph headed to Donnie. Over 24 hours with no sign from Leo was bad.

"Donnie, you got the most eyes on all of us. Do you know where Leo is?" He stood behind Donnie's chair.

Donnie looked to Kara who merely stood by, curious about the whole situation. "Leo's fine."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Raph narrowed his eyes.

"What you heard. I called him last night. He's fine," the purple terrapin reassured his elder brother.

"Oh so we're too good to know where Fearless is?" Raph growled.

"Raph-"

"No, shut the hell up," Raph stomped about. "When I do it, he rides my ass for weeks! But when he does-!" He was going into a full-on rant.

"He's at his girlfriend's place," Donnie blurted out, tired of Raph's assumptions and the ever-present rivalry.

"What?"

"Yeah. There's… I don't know, things that happened," Donnie sighed. "Just let him come to us later, okay?"

Raph grunted noncommittally. He and Donnie had a brief staring context, which surprisingly the red turtle lost.

This whole 'Leo dating someone' was unexpected. They knew nothing about this girl. Well, they assumed some things, like they weren't blind and Leo couldn't lie for shit. Of course, no direct questions were ever asked.

Too ticked off to argue, Raph headed to the gym to work his thoughts out. He was definitely going to take pleasure in interrogating Leo and later teasing him as much as possible. For now, he was still annoyed.

When he left Kara was still there. She looked at Donnie and bit her lower lip. She swayed on the balls of her feet.

<I'll go work on the rig,> she told Donnie.

Donnie was about to respond but she turned her back to him. Donnie inhaled deeply and folded his hands back on the desk.

He desperately wanted to talk about the almost-kiss situation. And maybe her drunken stunt. This whole "will we/won't we" situation was driving him up the wall.

But he was still terrified. Not because of her past but just… Kara was human. A human who was beautiful. Sassy, flirty, smart. She could have anyone she wanted. What the fuck could he offer her in terms of a relationship? He couldn't go anywhere she could. There was that little project of theirs but will it even work? When will it work? What if she goes back topside and just… forgets about them? He wouldn't blame her. And there was also the issue of her ex still being out there. Hardly a moment to start new relationships, he argued at himself.

There were so many concerns and he didn't know what possessed him to even consider kissing her back then. He just wanted to apologize and… forget it ever happened.

<This is stupid.> Kara suddenly barged in again.

He blinked, taken by surprise. <What is?>

<This! Us! It’s like-!> She moved her hands quickly, huffing and puffing with annoyance. <We keep going back and forth between friends and smooch partners like what the fuck is wrong with us?!> She glared at him.

<I’m sor-,> he started but she then slapped his hand stopping him.

<No! None of that! I’m tired of walking on eggshells every time one of us trips over the other,> she continued so he just sat there listening.

She groaned and stomped her feet. <I have no idea! I- I don’t feel it would be fair to you because I can’t, I can’t be with someone right now. I want to and god, I’d love this to be you. Can we just… can we just be close? Friends but… more than? Without the kissing parts? Just hang out and be…> She noticed her vision was getting blurry. Oh god, she was going to cry. No! None of that! She blinked quickly and wiped her eyes.

Donnie pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her tightly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging for dear life. April was right, they needed space to gain perspective. Kara needed to return topside.

Kara sighed. This really wasn’t fair. She wanted to cling to him, let him make her feel safe. But how much of this was just her survival instincts, how much of it was just cabin fever? She pulled back. Cheryl was right, one step at a time, or she’d go crazy.

<When Leo gets back…> She signed slowly.

<We’ll get you upstairs,> Donnie agreed.

She nodded. He understood her so well.

Yes, their big project. They were progressing so fast on it. <Well…> He looked behind her. Raph would definitely not say a word. Mikey might hardly notice them gone and he doubted Splinter would do anything either…. He checked the clock. It wasn’t that far from sunset. He honestly doubted Leo would come home straight away.

Kara arched her eyebrow seeing Donnie’s brain cogs and wheels working. She grinned. <Prison break?> She asked.

He looked at her with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. <Prison break.>

Donnie always wanted to go to school. To university. To study and learn. Unfortunately being a turtle mutant didn't exactly look the best on the application.

<Ok, I disabled the cameras. We can move in.>

He and Kara were on top of the university's building. Because of the robbery Kara had had her building pass stolen but thankfully to Donnie it wasn't that much of a problem. In no time he made her a brand new one. Wasn't he the best? Now they used the card to sneak inside.

Dodging the security guards made her feel like in a spy movie. Or like she was 10 again playing hide and seek. There was about the same amount of giggling. With a lot of fancy acrobatics from Donnie they finally reached the lab.

The place was enormous. The machinery around, workstations with microscopes, the whiteboards with schematics… Kara looked at Donnie who seemed to be frozen in place, slack jawed and eyes wide. Then he swallowed. His eyes darted between her and the space. He squeezed his bō staff tighter and shuffled his feet in.

She grinned. She could tell exactly what he wanted to do.

<Do you want a tour?> She asked, knowing the answer.

<Of course, just, give me a second.> She dove to the side and to the closet. There was no lab coat that would fit him but maybe…

She sighed and gave up. <Just don't touch the stations, ok?> She gave him a stern look. She herself had her own lab coat on. Her locs tied up with a band she always had in her coat's pocket and a pair of safety goggles and gloves. Now he was looking at her the way he stared at the lab.

Kara snorted and shook her head. He was too cute.

<Come on.> She gestured for him to follow her.

Donnie's head was going everywhere and as they walked Kara had to pull him away from multiple stations and slap his hands from trying to fix some mistakes other scientists and students did on their boards.

<Let them find out on their own!> She scolded him.

<But…>

<No!>

She had to push him to move on. She dragged him to her own section.

<Here, you can mess around with my stuff,> she told him. She showed him the calculations she had done before leaving for California… almost two months ago. Wow, time flies. It didn't seem like anyone had changed anything on it. Good.

<Is this related to the microchip?> He asked, approaching it closer.

<Yep.> She handed him a white marker.

His fingers itched as he studied the equations. She also supplied him with schematics. They were lost for hours. They stood close to each other, minds focused on the work. They both would steal a glance at the other, consumed by the task at hand.

At one point their hands brushed over each other and somehow they just held together for a moment.

Suddenly Kara's phone vibrated. It was nearing 10pm. They really have lost track of time. Kara checked the messages.

[🍒] You need to get back to the lair.

[Karfuffle] I took Donnie to the labs. We'll be back in an hour.

[🍒] K.

"K."? What sort of trouble did she get herself into this time? She wasn't alone. They, sort of, told Raph they were going out.

Donnie looked at her waiting for information.

<Alright.>

They quickly finished up at the lab, grabbing what they could and left. All the way she racked her brains up for a possible reason why she and Donnie could be in trouble.

They entered the lair, ready to defend themselves against a lecture from Leo.

"We're back!" Donnie called to give everyone heads up.

What greeted them was everyone sitting around the kitchen table. But what drew her attention was the new person sitting at the center.

She froze, her eyes growing big and she gripped Donnie's wrist. Something cold dropped into her stomach.

<Seth?>

#tmnt 2016 #eve scribbles #bayverse turtles #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2014 #tmnt fanfiction #donnie x oc #tmnt donatello x oc #bayverse donnie

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inertflouride · 2 years

Text

Turmoils Of You- Part 8

TW: Death by fire

What I witness though... It shakes me to my fucking core. A maniacally looking Hannah runs upto Alan to ask him to save her. They both rush out and the hatch is slammed shut. All this time, I thought that maybe, maybe we'll be able to uncover the man without a face, but from how the things actually are progressing, it does not seem so. The police chief can't open a god damn door. The...

"Beep beep beep beep", the laptop goes off, making me jump off and realise that I've been holding onto Phil's shirt since. I clear and throat and frantically rush towards the tracker. I feel a pit sink in my stomach when I see it. Less than 20 kms.

"Oh my God, no no no. This can't be happening, this can't be happening", I repeat in panic and start digging for the damn walkie-talkie shit. The fuck did it go?

"Woah, calm down. What happened?, Phil asks me, rubbing my back as if this would calm me. I look below my seat, not bothering to reply him and yes!, I finally find it out. The same time my phone again chimes though I do not have time to check it now.

"Hey, can you get that for me", I tell Phil than ask him, busy remembering the instructions Jake passed. Finally, I press the key which I was supposed to and it sets the signal off, most probably, successfully to Jake.

I slump back a little in my seat as Phil starts reading the messages out loud for me. The same time Jake's laptop starts beeping like it did when my phone got hacked. Holy shit, they are here. "It's Alan, he says that the FBI is here and he's sure it's not for a missing girl. He's kinda warning you-"

"Dammit. Give me the damn phone", I snatch my phone from him and quickly send out a chain of texts to Jake.

MC: Jake?!! MC: Your pursuers, the damn FBI is here! MC: You need to get out immediately

JAKE IS NOW ONLINE

Jake: I got your signal. Jake: I still to find Hannah. MC: Hannah's safe. She's with Alan. Jake: Hannah's safe? Then I can get out as well. Jake: Are you gone yet? MC: Almost Jake: Out. Now. MC: Please be safe Jake: I will. Now go.

JAKE IS NOW OFFLINE

But what about Richy? They still haven't got him. I give my phone to Phil and start throwing to-dos for him. "Message Alan. Ask him to get Richy back", he nods at me.

"They still haven't got Richy? Damn it", Phil speaks as he texts a message. I start the ignition of the SUV and start the sat-nav to Colville. "He says the team is here, they are going to get him back."

I let out a deep sigh, one which is full of helplessness. I can't help but feel like a coward right now, running off to elsewhere, leaving him with that killer. On the same hand, I can't ask Jake for this, it'll risk his life further. "Arghhhh!", I run one of my hands furiously through my hair in exasperation. "Open the stream. It's on Michael's... fuck, I don't even know who that fucker is!"

"Hey, calm down already. Do you want me to drive?", Phil offers as he looks at me with concern- not sure for me or for his own life. I mean, I wouldn't trust someone in my state to drive, especially intercity.

"Yeah I guess. Lemme reverse the car first", I agree into him driving us and put the SUV in reverse, but it jerks us forward instead. I let out a little scream from the panic and stiffen up, wide eyed not daring to meet Phil's gaze.

"Okay. Switch. Now", he practically orders me and had it been some other situation, I'd have given him a death glare but eh, it's my fault this time so, fuck it. Many more opportunities to come, unfortunately.

He gets off from the car, coming towards the driver seat and I move to the passenger seat simply by shifting myself without getting out. The look Phil gives says "Seriously?".

"I mean...", I drift off when I hear a helicopter fly over us at an overwhelming proximity to us. "Fuck, Phil get the fuck inside and quickly get us out of here!", I exclaim at him, making the weight of situation understandable to him. He gets in and quickly takes off, making me glue back to the seat. I open my phone and start texting Jake, trying to know the status of the situation on his end.

MC: They're here Jake MC: The fucking FBI is here MC: Please tell me you're out

I look back my messages, briefly keeping the phone on my lap as I wipe my sweaty palms with my pants, taking in shaky breaths. Suddenly, my phone chimes and I jump onto it.

JAKE IS NOW ONLINE

Jake: That's not good. Jake: I'm just about to leave but now I must reconsider my exit. Jake: Probabilities are they have already sealed them by now. MC: Jake please, you need to get out. Please do something. Jake: I know. I'll come up with something. Jake: I have a stream to fix before that. MC: Are you kidding me? What part of "The FBI is here" is making you think that "Oh I have plenty time?" Jake: Trust me. Just... trust me okay?

I let out a loud shaky sigh before I get back to texting him, rubbing the temples of my head with one hand.

MC: Ok. Jake: Good. Jake: One last thing before I get to the task of escaping.

He pauses briefly, the pencil writing and rubbing off continuously before I usher him to finally send a message.

MC: What is it, Jake? Jake: I love you MC. MC: I love you too, Jake Jake: Okay, I got to go now.

JAKE IS NOW OFFLINE

I press the phone to my heart tightly as if I'm holding onto the Jake who didn't leave. Tears rain from my eyes silently, no sobbing, as I throw my head back to the neck support of the seat, solemnly hoping that Jake will get out just alright, that he will join me in Colville and that he'd be safe and sound.

My phone again chimes and I quickly look down at it thinking it's Jake but feel a dip in my heart as Alan messages me. What more does he want from me? Is it about Jake? Has he been...

ALAN IS NOW ONLINE

Alan: Have you done something with the stream? MC: No... Alan: Then I guess you should check it out.

ALAN IS NOW OFFLINE

Huh? What is that supposed to mean? I open the stream send and oh dear lord...

The man without a face limps and walks towards a corner, his every move monitored by the camera, probably the fact still unknown to him. He holds onto his left arm with his right hand, in all probabilities on the bullet wound, and then finally sits down, if you can call it that.

He takes out his phone and types something when I own phone chimes too.

UNKNOWN IS NOW ONLINE

Unknown: There was a moment Unknown: Where you were so incredibly close to the truth Unknown: But you were wrong about one thing MC: What do you mean, Michael? Unknown: Michael... Unknown: There weren't just three people involved in the incident back then Unknown: There were three

Before I could further type in my confusion, my phone rings up with his call. At first I hesitated, not wanting to again through the trauma of him scaring me anymore.

"I think you have to pick it up, MC", Phil suggestively implies as he speeds through the forest, not wanting to grab any attention of the police or FBI.

I nod my head and accept the call. The camera shines up and gives a view of the MWAF's mask. He looks at me for some time before suddenly he pushes back his hood and goes ahead with removing the mask, pulling the ground beneath my feet.

I suck in a deep breath in as I look back in horror at the unmasked figure before me. "This can't be true... you can't be him..."

Shame, disgust, guilt reflect back from his eyes as if he wants to get rid of himself too. That he wants to end himself too... He initially keeps looking down, not meeting my gaze from contempt, more towards himself than me. My eyes well up at the sight of him, his sunken cheeks, dark circle shading his eyes. He looks damaged beyond repair, defeated beyond words and dead beyond life. He's just a breathing mass of flesh and bones staring back at me.

He takes a deep breathe in, trying to muster the strength before starting. "Ten years ago, Hannah and Amy showed upon my doorstep..."

Things after things, finally the truth comes out. He goes on and on and at one point I just wanted to put my hands over my ears, trying to make him stop, or my own heart from breaking too. "Why Richy? What would you have done if I had came? Tell me!", I scream at him, "Kill me? Huh? Would you have killed me, Richy?" and I break down in tears. Somewhere in the middle of all this, Phil stops and rubs my back. Maybe.

"I can't say anything much except I'm sorry", he apologises, his eyes pleading to me and hangs up before I could say anything.

He rings up to Jessy and by default, he rings to me too. Courtesy of Jake. Jessy, my dear Jessy. I saw her going from shock to betrayed to devastated to defeated. He has hurt her even more, beyond everyone else. My heart cries for her, oh so much but what can I even do? Boats don't save ships, it's usually the other way around. Jessy bawls at the revelation of everything else, at the same time I see Phil fuming at the sight.

He starts the car and speeds up, as if trying to passively take out his anger. I open the roof of the SUV and stand, let the rough wind hit me. The vehicle is speeding, the wind is gushing, yet I feel empty. Numb.

The vehicle comes to a screeching halt and the roofed part hits my chest hard. I gasp in pain before dunking in to see how ugly has it gone now. Has he surrendered? Did Jake see him? Did...

"He's putting himself on fire", Phil spits and shows me the mobile screen. He's gonna die and escape the trauma he gave us like a fucking pussy. Can't help but scoff. I feel no remorse for him.

As cruel as it may sound, I want him to suffer.

#duskwood #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood everbyte #duskwood jake #duskwood jake x player #duskwood mc #jake x mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood turmoils of you

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dweeby-shadow-blog · 2 years

Text

Sorry for not posting for a bit I kinda tried to take my own life #justcollegethings amirite

Lightbulb idea and Shadow Rebellion idea are not mine! As soon as I find the usernames I will update this post!

~~~~~~~

So the ‘shadow villain’s name is Shade. Sure. Maybe there’s an EVIL plan involving Better Tommorrow’s new patented ‘Ultra ultra Violet Light’ a light frequency that gives Shadows the ability to manipulate their caster.

Their ultimate plan is to roll out these cheap, everlasting bulbs everywhere so that the shadow rebellion can easily manipulate their unsuspecting casters, and ambush them to take over the world!!

To save the day, our duo must reverse the polarity or whatever, as established in the first 25 minutes of the movie (obviously) This will reverse the effect of ultra-ultra violet light, making it so that shadows exposed to it can no longer effect the real world.

~~~~~

This snippet would be set before the climax. Maybe after Daniel and Heidi had a falling out over his failed attempts to woo her, probably set after Daniel and Shadow Dan fought and made up. Enjoy!

~~~~~~

Heidi’s doorbell was rung again. And again. And again. Until finally she opened it, only for Daniel to shove his way in like a madman.

“H-Hey Heidi! Sorry about dropping by so suddenly..”

“Daniel, what are you doing here?”

“W-well, I didn’t like how we left things, and I wanted to apologize, but also there’s something really important that I need to talk to you about and we’re in a bit of a rush-“

“Daniel, slow down. We? Who are you-“

“N-no, wait-!”

Daniel lurched forward, snatching Heidi’s camera clean off her neck. He began fiddling with it, switching the bulb for a newer one we pulled from his pocket.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” She cried. She grabbed for her camera, Daniel dodging her every grab.

“Sorry! Sorry! I’m so Sorry!”

“Daniel, give me my-“

*click!*

Heidi flinched, dazed. The cameras flash had gone off right in her face. She blinked the spots from her eyes, all the while Daniel apologized profusely.

“Alright. You had better explain yourself in the next five seconds, or I WILL be calling the cops.”

“W-wait! I can explain!”

“Did it work?” Another, newer voice asked frantically.

“How am I supposed to know?!” Daniel replied in a hushed voice.

“Neither of you should be here!” Another, feminine voiced hissed from.. very close. How many people were in her house??

Heidi’s eyes finally unblurred, focusing onto Daniel.

“C’mon, Didi! You seriously can’t see the problem with this?!” A man’s voice cried, right next to her reclusive neighbor.

Heidi jumped, her eyes widening as they locked with what she could only assume was a hallucination. She was staring, hard.

Daniel’s eyes followed Heidi’s line of sight.

“Uh… Dan? I think it worked.”

“D-Daniel. Your… your shadow-“

The shadow seemed to turn to her. Ironically, his eyes brightened.

“Shadow Dan’s the name! A pleasure to finally meet you, Heidi! Well, technically you’re meeting me- I’ve seen you dozens of times-“

“Dan.” Daniel admonished. He turned to her. “Yeah… freaky, right?” (“Hey!”) “you kind of get used to it after a while, though.”

~~~

For context, DiDi is my take on Heidi’s shadow! Lemme know if y’all want more drabbles- I have a lot written and nothing posted lol

#mams #me and my shadow #me and my shadow dreamworks #shadow dan #me and my shadow heidi

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bubaluv · 4 years

Text

Y'all I was playing around and got some canon urls lmao, So far I have gabbythegriffin, gildathegriffin, gallbar, and silvershill. If you want them DM me!

#im prob just gonna reopen them real soon #but if you want me to save one so you can snatch it lemme know!

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marklilies · 3 years

Text

# nct dream as your deskie

pairings: nct dream x gn!reader || wc: 3.5k || warnings: light swearing, mentions of food, dying (humour) and physical hurt (humour)

── MARK :

“what’s that?” you peer over mark’s shoulder.

mark bends down lower over his notebook to conceal his writing from your sharp eyes. “nothing, just some ideas for songs.”

you gasp. “you’re writing new song lyrics?!” he nods. “lemme see.”

“no!” mark snatches the notebook away from your grasp and looks at you, affronted. you draw back, a little stunned by his reaction. usually, mark lets you see all of his lyric scribbles. it’s part of your relationship as seat partners.

your brows crease and you sit back down in your seat, staring at the open textbook in front of you. your geography teacher is going on and on about tectonic plates and whatnot, but you can’t be bothered to listen. why won’t mark let you see his lyrics this time? you glare at the words on the pages, trying to figure out reasons why he wouldn’t let you see them. you just know this is going to bother you for the rest of the day.

mark sees you pouting and feels terrible about the way he snapped. it’s not that he has anything against you, it’s just… these lyrics are really personal. too personal. he writes you a note and slides it towards you, meeting your eyes apologetically for just a second before turning back to his notebook.

you read what he’s written.

“sorry y/n, i just can’t let you see my lyrics yet. they’re… about somebody.”

you chuckle and shake your head, doubt dissipating by the second. turning back to mark, you ask, “can i know who it’s about?”

mark hesitates. he doesn’t want to keep too much information from you, so he says, “someone in our class.”

this piques your interest, and you wiggle your eyebrows at him. “oooh, who is it? is it mina? you had the hots for her last year, didn’t you? or is it donghyuck, hmm? tell me tell me tell mee-”

mark smacks his hand over your mouth because you’ve begun talking a little too loud and the people around you have started staring. you freeze and remain like that for the next minute as mark looks around warily, trying to make sure no one else has heard you, especially not the teacher.

when he takes his hand away, he’s already a blushing mess. you cock your head, expectant, but mark puts his hands on his neck, evidently embarrassed, so you’re about to tell him it’s fine when he speaks up.

“i-it’s about the person sitting next to me…”

more under the cut!

── RENJUN :

renjun hands his sketchbook over to you to inspect. inside, the pages are full of beautiful drawings of all your classmates - hyunjin as a centaur, lia as a water sprite, karina as a doe, sunwoo as a vampire… the list goes on.

you hold the pages reverently in your hands, flipping through the book like it’s the only thing that can save the world.

then the teacher walks in, and all of a sudden it’s gone from your hands. renjun’s taken it back to occupy himself during class. “i wasn’t done with it,” you huff, propping your head up on your elbows as you watch him begin a drawing on a fresh page.

after lasting about three minutes with your intense gaze on him, renjun puts his pencil down and roughly pushes your face away from him to face the front of the classroom. “pay attention to the teacher.”

“speak for yourself, jun.” your voice comes out muffled because of his palm against your mouth. you grab onto his wrist and bring it down.

“the difference between us is that you actually have to pay attention during class or you’ll fail your exams. i, on the other hand, can pass them just fine on my own.”

you clutch your chest, pretending to be offended, but renjun gives you a smirk and his eyes are telling you to prove him wrong, so you turn back to the teacher in defeat.

“y’know,” you smack your lips and draw out your syllables, “if you tutored me, i wouldn’t have to-”

you catch sight of your features under a ring of gold, the halo held up by two devil horns sticking out the top of your head. “is that me?!”

“it’s not done.” renjun pushes his hair out of his eyes as he says this. “but yeah.”

“why do i have both an angel’s halo and devil horns? i mean, i understand the halo part, but the horns?” you tilt your head in confusion. “i’m a complete angel.”

renjun looks at you like you’ve gone bananas, then presses his lips into a straight line, trying to suppress the laughter that’s fighting to burst forth. “a-angel?” little giggles and short breaths leak through the dam, and you slug his arm.

“shut up. i’m not talking to you anymore.”

------------ time skip ------------

when you get back from lunch, you see that there’s a little note sticking out of your pencil case, folded neatly. you open it up, and the note is the drawing of you as an angelic devil. at the bottom, in small, messy script, renjun has written a few sentences.

“here’s your stupid portrait, dumbass. you’re a devil dressed as an angel. happy early birthday, idiot.

p.s. if you tell me to add your name onto my blank space, i will knock you out.”

── JENO :

you spread your various sticks of gum out under the table, in the shape of a fan. jeno does the same next to you. the two of you are in your seats, torsos twisted to face each other.

“i’ll give you strawberry for grape.”

“okay. i am so giving this to jaemin.”

you exchange gum flavours, you quietly celebrating at the acquisition of grape-flavoured gum, the one you’ve been addicted to for the past two days.

your math teacher drones on about vectors, and his words go in one ear and out the other. none of you are paying attention to him, because he’s the worst teacher ever and doesn’t actually help with anything, much less inspire you to like the subject.

“play a game with me.” jeno nudges you, desperate for mental stimulation. you nod, almost bored to tears by the lesson material.

“loser pays for the other’s karaoke.”

“deal.”

you decide to play apple on a stick. besides, jeno’s phone battery is already on the verge of going dead, so there’s no hope of playing pubg. “apple on a stick, making me sick, making my heart go 2-4-6…”

as you slap each other’s hands and clap as softly as possible to avoid drawing unwanted attention from the teacher, the rhythm gets faster and faster, until your hands are just a blur and you can feel the adrenaline rushing through your veins, trying to keep your mind completely focused on the game.

just as you feel you’re losing your rhythm, jeno breaks the pattern, accidentally snapping his fingers when he’s supposed to clap your hands. you squeal in excitement at the moment he loses, and he collapses onto his desk, head in his hands, but a smile peeks out from behind his palms.

“and that was it for the practice round. now for the real-” jeno laughs as you smack his shoulder indignantly.

“i won! i won fair and square, so now you have to pay for my karaoke.”

“you don’t even have anyone to go to karaoke with though?” this earns him another good punch in the side.

“hey! i have friends!” you stick your tongue out at jeno and he grins at your childish antics. “i can just invite yangyang or something.”

jeno’s face falls just slightly at the mention of yangyang’s name, but he quickly covers it up and teases you, “why? you like him or something?”

“he’s just my friend, dummy.” jeno visibly brightens at this revelation. you smirk at him, “why? do you like me or something?”

“pshhh, in your dreams, y/n,” he chuckles nervously. “fine. i’ll pay for your karaoke. but i have one condition.”

“what is it?”

“you invite me to karaoke with you.”

── HAECHAN :

haechan takes a marker and draws a line across your table, closer to you than him.

“this is the line that separates our desks. whatever crosses this line is mine.”

you frown at him. “but you have more space than i do.”

“yeah, because i’m me, and you’re you,” he replies with a cheeky shrug of his shoulders, causing you to roll your eyes. you readjust your things to make sure none of it crosses the line, because you know in your heart that haechan means what he says, and will not hesitate to take your things if they do make their way across the boundary.

putting his feet up on his desk, haechan tips his chair back, rocking it on its two back legs. you glance at him and do a double-take. “dude, get your feet off the table! you’re gonna fall down.”

“no i won’t. just watch me-” as he says this, his cocky demeanor disappears in an instant when he accidentally loses control and slips, tilting his chair back a little too much. reacting out of instinct, haechan grabs onto the back of your chair to stabilise himself. however, just as he’s pulling himself up, your chair tilts backwards with the force he’s exerting on it, and you almost fall with it. you scream and shut your eyes, but you never do hit the floor. opening just one eye cautiously, you see that haechan has caught your chair in time, righting it with a triumphant grin.

the teacher raises her eyebrows at the both of you, asking authoritatively, “is everything alright there?” haechan gives her a reassuring smile, but this only makes the teacher even more worried. haechan isn’t exactly known for his stellar behaviour.

“don’t worry, ma’am, i was just helping y/n up.” then he turns to you and pretends to chide you, “hey, don’t tilt your chair back, you could fall.” you stare at him, a mix of disbelief and annoyance pooling in your gut. the teacher sighs and mutters something that sounds suspiciously similar to “kids these days”, before turning back to the whiteboard to write on it.

ten minutes later, haechan is already asleep on the desk, his mouth hanging open and his head resting on his hands. you notice that his elbow has crossed the barrier, and a devilish grin creeps its way up your face. payback time, you think.

taking the marker haechan used earlier, you carefully uncap it and start colouring in his elbow, turning it a wonderful bright purple. amazingly, haechan never once stirs at the strange sensation, continuing to sleep like a log.

when you’re done, you throw the marker at his head and hit his forehead. “wakey wakey, sleepyhead.”

haechan blinks confusedly, and it takes about twenty seconds for his eyes to acclimatise to the bright classroom, noticing the purple patch that has formed on his elbow. he snaps his head up to glare at you, his tongue in his cheek, but then he gives you a fake laugh and grits his teeth behind his smile. “good one. haha. very funny, y/n.”

then he snatches your pen in retaliation, putting it all the way on the other side of his desk, far away from you. trying to get it back from him, you reach across, stretching your entire upper body over to get it.

your entire body freezes up when haechan puts his arm around your waist and brings his face to your cheek. “what are you-”

haechan’s lips ghost over the skin of your cheekbone, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest, red blooming across your face. then he moves his lips to your ear, whispering, “hmm, you crossed the line. guess you’re mine now.”

── JAEMIN :

na jaemin. everybody’s favourite classmate. the second he walks into class, the girls are swooning and the boys are watching enviously. in their eyes, he even walks in slow-motion.

he walks up to his seat next to you and drops a pack of your favourite snack onto your desk, along with some chocolate milk. without saying anything about it, he sits down nonchalantly, proceeding to unpack his stuff. you catch his eye, looking at him gratefully, and he smiles back at you, his face radiant.

oh. so this must be why everybody loves him.

“did you finish your work yesterday? i remember you saying you had way too much to finish in one night,” jaemin says conversationally. you grin at him.

“yep. i tried really hard and actually got my stuff done for once!” you slam your stack of finished assignments onto your desk, the feeling of accomplishment already welling up in your heart.

jaemin narrows his eyes at you, “you slept late though, didn’t you?” you purse your lips and nod sheepishly, then smack him playfully.

“way to step on my moment, nana,” you reply jokingly. jaemin makes a funny face at you in response, and you laugh.

when class starts, both of you listen attentively to the teacher. unfortunately, your late night and lost hours of sleep choose to catch up to you now, and your eyelids start drooping. the teacher’s words turn into a string of meaningless noises, merely background noise to the fight between your body and mind. stay awake, stay awake, stayawakestayawakestayawake-

the world is shut out and you doze off on your desk.

------------ time skip ------------

your eyes flutter open, and for a second you just take a moment to listen to the sounds of the classroom. students chatting, chairs scraping, fans whirring. no teacher talking? ...wait a second.

you jolt upright and something slides off your table at the action, the impact startling the two other students in class. your eyes find the clock hanging on the wall. it’s already lunchtime.

“crap,” you say under your breath. “crap, i didn’t take notes and mrs. watson might have talked about the exams coming up, what happens if i missed it all? oh no, oh no, oh no-”

looking around in a frenzy, your gaze lands on the sandwich and your notebook on your desk. your notebook is open, its pages filled with all the lesson’s notes in jaemin’s handwriting. at the bottom corner of the final page, jaemin has written, “here’s a sandwich for lunch! i took notes for you, i hope you don’t mind. >~<”

the notes are colour-coded and superbly neat. you exhale sharply, nodding subconsciously as you attempt to wrap your head around the fact that jaemin is this nice. the corner of your lips turn up and you start unwrapping the sandwich. it is then that you realise that draped around your shoulders is jaemin’s jacket, and you pull the collar closer to your face, inhaling his scent.

“...stupid, dreamy jaemin.”

── CHENLE :

“what’s up, y/n?” chenle dumps the bag of snacks he brings to school everyday onto your desk. the snack bag is literally bigger than his actual school bag, and it is filled to the brim with a myriad of snacks. candy, crisps, chocolate - you name it, he’s got it. it’s the goldmine.

of course, one of the benefits of being chenle’s deskie is sharing these treats. even when the lesson starts, the two of you are munching your way through the bag, hiding the packets under the table. there’s even a make-shift bin tied to the leg of your table; a plastic bag to hold the discarded wrappers.

however, one of the drawbacks of eating during class is that there is a constant need to hide the fact that you are eating. chewing without seeming like your mouth is moving, never letting the teacher see the food enter your mouth, and the hardest of all - chewing quietly.

chenle passes you a bag of potato crisps, and you gladly accept, opening it with a practised motion. the crinkle of the plastic packaging is barely heard by the class because of the thick woollen jacket chenle has draped over it, creating some sort of soundproofing material. perfect for drowning out louder sounds.

he takes one chip and stuffs it in his mouth, so lightning quick that no one would ever see the crisp in his hand. then comes the hard part - he chews so slowly that the chip is crushed softly. somehow. “pfft, i could do better,” you smirk, hands already reaching for a chip yourself.

the moment it’s placed into your mouth, you make eye contact with chenle and hold his gaze. the two of you chew like sloths, each trying to outdo the other at chewing softly. soon the giggles start trickling out of his lips, and your eyes curve into little crescents, trying not to follow suit. but holding in your laughter is a lot harder when you’re staring at someone who is also trying not to laugh, so the two of you burst out laughing, howls and guffaws piercing the heavy air of the classroom.

when the teacher turns her ferocious gaze on you, you know that you’re in for a ride.

------------ time skip ------------

“hey, what are we supposed to do? i wasn’t paying attention while she was lecturing us,” chenle asks softly, his elbow touching yours as you both stare at the piece of blank paper in front of you.

“she asked us to write ‘i will not eat during class, nor disturb my classmates during lesson time’ a hundred times.” your voice is flat and emotionless, evidence of your boredom.

“ew.”

“i know.”

you start on your lines, writing until your palm is sweaty and your wrist is sore. chenle does too, but gets distracted by the snack bag, which was miraculously not confiscated. thank chenle’s honey tongue for that.

“hey, your favourite snack!” chenle waves the packet in front of you, and the bright colouring effectively attracts your attention.

making grabby hands at the bag, you look at the snack with hearts in your eyes, saying, “oooh, gimme gimme!”

he holds it high above him, teasing, “nope. you can’t have this unless you promise me something.”

“that’s bribery,” you frown, but your want for the snack outweighs your pride. “...what do you want?”

chenle smiles sweetly at you. “come with me to prom at the end of the year?”

── JISUNG :

jisung slides into the seat next to yours, his almost empty canvas bag swinging from one shoulder and his hoodie hanging loosely off his body. he looks at you and smiles bashfully, “hey, can i borrow a pencil? i forgot to bring my pencil case.”

you roll your eyes in amusement and chuckle, “it’s the third time this week, sung.”

“i know, i know, i’m sorry. i promise i’ll make it up to you,” he says hopefully, looking at you with puppy eyes. you stifle your giggles and hand him a pencil, at which he beams at you.

sentence after sentence comes tumbling out of the teacher’s mouth, explanations about the phenomena of cell division and how it happens echoing around the room. jisung’s hood is up, covering his messy hair, and his hand is constantly in motion, pencil flicking across the paper with incredible speed.

“you’re actually paying attention for once?” you ask, incredulous. you can’t believe jisung is listening to the teacher, let alone taking notes so diligently. when he doesn’t respond to your quip, however, you realise he’s not taking notes at all.

you stare at the pages of his notebook. they are filled with jisung’s terrible handwriting, the words he has scribbled basically illegible. you can make out one or two words, but they don’t make any sense, nor are they related to the lesson at all. words like “waffles”, “chicken”, “games” and “boring” are highlighted, showing just how far jisung’s mind is from here. tiny doodles of stick men wearing funny outfits adorn the borders of each page, some of them even with funky hair.

you smile unconsciously, thinking about how very jisung it is of him to do that. then you turn your head back to the front and let all thoughts leave your mind, staring blankly at the whiteboard, words nothing but white noise to you.

“psst, y/n. y/n. y/n?”

“huh?” shaken out of your reverie, you blink at jisung, bemused.

he sighs and says, “sorry, thought you were dead there for a second.” you smile half-heartedly.

“well, maybe i am. on the inside.”

jisung snickers and he reaches up to his ears, which are also hidden by his hood. when his hand comes back down, it is holding a single earpod. jisung motions for you to take it.

“you’ve been listening to music all this time?!” jisung gives you a small nod as you place the earbud in your ear. “without me?!?”

jisung puts a finger on your lips, which shuts you up immediately. “just listen.”

you listen to music together for the rest of the day. (his music is good.)

taglist: @jensrose, @neocuddlytechnology

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rrickgrrimes8 · 3 years

Note

hi! i was thinking if you could write an imagine of reader being rick and lori's daughter and sister to carl, rj and judith. i don't have a specific idea in mind, but just her before and after the time jump, struggling with being there when lori and carl died, and looking for rick with daryl, her relationship with her siblings and michonne, maybe maggie and hershel too (i was thinking since carl was 10 when it all started, she was 7 so now she's 17) thank you so much, and btw i loved your imagines i've read so far 💞

Being a Grimes ~ Rick Grimes x Grimes!reader

thank you so much for requesting i really enjoyed making this one. i also have a series kinda like this about Jacey Grimes which i’m currently making a book two for.

warnings: alluding to sexual assault or rape, suicide, death, gore (lemme know if i’ve missed anything off here)

sorry if there is any mistakes please tell if there is and give me feedback i’d love to here back from yall

masterlist

request guidelines

request are open

It was strange for y/n. This world would be strange for anyone really. But she was different. At only a mere 7 years old when the world went to shit she struggled as did many others. With the recent loss of her father - one she didn't entirely understand - still protruding through her heart, it was hard - so hard.

When it happened she was at daycare. The teaching assistant tried and successfully ate the teacher in front of her. She was next and was so close to being eaten until Shane rushed in. He kicked Ms Twune and grabbed y/n. Her mom sobbed at the sight of her, covered in blood and the tears smothering her daughters face. Carl was shocked too. He wanted nothing more than to protect his little sister. His dad always used to tell him that that was his duty - his job. And he hated how he had failed in this moment.

They made it to the quarry soon after. Y/n thought the group was nice - well mostly. The Dixon brothers scared her was what she told her brother or any of the children she had befriended. But she was lying. Yes, she was scared but only of Merle. He was creepy and mean to anyone he saw. Daryl was somewhat the same but he always found himself being nicer to the young child. And often kept her company when Lori and Shane went for a ‘walk’ in the woods. Glenn was another she found herself drawn to. He unlike Daryl happily invited her company. Glenn was sweet and funny. He never failed at making her laugh till she felt like she was going to pee. They were good friends which came to a fault when he had to go on runs. She’d scream and cry and refuse to let go of him because she was afraid that what happened to her father would happen to him.

That’s what happened earlier that morning. Glenn and a few others were going into Atlanta, despite her dismay. Glenn assured her he’d be fine, which she didn't believe and continued her tantrum.

“Can yer’ shut that damn baby up?” Merle spat covering his ears.

Shane shot him a threatening glare while Glenn stayed preoccupied with the distraught girl. “Hey, it's okay. I’m coming back,” He insisted holding her tightly at his hip, “I promise you, sweet girl.”

“No, b-b-but dada promise too a-a-and h-he,” She stopped herself, sobs erupting from her small body.

“I know sweet girl, I know. But I’ll be back I know I will.” Glenn placed her on the back of the RV, “I tell you what I’ll bring you back some of your favourite sweeties, huh? Would you like that?”

Giddily she nodded at his proposition, “Yes! Yes!”

“Alright, then I’ll bring back some for you, okay?” She nodded smiling cheerfully, “I love you, kid.”

“I luv you too, dumbass,” y/n giggled.

Glenn looked around cautiously hoping no one heard that “Hey sweet girl you can't say that.”

“W-what? Why?” the child began to cry again, “Y-y-you say it.”

“I know b-but its adult words okay? Not y/n words. When you're older, alright?” She nodded her head again kissing his cheeks softly and hugging him. “Thank you, sweet girl. I’ll see you soon,” He kissed the top of her head and started towards the car smiling as she shouted, “With sweeties!”

The group returned hours later bearing a new man instead of Merle. Y/n waited patiently for Glenn and the aforementioned sweets. "Gen!" She screamed happily still unable to say his name fully. The man sprinted over to her, pulling her into a much-needed cuddle after the day he had.

"It's Glenn, sweetheart," He chuckled while correcting.

"Oh sorry Gen," She wrapped her dainty arms around his neck.

"That's okay, sweet girl. I missed you."

"I missed you too," She whispered before letting out a longwinded 'ew', "You stinky, Gen."

The man smelt his shirt and nodded as the potent smell of walkers reached his nose. "I know yucky right?"

"Yucky!" Y/n buried her face in Glenn's shirt ignoring the stench and just enjoying his company. She always became clingy like this after coming home from a run. He loved it. On runs, if he ever encountered a life-threatening situation - like the one today - he always finds himself realising how much she means to him. Glenn saw her as a little sister - one almost replacing the ones that were cruely ripped from him when this began.

"How was it?" She inquired.

"Not fun, sweet girl. But I got your sweeties and a nice man helped us out. Saved us," She beamed.

"I like the good man. I'll give him two kisses when I see him. Maybe even one of my sweeties," Glenn chuckled.

"Why two kisses, y/n?"

"One for saving you. Two for bringing you hom," Glenn grinned contently and kissed her forehead.

"Its home bubs with an e on the end."

"Oh," She mumbled burying herself again.

"Oh my God," Someone muttered as they exited the van.

"Dad! Dad!" Carl screamed causing Glenn to snap his head in their direction. Carl came running towards the man, Rick, who had saved them in Atlanta. Y/n hadn't moved yet as she feared it was only a dream. That her dada wasn't really here.

"Sweet girl," He pulled her out of his neck, "Look it's your dad." The child gazed over to where her brother had run to. Sure enough, it was her dad. He held Carl as he cried, looking to Y/n wanting to hold her too.

"Dada!" She screamed jumping out of Glenn's arms dangerously. The girl scraped her knee on the way down but continued throwing herself into the hug.

"Oh, Carl! Y/n!" She kissed all over his face childishly, "I luv you, dada."

"I love you too, baby girl."

The years hadn't been kind to Y/n. She lost so much. Too much in fact that it had driven her to the depts of insanity and made her do things to herself, to others that she more than resented. The first loss was her mothers. She wasn't there like Carl was but the grief burned through her still. Y/n was too young to understand it really. Just how she was when Rick supposedly died. Y/n couldn't understand where her mom had gone she just knew she had a little sister now. One she swore to protect.

She thought she had failed that when the prison fell. The young child was on her own. Injured and lost. She wandered through the woods for days until she stumbled across a group. The group were mean and despite her resistance wouldn't let her go. They hurt her in ways she didn't and wouldn't speak of it even now. But that all changed when Daryl showed up. He protected her - stopped them from hurting her. And eventually led her back to her family. Where for the first time she began to fear her father.

Terminus was next. The people there snatched her from her family. She was forced to watch from afar as they were guided into the crate. Rick fought against them, Carl too but it was to no use. They had sectioned her off in a playroom. Every once in a while an older woman came in to fed and played with her. She hated it. Being in this world for more than a year now she knew that people like them didn't just want to play even if she did. She learnt that from the Claimers.

Carol found her. Although having never have been all that close to the older woman - the only relation being the closeness between y/n and Sophia - seeing her after so long made her cry out of joy. Carol was happy too as she rushed out of that place to take her to safety. The pair ended up in the woods. Carol had stopped a moment ago to clean the dirt from her face, "lemme help."

The girl sat up from where she was put down and cupped some water splashing it on Carol's face. Carol flinched as the water hit her, "Uh thank you."

"Welcome," She looked away getting distracted by the nearing sound of footsteps.

"Get behind me, y/n," Carol ordered to which she shook her head.

"No it dada," She ran away from the woman and towards the group.

"Y/n come back here!" Y/n continued ignoring Carols pleas and crashed herself into the back of Rick's legs.

The father shot around and began to cry as he saw the child he thought he lost at his feet. "Oh, baby!" He collected the girl in his arms. Carl rushed to them too happy to see her alive after Gareth claimed he killed her. "Oh y/n, never leave me again, okay?" He looked directly into her matching blue eyes, "Promise me."

"I promise, dada."

Later Carol led them to Judith. Y/n was over the moon and refused to let her out of her sight, which was exactly what Rick was doing too. They found the church a while after. There they had some semblance of peace. She was glad to have Glenn back - Maggie too. Along with the new people although Eugene was a bit weird.

At the church was also when the questions started. Daryl had told Rick about the group they were with and regretfully had to inform the father how she was there before him. Rick asked y/n - begged her - to tell her what happened. But she refused. She couldn't say what happened. What they did, which just made Rick fear more. Eventually, she spoke a little about it. She was vague and could barely string two words together without crying. He hated it. He hated how this was a reality for his daughter. He saw the bruises they left. And he couldn't understand how someone could touch his child. Or how he could be so powerless to stop it.

Bob died. She didn't really know the man but it still upset her. Beth too. Although she was a lot closer to her. Beth was one of her only friends and was someone who would look after her when her father couldn't. They bonded and now she was gone.

After Beth's demise, they spent lots of time on the road. They suffered, almost died countless times but they prevailed. They got stronger - she got stronger. And they eventually found Alexandria. There everything was good again like how it was at the prison or even before this hell. She liked it there and didn't understand why the others were so sceptical.

Though that didn't last for long. Y/n began to hate the place when Carl got shot. Alexandria almost stole her brother from her. So she despised it. She refused to leave her brother's side as he adjusted to his injury. Yes, he found it annoying how she wouldn't leave him be and he often snapped at her. But she was there when he needed her. Despite the age difference and the many years of memories they had lost to this fight, she understood his pain. When he saw himself as ugly, a monster even, she made him think otherwise. She kept him afloat, which he was eternally thankful for.

Glenn was next.

She didn't believe it even after she was forced to see it with her own two eyes. She was next to Glenn in the lineup. She had to watch up close. Y/n had to be mocked by that man. She had to stay the whole night with her best friends brains on her face. After that night she blamed herself. She told herself that if Negan was just one person off she would be dead and he would live. He would get to see his child born and grow old with Maggie like they had spoken about. She wholeheartedly believed he deserved to live over her.

The war with Negan shook her to the core. At the time his face filled her nightmares. He just looked so normal. He looked nice even. Yet he hurt and he hurt and he hurt.

He killed her Glenn. And then Carl. It wasn't Negans fault although she did blame him. Carl had gotten bit. Y/n held his hand as he died in that tunnel as the home they had built above them fell. She got a letter too - even though she would rather have preferred to have her brother back. In the letter, Carl told her how proud he was of her - how thankful he was to have her as a sister. He told her to protect Judith, their dad and Michonne, who she had recently begun to call momma.

After Carl's death, y/n shut herself from the world well everyone except her father. For days she would cry until she couldn't anymore. She would scream and scream until her voice was gone. She just didn't understand why it had to be Carl? Why mom? Why Glenn? Why Beth? Why was it never her? The following weeks she found herself wishing it would be her next. She could never bring herself to say it out loud but with any battle, any fight, anything, she wished it would be her.

So when she lost her father her whole world fell apart. He was her consistent so why did he leave her? She was at the bridge that day. Daryl held her crying frame as Rick set off that final shot blowing him and the walkers off the bridge. Y/n Grimes' father was dead.

She stayed in Alexandria for a while afterwards. For the sole reason to protect her siblings. Yes, siblings - plural. Somehow through all the bad some good came from it. She just wished her father and Carl could've seen it. RJ Grimes came into this world 9 months later. And he was perfect. For months she would assist in taking care of him as Michonne wasn't doing the greatest without the love of her life. Truth be told neither was y/n she was just better at hiding it.

Until one night it all became too much. Y/n didn't know how it happened but she found herself balancing on the edge of her window. She wanted to jump - to end it. But she just couldn't will herself to do it. And when Daryl showed up she knew she couldn't. "Hey step away from ta window, alrigh'," The man ordered as he saw her shaking frame rocking back and forth.

"I-i can't," She sobbed.

"Ye' ya can. Jus' step back I'll catch ya," Daryl moved closer but paused when she shouted to stop.

"I can't, Daryl. They're all gone. They're all dead," The tears clouded her eyes. She shut them tightly picturing her families faces wanting so badly to join them.

"Please jus' step back, y/n. Yer' not alone. I'm here," He croaked the tears floating down his cheeks, "Don't jump."

"I love you, Daryl."

"I love ya too, okay? So step away from the window," He watched as she turned her head slightly catching his eyes.

"I love you but I can't. Tell mom, RJ and Judy I love them as well."

Suddenly she went to fall forward but Daryl reacted quicker. He gripped her waist pulling her into the room unwilling to release his grasp. "Yer' not leaving me," He told her as she cried into his shoulder, "Yer' cant leave me." Overhearing the chaos, Michonne entered her daughter's room to see the window wide open and the two of them crying. Daryl looked at her. The look telling her all she needed to know. Michonne began to cry herself and joined them on the ground.

"Y/n?" A small voice called from the door frame.

"Judith go back to bed, okay?" Michonne told her but Judith continued towards her sister. The girl said nothing as she wiped her sister's tears and held her hand.

It was 5 years later now. After her attempt, she left Alexandria with Daryl in search of her father. She didn't believe he was alive despite everything inside her wanting to. But Daryl did and after what happened they became a lot closer. He was happy she joined him. Even though the act of being out there was gruelling at times he was glad he could look after her. And if something would've happened to her while he was gone he could never have forgiven himself. Understandably Michonne was angry that y/n decided to leave. Y/n was her daughter and Michone her mother. They needed each other but she was willing to let Y/n leave to figure that out. It brought her peace looking for her father.

The silence was her favourite and as Daryl wasn't much of a talker she got lots of it. They got a dog too, which Daryl cleverly named Dog. Everything was a messed up version of okay but it was still good. Being out there made her find her purpose. She went home a lot more than Daryl did, which pleased her siblings and mother. It was always for a few days never longer as she feared she'd stay forever and she couldn't. As much as Alexandria is good it also drives y/n to a dark place. One she was in that night. She lost so much there. And staring at those four walls drove her insane. It didn't help how Negan was imprisoned there. Just thinking how close he was made her skin crawl. She knew how Rick visited him when he was alive that he believed Carl was right about the killing. That it had to stop. Y/n knew he was right too but she could never bring herself to one admit or two face Negan.

It felt like a story she read as a child when the Whisperers showed up. Like Negan, they scared her. So when she was told about his escape she only assumed the worst. The Whisperers took so many from them. Like Enid for example. Her story was cut short because of them. The two never really spoke but she understood how she and Carl felt for each other at a time. So ultimately it felt like she lost her final piece of Carl when she died. Y/n wished she had spoken to her when she could've. She wished she could've heard the untold stories they shared. She needed to know about Carl's final years with her. But now she's gone too along with those memories.

The war with the Whisperers took everything from them. The Kingdom. Hilltop. Alexandria. Along with the lives they lost in the process. With the group separated she found herself protecting Judy and RJ. Michonne had gone. Where she had gone to, y/n had no idea. For a messed up reason, she began to prepare herself for her mother's death before it was even announced. That was until she got the call. She was okay and... apparently so was Rick.

Disbelief was what hit her first. She couldn't hear his voice nor see his face so how could she know it was true. Michonne didn't know either she couldn't if he was really there, still alive. That night of the call she left. Without hesitation, she kissed RJ and Judith's heads, told them she loved them and told them to tell everyone else that and left. She left in the direction Michonne had told her.

She left to find her father. And she knew she wouldn't return until she did. "I'm coming, dad."

#the walking dead imagine #the walking dead #the walking dead x reader #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes x grimes!reader #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes x grimes!reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #michonne x reader #michonne x daughter!reader #rick grimes #carl grimes #daryl dixon #michonne #rick grimes daughter #the walking dead request

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sscoutregimentss · 3 years

Note

S with Eren? Thankkkssss

i love this letter. and i love him. gah. modern au again because... yeah... honestly all of these are probably gonna be modern au lol

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Eren is protective, not possessive. A big thing in your relationship is that you both feel respected enough to have the freedom to do what you'd like. He's never gonna be that guy that's like "Don't hang out with guys" or "Lemme go through your phone."

But if he feels like you're in danger, he's going to step in. If someone is hovering over your drink at a party while talking to you, he's marching over there and snatching it far away from them. Sometimes you get really annoyed at this because you just don't know what's going on, but once things start to click it's a big relief. He's always got your back.

This does not mean he does not have a jealous streak. He just won't bother you about it, instead opting to pout and complain about them or just straight up tell them to fuck off.

"Babe."

"Oh god, here we go again." You sigh, not looking up from your textbook. "Yes, Ereh, my shnookums pookie pumpkin peachy pie? What is bothering you sugar face doll prince cutie?"

"Ew." He scrunches his nose in response, shutting his phone off and inching towards you from his spot laid on his bed. You were wearing his swimming hoodie, the one with his last name written on the back. He likes when you wear it, reminds him that you're his and he's yours. That you care enough to let everyone know that you love him. "Have you talked to Floch recently?"

"That ginger from Reiner's party?" He nods in response, and you shake your head. "No, he was lowkey weird."

"I think he likes you."

"You think everyone likes me."

"It just makes sense!" He exclaims, throwing his hands in the air to emphasize his point. "Everyone should like you. You're hot, and cute, and smart, and funny, and perfect and—"

"I think I get your point."

He wants to protect you from other people or other things, but he wants to be protected from his own thoughts and troubles. He wants you to hold his hand and tell him he was just a kid, he couldn't have saved her no matter how hard he tried. He wants you to hug him close and tell him she's proud of him. He wants you to remind him he's loved, that Mikasa and Armin trust him, that his friends aren't lying and you will always be there for him. That everything is going to be alright.

"Eren?" You ask, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you desperately lower the brightness of your phone screen. "Are you alright, baby boy?"

"I... I dont think so. I don't think I'm alright," He responds, and you can tell from the scratch in his voice that he's been crying. "I'm outside your door, can you open it?"

You rush to your front door, only to find him stood outside in a dark colored hoodie and sweatpants, long hair out of it's usual messy bun and laying past his shoulders, his eyes red and his hands shaking.

"Oh, Ren," you whisper, holding your hands out for him to bury his face in your chest. He's quick to oblige, letting out a little sob. "What happened?"

"Got in a fight with Mikasa." He hiccups, leaning into your fingers as you run them through your hair. "Said some stupid stuff and now I really regret it. I think Armin heard too. I don't know why I keep fucking up like this, (Name). All she's ever done is be there for me."

You hum, holding him closer as you think about what he said. "Mikasa loves you, Eren. Armin too. I'm sure they were hurt by what you said, but they understand you better than anyone. They know why you do things you do. All you can do now is apologize and try your best to make it up to them."

His breathing starts to steady, and he looks up at you with those bright green eyes. You wipe away the tears with your fingers.

"It's all gonna be alright."

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parkers-gal · 3 years

Note

can you do a rogers!daughter x Peter Parker where he confesses his love to her after a battle and the avengers hear on coms

loved this a lot <3 (might do a part two. lemme know if y’all are interested hehe)

｡☆✼★━━ requests are closed ━━★✼☆｡

You’re paired with Wanda and Clint for the latest mission: invading HYDRA for the super-soldier serum. It’s hard work, and you’ve been fighting for a good hour. You’re getting closer to the center, and as you consistently report back to your dad and Tony through the comms, you can’t help but feel like something else is bound to happen. Sure, you’re your father’s kid, and maybe you inherited a few of his enhanced abilities, but you’re wearing down the line and your muscles are starting to ache in that familiar overworked way.

“How’s it going down there?” You hear your dad through your earpiece, and with a final punch to one of the guards, you wheeze out a response.

“Fine, just clearing out the area. Are we clear to enter yet?”

“Almost.”

You hum, turning the corner with your gun up front, just as Natasha had trained you so many times before. “I’m all clear over here.”

“Proceed to the lab. Tell me if anything goes sou-”

You don’t get to hear the end of your dad’s sentence, because somebody sends you a harsh blow to the side of your head, momentarily interfering with your senses. You go stumbling to the floor, muttering a quick “fuck” under your breath.

Turning over, you move to get up, but somebody picks you up by the collar of your suit. Suddenly, you feel cold metal against your temple and you know someone’s pointing a gun at you.

“Make a move and you’re dead meat,” he seethes out. His grip on you is strong, and you blink away harsh tears while attempting to stop your winced expressions of pain. You swallow thickly, and more voices come in through your comms.

“Y/N?” Steve yells, worried. “Y/N are you okay?”

Wanda’s voice runs through your ears, “Steve, someone’s holding her hostage!”

“Who’s down?” Tony butts in.

“Y/N,” Sam fills in. “Scanner shows a gun to her head.”

“Wait, Y/N?” You hear Peter, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. God, what you would give to be with Peter instead of this HYDRA agent. “Is she alright? What’s happening? Where is she?”

“Kid, I need you to not panic,” Tony says, thrusting upwards while he flies over a portion of the building to find Steve. “Y/N’s got a gun to her head and we can’t risk anything right now.”

“Right,” Peter swallows, “Sorry.”

“Does anyone have any ideas?” Wanda inquires before sending another agent flying into the wall.

“I do,” your father barks, vibranium shield coming into contact with a man who has a gun. He pushes the door open, “Attack.” He makes his way through the hallways and corridors, hoping to find any trace of you.

“Steve, you need to be careful. We don’t know what this guy can do.” Sam reports flying alongside Tony while the two of them find Peter webbing a few people to the walls of the building.

“You okay, kid?”

Peter nods at his mentor’s question. “We need to help Y/N.” His voice comes off frantic and worried, and if this were any other occasion, Tony would’ve teased him for being so protective of you.

“Tell me what you’re here for,” the man with a gun and an awfully shaved beard questions you, the gun nudging further into the side of your head.

Your jaw clenches and you swallow again, “I’m not telling you anything.”

The man makes a move to do something, and you know it can’t be good.

Suddenly, the hairs on Peter’s neck stand upright and his Peter Tingle goes off hazardously. He pauses where he is, stopping his movement while he blinks in surprise, senses going into overload. Suddenly, he makes the connection, and in a split second, he’s running so fast Tony can’t even register where he’s going and what he’s doing.

“Kid! Hey!”

Peter bursts through the door, web slinging and snatching the weapon right out the agent’s hand before he can even blink. You gasp in surprise, head shooting in the direction of Spider-man.

Peter blows a hit to the man’s head, successfully knocking him out in one hit. He’s at your side in seconds, questions flying out while you try to adjust to the quick change in situation.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“Peter, I’m fine,” You assure him, bringing his hands away from your face.

He doesn’t get the message though, and his hands fly back up to your face, allowing you to nuzzle into his glove-clad palm. He uses his hands to turn your face, inspecting your eyes and cheeks and jaw for scratches and bruises. He’s muttering under his breath, frantic and paranoid.

“Pete, Pete,” You hold both of his hands, keeping them away from your face. “I’m fine. Are you alright? Why’re you so worried?”

The eyes of his suit widen and he backtracks slightly, but not enough to lose physical contact with you.

“Why am I so worried? You just had a gun to your head, Y/N! You could’ve died!”

“But I didn’t.”

“But you could’ve!” He huffs, neither of you realizing that the entire team can hear you through the comms — and that they are. “That guy could’ve killed you! We could’ve lost you- I could’ve lost you!”

“Peter, it’s part of the job,” You calm him down with a humorless chuckle, slightly wary of where this is going. “This wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last. But you saved me,” He tries to dodge your hands but you persist, bringing him close. “You saved me, Peter.”

“But what if I didn’t?”

“You did.”

“But what if I don’t make it next time, huh?! What do I do then?”

You click your tongue, glancing around at the barren room and the man passed out on the floor. You take a step closer to Peter.

“You see that over there?” You point towards the glass container. “That’s the super-soldier serum.” You don’t hear the gasps of the Avengers. “You just saved my life and retrieved them. There’s no ‘what if’ when it comes to your abilities, Peter. You made it.”

He’s quiet for a few beats. “I don’t want to lose you,” He confesses, whispering it while leaning his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

You blink in surprise but his eyes are shut while he stays put against your face. His lips are mere inches from yours, and you can feel the warmth radiating off of him. The two of you are too caught up in the moment to hear everyone else gasping at Peter’s confession.

“Yeah?” You interlock your fingers, your other hand slowly taking the flap of his mask and dragging it up above his lips. His breath fans your face, and your eyelids flutter shut for a moment. “I love you, too.” It comes out as a whisper, and before you know it, Peter’s leaning in and so are you. And for a split second you realize this is your best friend that you’re kissing, but then you realize that it feels so right.

Meanwhile, Tony turns to Steve with wide eyes and Rhodey is mouthing “did you know?” to anyone who can answer. Tony puts his hands up defensively, feigning innocence, and both men turn to look at Steve, who’s beside Bucky and Sam now.

“Well?” Tony whispers?”

“I didn’t know!” Steve defends, grumbling a “not like I’d approve of it anyways.”

“I knew,” Bucky raises his hand.

“Yeah, and me,” Sam agrees and Bucky rolls his eyes with a scoff.

“No you didn’t. She told me.”

“Yeah and she told me, too.”

“Well she told me first.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes it is! I-”

“Guys!” Wanda cuts them off. She uses her head to motion towards a room, and heads turn in the direction of you and Peter, who are walking out with a briefcase full of the remaining serums.

“We good?” You ask as Peter pulls his mask down over his mouth and nose. Everyone nods and you walk over to your dad’s side.

“You okay, honey?”

“Fine, dad. Let’s just get out of here.”

He nods before looking at Tony. “Circle around the building and report back. Meet you on the quinjet in five.”

Peter smirks behind his mask when he realizes Bucky, Steve and Sam are all going to run their ways back to the jet.

“Race ya!” he yells before grabbing hold of your waist and thwipping up into the air. You scream in delight and Steve watches the two of you leave. Sam laughs at his seemingly protective-dad-mode.

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