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starogeorgina · 4 months

Text

𝐑𝐮𝐧

Paring: Joel Miller × reader

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of attempted SA, violence, age gap relationship, blood, kidnapping, mentions of child abuse

Chapter: 1.02

You have to fight to keep the rage from your face, not wanting to give Ellie another reason to disappear again. And though you felt guilty for sending her out into the freezing cold in the first place, you thought it was better for her to collect buckets of snow rather than witness Joel vomiting. The young girl practically leaps down the staircase into the basement, dropping a small bag in front of you without an explanation. You release Joel’s hand and whisper to Ellie, “Where the fuck have you been?”

“I have medicine for Joel."

After escaping the raiders, Joel collapsed, falling off his horse, and you’d managed to help him into the base of a house in a small abandoned town. When he began burning up, you sent Ellie outside to get a bucket of snow to try and cool him down with. When she never came back, you tried to look for her, but with the heavy snowfall, you lost Ellie’s footprints and have been ill with worry since. “Where from, on the other side of the country?"

“I made a deal to trade the deer I killed with some guy. He was a fucking weirdo.”

You could tell by the flush on her cheeks that she was hiding something, but you didn’t have time to pry it out of her. Joel's stab wound had become infected, and he needed the medication immediately. You give him a shot of penicillin on his side, which causes your stomach to turn.

“What guys? Did they follow you?”

“I don’t think so.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You were more pissed at yourself than with Ellie; she was just a young girl trying to be helpful, unaware of the danger she was putting herself in.

—

Joel lets out a quiet moan as you link your fingers with his. “Where is she?” He asks weakly, “Ellie.”

You point to the corner of the room where Ellie was sleeping with her back pressed against the wall, “asleep.”

Content that Ellie was safe Joel turns his attention to you. He brushes strands of hair behind your ear and says, “You look tired.”

“Really? Because I thought I looked great.”

A pained smile crosses his face. “I don’t need you to watch over me.”

Admittedly, Joel was looking a lot better after a few more injections of penicillin, and he wasn’t as clammy as before, but he was still in and out of consciousness. You sigh, “I need to keep watch.”

“Suppose, but I’ll listen out if you want to close your eyes.” Joel grunts as he shuffles over on the dirty, worn-out mattress he’s laying on, giving you enough space to settle down beside him.

Hesitantly, you put your head on his chest, careful to make sure you don’t put any weight on his body. You feel comfort for the first time since you left Jackson when Joel kisses your forehead and gently twiddles a strand of your hair.

—

You press the back of your hand on Joel’s forehead, trying to gauge what his temperature is. He had fallen into a deep sleep a few hours previously, and it was difficult to get him to take a sip of water. Ellie had to pry his mouth open while you poured it in.

“Are you dating?”

Your head snaps up to meet Ellie’s burning gaze. “What?”

“You and Joel, are you dating?”

“Um, no, we aren’t dating.” The past few days were made up of fleeting touches and shared looks. You thought they had gone unnoticed, but it seems you were wrong.

“But you’ve slept together.”

It wasn’t a question, but a statement.

“Why would you do that if you aren’t together? It’s just going to make everything more complicated than it is,” Ellie says, sounding so much older than she is. “Adults are so fucking dumb at times.”

Ellie probably didn’t even fully understand what she was talking about. You were sure she had only learned the basics of sex at school, but she was too young to understand how. You feel bad seeing the faraway look on her face. Ellie had started to see Joel as a father figure, and it was possible that she thought he would choose you over her. “I promise nothing will change—what was that?”

Ellie climbs up onto an old washing machine and looks out of the window. “Oh shit. It’s that guy, David, with a group of men, and all of them have guns.”

“Tell me everything, now.”

Quickly, Ellie fills you in on how the man she met before was part of the same community of raiders that attacked you at the university and would likely be hunting you down to get revenge on Joel for killing the man who attacked you.

Panic begins to set in, as you only have a few moments to figure out what to do. You zip up your jacket and make sure the gun is loaded before placing it in your holster. “Everything me and Joel do is to keep you alive, so I need you to do everything I tell you to, okay?”

Ellie nods.

“Find a place to hide and don’t come out. I’m going to lead the men away from here, and whatever happens, you stay with Joel, okay?”

Slowly, she nods again, tears glistening in her eyes.

You lean forward and kiss her on the forehead before climbing up onto the washing machine and cracking one of the windows open; thankfully, you were able to squeeze through it. Silently, you prayed. The three of you made it through the day and managed to not get captured by these assholes.

—

Despite agreeing to do what you said, Ellie decided to try to help you lead the men away from Joel, which derailed your plan. You had managed to go unnoticed as you snuck along to the house at the end of the street and set it on fire. Once they were distracted by the fire, you would mount the horses and go in the opposite direction, but just as the group of men noticed the smoke, Ellie rode the horse down the street to try and lead them into the woods.

When you see Ellie fall off the horse, which has just been shot, you try to reach her before the group of men do. You fire at them, “Stay the fuck away from her!”

You almost reach her in time, but you’re tackled from behind and pinned down to the ground.

“There’s no need to be so afraid,” a man says before picking up Ellie's unconscious body, and immediately you know something is off about him. You could sense the evil presence around him. “My name is David, and I mean you no harm.”

“Put her down now! You son of a—”

—

Your throat burns as the last of the food in your stomach exists in your body. As soon as you saw so much blood on your hands, you began to vomit. You were knocked out and carried to some community in the middle of nowhere, where you were chained to the wall like a wild animal ready for slaughter.

You had made yourself small and crouched. In the corner, one of the men from before tried to offer you a drink of water.

“James, is it?”

“Yeah."

The look in his eyes is almost tender, as if he feels bad for what he’s doing. You swing your leg up and kick him in the face, bursting his nose open. “That’s for shooting my fucking horse. Now, where is she?"

“You’re going to regret that, stupid bitch!” He hisses before storming out of the small room, slamming the door behind him.

—

David towers over you as he tries to convince you that he is a good guy and that everything he does is for the good of his people. He had handed you a form to fill out, which was mainly questions about your menstrual cycle and told you everything you needed to know. He was searching for healthy women to breed them like cattle.

In a neutral tone, you say, “I’ve met men like you before. I know what you are.”

“And what’s that?” David asks, amused, thinking he has won you over.

“No man focuses on a little girl so much unless they are sick in the head,” you say before spitting in his face. “You’re a fucking pedophile!”

“I think you’ve talked enough for today.”

You pull on the chain keeping you attached to the wooden wall and loudly scream, “If you touch a single hair on her head, I will fucking skin you alive!”

—

You stumble out onto the thick snow; if it weren’t for Joel and Ellie calling your name, you would have obviously been in their presence. Tears fall from your eyes as you continue to limp straight ahead towards the icy river. Your bare arms start to feel numb as the cold nips at them.

You had no choice; you had no voice.

Until the day you died, the nightmares of what just happened would haunt you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you see the crimson trail you’ve left behind—a mixture of your own blood and the blood of those you killed dripped from your body. Your eyes return to the front of you as the reality of what you did starts to become overwhelming. The second you feel a hand touching your shoulder, you begin to scream and lash out. “Get away from me! Get away!”

“It’s me! It’s just me!”

“Get off of me!” You’re unable to scratch and slap when your arms are bound with something. “Let me go! Just let me go, please!”

“Stop, it’s me; it’s Joel.”

Slowly you stop lashing out, your chest having as you take gulps of air as you sob. “J—Joel? Joel, they—they—”

They are cannibalistic freaks who tried to force themselves on me with the purpose of getting me pregnant.

“Shh,” he pulls you into his arms, and you bury your face into the crook of his neck. “I’ve got you; you’re safe.”

You feel Ellie hugging you from behind, her head resting against your shoulder blades. It takes you a moment to register that Joel has removed his jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. Once you’ve regained control of your breathing, you lift your head and quietly ask, “What do we do now?”

“We’ll find shelter and get you cleaned up.”

You nod, and stepping back, you fix your arms into the sleeve of the jacket and fasten it. Joel leads the way, his fingers tightly gripping his shotgun. You and Ellie share a look that cuts deep. From the look in her eyes, you can tell she’s as traumatized as you are.

#the last of us #joel miller x female reader #joel miller/you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #Joel Miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #the last of us x you #the last of us x reader #the last of us fanfiction #run

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luimagines · 11 months

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Take Your Sick Day

Another Commission!

Masterlist

They asked for Dragon Link, specially Skyward Sword Link and for me to make it sooo fuffy that they would be laid comatose. I’m not entirely if I did that but I got permission to share it :D

Content under the cut!

“You’re warm.” A black scaled reptilian tail lashed back and forth like an agitated cat. Cool hands place themselves by your neck and on your forehead. “You’re sick.”

“I’m fine.” You cough, covering your mouth with your sleeve.

The half formed dragon sends you a deadpan stare. “Uh-huh. And let me guess you’re also planning on going out to finish the job you started yesterday, right?”

You glare, daring him to say anything about your plans for today.

“Cancel them.”

“No.”

“You’re sick.” The half dragon in front of you stresses. “Jayrie is old enough as it is, what if she catches it?”

You pause. Jayrie was the kind elderly woman who gave you a job when you had no other means of income. The work was simple but long. However, someone had to do it and you were happy to fill in the position when asked. Like everyone else in the settlement, Jayrie was a dragon but she was considered old even by their standards. You never did ask how old she truly was. But if you had to guess, she was centuries old.

The boy in front of you was older too. Granted, he may have looked closer to your age but he himself admitted to be nearly two hundred years old already. You’re not sure how that aging works out as it does. But Hyrule’s magic was hard to pin down as it is. You won’t question it.

“Dragons don’t get as sick as we do.” You inform him with a meek voice. Do they? It was an argument you were willing to make, but not one that you thought you could defend very well.

The young man sends you a blank look.

You begin to fluster, gathering that your argument lacked a foundation. “Look… Link… It’s not even that bad.”

“Uh-huh.” He repeats his earlier disinterest. “Explain to me then why you look like you’re about to keel over and pass out.”

You huff. “I’m fine.”

He’s not convinced. “At least eat something.” He says, eyeing you up and down. “It won’t do you any good to get out there without any strength left in you.”

You have the suspicion that he has something else planned but you can’t figure out what it is. On top of that, you don’t feel really hungry. If anything, the thought of eating makes you queasy. However… if that’s his only condition to let you go, you can’t really deny it. “Sure. I’ll eat something.”

You already feel worse.

Link nods, smiling softly. “Good. Give me a second to whip something up then you can head out.”

You grin back tensely. “Thanks.”

“Anything.” He leans forward, kissing your forehead quickly before he dips into the kitchen. You can feel that he laced that kiss with some of his magic. It was cooling and sweet. You can feel it flush through your system, even if it doesn’t hold. There was a healing spell there. It’s a shame that it never sticks.

You gulp and notice that your throat does feel stretchier than usual. But you’ve so close to finishing up that order for the week. It can’t afford to be put off for another day. And if anything, you’ve never been one to leave things half done. You were sure you would be able to get it done today. Then maybe tomorrow you can take the day off to recover. It’s just a little discomfort for a long term pay out, right?

Man, you were getting colder. And your back was sore. Maybe you should go lay down for a little bit. Then Link can come in with breakfast, you can swallow it down and go to work.

“That sounds nice.” You say to yourself. Your head hit the pillow and it was just cold enough that it eased the pressure building in your head. You were still getting colder. You can feel yourself begin to shake from the chills. Maybe you can get under the blankets. Just for a little bit. Five minutes, max.

Link was busy cooking up something simple for you. You looked miserable, if he was being honest. From your blood shot eyes, to the clear way your nose was beginning to run and you were flushed with fever. He had seen his own people get sick before, but it was hardly ever to that extent. Maybe your kind was different?

For one thing, you were right. Dragons don’t get sick as often but this is the fifth time it’s happened since you’ve landed in their little settlement on the surface. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you were empty. Not a hint of magic within you, whatsoever. It was concerning when you first showed up but it never seemed to be a hindrance. Link had taken a liking to you instantly. Even if you were ignoring his advances, he wanted to try to court you.

He pulled out all the stops, doing everything he knew would be the right thing to do. He just hoped it would be enough to impress you and choose him back.

Only for it to come to light that you had no idea was trying to court you to begin with. Not only were you not a dragon and lacked magic, but your senses were still just a shot in the dark compared to what he could perceive. It was as if you were a different creature entirely.

But that didn’t change how much he wanted to make you his.

It ended up being near impossible, given that magic always seemed to flow out of you. Nothing could stick no matter what they tried. He couldn’t add his mark to you. You were blocked off of any magic in general. Which was concerning when you were injured. You couldn't take any healing spells or health potions and there were little other methods they had to deal with problems like those. Still, Link never considered himself one to shy away from a challenge. Which led to where you are today, with him in his house on the surface, helping to keep the settlement stable in the little ways you could help.

He could hear you get back into the bed as the eggs sizzled and popped by the stove. Link allowed his heart to relax a bit. Good, he sighed. You should be resting. He had the sinking suspicion that you got sick by overworking yourself again. Not to mention that winter was around the corner and the temperature was dropping.

He shakes his head and plates the food, hoping you’d have it in you to eat something anyway. “What am I going to do with you?”

Link creeps through the house and peaks through the door to the bedroom. While he holds the plate of eggs and toast in one hand, he holds the door just a crack open with the other. A breath of relief flows out of him. You’ve fallen asleep.

“Why must you push yourself so hard, Beloved?” He whispers, entering the room and putting the plate on the bedside table.

The back of his hand brushes against your temple and forehead once more. A frown places itself firmly on his features. “You’re warmer than you usually are.”

Link sits on the edge of the bed, gently brushing the side of your face as you sleep. In retrospect, this isn’t anything new. You’ve both gone through this before. You’ve both learned and grown and adapted to the circumstances. Link knows what he has to do to help you fight the war within you.

But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish this would be easier to handle.

He tucks you into the bed, making sure the blankets are wrapped snugly around you before he gets up again. There’s a pause where he considers taking the plate back with him. It’s not like you’re going to eat it anytime soon. But perhaps you wake up in the time it takes him to make his rounds. Link still wants you to have something in your stomach, even if it’ll be the only thing you eat today.

Link walks around his house, making sure everything is in place and within easy reach.

He goes to tell Jayrie that you’re sick and won’t be making it to your shift today, and potentially not tomorrow either. The elderly woman is ever understanding, having gotten to know your nature quite well after working with you for as long as she has.

“Take care of them, young man.” She shakes her head softly. “Let them know to only come back when they’re feeling one hundred percent back to their normal self.”

Link tips his head in gratitude, a soft smile overtaking his face. “Yes, ma’am. I plan to do just that. I just have to let the others know that I won’t be able to come in again-”

“Oh nevermind them.” Jayrie waves him off. “I can tell those old fuddy duddies that your mate needs you for the time being. Go back home now, you hear? We both know that if you’re not there to stop them, they’ll just keep working until their body forces them to stop.”

“They’re asleep right now.” Link admits with a shy smile. “I think that might have already happened.”

“All the more reason to make sure they don’t push themselves any further.” Jayrie begins to push him out of her shop and back onto the main trail. “Go on now, go!”

“Thank you.” Link tips his head in gratitude and rushes back home to you, leaving a blustering wind in his wake.

When he gets back into the house, he checks on you first. You’re still asleep and the eggs are still untouched. A sigh tumbles out of him once more. Link supposes that this is better than you trying to work more while you’re ill. Then again, it’s a testament to how sick you truly are.

With his own plans canceled for the day, Link has to find ways to keep himself busy while he waits until you need something from him. Granted, there’s very little to do around the house. It’s on the smaller side and he hasn’t needed to expand much even when you joined him under the same roof. He can clean but that proves to be only a small chore when the two of you don’t leave a lot of clutter around the counter spaces anyway.

Suddenly, he hears you groan a bit. Intrigued by your sudden movement, Link makes his way through the house and pokes his head through the doorway. “Are you awake now, Beloved?”

You groan again and blink your eyes open. Blearily, you looked around you and slowly burrow deeper into the blankets. “It’s so bright.”

“It’s the middle of the day.” Link smiles, walking in to close the curtains. “”There. Better?”

“Mhm.” You hum and lift your head up a bit. You cough. It sounds rough and wet. “What time is it?”

Link flinches. Your voice sounds rough as well. “Closer to noon. Maybe past that. I haven’t been looking at the clock.”

You frown and Link knows it’s because you’re upset that you missed out on your shift. Then your eyes land on him again. “Didn’t you have to help Groose and Zelda with the new farmland today?”

“I got it covered.” Link waves you off, not wanting to go into too many details. “You need me. You are my priority.”

“You say that every time.”

“And I mean it every time.” Link smiles and sits on the edge of the bed again. His hand comes up once more to feel your forehead and cheeks. “Still warm. How are you feeling?”

“I feel horrible… and gross.” You whine.

Link frowns. “I believe you.”

You lift your arms up for a hug. You look so small and miserable, it melts Link’s heart. With a small huff, Link climbs into the bed next to you, shifting into his half dragon form and wraps himself around you.

Link feels you hum and relax in satisfaction. A proud smile covers his face as he rests his head on top of yours. He tucks you under his chin, holding you close to his chest as he begins to purr. With his arms and tail wrapped around you, and his legs intertwined with yours, he feels a sense of peace wash over him.

This is perfect, as it should be. You are right next to him and within his arms. The dragon in him couldn’t be happier. He’ll look after you. You are his mate. There’s no other person he could think of to fill this spot. It belongs to you and you alone.

”Link…” Your voice cuts through the simple quiet that descended after he snuggled up to you. “I still feel gross.”

Link snorts. “I have a feeling you'll feel gross for a while.”

“...I’m sick.” You pout.

“Yeah. I know.” Link pets your hair. “We should get you cleaned up at least.”

You tilt your head up to look up at him, not fully understanding what he means by that.

With a dimmed mischievous smile, Link turns and picks you up, easily holding you in his arms. You’re too tired to react to it. Instead, you rest your head on his shoulder and hold onto his shoulder loosely.

Link walks through the house once more, heading to the back where he’s made a corner for your privacy. He sets you down on a wooden chair and points to the pool he intends to fill up. “Bath time.”

You make a face but comply, ridding yourself of the clothes that have been sitting in your sickness. Link calls to the clouds to form above the ditch, letting it rain and fill with the water. To the side, he tosses wood and cranks a fan. Quickly, zapping the wood with lightning, he creates a fire and watches in satisfaction as the rain water begins to warm up.

He doesn’t have to keep the crank in motion for the job to be completed, so he let’s it run its course, turning instead to pick out the soaps he intends to use.

When he fishes out the soap, he sees you lowering yourself already into the water, sinking into it slowly. “How’s the water?”

“Not warm enough.” You mumbles, cupping the water up to rinse your shoulders.

Link places the soaps by your side and goes back to the fire, using the fan to grow the flame. With time, you let him know that it’s just where you want it and he returns to your side.

“You don’t have to do this.” You say as he kneels. “I can do this myself.”

“You can.” He agrees. “But you wouldn’t. Let me be good to you. You’re not feeling well anyway.”

You pout and growl the best you can, but the sickness doesn’t allow you to properly be intimidating.

Link rolls up his sleeves and takes one of the bars of soap, dipping it into the water and bringing it back up to run it over your body. With one hand lathering the soap, the other makes quick work of kneading into your muscles, working out the soreness and knots that tend to gather when you fall ill.

A groan leaves you before you can stop it. You’re inclined to lower yourself into the water and tilt your head back. You open your eyes and look up at him. “Thank you.”

Link smiles as you appear to already look better. He doesn’t fully understand how the steam helps you but he’s not going to ask questions. He kisses the tip of your nose. “Always and forever, Beloved. Do you want me to wash your hair?”

“You’re going to make me fall asleep again.” You admit, but you don’t say no.

“Good.” Link laughs. “Anything to get you to slow down for once.”

“I’m not that bad!”

“And yet here we are.” Link flicks the back of your head gently, grabbing a different soap and lathers it in between his hands. His fingers dive into your hair and begin to massage your scalp.

Calling over a rain cloud, he lets it rinse out the soap as he goes. It’s not as warm as the water around you, but it proves to be a calming sensation to your still peaked fever. You sink further into the pit.

Link is more or less forced to follow you lower but he has to pull himself back up. He chuckles at your reactions and steps back to strip.

You whine again. “Liinnkkk…Where’d you go?”

“Right behind you, hold on.” Link laughs, placing his clothes neatly onto the table. He lowers himself onto the water as well, wondering if perhaps the water could be a bit warmer for the both of you.

He sees you smile when you see him sit in the bath. That look on your face makes this whole thing worth it, in Link’s eyes. That little pleased smile pushes you forward and you wrap yourself around Link once more.

Link gladly takes you into his arms again and goes back to running his hands through your hair, massaging every inch he can reach. The rain cloud follows and rinses the soap off of your body. With a kiss to the top of your head, Link leans back against the wall of the ditch, pushing the stronger rain clouds away before it can overflow. “I love you, Beloved.”

“I love you too.” You sigh, letting yourself be held against his chest. You’re content and already feeling better. It’s just one thing that scratches the back of your mind. “I didn’t have the breakfast you made me.”

“I know.” He says quietly. “I’ll make more.”

“Would you?”

“Yes.” He nuzzles the side of your head. “But rest up first. We’re not going anywhere any time soon.”

You hum and nod, resting against him at last.

“Sleep well.”

#link x reader #skyward sword #skyward sword link #legend of zelda #dragon au #for the record #I'll put this in the Sky masterlist #since its supposed ot be the same guy anyway #but aside from one line- it can almost be any link

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theje0ngs · 2 years

Text

JJH | from J, with love.

PAIRING/CHARACTERS • jaehyun x fem!reader

GENRE • fluff, dad!jaehyun, idol!au, marriage!au

WORD COUNT • 2k

CONTENT WARNINGS • just two curse words

GELA SAYS • this was in my drafts for a very long time and this is highly inspired by my personal life; my parents worked a lot when i was a kid, especially my dad who worked abroad, so he writes letters to me, my sibling and my mom whenever he’s away for work hehe <3 this is for anon who got their heart broken after reading divorce papers eahsahahah, i hope this makes it up to u! 🫶 also pls lmk if the link at the end doesn’t work and i’ll send u a new one hehe

HAPPY READING!

Jaehyun left the country heartbroken. It’s been two years since physical concerts stopped and now that it’s happening again, he had no choice but to leave the comfort of his home and his family for work. Something he couldn’t explain to his 3-year-old daughter. The last time they went on tour, Jieun was just a few months old and had no idea that her father had left to work abroad for a while.

“I will send you something every now and then, call me if you need anything and I will literally fly my ass back to Korea in case of emergency.” He told you as he rummaged through his bag, looking for his earphones. “Mom and dad said they’ll visit whenever they can, they’re just driving distance from where we live so you can drop Jieun there if you need to run errands on the days she’s not in daycare.”

You chuckle at your husband, “Babe, I know the basics. Your parents have contacted me as well, we’re heading there after this.” You replied, “Please, please, please be safe and avoid anything that will lead you to injury. It’s already hard seeing you go, and it’ll be much harder to know if you’re injured while you’re thousands of miles away from us.”

“Alright, thank you.” He sighed, finally found his earphones before facing you. “I’m definitely going to miss you two.”

The rest of the members were on their way here, Jaehyun personally asked his manager and the company if it was okay to head off to the airport with you and your daughter. Jieun was clueless — for now. She was amazed by how huge airports were and somehow, a miracle occurred, the three of you managed to enter this without any of paparazzies knowing.

“Aww, look at you, a dad working abroad.” You tease, “We’ll miss you too, Jae. We’ll be fine, I promise.”

He was tempted to remove his facemask, wanting to kiss you on the lips, but it was too risky, and someone might notice and make a scene out of it. Instead, he wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed your temple even if there was a mask in between. After that, he sank down, turning his daughter’s attention from the chairs to him.

“Jieun, daddy will be back in no time. Promise me you’ll be a good girl for mommy?” He said to the 3-year-old, extending his pinky out and waited for the toddler to wrap her small pinky to her dad’s. “Alright, once daddy comes back, I promise to take you to Everland and to the zoo. As long as you’re good to mommy and to your grandparents.”

“Are you coming back tomorrow, daddy?”

Ouch. That sentence made Jaehyun’s heart crack at some point. Jieun was a pandemic baby; she’s basically used to Jaehyun being around most of the time — even if he comes home late in the night after schedules or early in the morning. But this tour would be longer than Jieun expects; this tour covers at least 7 months abroad as they have scheduled 30 shows in different countries and cities which means they would either go back and forth to Korea or continue the tour for straight 7 months. “Um, well…”

“Daddy will be back before you know it baby,” You chimed in, realizing that he was having a hard time explaining his job to the toddler. “Right, daddy?”

Jaehyun nods his head in agreement, “I’ll be back in no time.” He lowered his mask, planting a kiss on his daughter’s cheek and stood up to plant a kiss on your temple. Fuck the paparazzi, I’m not going to see my girls for at least seven months. He thought. He bends down again and carries his daughter before taking you to his free arm. “Ah, I don’t think I can go through with this.”

“Jae baby, you’ve been dreaming about this day. You’ve always told me that you missed performing in concerts and here you are now… the two of us will be fine, I promise. We have your parents and mine,” You comfort, “We’ll Facetime you every night before she sleeps or whenever you’re available.”

He had no choice but to nod his head.

The first week has passed since Jaehyun left for Japan— their first stop of the world tour and 29 more weeks to go. Jieun cried throughout the weekend, in constant need to see her father. Since two countries share the same time zone, he, along with his 8 uncles, were able to facetime her every time they got the chance to. One time during dinner after the concert, Jieun insisted on calling her father to let him know that she was being a good girl and that she'd spent the day with her grandparents. Jieun’s energy was emptied that day, she didn’t even notice that she fell asleep in the middle of telling her father a story. The following day after that, you received a letter addressed from Japan. When you texted Jaehyun what it was about, he told you that he just wanted to try writing you two letters as it feels much personal to him. Jieun, despite her reading abilities, was excited to open her letter. It has become a personal thing and every time the group heads off to another country, he will send you two letters along with other memorabilia that he is reminded of you two. It was like that until the very end of the 7-month mark of their tour.

Jieun was fast asleep in her grandparents’ bedroom, taking her afternoon nap after playing with her grandfather. It felt like it was a perfect timing to share with your in-laws about the letters that your husband has been sending the past few months.

“I’ve told him he could also email me these things because imagine how much he’s already spent on shipping,” you told his mother, “But it’s cute, it’s romantic and Jieun looks forward to it every time we open the mailbox in the lobby of our apartment, she gets disappointed if it’s the bills - I, too, get disappointed.”

“Oh dear, Jaehyun loves writing. I think it started when he made one during kindergarten,”

“In Connecticut?”

Your mother-in-law nodded her head, setting down her cup of tea and stood up. “Wait here and I’ll grab some of the things he’s written to me and his father.”

Not even five minutes later, she returns to the dining area with a clear medium box filled with photographs, letters and memorabilia. She pulls out an album containing photographs of their stay in America, their travels when he was younger, basically everything that happened in Jaehyun taken in photographs. It was so cute that you were already thinking of doing the same with Jieun, recalling the Google drive you made where you store every photo of your daughter and have made a decision to print all those photos and create a box like this one.

Jaehyun’s mom pulls out a frame, the first thing you notice were the two small handprints of color green and yellow. The piece was titled: My Handprints dated August 15, 2001. He was four years old and in kindergarten. You look at your mother-in-law, she was smiling yet feeling really emotional.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… he was four when he did this in school and I just can’t believe that time has gone by so fast.” She said, wiping a tear that escaped her eye. “You know, Y/N, I was really happy the day Jieun was born. She looked so small and looked like your husband. She’s almost the same age as Jaehyun when he wrote this poem.”

You comfort her, rubbing your hand on her back as you read the poem:

You’ll wonder how I grew so quick

When and where and why?

That hang here on your wall,

And memories will come back of me,

When I was very small…

Love,

Jay

After that visit to your in-laws, the following day, you and Jieun head off to the closest stationery store and grab the things you need such as paper, pen, frame as well as paint and stickers. You thought of surprising Jaehyun as he will be arriving tomorrow with something like the poem he made when he was young. When you told Jieun about it, she was thrilled and wanted to go home straight after your small date (you promised her ice cream, but she was too distracted about your plan that she didn’t ask to stop at the parlour).

“Mommy, what do I say to daddy?” She asked, holding a pencil, and started writing broken letters as best as she could.

“Hmm, you can write about how much you missed him. Can mommy guide you with writing?”

“Yes, please!”

You chuckle, carrying your daughter to the kitchen table and sat her on your lap before holding her small hand that held a pencil. So far, so good that her small hand was cooperating as you write on the paper. After writing, you’ve asked her if she wanted anything else to put on it, she decided to put stickers on them instead of paint because according to her, paint is very messy (based on her daycare experience). It was hard putting her to sleep, knowing that her dad will arrive in a few hours. When you did, successfully put her to bed, you wrapped your gift and hid it in Jieun’s bedroom next to her bed.

You woke up feeling someone plant kisses on your cheek, at first you thought it was Jieun because lately, she enjoys doing that. But you smelled the familiar scent of Jaehyun’s cologne, your eyes opened, and you jolted up in bed. You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you, inhaling his scent and even pinched yourself to check if he really was home.

“Are- are you really home? Am I not dreaming? But you said you’ll arrive at 4 o’clock in the afternoon! I haven’t cleaned the house- well, it’s no longer important, you’re back!”

Jaehyun laughs, “I am home, wifey. I wanted to surprise you and Jieun, Johnny and his wife dropped me off.” He explained, the tip of his fingers playing with your skin, “It’s only 7 o’ clock, do you want to... you know-”

Jaehyun was immediately cut off when the bedroom door opens and spits out your daughter holding her favorite stuffed toy. Her hair was messy, and she was rubbing sleepiness out of her eyes. “Mommy, I’m hungry- DADDY!” She squeals, dropping the toy and ran to her father.

“Hello princess. Good morning,” Jaehyun greets, tucking a few hair strands behind her ear and kissed her cheeks. “Have you been good?”

“I have!”

As Jieun babbles about her experience for the past seven months, the three of you head to the kitchen. You prepare breakfast, chocolate chip pancakes as your daughter requested.

“Sweetie, don’t you want to show daddy your gift to him?” You asked, and the moment you put the plate in front of her, she runs off to her bedroom.

“Gift? What gift?”

“Oh, it’s just something to thank you for all those letters and words of affirmation you’ve been sending us the past seven months.”

Jieun returns to the dining area with a box and a huge grin on her face. She hands it to her dad and climbs to his lap to watch her father’s hands as he rips the wrapping paper, revealing the letter that you two wrote and framed last night. Jaehyun’s smile grows big as he reads the content, his heart softens and looks at you: “Babe, this is amazing.”

“We went to your parents’ house the other day and your mom showed me the poem and letters you wrote to them when you were young. I thought I’d do the same thing for Jieun.”

Jaehyun puts the frame down on the table and carried Jieun before walking up to you and kisses your lips. “You two are the best.”

“Welcome home, daddy singer.”

(Jieun’s gift to Jaehyun)

DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE.

#cznnet #kflixnet #nctcreations #nct-writers #jaehyun scenario #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun angst #jaehyun smut #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 angst #nct 127 smut #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct angst #nct smut #nct ff #nct x you #nct x reader

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somethinginthewayiam · 1 year

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Lockdown

(pic: google/Entertainment Weekly)

a/n: this part is episode 5 of season 6 with reader inserted in it, from her pov. The dialogue when everybody is back at the clubhouse, right before the explosion happens, is the real one from the episode with the help of https://www.springfieldspringfield.co.uk/

pairing: Chibs Telford x plus-size reader

words: 3049

warnings: there is 18+ content throughout (minors DNI), angst, clubhouse explosion

Summary: Chibs calls you out of nowhere and orders you to be at the clubhouse. There, Gemma tells you that the club is in lockdown...

link to my masterlist and previous parts

You were in the middle of grocery shopping when your phone rang. When you checked your screen, it was an unknown number. Back in the day, you wouldn’t have answered your phone when you didn’t know who it was.

But since you’ve met Chibs and learned about the club’s love for burner phones for reasons you didn’t even want to know, you learned to answer your phone whenever it rang.

“Hello?”, you asked, expecting Chibs to be on the other end. “Aye, darlin’, it’s me”, he answered like always. “Hey”, you said and a smile played around your lips at the sound of his voice.

“I need ya to pack some clothes, go to the clubhouse and don’t ask any questions”, he told you and the tone of his voice was concerned, almost afraid. The question of the Why was at the tip of your tongue but you swallowed it. “Okay”, you simply said and the next second the call was over. You looked at your phone, startled.

You put the basket full of groceries down on the floor, turned around and almost ran out to your car. You drove home, threw some random clothes and your phone charger into a bag and ran back down to your car.

It was already getting dark when you drove onto the lot of Teller-Morrow, a lot of cars were already parked. You found a spot at the other end of the lot. You grabbed your bag and purse from the passenger seat and got out.

When you got closer to the clubhouse, you found Gemma directing people. “Hey, Gemma”, you called out. “Hey, sweetheart”, she greeted you with a hug. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”, you asked her. “We’re in lockdown, honey”, she told you and kept on directing some girls, you had never seen before, who were carrying packages of groceries and other stuff.

“In what?”, you asked irritated. “Go inside, find Lyla, she’ll get you up to speed”, Gemma pointed you towards the clubhouse door. “Stacey, did you get the sodas?”, Gemma called out to a woman behind you. “Yeah, they’re in my car”, the woman yelled over. “I’ll send Chucky to help you”, Gemma replied. “I’ll go get him”, you told her and walked into the clubhouse.

You found the main room to be stacked with people. Men, women and kids of all ages. You were overwhelmed to say the least. You tried to focus on the task at hand; finding Chucky.

Right at that moment, he came out of the room behind the bar. “Hey, Chucky. Gemma needs you outside”, you told him. “Right on it”, he nodded and rushed outside.

With your bag over your shoulder, you stood surrounded by a lot of people in the middle of the clubhouse and felt so alone. You had no idea what’s going on. Besides Gemma and Chucky, you had seen no-one you knew and you were scared. Everyone around you seemed to know what to do and you felt so lost.

“Y/N, hey”, you heard behind you and found Lyla coming out from the hallway that led to the dorm rooms. “Lyla, thank god”, you breathed out in relieve. “Can you please tell me what’ going on? Chibs called me about 30 minutes ago, told me to come here and ask no questions. And then Gemma said we’re in lockdown. And I have no idea what that means and why we’re all here and…”, you ran out of breath.

“Alright, calm down”, Lyla put her hands on your shoulders and guided you to one of the bar stools. “We’re in lockdown right now. That means that we should not leave the clubhouse or the lot without someone from the club accompanying us”, Lyla started to explain.

“But why a lockdown? What the hell happened?”, you asked her frustrated. Everyone seemed to know what was going on but you.

“As for the why, that is often unclear, maybe a deal going south or tensions with another club. But usually, Jax or another Son with the ability to make decisions, calls it. Then, all the family members gather here where the club can protect us and ensure our safety”, Lyla continued her explanation. You weren’t sure if what you heard contributed to you calming down.

“Listen, they don’t just do this for fun, they have good reasons for it”, she told you and took your hand in hers. “It’s all gonna be okay”, Lyla added.

“Okay”, you slowly nodded, trying to control your breathing. “But you said family. I don’t know what I’m doing here then? I’m nobodies’ family”, you mentioned.

“You working for CaraCara and Diosa alone makes you family. And whatever this thing between you and Chibs is, definitely makes you family. So, you’re right where you need to be”, Lyla told you and squeezed your hand reassuringly.

“Okay”, you repeated and ran your hands through your hair. You took a deep breath and tried to slow down your racing heart.

“My first lockdown was hard for me, too. I find that I handle it best when I distract myself. I’m sure Gemma needs another helping hand. And I could use some help setting up the dorm rooms”, Lyla said and hopped off her bar stool.

She was right, occupying your mind would probably be best for you.

You helped Lyla taking care of the kids and family members to take your mind off things and keeping yourself busy. You met some of the old ladies and were starting to get a sense of what it would be like to be in the inner circle.

The rest of the day, none of the Sons showed up at the clubhouse and you ended up spending the night there. You didn’t get a lot of sleep as your mind was racing all the time and listening to every little sound in and around the house. You hadn’t heard from Chibs since the phone call when he ordered you to be here. That didn’t help to ease your mind as well.

As soon as it was justifiable, you started on breakfast. Chucky was up early too and helped you. You tried to look at it like summer camp, just with a dangerous note.

Chucky seemed a little off. Well, off for him at least. He seemed absent and sad. He told you about a former member of the Sons, Otto, who died in prison last night. He further told you that Otto had taken care of him when he was in prison. You spent some time with Chucky and comforted him over the loss of his friend.

A little while later, Jax came by. He was alone and only stayed for a few minutes while talking to Gemma before he drove off with Nero. You watched him from afar as you played with Abel in the playground corner. Unser was sitting on the bench and was watching you two. Kerry, a woman you met last night in the clubhouse, was carrying Thomas.

You had hoped to see Chibs and make sure he was okay, but you had to wait a little bit longer.

4 hours to be exact. That was when Jax came back in a black van that Chibs was driving. Other Sons had come back almost one by one. So far, no-one looked like they were seriously hurt.

You were in the middle of taking out the trash when you spotted the van and the group of Jax, Chibs, Tig and Juice having a conversation. The urge to run over to him was almost overwhelming but their talk seemed serious and you didn’t want to interrupt them. You walked over to the benches by clubhouse entrance and decided to wait there.

Just a moment later, Gemma drove onto the lot and Jax and Chibs walked over to have a conversation with her, too. You couldn’t hear anything because of the distance, but you didn’t need to. Gemma’s facial expressions and body language let you know that she was not happy. She rushed past you into the clubhouse.

Then, Chibs finally came over to the clubhouse after getting his kutte and leather jacket from the van. Right now, he was wearing a blue hoodie with a gun holster over it. Compared to the look you were used to, it was a weird sight.

But you couldn’t care less when he finally stood in front of you. You felt shy all of a sudden when you got up from your seat. “Hey, lass”, Chibs said and a light smile played around his lips as he dropped his things onto the table behind you. “Hi”, you breathed out.

It was him that reached out and pulled you into his arms. You wrapped yours around his hips and put your head against his chest. “You good?”, he asked at your ear, bending down a little bit. “Yeah”, you mumbled and enjoyed the moment you had with him. He kissed the top of your hair before he let go again.

“I need to take Gemma somewhere, so I can’t stay”, he told you and took off his gun holster and then his hoodie. He was wearing a black t-shirt underneath. Chibs handed you his things before he grabbed his leather jacket and put it on. Then he slipped into the holster and grabbed his kutte off the table.

“Can you take care of this until I come back?”, he asked you and handed you the leather vest. “I will defend it with my life”, you replied with a smile and pressed the kutte to your chest.

“Come on, Chibby, let’s get this over with”, Gemma said as she walked past the two of you over to her car. You looked after her and then back to Chibs with a questioning look. “Don’t ask”, he said, rolled his eyes and then bent down to give you a kiss before he followed her. He got in on the driver’s seat and drove the car off the lot.

In the car, Gemma looked out of her window in silence. “You got yourself a good one”, she suddenly spoke up without turning around. “What do ya mean?”, Chibs asked, keeping his eyes on the traffic ahead of him.

“Y/N. For her first lockdown, she’s handling herself great. She takes care of the others like she does that every day. And she’s extremely good with the kids, especially with Abel and Thomas”, Gemma said and finally looked over to her Scottish friend. “She would make a great old lady, one day”, she added.

Chibs stayed silent but she could see that he was clenching his jaw. Gemma kept staring at him in silence until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“You’re jumping way ahead. We’re not there yet, not for long”, Chibs told her but the way that he was avoiding the eye-contact at any cost told Gemma that he didn’t mean it. She knew him long enough to read his signs.

“Look, all I’m saying is, I like her better for you than Fiona”, she summarized. “Gemma”, Chibs sighed.

“In fact, I like her better than Fiona. Period. Even though that’s not that hard”, Gemma added in a sarcastic tone.

“Could ya please stop talking about the mother of me child like that?”, Chibs said while still trying to concentrate on the traffic.

“I’m just looking out for you, baby”, she said and patted his right arm that was stretched out, holding the steering wheel.

“I know”, he sighed again and looked over his shoulder before making a left turn.

It was already late in the day when every Son was back at the clubhouse. Jax immediately went to the chapel and closed the door behind him. The others were spread out over the clubhouse, talking or doing something else to keep themselves occupied. Chibs seemed tense, you could tell that his mind was somewhere else as he walked around the clubhouse. His and your eyes met across the room from time to time, checking in on each other. You felt the tension in the room rising, but when you looked around, you felt like you’re the only one noticing it.

At some point, Chibs walked into the chapel to talk to Jax for a few minutes. To keep your mind off things and to pass the time, you showed the older kids and some of the bikers a few of your pool table tricks and taught them some of it.

After a while, you let other people play and walked over to the bar. Unser was sitting at the counter, doing a crossword puzzle. Tig and Juice were sitting on the other end of the bar, talking amongst themselves.

Chucky was standing behind the counter, cleaning up and handing out drinks when needed. There was a big barrel next to him which he tried to hook up to the tap.

Chibs came out of the chapel and walked over to Tig and Juice. You grabbed two beers and walked around the bar and over to the Scotsman, handing him one. You stood by his side, leaning against him and putting your arm on his shoulders, your hand playing with the hair in the back of his neck. He put his free arm around your hips, his fingers wandering underneath your shirt, just above your jeans and caressed your skin with his thumb in slow circles. His eyes were fixated at a point in front of him, staring into nothing.

It was nice to have him close to you after long two days. He still seemed quite tense but you felt like the little contact you had calmed you both down. “You okay?”, you asked him in a low voice, a conversation just between the two of you in a room stacked with people and loud noises all around. You brushed a strand of his dark-grey hair out of his forehead and let your finger run down his temple in a soothing gesture.

“Better now”, he said and looked over to you. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the gentle touch. You felt his hand on your hips squeezing you lightly as a reply.

Tara came out from the back with Thomas who was crying, bouncing him on her hip. She must have left the room to let Abel sleep.

“What the hell is Sheriff Remus doing here?”, Tig said and everybody turned around and looked at the security camera footage behind the bar.

“Oh, shit”, Jax said. You hadn’t even noticed him coming out from the chapel. You were too deep in your little Chibs-and-you-bubble.

“Hey, I'll go see”, Unser offered and got up from his chair to go outside. “Thank you”, Jax mentioned, keeping his eyes on the little screen.

“What time is it?”, he asked in the round. “Two minutes to 8:00”, Juice answered after a look at his watch.

“All right, everyone to the table. Let's take this call”, Jax announced and finished his cigarette. Chibs gave you a kiss on the cheek and patted your hip to tell you he was going to get up. “Table, boys”, Chibs called out and motioned all the members over to the chapel.

You walked over to Tara who was standing in the back, swaying Thomas in her arms to get him to settle down.

“Hey, Chucky”, Jax called out and his loud voice made you look over. Chucky came out of the room behind the bar.

“You know where this pen came from?”, Jax said and held up a green pen. “Yeah, it's a shamrock pen. Delivery guy left it a few hours ago”, Chucky explained.

“What delivery?”, Jax inquired. “Beer. Gemma must've ordered it”, Chucky explained further.

Jax and Chibs exchanged a panicked look. You felt the hairs on your arms stand up. Something was wrong.

“8:00 o’clock”, Chibs said. “Full table for the vote”, Jax almost mumbled, but you heard him.

The next second, hell broke loose!

“Everyone out! Get out! Now, get out!”, Jax yelled. People started running and screaming.

“What's going on?”, you asked Chibs as he came directly at you. “You need to get out. Now!”, he ordered you. Your eyes were wide in panic. You had never seen Chibs like that.

“Go!”, Jax came over to Tara. “No, no, no, Abel! In your room”, she stammered, clutching Thomas to her chest.

“I got him!”, he told her. “Get them out!”, he said to Tig who suddenly was behind the both of you. You felt his hand on your back when he shoved Tara and you towards the door.

“Get out!”, he kept saying as he made sure you got out of the building and as far away as possible across the lot.

It felt like forever until Jax came running out with Abel in his arms. Chibs came running out just a second later, he was the last one.

When you saw him, you felt relieved, but only for a split second. Because the next moment, a bomb went off in a big wave of fire and the loudest noise you had ever witnessed.

You and everyone around you crouched down to protect themselves. Tig was still next to Tara and put his arms around her and Thomas to shield them. You crouched down right next to Tara and put your arms around her and Thomas as well.

When you turned back around, you found the clubhouse in flames. Your heart was racing, you felt like it would jump out of your chest at any moment.

Your eyes wandered over to Chibs and met his, he was looking for you in the crowd. When he spotted you, he ran over and pulled you up by your arms.

“You okay? Are ya hurt?”, he shouted and held you at an arm’s length to look you up and down. You could only stare at him. You heard a loud, continuous ringing in your ears. Your mouth opened and closed but you weren’t able to form any words, let alone coherent sentences.

The next moment, you felt yourself being wrapped in his arms and pulled tightly against his chest. You felt your fingers clawing into his kutte. Your breathing was heavy. You slowly realized what you had just witnessed; that you could have died just a minute ago. And then you just burst into tears.

Like a faint memory, you felt Chibs’ hand caressing your hair. He was mumbling something against your temple, but your ears were still ringing, you couldn’t hear anything he said.

next part A new home

#sons of anarchy #soa #chibs telford #chibs telford x plus-size reader #chibs telford x reader

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theycallmebecca · 1 year

Text

18+ Drabble: The Great Tease

A few days ago, I was inspired to write a thirst trap story, but with a twist and that's what this is. I made a moodboard and I used photos I found here on tumblr and shared with friends in a discord, but that means I don't remember which blogs the photos originally came from...

Title: The Great Tease

Pairing: Andy Barber x female reader

Rating: R

Warnings: suggestive, fade to black sex scene

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

18+ Disclaimer: This work contains sexual material that is for those over the age of 18. By clicking the keep reading link below, you are agreeing that you are over the age of 18 and are not offended by sexual content.

Usage Disclaimer: This work is for fans only. This author does not give permission for it to be shared, spoken of, referred to in any public manner (podcast, tv, online, etc.) that wants to either make a celebrity uncomfortable, mock fan fiction/fandom in any way, or the author themselves. Requests can be made, but it is unlikely the author will change their mind. If no response is given to a request then the answer is a solid no, not interested and the work cannot be shared, spoken of or even referred to, regardless of the manner or context.

“Have fun this weekend,” you said to Andy before you kiss him goodbye.

“Ugh, come on, you two,” your best friend said, feigning disgust. “Save something for the honeymoon.”

“Go wait in the car,” you told her with a laugh. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Fine, but I’m setting a timer for five minutes,” she said before leaving with your bags.

“What are you doing this weekend?” you asked Andy.

“Just hanging with the guys,” he replied with a shrug. “Probably play some golf, maybe some video games. I’ll definitely be available for anyone who needs to escape…”

“She’d kill us both,” you said with a laugh. “And killing the bride and groom during the bachelorette party would probably ruin the wedding…”

“LET’S GO!” your friend yelled from outside.

“I’ll text you when we get in there,” you told him then gave him one more kiss before you left.

“About time,” your friend muttered.

You stuck your tongue out at her then got into the car.

It wasn't until the two of you arrived at the rental house and you grabbed your phone to let Andy know that you were there, that your friend said, "This is a no boys allowed weekend. That includes texting."

"Just let me tell him that we got here, I promised," you told her.

"Fine, but I'm warning you right now, if he texts you at all while we're here, you're showing it to all of us," she stated. "No matter what. And no warning him, either."

You shook your head and sent Andy a quick text:

Here. Have a good weekend! 😘

Then you showed it to your friend. She nodded her approval and then the two of you got out of the car.

—------

"I know this was meant to be a girls' weekend, but I'm surprised I haven't gotten a single text," Andy said, later that evening as he and his friends had dinner together.

"Maybe we should text them and make sure they're ok?" one of the guys he didn't know as well said.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," your best friend's husband said.

"Why not?" one of the others asked.

"What do you know?" Andy asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I overheard my wife on this phone this morning," the husband explained. "If anyone, but especially you, Andy, sends a text while they're at this thing, it's getting read aloud and shown to everyone."

"Even dick pics?" one guy asked, nervously glancing at his phone.

"Anything that is sent from the moment they arrive to the moment they leave," your best friend's husband stated. "So be careful what you send."

After dinner, Andy went back to the house with your best friend's husband and another of their mutual friends, who were crashing at the house since they lived out of town.

"Your wife doesn't know you know, right?" Andy said as they drank beers.

"No, I didn't say anything to her about it, why?" the husband asked.

"Because we could have some fun with this," Andy said with a smirk.

"I'm not showing my junk to all those crazies," the mutual friend stated.

"We're not showing junk to any of them," Andy agreed. "But it doesn't mean we can't take some staged photos and send them to them. Think thirst traps."

"But won't it be suspicious if we all do them?" the husband asked. "Maybe it should just be you."

"I agree, it should just be you," the mutual friend stated with a laugh. "It will get the best reaction."

"Fine, you chicken shits," Andy said. "But I'm going to need help taking the photos."

————

The first text came as you, your best friend and your three bridesmaids were getting ready to play a game.

At your best friend’s insistence, you’d all changed your text alerts to be something different so it was easier to tell them apart. You and the others had overruled her idea, however, that the person receiving the text couldn’t be the one to look at the phone.

“That’s you,” she said, smugly.

“I know,” you replied as you got up to get your phone from where they sat on the counter. Looking at your phone, you saw that Andy had sent a photo and found yourself grateful that the majority had overruled the dick pic sharing rule, too. Meaning no dicks would be exposed.

Going into your messages, you nearly choked when you saw the photo Andy had sent you. It was just his bare pecs and torso, but it was a close up, showing off all his muscles.

“She definitely got something good,” one of the others cackled.

“Come share it with the group,” your best friend said with a smirk.

Grudgingly, you handed her your phone and they all leaned in to take a look.

“Hot damn,” one of them said while another whistled.

“I knew he was hot, but lucky you,” another said, winking at you.

“Ok, enough ogling my future husband,” you said, grabbing the phone. “We have a game to play.”

“Fine, but you aren’t allowed to text him back,” your best friend reminded you.

“I know,” you replied though you were suddenly wishing you were at home with Andy and his muscles instead of with your friends.

Hours later, a second photo came as you all were getting ready for bed. This photo was of Andy in bed with a picture of his torso and half of his hip 'V' on display with the rest of his lower body hidden under the sheets.

“Are you sure we can’t call our partners?” one of your friends asked after passing the phone.

“No boys allowed!” your best friend stated.

“She’s just jealous 'cause her husband doesn’t look like that,” another muttered as she looked at the photo a little too long for your liking.

Once you had your phone back, you gave it a last, longing look then locked it for the night, thankful that each of you had your own room.

The third and fourth photos were waiting for you when you woke up the next morning. One was Andy standing at the kitchen island, coffee cup on the counter and his hoodie unzipped showing his entire torso. The other was Andy with his back to the camera and only wearing an apron with the top of his ass showing.

“I don’t know if I can look Andy in the eye anymore,” one of your friends said. “Not after these thirst traps.”

“Did you tell him?” your best friend asked, looking at you.

“When would I have told him? You only let me text him once and that was to let him know we were here,” you replied. “And you read that message.”

“You told me on the phone the other day,” another friend spoke up, looking at your best friend. “Did your husband overhear? He’s with Andy isn’t he?”

“I’m going to kill him,” she muttered and reached for her phone.

“Uh huh,” you said, grabbing it with a grin on your face. “No boys allowed. Your rule.”

“Your future husband is sharing all his goodies,” she replied.

“Not all of them,” you stated. “Besides, it’s kind of fun. They think they have one over on us.”

Your phone dinged at that moment and you opened it and your jaw dropped. Andy was wearing his wedding tux with the shirt completely open and he was stretched across the bed, showing off his torso.

“Fuck,” you muttered when you could finally think again. You looked up at your friends and blinked, once again wishing Andy was nearby to jump.

“Distance makes the bride to be hornier,” one of the girls teased.

You flipped her off and placed the phone on the table for them all to see.

Five additional thirst trap photos were sent to your phone during the remainder of your girls weekend, each of them highlighting Andy’s torso and/or arms and proving that Andy knew just which parts of his body you liked the most.

You were so turned on by the photos that you didn't invite your friends and their significant others to have dinner with you and Andy like you had originally planned to. Instead, you had practically rushed them all out of the house, upon getting home, then turned to your future husband.

"Strip," you ordered him.

Andy's eyebrows shot up and then he grinned. "You did get the photos then," he said, obviously pleased with himself.

"And we figured out that you knew about the no boys allowed rules," you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. "Now stop stalling, hot stuff, you showed off all weekend and now I want a taste."

"As you wish," Andy said, simply.

Then took his sweet time undressing, which you normally appreciated, but your desire had been building for nearly two days. Yes, you had masturbated last night in the shower, but that wasn't the same as being with Andy.

After what seemed like forever, he was naked before you, partially aroused.

You'd planned to play with him a little, but you needed him sooner rather than later. You quickly removed your clothes and then closed the gap between the two of you.

"Remind me to torture you a bit later," you said to him before you pressed your lips against his.

"Will do," he whispered against your lips.

Then he made love to you.

#theycallmebecca #theycallmebeccawrites #Andy Barber #Andy Barber fanfiction #Andy Barber fanfic #Andy Barber fan fiction #Andy Barber x you #Andy Barber x female reader #Andy Barber x y/n #becca writes 18+ drabbles

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lealdern · 4 months

Text

How To Stay Conscious When You Drown Ch6

Explicit content further on: Minors please DNI.

Dick x Reader She/her reader AO3 Link

First - Prev Chapter - Next Chapter

Summary: Dick Grayson is going through hard times, you see that on his face before you even know his name. You reach out a hand to offer comfort without realising he’s a man treading water.

Chapter 6: Memento

Dick is leaning against your apartment door frame with tired eyes and his clothes are already dishevelled, looking like he’s gone to the club without you before realising you aren’t with him.

“Are you ready?” He breathes out. His smile is easy and light, but you can tell he’s exhausted from his face and the way he’s near-supporting himself on the door.

“Are you?” you ask with a small laugh, “Come in, sit down, you look exhausted Dick.”

The tilt of your head is soft, but he knows you won’t budge, so after a moment he slumps in and sits heavily on your couch, head resting against the back. He’s not sure how long it’s been since he closed his eyes when he feels the couch dip next to him, but when he opens them, your high-heeled black shoes are gone, tight clad legs curled up underneath you, and you’ve got two glasses of wine in your hands and between your teeth is a leaflet for the local Chinese takeout he likes.

“Babe, no, we’ve had this planned for ages, I told you I’d take you out,” he sighs, but against his words he doesn’t move, like he doesn’t have the energy, and it’s a pointless protest. You hand him a wine glass, the wine well aired since you’d opened it a couple of hours ago while you’d gotten ready, pampering yourself for a proper date night with Dick.

“I’m a cheap date,” you smile, “Not really one for fancy French food anyway,” leaning forward you press a kiss to his lips, and you feel him lean into it, exhaustion keeping him from chasing you further when you pull back, “I prefer takeout and making out.”

It gets a huff of a laugh out of Dick and you know you’ve won: Even if you had wanted to go out, staying home with Dick, legs entwined on the couch with empty takeout containers and your favoured corner shop wine, is something you prefer so much more.

Dick can’t help but feel bad, watching you as you sip on your wine and look over the menu (he knows you’ll end up ordering the same thing you always have, you always do). He can see the effort you put into your clothes, hair beautifully styled, nails shining with fresh polish, and a little black dress with tights. As nice as you look with heels, he finds the sight of you done up so nicely without them on strangely intimate.

“I’ve let you down again.” He sighs, reaching a hand out to rest on your knee that’s only visible since your dress has ridden up to your thigh as you’ve curled comfortably.

You give him a look, eyebrow raised with a twist of a smile on your pretty lips, “You’re here, and that’s all I want from a date, Dick.” You put your wineglass on the coffee table and flop carefully next to him opening the menu for him to see as he takes a sip of his own wine. “If I get prawn toast will you split it with me? They always send too much.” The topic change is obvious to him but he lets it happen, giving into the comfortable and cozy night in with you, knowing he’ll need it before the next couple of days ahead.

Bruce had called him, wanting him back in Gotham for a mission first thing in the morning, but even while Dick himself was in the middle of interrupting a kidnapping he thought of you and told him “Not tonight… I’ll be there tomorrow.” And even with Bruces protests he’d cut short the call and headed home to get ready to take you out after he’d finished. He doesn’t know how he deserves you, but he’s glad he has you all the same.

“Yeah, I’ll split it.” He says, knowing you won’t get it if he doesn’t, and he knows you like them even if they’re not his favourite starter. Looking at you he can feel himself soften, can hear it in his voice and feel it in the way his focus is on only you, “What are you getting?”

“I don’t know, I might try the curry…” You say, eyes skimming the menu as he watches you, a gentle smile pulling on his mouth.

“Yeah?” he says, endearment colouring his question.

“Well… Maybe- No, I’ll stick with the noodles.”

“I love you.” It’s not the first time he’s said it, it won’t be the last, but the tenderness in his voice has you stilling a moment, smiling before you’re leaning into him, pressing a kiss against his lips. Even with how tired he is, he pulls you into his lap to kiss you back, large hands spread underneath your thighs as he holds you close.

“I love you too.” You hum it against his lips and it’s the sweetest song he’s ever heard.

It’s not the way you looked when you opened the door that sticks in Dick’s mind the next day as he drives to Gotham, ready for an exhausting weekend: It’s the way you’d curled against him in your comfortable pyjamas, kissing him with lips that tase a little like the noodles you’d eaten, the tang of wine on your tongue.

When he left this morning he watched you for a moment from your doorway, the sight of you sleeping soundly, is one he sears into his mind to carry with him, like a photograph in a wallet; arm stretched into the empty space of the bed having sought him out already even though he’d only been up for fifteen minutes.

He’ll carry you with him, he thinks, a home away from home.

Next Chapter

A/N: This chapter was inspired by Cheap Date by Caitlyn Smith . It's been a busy December and I hope you're all doing well. I cheated with this one because I slotted it in after already writing chapter 6 and realising it was way too heavy too quick. I wanted this to be softer, gentler, even with that sad spin I tend to put on things. Anyway, Merry Christmas for tomorrow, hopefully be back posting for new year.

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dc x reader #my writing #dick grayson reader #nightwing reader #nightwing/reader #dick grayson/reader #HTSCWYD #I am exhausted #christmas once again fucks me but I persist #I wanted this out for christmas day #december once again you have been an absolute arse ache

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psychopomp-recital · 2 days

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hi I just wanted to ask: what drew you to death magic specifically? and, if your comfortable, how do you deal with grief (both yours and others) by being a death witch? (plz don't feel obligated to answer if it's too invasive /gen)

Oh not too invasive at all! Thank you for being so polite, this response is very long I’m sorry you asked a rather deep question 🩵 CONTENT WARNING IN TAGS

What drew me onto this path?

TLDR; I have always been surrounded death and it has been an ever present part of my life. I hated the idea that when someone died they were gone forever that’s it. Because regardless if you believe in spirits, I hope we can all agree that we’re all collections of the ancestors who make up our bodies & the ancestors who make up our personalities, we are who we are because of those passed on. And I can all but hope that someday someone will remember me and my stories the same way I remember these folks.

I want to be a good ancestor someday.

THE LONG ANSWER

I was raised in the Southern United States. The culture of this area is that surrounded in death. Everywhere you go there is haunted places and cemeteries. There’s also a strong sense of family there, this feeling that everyone is woven and interconnected.

I was raised Mormon and by a folk magical family who taught me the importance of ancestor work. I understood that these folks are part of me, by blood or otherwise they have made me who I am.

I was raised holding hands with my ancestors chronic illness. I looked it in the face everyday. Haunted by the idea that someday my body would rot away the same way I saw theirs rot, reminded everyday that illness could rip my mother from me without warning.

I eventually realized I could continue to ignore death, pray I have time on this earth to do what I want to do and run from it. Or I could embrace its role in my life and welcome it like an old friend.

I found comfort in the idea that I could help those who have passed on. The families who never got to say goodbye now had an opportunity to at least send the message. I could do my part to calm the fear these folks feel when they slip further into deaths grasp. I found a purpose for the pain I was experiencing.

If I could learn all I can while I’m alive, perhaps when I die I’ll be able to leave behind my knowledge and someone can keep this practice going. In that way, they keep me alive too.

I heard you die twice, once when they bury you in the grave And the second time is the last time that somebody mentions your name.

How do I handle the grief of others and the personal grief I experience?

I think I actually made a post on this! I’ll link it below!

But honestly it just comes down to boundaries, and being kind to yourself. It’s okay to cry and be upset and miss those lost to us. It’s okay to mourn for the dead you work with. YOU ARE STILL HUMAN. Don’t loose sight of that.

Also if you check out #MyPsychopompJournal you’ll see some entries on grief and my raw experiences with it. The one below in particular is a pretty good example;

Let me know if you are interested in a more in depth post about how I handle grief personally because I don’t want to ramble more than I already have!

ASK MY ANYTHING ASKS ARE OPEN!

#cw: death #cw: chronic illness #cw: grief #death witch #death work #ask a death witch #witchblr #death witchcraft #folk practitioner #folk witchcraft #pagan #folk magic #folk practice #queer witch #witchcraft #death worship #ask a psychopomp

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ojerasgigantes · 22 days

Text

Muevete bien (que nadie como tú me sabe hacer café) CHT. 8

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Pairings: Bucky Barnes/Clint Barton

Characters: Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers

Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, PTSD, Alpha!Bucky Barnes, Omega!Clint Barton, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Young!Clint Barton, Explicit Sexual Content, True mates-ish

Words: 42.5k

Fic Summary:

So, nothing dangerous is happening, just so you know." Bruce said reassuringly. "It just seems that you two, genetically speaking, align very well, almost perfectly."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that your body is more inclined to want to reproduce with him, because your compatibility level is extremely high.” Bruce explained, and after a moment smiled. “Or would I dare to say, you two are true mates."

AO3 LINK

The person in the mirror looking back at him vaguely resembled Clint. The difference was enough that he had to look twice to reassure that it was actually himself in that reflection.

Damn, he looked weird as a blond.

Hill had stopped him an hour later after their meeting, only to hand him a hair bleaching kit. At the time, Clint almost wanted to protest, but after thinking before speaking, he decided to shut his mouth instead. He didn’t want to make himself look even less cooperative after the little outburst he had had in front of her.

The thing was that Clint was blond already. A dirty, less blinding shade of blond, but blond nonetheless. So, looking at himself sporting the same color he had when he was 3 years old was a little unsettling to say the least.

“You look like you are a member of NSync.”

Clint looked past his own reflection to see Natasha standing at the door of the bathroom. Hewanted to be mad at her for the trick she pulled on him, but couldn’t. Not when it had actually been helpful. He didn’t want to think about how his heat would’ve gone if she hadn’t brought him Barnes’ hoodie.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Clint said, and fixed his hair in the mirror. After a moment he scrunched his face, still not used to how he looked like, “I’m surprised I didn’t end up bald.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t send you to a professional stylist, with the amount of money they carry around.” Natasha added.

“Do you think I would’ve sat down for more than an hour while doing nothing?” Clint asked, raising one brow at Natasha through his reflection.

“No.” She said, and cocked her head to the side.

Clint turned to face her. Natasha’s eyes raked through his hair, admiring the work he had done.

She smirked, “He likes blonds, you know?”

Clint felt his eyes roll into the back of his head so hard he saw spots.

“I was already blond.”

“Not like this, though.” Her grin grew wider.

Clint agreed with a hum, and leaned back against the sink. After a second, Natasha left her spot at the door, walking closer.

She waited for Clint to make eye contact before she spoke.

“You should talk to him.” She said, serious.

Clint opened his mouth to retort, hands up, ready for a fight. But, he had run out of excuses for himself and his behavior. And whatever he could think of at the moment, would not fly by Natasha for even a second.

He let his arms fall back down, his right hand gripping the side of the sink, “I know.” He sighed, running his other hand over his face.

“You have been acting like an idiot these past weeks.” She stated, giving him a knowing look.

Clint hung his head, and groaned “I know.” .

He looked up at the ceiling, and sighed, a bit tired from having woken up at 4:30 am. He didn’t sleep as well as he would’ve liked. The knowing pressure of anxiety plaguing his chest and trying its best to keep him awake.

“What are you doing up, anyway?” Clint questioned her, “I know you are a morning person, but this early?”

Natasha looked away for a second, and she bit back a smile, “Can’t I say goodbye?”

Clint huffed, “Like you don’t disappear for months without telling me.”

When Natasha didn’t say anything to him, he turned his whole attention to her. She had her arms crossed, and was looking at him, fond behind her eyes. But most of all, Clint knew she was assessing him.

Clint offered her a bright smile.

“Don’t tell me that you are worried.” He said, mocking her just a little.

“I’m not.” She answered, although her smile said differently, and both of them knew she was lying.

“It’s okay.” He said, and walked around her towards the door, “I’m glad to know that you love me.” He taunted her.

Natasha sighed, a little disgruntled, “I do.” She admitted.

Clint felt the smile on his face soften, his heart clenching a bit. Her scent heightened, a little bit warmer, and Clint wanted to wrap himself with it. The idea of staying in the compound, in the comfort of what he knew, made itself known in Clint’s mind. But he discarded it quickly.

Instead, he went to hug Natasha.

He embraced her, clutching onto her a little too hard. Natasha accepted it gladly, fitting herself against Clint’s frame, hands around him.

“I do too, Nat.” He mumbled against her hair. He scented her, trying to keep her smell close to him.

If Natasha did it back, he didn’t notice. She let the hug happen for a few more seconds, and then squeezed him before stepping away.

“Take care of yourself.” She said sincerely. The ‘please’ went unsaid.

Clint nodded, rolling his eyes. Then, was immediately startled by Natasha’s grip on his face as she forced him to look at her.

“And don’t do anything idiotic.” She ordered, expression hard, the smile she had gone.

“Okay, okay!” He relented, pulling away from her hands.

Before he left the bathroom, he turned to take a last look at her and wave her goodbye. It was going to be hard to contact her for however long this mission was going to take, and a wave of uneasiness rolled over him.

Either way, Clint forced himself to walk away. A helicopter was waiting for them outside, ready to take them to the airport. The clutch he had on his duffel bag tightened the moment he caught sight of the helicopter.

He knew his reaction in that meeting was overblown, so he was still feeling a little embarrassed about it. And, on top of everything, he really wasn’t looking forward to spending time in a confined space with Barnes.

As he approached the helicopter, Clint inhaled deeply. The humid scent of the morning mist filled his nostrils. He was taking advantage of the fact that he was outside and the air was yet to be tainted by Barnes. He made sure to take in his fill, knowing that he would barely catch a break after the mission started.

Clint was the first to arrive, and he greeted the pilot with a nod, waiting obediently a few meters away from the helicopter. Fortunately, he didn’t have to wait that much. He heard footsteps approaching towards where he was standing and Clint raised his head to greet Barnes only for the words to get stuck in his throat.

Bucky had gotten a haircut.

Clint almost didn’t recognise him. The long hair he had gotten used to was completely gone. Now, his hair was in an almost military style. The haircut faded seamlessly into his beard, enhancing his jawline and leaving his neck exposed.

Feeling himself getting a bit flustered, Clint couldn’t help the tiny noise that escaped his throat. He was glad that it was low enough that it could only be heard by himself.

Bucky looked good. Too good. So good that the tight grip Clint had on his sanity wavered just a bit.

When Bucky finally stopped in front of him, his eyes were busy on the phone in his hand. Clint swallowed thickly, and shook his head.

“I see they butchered your hair as well.” Clint commented, voice tad hoarse.

At that Bucky looked up, seemingly to retort at Clint’s insult, but froze. His eyes frantically jumped between his hair and his face, wide and shocked.

Ouch. Clint had thought for a millisecond that he actually looked hot with that shade of blonde. He felt the need to explain himself, that this wasn’t his choice either.

“I know its kinda odd-“

Clint stopped mid-sentence, Bucky’s scent reaching him abruptly. He smelled him properly for the first time since yesterday, the outside wind had done a good job at hiding it. Thicker and heavier than he expected, it wrapped around the both of them, the taste of arousal unmistakable.

Wide eyed and surprised, Clint looked back at Bucky astonished. He felt the back of his neck warming up as his gaze didn’t peel away.

“What the fuck.”

Clint snapped towards the voice, and found the pilot staring at them, hand over his nose and mouth.

Holy shit.

This apparently had also broken Barnes’ stare, and Clint saw him look away as his scent toned down. Barnes’ lips thinned, his metal hand harshly clenching the handles of the bag he was holding.

Barnes went inside the helicopter without further comment, leaving Clint outside to fester in his stupor.

“Noted.” Clint muttered to himself, and followed him a few seconds after.

Clint and Barnes stood there, and looked at the apartment building in front of them as the taxi that took them there squealed away. Clint thought how it honestly didn’t look half bad. Sure, it was old, and looked a bit ugly, but Clint had been used to sleeping in places that looked much worse for wear than this one. Places where you could hear rats scratching the walls from the inside, and occasionally see a roach or two scurrying on the floor. Where people high out of their mind were passed out right at the front door of the building or in the middle of the hallway.

This was definitely run down, but it was fine.

Barnes went ahead of him, and walked up to the main entrance without saying anything. Clint bit his cheek at the obvious avoidant behavior, staring at him for a moment before following him. It’s not like Clint had any right to be annoyed at it, since he was the one who started that.

He could understand it on a certain level. To their detriment, they flew commercial, given that they were going undercover. And being in a confined space with Barnes only one seat away from him was almost torturous. The constant smell coming from him never really dissipated as much as he had hoped for, and spiked every now and then. It made Clint want to gouge his eyes out in frustration. His nails were almost bitten to the hilt by the two hour mark. At that point he decided to ask the flight attendant for the strongest alcohol they had. When she brought him a small bottle of vodka, he thanked her, and just held the open lid of it right under his nose for the rest of the flight.

But, even then, he was expecting Barnes to be more talkative than this. The helicopter ride, four hour flight, and the one hour and a half drive down to the apartment, had been a long awkward silence. After the first words Clint had said to him, Barnes never bothered to speak. He sat at the opposite side of the helicopter, and even wore a surgical mask throughout the whole flight. Every now and then, Clint would ask a question, are you sure this is the right gate?, or make a superficial comment, look at the price on these fucking water bottles . But all he would get back would be a small hum in agreement.

It was driving him insane to be on the other side of the coin.

Anyway, if Barnes was being infuriating on purpose, Clint was not going to fold backwards to meet his need to act like a pussy. Nevermind that that was exactly what Clint had been doing for the past 2 weeks .

Their apartment was located on the highest floor. They had easy access to the roof, the height of the building could be used as a vantage point to survey the streets below, and, if they were compromised, it would give them a longer time to escape through other means.

Barnes’ opened the door unceremoniously, and the inside of the apartment was as mundane as someone could imagine. An open floor plan and it wasn’t as small as Clint had imagined. On the right there was a full kitchen, equipped with an oven, a microwave, a full-sized fridge, and even a simple coffee machine, which he was glad to see. The kitchen faced a square wooden table with 3 chairs sitting around it. And on the far right was a long couch facing a TV pushed against the wall. The living space opened to a hallway, and Clint could see it led to three doors, which he assumed were the two bedrooms and the bathroom.

“Fridge and pantry are full.” Barnes’ said, and Clint almost jumped, not expecting to hear his voice. He looked back at him, and noticed he had already opened all the cabinets in the kitchen, “And we are fully stocked.”

Clint peered from where he was standing near the couch, where he had dropped his belongings. Barnes had moved aside, the door of what seemed like a pantry closet opened. Guns and weapons of all shapes and sizes were hanging off the wall inside.

Clint made a low whistle before heading to the windows. Sliding one open, he tested the locks. Firm, but breakable under someone who knew what they were doing. He pressed his hands against the window pane, and then knocked on it.

“Windows are bullet-proof.” He commented.

He was met with another one of Barnes’ hums.

They swept the apartment, checking every nook and cranny. Clint would like to think that they were meticulous, looking for anything out of place, like tiny mics or hidden cameras. When they found nothing after almost 30 minutes of looking, Clint went to grab his bag from the couch.

“I’ll take the room at the far end.” Clint said, and headed for it.

The bedroom was as boring as the rest of the apartment, with a double bed in the middle, a night stand on each side and a closet up against the wall. As he arranged everything in the drawers, he took a deep breath. He was already feeling overwhelmed and on edge, but grateful that Barnes’ scent was not invading the small space of the bedroom. Still, he eyed the gap between the door and the floor, and made a note of clogging it with blankets to ensure that it stayed that way.

It was gonna be a long couple of weeks.

He cracked the window open for good measure.

___

It took them less than an hour to settle properly in the apartment. And Clint, not being able to handle staying there with the crushing tension of their unresolved problems, told Barnes that they should check out the neighborhood and look into where this bar was.

If anything, Barnes was efficient, so he didn’t hesitate to accept the request and a couple of minutes later they were strolling out on the streets.

The neighborhood they were staying at was similar their building, lower-middle class in every sense of the word. Lots of small alleys and old housing decorated the streets. Littering seemed to be a norm of sorts. The smell of burning trash clinged to his nostrils, and Clint wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or not.

They had a bit of a more pressing manner, people were staring at them, him to be precise. An old lady shot him a dirty look, literally clutching her cardigan and making a disapproving noise, loud enough that they could hear as she walked by them.

At that, Clint followed her with his eyes as she moved further down the street.

“What the fuck is her problem?” He asked, annoyed.

He turned to Barnes, who hadn’t even turned to look back at the old woman, and he shrugged, looking tired.

“We are in the south.” Barnes answered simply.

Ah.

Clint wouldn’t necessarily call himself sheltered, he was from Iowa after all. But spending most of his late childhood to the end of his teenage years in the non-judgemental world that is a circus. And then immediately being recruited by SHIELD, where no-one really gave a shit about who you were, might have put him inside a bubble.

Literally and metaphorically, he got shielded from most discrimination connected to his second gender, even if he knew about it, even if he witnessed it whenever he spent too much time in public with Tony. He thought of how most omegas used suppressants, not because they needed them, but because they were highly pressured to use them. Clint was just lucky enough to have his heats be mild enough that he never even gave them a second thought, and to have his doctors be ones approved by SHIELD.

Although now he wondered if they would help his situation with Barnes. He made a mental note to text Bruce about it later.

In places where people were more conservative, Omegas commonly wore things to hide their neck, like necklaces, collar, scarfs or turtleneck shirts. It was a traditional and primitive way of ‘protecting’ their virtue, and Clint was not fond of it at all.

Clint, who was wearing a hawaiian shirt with the first 4 buttons undone, chest half exposed to try and combat the summer temperatures, and was now getting some odd looks by the old locals.

“Damn hag.” Clint muttered, feeling more bothered by the comment than he expected. He picked up his pace and caught up to Barnes.

They did a proper sweep of the neighborhood, and concluded that it just was a common rundown lower class one.

Even though the encounter had unsettled Clint, it didn’t really throw him off. Atleast, no more than the prospect of spending his time here tiptoeing around Barnes. So, he made sure to extend the outing by going directly to the garage as soon as they came back.

The drive to downtown was mostly silent, with Clint humming to the songs playing on the radio while tapping on the the wheel. The car they were given was a pick-up truck, one that many people in Arizona seemed to have, inconspicuous and ugly.

Barnes sat next to him, map in hand and window completely down. Clint didn’t even try to start idle conversation anymore, he was just glad that Barnes at least was being cooperative enough to direct him through Albuquerque.

“It’s in the next block, stop here.” He said, leaning forward.

Clint did as told, parking in front of a random Dollar General.

They walked until they saw the recognizable “Merlin” sign. Pulling up his phone to compare it with the picture they had, Clint let out a sigh of relief. This bar, for being as popular as it seemed to be, didn’t exist on any maps, review apps, or sites. It was almost like it was deliberately wiped off of the internet, only being mentioned on some obscure subreddits about nightlife. It looked mostly the same, they might have painted the outside a deeper shade of purple, but the image was identical, so Clint was sure they were at the right place.

“This looks like a sex club.” Barnes commented.

“It might be,” Clint said, and scoffed, “Who knows what shit they get on in the VIP areas.” He went to take a step forward, but was stopped by a hand going around his waist.

The sudden touch and closeness made him jump, Barnes’ scent invading his space hastily. Immediately, Clint’s body reacted, and he felt himself melt a little towards him, his brain purring happily at the contact.

Before he could decide whether Barnes was going to keep his other arm, he looked up towards the building, searching for the camera, and noticed one right above the sign pointing at the street. Clint glanced at Barnes quickly, and kept a neutral face as he wrapped his own arm around his shoulders.

The warmness creeping on the back of his neck was obviously caused by the heat.

They walked closer to the building, Clint could make out a paper plastered on the inside of the glass door. He leaned closer to Barnes.

“I can see they have the schedule of their opening hours on the door.” Clint said, voice low and a playful smile plastered on his face.

Barnes closed his eyes for a second too long, before opening them and giving back a small smirk to Clint. “Let me get closer.”

Barnes’ left the space next to him, and Clint immediately became a bit cold, even though it was 95 degrees. He now vividly remembered why liking someone was just fucking annoying.

After a couple of seconds of him looking at it, he was back at his side, his hand fitting where it was before. Clint tried to ignore the way his own body relaxed.

“It opens from Thursday to Sunday night.” He said.

Trying not to curse at the fact that it was a Wednesday, Clint smiled lazily, “They do not care about the lord’s day.” He chuckled.

They continued walking down the street, unsure whether a camera could still be pointed at them. The moment they turned the corner of the block, Barnes separated himself, creating at least a meter of space between them.

Clint chose not to say anything about that, knowing that it was partially his fault that things had ended up like this. Still, it stung like a bitch.

They ended up going around the block to get back to their truck. The silence on the way back to their stay was even more deafening than before.

-----

Bruce: We could look into that.

Clint groaned and put his phone down, not liking the vague answer he got. The TV was on some local channel, and they were showing reruns of ‘El Autentico Rodrigo Leal’. So, Clint was trying his damndest to enjoy this extremely dramatic telenovela, not that he was being very successful at that. It was almost 10pm, and he wasn’t sure how well he was going to sleep anyway.

Barnes had been in his room since they came back, and to be completely honest, Clint was glad. It gave him the time needed to think about how to deal with this. He was honestly done with the silent treatment they were giving each other. The mission was going to last for who knows how long, and Clint would rather eat his own hair than continue to walk on eggshells around the only person he was going to be with for the time being.

He was wracking his brain on how and when he should broach the subject when he noticed Barnes blocking partially the TV. Clint, stunned at seeing him, looked up in confusion, and saw that Barnes was holding a cup of coffee towards him.

Clint blinked, not completely sure how to react, but took the cup anyway a moment later. Most of all he was surprised, given that he hadn’t realized Barnes had left his room, or that he had been making coffee right behind him. The apartment already reeked of him, so Clint only noticed his scent getting stronger once he was near. But the fact that he didn’t hear him, or saw him coming from the hallway was worrying. Was the TV that loud? Or was his mental state that bad?

Clint held up the cup to his nose to take a whiff. He couldn’t help the small smile at how nice it smelled.

“At this time of the night?” He asked, and took a swig of it.

Barnes took a seat at the other side of the small couch.

“Like you give a shit about that.” He said, another cup in his hand, “I was going to offer you a beer, but I don’t think alcohol is a good idea.”

Clint nodded in agreement. He wasn’t certain how to take this sudden approach from Barnes. He welcomed it, given the fact that it just made things easier, but he was still wary.

“What even is on?” Barnes asked him, gesturing at the TV.

Clint cleared his throat, and sat up straighter, “‘El Autentico Rodrigo Real’, a Colombian soap opera.” He said, “I can’t watch any episodes I haven’t watched before because Natasha would kill me if I did, but this channel is re-running episodes from the first season.”

Barnes tried to focus on what was going on the show, and then turned to Clint, a little confused, “Do you even know what they are saying?”

“Enough to understand what’s going on.” Clint answered, and shrugged, “Spanish is not so different from Italian.”

“You speak Italian?” Barnes asked, a bit astonished. Clint tried not to take offense to that.

He gave him a cocky smile, “Fluently, actually.”

Barnes hummed in response, and then didn’t say anything else. Clint was happy to pay attention to his soap opera, but as the silence stretched longer, he couldn’t help but remember the last time Barnes had made him coffee. He turned the now half-empty cup on his hand, and decided that maybe he could take the higher road this time.

Turning his whole body towards Barnes, he breathed deeply before speaking, “Is this…” Clint started, and raised the cup towards him, “another peace offering of yours?”

Barnes offered him a sincere smile, “If you want it to be.”

Clint looked back down at his cup, swirling its contents around as he thought about what to say next. There were many things he could say. Clint had made mistake after mistake, and had acted in ways that had just steered things in the wrong direction. All those times he had brushed Barnes away or answered him curtly, just made the problem worse. Or even back when they had found their precarious condition, and Clint had just wanted to deny its existence.

He had a lot to make up for. But Clint was not a noble nor virtuous man. All he knew was to face his problems with raised fists and bloody knuckles. And when that was not possible, he would always push them away, pretend that they weren’t there and hoped they would simply disappear.

Thinking about the easy smile Bucky had been giving to him all those times they would just sit and banter, made Clint’s heart stutter. Bucky’s scent being warm and smooth, wafting naturally as they interacted, untainted by the smell of anxiety. He was capable of admitting to himself that he missed it. That he missed their awkward and weirdly comfortable conversations. The slow loosening of their friendship, as it became more relaxed and simple.

And on top of it all, he knew Bucky deserved better than Clint’s severe communication issues.

In the end, he came to the conclusion that he wanted to start with a simple apology.

With his eyes closed and head hanging low, because he was a bit too much of a coward to look him in the eyes while saying sorry, Clint braced himself before speaking.

“I- “

“I wanted to apologize.”

At Barnes’ voice interrupting him, Clint looked up, gaze connecting with his.

“Okay.” He said, frozen on the spot and uncertain, not sure if he heard him correctly.

Bucky shifted on his seat, and left his cup at the coffee table. He clasped his hands together, with his elbows resting on his legs, “I shouldn’t have insulted you.” He continued, “I know I said I was angered, and to be honest, I still am, a little.”

Clint nodded at him, still in a bit of disbelief. The words he was gonna say stuck at the back of his throat.

“But, even then, you didn’t deserve that.” Bucky said, sincerely, “So, for that I am sorry.”

Clint looked away. Needing the bitter taste of the coffee to clear his head, he drank from his cup. He tried to remember when was the last time someone had apologized to him with words, and unsurprisingly he came up with nothing.

“I would say that it’s fine, but-” He started, and Clint decided to ride the train of sincerity, since they were already on it, “Not gonna lie, it did bother me.”

Bucky scratched the back of his neck, and sighed, “I know.”

Clint finished his coffee in one go, just so he could have some time to articulate his answer properly.

Although the fight was both of their faults, they wouldn’t have gotten to this point if it wasn’t for Clint’s need to be aggravating and petty. Sometimes, having the last word felt too good, especially when he felt like he needed retribution. Looking at how long he dragged this out, Clint was sure that this was more than enough.

Clint breathed deeply before speaking, “Well, I wanted to apologize too.” He said, his voice steady, “I wasn’t being fair to you, and just… made the situation worse by acting like an asshole.”

The self-deprecating joke at the end was an attempt at lightening the mood.

A small smile formed on Bucky’s face, “I thought you only admitted your mistakes to your therapist.”

Clint snorted and let himself relax into the couch, his head resting on the back of it. A sense of relief washed over him, and he felt a weight being lifted from his chest. God, he really had to stop being insufferable just because of his wounded ego. If not for the sake of others, for the sake of his own peace of mind.

“Sometimes I have enough presence of mind to understand when I have to take my head out of my ass.” Clint muttered back.

Bucky huffed, and didn’t answer anything back. Thinking that the conversation was over, Clint turned his attention back to the sound of the soap opera.

“I… um-“

Clint’s attention bounced back to Bucky, who looked nervous.

“I also wanted to tell you that, what I saw in the common room-“

Oh God .

Clint jolted up-right.

“Please, don’t-“

Just the mere mention of it made him nauseous.

“Clint-”

“It’s fine-” He felt as it became difficult to get the words out, the shame of what happened clawing its way through his throat.

Barnes, although hadn’t moved an inch, looked increasingly more concerned. At that, Clint almost reacted violently, the thought that what Barnes was showing could be pity, immediately making anger start to simmer.

Instead of letting that brew, he focused on his own breathing, and tried to appear calm.

“Can we just forget that ever happened?” Clint asked him, “Please.”

Barnes didn’t look completely convinced, but he must’ve seen something in Clint’s expression, because after a moment, he sighed and looked away, letting it go.

Clint let his eyes close, his heart rate finally slowing down. He threw himself back onto the sofa, wishing that Barnes had brought him that beer instead of the coffee that was already gone.

“What did Steve tell you?” Barnes asked abruptly, after a minute or so of silence.

Clint, knowing very well what he was asking, frowned at him, “What does Steve have to do in all of this?”

Barnes just stared at him. Clint stared back blatantly, partially because he did not want to say anything, and mostly because he still liked being abrasive. When Barnes didn’t look away, or seemed inclined to take back his question, Clint sighed.

“He just wanted to know what happened between you and me.” Clint stated the truth, feeling tired of lying. He then snorted, looking back at Bucky with a smirk, “And… you are right, he unironically thinks we should hang out more often.”

“That’s all?” Bucky retorted, edging Clint to speak more.

Clint’s eyes shifted to the ceiling. He thought back to the conversation they had, back to Steve’s attempts of comforting him. It hadn’t helped as much as Clint would’ve liked it to, in the end it had served to deepen the hole he had been burying himself in. Steve had basically said that Bucky was rejecting him, that he didn’t want him, and that the idea of wanting him was out of the table. Maybe not explicitly, but it definitely felt like that was what he meant.

And that was the reality. This whole situation was caused by something out of their control. They were thrusted into a too small of a cage, forced to circle each other at the edges, clawing at the walls until one of them caved into the helplessness of it. It wasn’t anyone's fault, neither of them had wanted to be there. And it wasn’t Bucky’s fault that Clint was the one to give in first.

It’s the way it has to be, right?

“He said that you were ashamed of what happened.” Clint stated, matter-of-factly, still staring up.

“Ah.”

Clint turned his head back towards Bucky, cheek against the couch, eyebrows scrunched together. Bucky’s scent had gone from mostly neutral to having an undertone of mustiness, of guilt. An anxious feeling settled on Clint’s guts.

“So, it's true.” He said, hating how the hurt in his voice betrayed his stoicism.

“Yes.” Bucky admitted, and Clint didn’t flinch, “But, not in the way you think.”

“Help me here then,” Clint urged, “before I get more offended.”

A silence stretched between them as Bucky seemed to ponder what to tell him. The smell of must continued to grow between them, and Clint had to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking him if he was ok.

When Clint thought that maybe Bucky was never going to speak, he finally did .

“I lost control.” Bucky muttered, voice low.

Clint’s mind went blank for a couple of seconds.

His head left the back of the couch, and he sat up, turning his whole body towards Bucky’s. He frowned deeply, eyes wide.

“What?” Clint asked, a bit confused.

Bucky didn’t seem to look relieved at Clint’s bewilderment, or less guilty. Instead, he just looked down to where Clint’s hands were resting on the couch.

“I wasn’t… present, not completely.” He explained. “Everything seemed muddled, and I could only focus on your scent, on your body…”

Bucky’s whole body was rigid, his fingers digging into his thighs. His jaw clenched as he swallowed forcefully. It looked like speaking at the moment was as if someone was pulling his teeth out.

“I was already on top of you when I came back to my senses.” He said, voice strained, “And, I could finally feel the grip I had on you… the strength behind it.”

Pulling his hands up to inspect them, Clint had a flash of their incident on the mats. A vivid memory of Bucky on top of him, face close enough that his breath tickled Clint’s nose, came to the front of his mind. Clint recalled the small moment in which Bucky had tightened his hold on his wrists, it had lasted less than a second.

Clint shook his head, wrapping a hand against his wrist, moving it around.

“That’s nothing, they're barely bruised.” Clint tried to reassure him.

It didn’t seem like it worked.

“Clint, I wasn’t using that much strength-“

“I sure fucking hope so. I don't want broken bones.” He chuckled, trying to lighten the mood,

His mouth shut harshly when he was met with the hard gaze of Bucky’s expression. Clint averted his eyes.

“I’ll shut up.” He mumbled.

“I didn’t realize. At least I don’t remember that I did.” Bucky said, defeat and shame dripping from his words, “And I don't know which one I find more worrying, the possibility that I didn’t use that much strength and I still bruised you, or that I was so out of it that I didn’t register it.”

If the expression on his face wasn’t enough, a hint of a metallic smell, hidden between Bucky’s scent, reached him. And Clint froze, trying to process that what Bucky was feeling was fear.

As always, he tried to play it down.

“Don’t you think you are being a little drama-“

“Look, I am strong, at least 10 times stronger than you- that’s not an insult- and it’s not like I haven’t had sex since I stopped being The Winter Soldier, but I always have had to have a certain level of control over it.”

Bucky deflated, and hid his face with one of his hands. He just looked tired, shoulders hunched, and looking somewhere distant. Another type of weight settled on top of Clint’s chest, tying his tongue.

Bucky exhaled long and deeply, before locking his gaze with Clint’s.

“And I don’t have that guarantee with you. At all. If being in the same room as you is already a test of my self control…” Bucky continued, “I have no idea if I’d be able to do it in another… circumstances. And I can’t go through that, not again.”

The last part sounded almost like he was begging. Taking in his whole demeanor, Clint understood that what had happened at the gym, had shook Bucky deeply. That it scared him.

“So, when I said I didn’t want to risk it, I meant it.” He told him. “It could’ve taken a turn for the worst…”

Clint looked away, feeling that Bucky’s stare was too much to handle at the moment.

Being part of a group of extraordinary people sometimes gave Clint imposter syndrome. He was constantly among the strongest, smartest, and weirdest people in the world. It wasn’t a surprise that people like him could easily go under the radar, especially in comparison to the big shots that surrounded him. But he wasn’t weak. He had earned his place working for SHIELD for several reasons, and the fact that Bucky was acting like he was easily breakable didn’t sit right with Clint.

He bit his tongue so he wouldn’t start another argument, his ego wounded again by Bucky’s implication.

Clint gave into a coy smile, willing to forget the insult in order of getting over their discussion.

“I’m just saying, you don’t know if I’m into freaky stuff-”

“Clint-“

“I’m joking.” Clint relented, laughing, his smile not faltering.

Now that Bucky had his hair short, he could see the slight flush that had appeared on the tip of his ears. And Clint wondered if they were like that whenever he would make a pass at him, conveniently hidden underneath the mane that he used to have.

Bucky still seemed a bit unnerved, his jaw tense and scent still a little musty.

Clint’s smile turned softer, and he felt the recognizable emptiness filling his stomach.

“I understand very well the need to keep shit under your own control.” Clint added, voice knowing.

Bucky hummed in agreement, “A side effect of brain-washing?” He quipped.

Clint barked a laugh, smile widening, “Amen.”

Bucky laughed with him, and Clint couldn’t believe he had been so stubborn when he could've evaded weeks of tension and bitterness. When he could’ve had this, Bucky’s scent finally ridding itself from that invasive undertone. At that, Clint felt himself relax a little more. And in that moment of relief he found that he didn’t care that much about it.

#marvel #fanfic #writing #personal #winterhawk #bucky barnes #clint barton #omegaverse #omega!clint #alpha!bucky #ao3 #mcu #abo dynamics #slow burn #slow build #muevete bien #rainandchocolateinacup

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thesparklingwriter · 1 year

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(psst: today it's angstober. )

truth

“You’re not a product of your circumstances, and you are not defined by the misfortunes you’ve been privy to.”

tags: pet names, Zhongli is very pure, soft Zhongli, fem!reader, Zhongli and reader are in a relationship, reader has a traumatic past, Zhongli doesn't know but he has his suspicions, i think this is hurt comfort but idk

content warnings: seasonal depression, nightmares (pls let me know if there's anything that should be added)

masterlist | ao3 link | taglist | next

please do not repost or edit my work without credit. reblogs are greatly appreciated!

i'm also taking requests for the rest of the flufftober days, PLEASE leave any suggestions, cause i am running out of ideas... i'm also considering adding a taglist, so send me an ask if you want to be added :)

Zhongli knows you more than you realise he does. He knows you like staying up late and sleeping in, and he knows you hate sweet things.

But it’s what he doesn’t know that worries him the most—when he can see the terror and pain behind your eyes, when he knows you’re in pain, but he doesn’t know what is causing it.

He knows that when winter comes around, and temperatures plummet, things seem to get harder for you, but he doesn’t know why. You shiver and fold into yourself, as if to conserve heat, no matter how much he heats the house. Your smiles are forced and your energy low.

At night, you thrash in bed trying to escape from some nightmare you can’t ever seem to disperse. The first time he tried to console you, you shot up, suddenly awake , a muttered a groggy “who are you?” escaping your lips as you scrambled away from him.

Since that night, he leaves a dim lamp on in the room, one you can use to identify him when the dreams start chasing you. He’s also had to accept that he can’t try to console you, no matter how heart wrenching he finds your sobs. He has to wait until you seek out his touch, and most nights you do, sliding your shaking hands around him. He doesn’t sleep until they’ve settled, and he knows you’re peacefully sleeping.

Sometimes, when you’re walking around Liyue together, he feels you grab onto his hand tighter, although he can see nothing that threatens him. He eyes scan the crowd to see who’s threatening his beloved, but he can’t find anything but the evidence—you digging yourself into his side. He doesn’t ask any questions except the obvious—“Do you want to go home?”

He knows that loud sounds and sharp movements put you on edge, especially if it’s in a place crowded with men. He’s pieced together that they are the problem, but he can’t do anything but avoid them whenever he can until he hears it from your mouth.

It hurts him to see how you’re suffering on your own. He promised he’d help you with anything you were struggling with, but you won’t let him help you with this. All he can do is try his best to keep you happy when the ghosts of pain and terror begin to reflect in your eyes.

“What do you want for dinner?” You ask him, one mild afternoon. Zhongli looks up from his book, only to see you reaching precariously for the plates. He’d meant to have that cabinet lowered for you, but he’d hesitated because it stopped you from bothering with menial tasks like putting the dishes away. He didn’t like burdening you with things like that.

“I’ll cook, don’t bother yourself with the plates,” he says softly, watching you with unrestrained curiosity.

“No, I want to—” The plates Zhongli told you to not bother yourself with clatter to the floor in a spray of ceramic shards. He calls for you, telling you to not move so you don’t cut yourself, but the commotion is too much for you, and you panic. Tears bunch up in your eyes, and you scurry away, narrowly missing the shards that surround you on the way out.

He wants to rush to you, to check that you’re okay, but such smothering never really does anything good, so he settles for cleaning up the plates—just so you have enough time to calm down. He makes quick work of the shards and sets to finding you.

He knows you aren’t downstairs, and upstairs is almost as hopeless. Too many rooms and doors to look behind. If you’re not in the obvious places, the only thing he can do is sit and wait for you to come out. He decides to start with the simplest option: your room. When he doesn’t see you in there, he tries the adjacent bathroom.

“Are you in here, love?”

You don’t respond for a long time. “Go away.”

He backs away from the door until he hears your lilting voice again.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Of course not,” he says softly. “I’m just worried. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you sniff. Usually, he’d take this at face value, but today, he doesn’t.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” his chest constricts as he whispers the words. He almost sure you don’t hear him, until you yank the door open.

“Do you even want to know?” You ask lowly. “Do you even want to know how messed up I am?” Tears start readily streaming down your face, as you stare at Zhongli, your arms wrapped around yourself as if to make yourself smaller. “Do you want a reminder that the girl you’re dating is well and truly—”

Zhongli gently pulls your hands away from your sides. “My perception of you is not influenced by your circumstances or your appearances. Nothing you tell me could ever make me change my mind about you.”

You look away from his earnest gaze. It’s embarrassing, admitting that you’re not okay. Admitting that it’s all been an act, that you’re terrified he’s going to be like the rest of them. Admitting that despite years of being together, you’re still terrified that he’ll snap and take his stresses out on you. Admitting that you’re terrified that he’ll turn out to be just like them.

It’s humiliating.

“Talk to me, love.” Zhongli whispers. “Please.”

You resist for a while, minutes turning into hours as you spend the rest of the day pointedly avoiding the subject matter. Zhongli doesn’t press you, or expect you to say anything. At the very least, he’s glad you’ve cheered up slightly.

In the evening, when nightfall rolls around and you curl into bed next to him, he feels you clear your throat.

“Are you alright?” he whispers into the dim room. You swallow.

“I’m…sorry,” you whisper. “For not telling you. For making you navigate all of this with no explanation. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You are entitled to your own choices. My existence shouldn’t threaten that.”

Zhongli rolls over to hug you close to his chest, and with your face pressed again the man you’ve grown to love, it’s then that you finally get the courage to tell him about everything you’ve been through—everything you can remember about your family, your past, and the horrible memeories that you’ve kept packed away in some quiet corer of your mind—until your voice is hoarse, and your eyes are swollen from tears.

Zhongli is mainly quiet, stroking your hair to remind you that he’s still listening. His silence is scary–you’ve stripped yourself naked for him, so he can see deep into your mind and your thoughts, and his lack of response… It doesn’t bear thinking about.

“Do you want to me to leave?” You whisper softly. “I understand if you do. It’s a lot and–”

“I don’t want you to leave.” He replies, pulling you closer to his chest. “I would be content to follow you for the rest of my life is that was what you wanted.”

“But they–”

“You’re not a product of your circumstances, and you are not defined by the misfortunes you’ve been privy to.” Zhongli says, returning to stroking your hair. “I love you regardless, and I always will.”

a/n anon i hope this is good enough, i tried my very best <3

#tswzhongliflufftober #flufftober #angstober 2022 #zhongli fluff #ao3 fanfic #zhongli fanfic #genshin fluff #flufftober 2022 #flufftober2022 #zhongli #zhongli flufftober #zhongli x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #fanfiction #my fic #my fanfiction

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neteyamsoare · 1 year

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Kiss Me.

༉‧₊˚. Featuring. Human! Neteyam Sully x Fem! Human! Reader | Past Ao’nung x Fem! Human! Reader.

༉‧₊˚. Anonymous Request. I CAME AS QUICK AS I COULD 17 FOR NETEYAM PLEASE + Oops! Sorry abt that! I was hoping for #17 - "quick, kiss me" in fluff if you don't mind 🙇‍♀️

༉‧₊˚. Summary. In order to get away from your ex, you make an impulsive decision that will change the course of your and Neteyam’s friendship.

༉‧₊˚. General Tags. Modern Au, fluff, and slight angst.

༉‧₊˚. Content Warnings. Aged up! Neteyam & Ao'nung, toxic ex (sorry Ao’nung you were just good for the job), anger, cursing, and mention of cheating.

༉‧₊˚. Word Count. 1,1k.

༉‧₊˚. Notes. I was not expecting this prompt to go so long. I thought it was going to be a drabble but it is now a one-shot but hey it’s the first prompt I’m posting for my sleepover! I hope y’all like it. | If you want to send to request another prompt, you always can — you can find the link to the sleepover event down below.

༉‧₊˚. Extra. Comments, likes, and reblogs are highly appreciated but not pressured. 🤍

༉‧₊˚. Starred Links. Navigation + Masterlist + Prompts + Taglist

*RING RING*

You stir in your sleep as you try to block out the annoying sound that was ruining the sleep that you rightfully earned after staying up late studying. Finally, the ringing stops letting you relax but as soon as you get used to the quiet, the ringing starts back up making you groan as you open your eyes slowly.

You pick up your phone from the dresser that is close to your bed and see that Kiri, your best friend, is calling. You let out another sleepy groan as you accept the call and put it to your ears. “Hello?” You say with a soft voice fighting the sleep that threatens to bring you back to sleep.

“Finally, you answer your fucking phone!” Kiri yelled into the phone making you jump up, you were woken now. “I’m sorry, I happen to love my sleep.” You sit up properly rubbing your eyes softly. You put her on speaker as you checked your notifications and saw 8 messages from Kiri and 2 from Neteyam.

“What’s going on?” You asked as you went to read Neteyam’s message, remembering you had promised him that you were going to watch his practice. You get up off the bed and pick up your phone as you head to the bathroom to start getting ready. “Ao’nung is here on campus looking around for you,” you immediately stop what you’re doing and pick up the phone, taking it off speakerphone and putting it to your ear. “I know you fucking lying!”

“Girl, why would I lie? I know his musty ass from anywhere,” Shit, why now? This is all you can think about as you get yourself ready. “What does he want from me? We broke up a month ago, I blocked him and haven’t spoken to him since so why is he tryna show up now?” You let out a breath as you roll your eyes.

“He realized that he lost the best thing he could ever have in his life,” you sigh. “He just needs to leave me alone. Girl, I’ll see you on campus, I have to meet your brother at his practice.” You hear a laugh on her end. “You mean your other half,” she says while giggling as you roll your eyes and a smile appears on your face. “Shut up,” you laugh as you both say your goodbyes and you hang up.

You put your phone down on the bed and take a deep breath. “Eywa, please don’t let me run into this asshole.” you silently prayed hoping the odds are in your favor.

You finally arrive on the field that held Neteyam’s practice wearing some jeans, your favorite converse, and your favorite black hoodie which was originally Neteyams but he knew he wasn’t getting it back once he gave it to you.

So far luck was on your side, Ao’nung was nowhere in sight, only hoping it’ll stay that way. He laid his bed that night he decided to get his dick wet with some girl he had just met. He threw away the chance of having you as his ‘forever’ as he used to tell you. It's crazy how a person you thought you would spend the rest of your life with can hurt you so much without even caring about how you would feel.

You were so far in your mind that you didn’t even hear your name being called til the person got a hold of your waist turning you around to face them. “You made it,” Neteyam smiled down at you and a smile appeared on your face as you quickly got your mind off Ao’nung. “Of course, I did promise you that I’d make an appearance.” you rest your hand on his bicep rubbing it softly as he looks down at the hoodie you’re wearing.

“Oh so that’s where my favorite hoodie went,” he smirks as you let out a smirk of your own. “It’s my favorite hoodie now, you would have to cut it off me to have it back,” you let out a giggle as he just smiled. “It looks better on you than it ever did on me anyway,” he says as you make eye contact with him smiling so hard, Neteyam was always so nice to you ever since you met, especially after the breakup, he made sure that you took care of yourself, talked to you when you needed it, let you vent your frustrations, hell he even took a yoga class for you.

You lost eye contact with him for a second when you saw Ao’nung glaring at the two of you, eyeing the way your hand was rubbing on Neteyam’s bicep. Your heart immediately starts racing, “Please eywa, let that not be him and I’m just seeing things,” you thought to yourself but when you looked back at him, he was for sure real because he was making his way over here sending you in a whole panic not wanting to deal with him at all.

“Y/n, are you okay?” Neteyam asks worriedly as he takes in your panic state. You didn’t know what to do, looking back to where Ao’nung was, he was getting closer and closer and a rushed idea came up in your head. “Kiss me!” you blurt out as Neteyam goes into shock not expecting that to come out of your mouth. “Wha-” he starts to ask but you cut him off by placing your lips onto his, moving your hands to his waist as you pull him closer to you.

Neteyam couldn’t believe this was happening, he thought that this could be a dream but as you squeezed his waist tighter, he smiled into the kiss bringing a hand to cup your cheek and his other hand placed on your waist. You honestly almost forgot the reason why you abruptly kissed him just on how good of a kisser Neteyam was, he easily took the lead from you and you wrapped your arms around his neck and as you do, you open an eye taking a glance at Ao’nung’s angry stance seeing if he’d still make his way to where both of you were standing but he turns around and storms off which makes you smile continuing the kiss.

You didn’t even know why you were still kissing Neteyam since the intention was to get rid of Ao’nung but you knew you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed it. Finally, you slowly pull away from each other still in each other’s embrace just staring into each other’s eyes, both knowing that this little kiss will change the course of your friendship. “When were you going to tell me that you were such a good kisser?” You ask as he laughs while bringing you closer to him as you lay your head on his chest hiding the big smile you couldn’t stop.

🔖 @livelaughloak @jakesully-sbabygirl @kenzi-woycehoski @fanboyluvr @onlytays @amart-e @vxncxntt @blep24 @blackheart-stuff @almondmilk8 @azaleaniath @love-chx @uniltsatirey @23victoria @saeayanaa @aash3 @canaomfa @0littlelucy0 @dilftopia69 @itszmedawn

#ಣ : sylaphone #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x female reader #atwow x reader #atwow x you #atwow x y/n #james cameron avatar #atwow neteyam #neteyam oneshot #atwow fanfiction #atwow oneshot #atwow modern au #neteyam fluff #atwow fluff #atwow ao'nung #avatar the way of water #neteyam x f!reader

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beautifulpersonpeach · 3 months

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bpp sorry if this isn't the content you want on your blog after yesterday but is it ok if i ask for clarification on sth? i know youre army you don't like solos but i like reading solos for a wide span of info. i don't like to be in a bubble of echo chambers

i saw a post and i'll send the link right after this ask but the person was criticizing a post you made but it confused me bc what you wrote didnt match what they said. they didn't post your name but i know its you because you always start your answers with 3 dots

***

many armys say they like jimin but they pretend. i don't think youre like that but your answer is confusing so can you clarify? its like you allow jjks to shit on jimin but you drag out pjms only. armys do this over and over. its sad if youre the same bc i like your blog.

***

Please block me.

Actually, you know what? Don't. At least not just yet. Let's do this instead.

I checked the link you sent. I'd received that link a couple other times today accompanied with more hostile language, so I ignored it. But I checked out yours because I wondered what was so serious you couldn't add the link to your main ask, so if you're all in fact the same person sending that link, kudos for getting my attention.

And thank you for sending that to me, because now I'd like to use you and that post to make an example of what I'm talking about when I say solo stans think differently and are just less intelligent. In my opinion.

For other readers, I'm not going to link it directly so as to not draw more attention to them, and since they're stalking my blog to make an example without directly mentioning me or showing my blog name, I think it's only fair I react in kind by also not making a direct mention.

Here’s the post (mine) in question:

Here is the akgae's takeaway from the post above (mine):

Already, the dissonance between the first and second screenshot should be obvious. I’ll explain in any case just so everyone can follow along.

Shortly after Jimin released Closer Than This, I received an ask from someone who calls themselves a PJM (a Jimin akgae), who said they hate the song and also hate his voice. But that they are his solo stan because he’s “talented and hot”.

I responded that they, the Jimin solo stan who hates his ARMY song and voice, isn’t exactly a rare breed. And that Jimin has ARMY supporting him anyway. This is within the context of me always saying solo stans don’t actually like the person they choose to solo stan (if they did, they wouldn’t be akgaes), and that an akgae’s experience is more about them and their personal insecurities than anything Jimin (or any other BTS member) is actually doing.

Months later (present day), another Jimin solo stan quotes that ask and my response, as proof of me (1) going “sameee you’re so valid”, (2) not correctly identifying that person as someone who actually antis Jimin a.k.a. his akgae, and (3) as proof of me believing “one is more talented and more deserving than the other” re: Jungkook vs Jimin.

…is there even anything more for me to say?

Y'all, I bet you something like 90% of the shit that has solos constantly bouncing off the walls starts from things like this: a complete lack of reading comprehension coupled with gaps in logic and pre-conceived notions/insecurities. If I wanted to be really mean, there's so many places I could take this post right now, but I'll stop here for now.

That post made me laugh because the entire thing is a comedy of errors. The OP Anon in that akgae's post, is actually talking about another 'blogger' (who I know and generally like but that's besides the point), but the akgae responding to them mistook OP Anon's 'blogger' to be me, and then proceeded to write what's in the second screenshot...

It's just sad.

I've lost count of how many times I've been the subject of callout posts on Tumblr and each time it's been something like this lmaooo. Each time it's been by akgaes (and their exile varieties) and shippers. The last time this happened, I was a taekooker, and now someone has essentially embarrassed themselves with a lamentable lack of reading comprehension to spin a pretty innocuous post into... alladat.

This is how drama is manufactured in fan spaces out of plain stupidity.

There are many reasons I don't like akgaes, but one top reason is because they dumb down the quality of conversation in whatever space they're in. It's part of why I have such a disdain for 'discourse' in k-pop spaces in general, because oftentimes, the people most eager to write paragraphs on end while being hateful and/or victimizing, are people who don't know what they're talking about or lack basic skills in reading comprehension, among other things. ARMYs and k-pop stans are guilty of this too, but you're more likely to run into culprits in akgae 'discourse' spaces or adjacent ones.

I've given examples of this many times but here's a couple here, and here.

I'm not even trying to be condescending, I don't actually think I know all there is to know about Jimin, BTS, and k-pop, I just no longer have the patience for people who choose remain in spaces filled with akgaes and who keep bringing their nonsense into my inbox. And what's worse asking me to clarify sentences that a grade 5 student should be able to parse in any language.

Anyway Anon, now, you can block me.

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ironwoman359 · 7 months

Text

A Thief's Gamble - Ch.4

Bedlam and Burglary

Previous: Ch.3 - Honeyed Words, Bitter Deeds ||Next: Ch.5 - The Renegade from Cyrodiil.

Fic Summary: Brynjolf is certain that the only way the Thieves Guild will return to its glory days is by bringing in new, talented members. Unfortunately, Mercer doesn't agree, and it's not like Brynjolf's latest attempts at recruiting have gone well. But when he meets a stranger in the marketplace one morning, he's willing to take the risk and bring her on board....only time will tell if his gamble pays off.

Chapter Summary: While Brynjolf attempts to discover who is behind the sale of Goldenglow Estate, Maven Black-Briar pays a visit to the Guild.

Content: Brynjolf POV, Thieves Guild quest spoilers, game typical violence.

Ships: Brynjolf x Dragonborn OC (slowburn)

Word Count: 2,056

Check the reblogs for a link to read on AO3!

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Despite their dwindling numbers, the Guild still had what Brynjolf considered to be a very capable group of core operatives…which made the fact that not a single person in the entire ratway was able to identify the mysterious symbol all the more frustrating. Even Delvin, who had worked with just about everybody who was anybody, didn’t have a clue.

The only person more frustrated than he was by the lack of leads was Mercer.

“Between everyone here we’ve run jobs across all of Tamriel!” he’d snarled. “Somebody has to know something! I want everyone working on this, no exceptions!”

Brynjolf couldn’t help but agree.

He drafted letters to everyone he could think of who might have the slightest clue how to solve the mystery, and had Vipir and Cynric make up copies of the symbol to send along with them. He asked Thrynn and Niruin to spread the word to any ties they still had with their old crews, and Rune left for the College of Winterhold to talk to an expert on obscure symbols and languages that he’d had contact with in the past. Tonilia and Vekel promised to speak with their customers and contacts as well, and Dirge even took a copy to pass along to Maul on the off chance that he’d run across something in his dealings with the Black-Briars.

And yet, despite everyone’s efforts across days of work, they were no closer to identifying the strange little symbol. Brynjolf was getting to the point where just looking at the damn thing made him grit his teeth, to say nothing of how Mercer was handling it. The Guildmaster had taken to pacing back and forth behind his desk and glaring daggers at anyone who disturbed him.

“I don’t like this, Brynjolf,” he kept saying. “Someone out there is playing us for fools, and I don’t like it one bit.”

As usual, Brynjolf did his best to keep everyone in good spirits, but even his patience had its limits.

“Please tell me you’ve heard something,” he said to Delvin as he walked into the Ragged Flagon, but the old man shook his head.

“Sorry Bryn. I have heard something, but it ain’t something good.”

“The Brotherhood hasn’t ever seen it either,” Brynjolf guessed, and Delvin nodded.

“Astrid said that even little Babette didn’t have a clue, and she’s been around for centuries.”

“Dammit,” Brynjolf muttered, falling into a seat. “Whoever’s behind this is crafty, I’ll give them that.”

“We may have to face it, Brynjolf,” said Delvin. “Nobody knows what that symbol means.”

“Don’t be so quick to give up, old friend,” Brynjolf said. “There’s still a lot of correspondence that has yet to be answered. Maybe nobody in Skyrim has heard of it, but our adversary could be from elsewhere in Tamriel. That reminds me, did you send a letter to your–”

“Look sharp,” Delvin interrupted, lowering his voice. “Look who just came in.”

Brynjolf looked up, and immediately straightened in his chair.

Maven Black-Briar herself was strolling down the walkway around the cistern, Maul trailing behind her like a guard dog. She breezed past Dirge without so much as a nod and stepped up to the bar.

“Good evening, milady,” Vekel said, nodding respectfully. Maven was just about the only person who he didn’t treat with his usual snark. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll just have a cup of wine tonight,” she said. “I have business to discuss with Brynjolf.”

She took her drink and sat at Brynjolf’s table, and he lifted his tankard to her.

“Maven. To what do I owe to pleasure this fine evening?”

“Thanks to the efforts of the operative you sent my way, I’m in prime position to take over Honningbrew Meadery in Whiterun,” she said. “I have to say, I was skeptical about her at first, but she definitely gets results.”

“She’s one of the best we have.”

Brynjolf had said it without thinking, as yet another part of his usual game of flattery and assurance that he played with Maven, but as he considered the words, he realized that there was an element to truth of them. The lass's somewhat odd behavior aside, she’d had nothing but success since starting with the Guild. The strain of bad luck that they’d all been experiencing seemed not to affect her, and now she’d even managed to impress Maven.

“Perhaps,” Maven said. “At any rate, I wanted to speak with you and Mercer about Honningbrew.”

“Mercer is out meeting a contact,” Brynjolf said apologetically. “But I’ll gladly relay any message you have for him.”

Maven nodded.

“I don’t anticipate any issues in actually acquiring the meadery itself; Mallus has already been placed in charge by the local guard and sale of the property to me is a trivial matter. What concerns me is ensuring the same level of control over the production in Whiterun as I maintain here”

“Is Mallus’s presence at the meadery not enough for that?” Brynjolf asked, and Maven scoffed.

“Mallus is a capable worker and he knows his success is dependent on meeting my standards…for now. But how long until the distance between us gives him ideas about independence?”

“So you want to employ the Guild to keep tabs on the meadery the way we do on Goldenglow.”

“Precisely,” Maven said. “I’m not anticipating a need for high levels of interference in these early days–”

“But you want to be prepared,” Brynjolf finished for her, and a slow smile spread across her face.

“Indeed. I trust you’ll be able to handle that?”

“Well…” Brynjolf said carefully. “Our reputation in Whiterun isn’t what it used to be. It’ll be more difficult to operate there with the same impunity we enjoy here in Riften.”

“I fail to see how that’s my problem. I’ll have my hands full enough establishing my own business presence in the hold without covering for you at the same time.”

“I did say difficult, not impossible,” Brynjolf pointed out. “We’ll make it happen.”

Maven smirked.

“You know, a week ago I may have assumed you to be merely grandstanding. But your Ariene assures me that what she found at Honningbrew will help restore your Guild’s strength, and since you claim she’s your best, I trust that she’s correct.”

Maven finished off her wine and got to her feet, and Brynjolf stood as well.

“For now, a monthly report from one of your operatives to confirm that what Mallus is telling me is true should be sufficient for management of Black Briar Meadery West,” she said. “I’ll alert you if any further action is required.”

“Always a pleasure to have you visit us, Maven,” Brynjolf said with a smile, and Maven tutted.

“Yes, I do so love my little excursions to the sewers. Maybe you could steal yourselves a better headquarters sometime. Or at least a servant to clean the place.”

“And lose our roguish, underworld charm?” Brynjolf asked, chuckling. “I think not.”

Maven rolled her eyes and turned without another word, snapping her fingers for Maul to follow her out of the cistern.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Delvin said when she was gone. “I haven’t seen her in that good a mood in quite awhile.”

“Neither have I,” Brynjolf agreed, slumping back in his seat. “Ariene must’ve really impressed her. I wonder what she meant by the lass finding something that would help the Guild?”

“Well,” said a new voice. “I don’t actually know how helpful it will be.”

Brynjolf turned with a start, just in time to see the woman in question entering the Flagon through the secret entrance.

“You just love appearing without warning, don’t you lass?” Brynjolf asked, and Ariene shrugged, a small smile playing about her lips.

“What’s the point of being able to sneak through rooms undetected if I don’t take any opportunities to eavesdrop?”

“Word of advice, lass,” Brynjolf said as she took a seat at the table. “Those skills will serve you well when you’re out there in the world. But there’s no need to use subterfuge within the Guild itself. We have each other’s backs. If we can’t rely on each other, then there’s not much point in being part of a Guild at all, is there?”

Ariene’s smile stayed locked in place, but it lost the playful ease it’d held a moment before.

“I suppose not,” she said.

Brynjolf opened his mouth to speak, but Ariene plowed onwards.

“And speaking of the Guild, I did find something at Honningbrew. The same symbol from Goldenglow was involved. Whoever gave Sabjorn the funds he needed to take his competing mead to market as quickly as he did is the same person who bought the bee farm to cut Maven out of the picture.”

Brynjolf frowned and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. As much as he wanted to press the lass on her response to his advice, he knew when to take a hint.

“That makes this beyond coincidence,” he said instead. “First Aringoth and now Sabjorn. Someone's trying to take us down by driving a wedge between Maven and the Guild.”

“And there’s no way we can stay afloat without her influence?” Ariene asked, and Brynjolf shook his head.

“Believe me, there are days when I wish we didn’t rely on her so heavily. But the fact is, her gold is pretty much the only thing keeping the city guard from storming this place and hauling us all off to Mistveil Keep’s dungeon.”

“Then what can we do?”

“We’re working on how to identify that symbol now,” Brynjolf said. “We’ve reached out to all our contacts, though there hasn’t been much luck yet. Besides that, we can continue working on restoring our reputation in other holds…pulling jobs so that people remember who we are.”

“And it’d probably make sense to start in Whiterun, since Maven wants us to start operating there,” Ariene added. “Delvin!” she called over her shoulder. “Have any clients for a job in Whiterun?”

“Nothing specific,” Delvin said. “Though pulling a bedlam job in the hold could be a step in the right direction. What about you Vex, do you have anything?”

Vex looked up from where she was sitting in the corner, and grinned.

“Do I have any jobs in Whiterun? Sure I do. I have a buyer looking for a specific jeweled flagon that’s been traced to a trader named Ysolda, and House Gray-Mane has been on my list of targets to sweep for months now. Lot of old relics in that manor.”

“Ysolda’s place and House Gray-Mane…alright, I know where both of those are,” Ariene said. “And I know a few other spots that would make good targets for the bedlam job. I should be able to pull off all three jobs in one visit.”

“Be careful lass,” Brynjolf cautioned. “We have some sway over the guard here in Riften thanks to the Black-Briars, but it’s much harder these days to get yourself out of a jam in the other holds. It might be more prudent to spread the jobs out over time, have different operatives go for different jobs. If you get caught pulling off a crime spree, your sentence is likely to be far harsher.”

A quick smile flitted across Ariene’s face.

“Your concern is touching,” she said. Her tone was playful, but there was a hint of sincerity in her gaze as she met Brynjolf’s eyes. “I’ll be careful,” she continued. “But of all the things that I have to worry about in Whiterun? The guard is the least of my problems.”

Brynjolf blinked, and filed that statement away with the rest of the rapidly growing questions he had about his newest Guildmate.

“Well then, as long as you don’t mind going back to Whiterun so soon, it sounds like we have a plan.”

Vekel came up to their table and passed out a round of drinks, and Brynjolf lifted his up in a toast.

“To the Guild!” he declared.

“May we show that bloody curse that we won’t be kept down by anything,” said Delvin.

“And may we all make enough to retire in a palace,” Vex added.

Ariene’s eyes flitted around the room, and she smiled again, wider this time.

“May we all have each other’s backs,” she said, and Brynjolf grinned.

“Aye, lass. I’ll drink to that.”

--- --- ---

Previous: Ch.3 - Honeyed Words, Bitter Deeds || Next: Ch.5 - The Renegade from Cyrodiil.

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