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overtake · 9 days

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I’m sorry we need about 5k more words of mechanic Daniel driver max pls and ty!!!

Part One

I’m actually so shocked (but pleasantly surprised and honored!) by people enjoying this verse because I almost deleted it without posting. I don’t have 5k more, but I can offer 1.2k!

I still lowkey hate this - and you can definitely tell I have no vision for where this story would go, hence why it’s just harping on the same 3 details we already knew - but it’s all yours and I hope you have a good time reading it anyway :)

Five minutes into pretending to examine an engine instead of obsess over what Max said, Daniel breaks.

“Did you mention me to Max?” he asks Cyril, trying to come across casual.

Cyril looks at him disbelievingly. “Max Verstappen is in our garage and you think I talked about you at all?”

Daniel lifts a hand to his chest and feigns being shot. “People love me, you know. Guys are all over this.”

Cyril heaves out a long-suffering sigh. “Get to work, Daniel.”

Daniel’s lucky, given his condition, that everything is relatively routine today. He does three oil changes, and he could kiss those people’s feet for it.

He’s mentally preparing himself to slide under a car, wincing at much more congested he’ll be once he emerges again, when Max suddenly appears in the corner of the garage.

“Hello,” he says. He does a cute little half-wave to get Daniel’s attention.

“Hey,” Daniel says, straightening and rubbing his grimy hands on his thighs. “Cyril’s working on your car, so he’ll have any updates you need.”

“It’s not my car, just a rental,” Max dismisses. “No, I just have …” He cuts himself off, turns a sweet pink on the apples of his cheeks. “You sounded sick earlier and looked really pale. I brought you soup.”

He lifts a takeaway bag from the cafe down the street, which usually specializes in ten dollar lattes and sandwiches with names so cutesy, you have to practice five times to order without shame.

Daniel smiles at the idea of Max Verstappen, world champion, saying one of those horrible names for Daniel’s benefit. “You didn’t have to do that. Thank you. Let me pay you back.”

Max shakes his head. “It’s my thanks for fixing the car.”

Daniel raises his eyebrows. “So what soup did you get Cyril, who’s actually doing that?”

Max scrunches his nose in disgust. “You cannot expect me to say the name Noodle Nest Paradise more than one time.”

“How many times did you laugh trying to get that out?”

Max shudders. “I pretended to speak really bad English and just pointed at the menu.”

“So you could’ve ordered multiple,” Daniel points out. Max very blatantly pretends not to hear. He focuses instead on pulling a little bag from the order and holding it up proudly, smiling a crinkly-eyed smile.

“I got you crackers!”

Eating soup with Max Verstappen is an out of body experience.

Daniel’s been eating his soup over the coffee table in the office because it felt wrong to make Max sit at the grimy, wobbly table in the closet-sized corner of the garage where Daniel and Cyril usually change and scarf down meals. This, however, means they’re stuck together on the loveseat. Max’s expensive skinny jeans knock knees with Daniel’s greasy coveralls when they get too into the conversation.

Daniel knows he’s being a terrible conversationalist, especially at first. His normal easy charisma is buried somewhere in the pile of tissues he’s burning through. He’s basically just answering Max’s rapid-fire questions about his life, his job, his family, his non-existent partner (“do you have a girlfriend or boyfriend or anything?” Max had asked, and looked remarkably pleased by Daniel’s answer of no).

Daniel’s about 87% sure he’s being hit on right now. It’s a nice confidence booster given how much of a mess he looks, but it’s not like it matters. Max is Max, and Max is F1, and Max doesn’t live here.

He likes Max, though, the longer they talk. He likes his eagerness, his down-to-earth nature, his total lack of interest in discussing racing. Max delights in all Daniel’s behaviours that usually make people roll their eyes and wait for him to be done, whereas Max leans into Daniel’s dumb songs or drawn out jokes. He likes the long lashes that frame Max’s bright, happy eyes, and soft double chin he gets when he ducks his head into his laugh.

Daniel’s not sure how much time passes before Cyril comes in, but he knows his voice has faded to practically nothing, and he’s having to constantly turn to avoid coughing on Max.

Cyril’s timing is rather unfortunate, entering just as Daniel breaks into a particularly rough wheeze. Max is patting his back gently, which Cyril will definitely have words about later. Presently, however, he seems too concerned about Daniel’s wellbeing to lecture him about appropriate contact with famous customers.

“Daniel. Go home,” he orders, voice kind but firm. His tone leaves no room for argument, not that Daniel really wants to fight him on it. He’s enjoying this, but his brain and body feel as if they’re wading through a pool of thick custard.

“Are you okay to drive?” Max checks. His eyebrows are knitted in sweet concern, like Daniel actually might keel over and die in the ten-minute ride home.

“All good,” Daniel promises. He stands, then promptly has to collapse back onto the couch when black spots dot his vision.

“I’m driving you,” Cyril says firmly.

“I just stood up too fast.” Sure, he’s a little woozier than expected, but he could do this drive blindfolded and half-dead.

“I’ll drive you,” Max says. “I mean, Cyril has work to do, but I’m just sitting here.”

“How do I know you won’t kidnap me or steal my car?” Daniel rasps.

“He’s not worth kidnapping, and selling his car probably couldn’t cover an oil change for the kinds of cars you drive,” Cyril informs Max. He ignores Daniel’s protests, then pushes Daniel back down to the couch when he half-rises from it.

“Stay. I will get your keys and bag.”

The second Daniel’s brain understands that he’s off-duty, that it’s no longer expected to carry him through the day, it mostly blacks out, and everything is a blur from there.

He’s pretty confident Cyril steals his phone to call his mum, which is vaguely embarrassing but perhaps necessary given his current state. He knows Cyril gives Max directions to Daniel’s parents’ place instead of his own. He feels Max’s hands help him into the passenger seat, and he definitely mutters some fever-addled sentences on the drive. That’s about all he remembers until he wakes up in his childhood bed, shivering and sweating while his mum runs a hand through his hair and forces medicine down his throat, before he falls back asleep again.

When he finally comes to enough to make his way downstairs, he finds his parents seated at the kitchen table. His mum jumps up, forces him into a chair and fusses over him while simultaneously lecturing him about going to work sick. His dad just sits there, eyebrows half-raised, until Daniel is settled with food and water.

“So. You had an exciting day at work.”

He slides a piece of scrap paper across the table. There, under some advertisement for gardening services, is a scrawled message in red pen:

It was lovely to meet you (again). I hope the terribly named soup made you feel better! :)

- Max

Under his name, Max has scrawled a phone number.

Daniel runs his finger over the lines, feeling the imprint of each number that Max etched into the paper. It’s neatly written, far more cautious and intentional than the rest of the words, as if to ensure that no digit could be misread or smudged.

Daniel pauses, processes the full note, and double backs to the word ‘again.’

“Yeah,” Daniel croaks through the stabbing pains in his throat. He stares at the word harder, like it might reveal what the fuck Max means by again. “I guess today was pretty interesting.”

#fics #maxiel #thought i’d only manage a few hundred words since i just wasnt feeling this verse #but shock of the century: i don’t stop talking #me versus my need to describe every minute of a day in excrutiating detail #i would be an editors worst nightmare #they would have to scrap basically everything #they’d be SCREECHING at me to advance the plot #good thing i’m never writing a book

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moonbaby26 · 24 days

Text

Title: Before the Storm

(Chapter 17 of Doflamingo’s Marine Series)

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Chapter Pairings: Doflamingo x Reader

Chapter Warnings: language, binge drinking, vaginal sex, toxic relationship, dubious consent, depression

Chapter Synopsis: The very night of your official engagement to Doflamingo, you are also made to sign your life away to Dressrosa’s king.

You spiral, punishing yourself as he plans to change your past even further. While others still move as distant pieces in the even larger game.

Author’s Notes: For those that do follow this story and read as soon as it updates, I’m so sorry you had to wait 5,000 years this time! I wish there was more here as a reward for that patience. I’m sure there are still typos too. Please proceed with caution! It just needed to be out of my drafts. I’ll proofread after I sleep again. Maybe. 😅

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

——————————

——————————

Something was going wrong with the submarine again. Nothing catastrophic, but it could always progress to that if they didn’t take the time to investigate and repair as they went. Pieces became worn and overtaxed easily. Noises that weren’t even there yesterday would suddenly manifest, anxiety inducing, so many fathoms deep in the darkness.

Law was sure there was a metaphor for their lives in there somewhere too. Just like he and his crew. How much this craft could really endure, until one day it just wouldn’t anymore.

He’d still felt that mental weight on himself as well. Fresh and nagging ever since Doflamingo’s name had been put back to the forefront of his mind with those first reports from Scylla just days ago.

Ghosts of his past had churned up enough that Law was almost glad when that bearing in the engine room had started making a newer, awful whining sound.

It was excuse enough to breach the surface and focus on anything else as they’d headed for another island to both look for parts and avoid the heavier than normal marine patrols in this region of the North Blue.

There’d been a pirate attack on a nearby island called Orlinde. At least that’s what Law had heard. Some shithole port town there, with no real wealth or industry of its own had been burned to the ground. And it hadn’t made much sense as to why. Seemingly foolish to risk the ire of the navy when there’d be no treasure or significant beri to even be had in a place like that.

But whatever the reasoning for those other pirates, their actions there had the marines now swarming. To the point that it funneled anyone actively trying to avoid arrest or other harassment further east.

To an unaffiliated island chain that Law had ordered his crew to then disembark at. All save for Bepo anyway, as strolling through the center of town with an overly nervous ball of white fluff wouldn’t have helped much in their bid to keep a low profile.

They had intended to be here just long enough to find what they needed and to make repairs. But every other outlaw in the area had much the same idea. Crew after crew camping out here as an easy stopover while waiting for the larger marine presence to die down nearby.

And this many egos all right on top of each other became a perfect powder keg for disaster really.

Shachi and Penguin were now on either side of their captain, trying to look as unbothered as he seemed while all three boys stuck tightly together.

They walked past the crowded stores and food stalls. With drunken cursing, and all other sounds of debauchery already going on this soon after sunset.

An old man at the harbor had said there was a store in this direction that sold supplies for ship building. It was worth a try to start there first.

But that unsettled feeling was still in Law’s mind. He was too inexperienced to fully understand it yet. The unnamed intuition which had more to do with what would be happening rather than just what could.

“Hey, Spots!”

And there, a male voice had called out loudly. The first inkling of trouble just this soon.

Law’s eyes had flitted up to an open doorway of one of the bars farther up the street. But the teen kept walking, silent to show his crew he expected much the same from them.

Yet the stranger’s second try to get their attention was even louder than the first, as the owner of that voice stepped into the muddy street in front of them. “Hey, I’m talking to you, you prick!”

And Law did stop reluctantly then, not in fear, but in annoyance. He knew an immediate waste of his time when he saw one.

The man that’d been yelling was about his own age though. Young and snide with a grinning girl under one arm. The man’s other hand held a large blade that now pointed towards Law and his crew.

“Are you hard of hearing? I mean that’s what’s on your hat, right? Black spots? You all look damn stupid I think. But my girl likes your hat. So how much do you want for it, kid?”

The stranger sounded a bit drunk actually. And the girl ribbed him in her reaction. “Fur is in fashion, Sarquiss! So don’t be so stingy. Make them an offer! You know Joker’s gonna pay us good this time regardless.“

Sarquiss? Joker? Those were just two more names that Law had never heard before. They meant nothing to him as the idiots continued to talk.

“This kid’s pretty skinny though. What if he freezes, baby? It’s awful cold out here.” The man smirked down at her, flirting abruptly in return as if he hadn’t just been the one that’d started this whole confrontation.

What kind of fool ever looked away while in the middle of threatening someone though?

These dolts would have been eaten alive in the ways Law had originally been taught. Because seeing the first opening only meant that the first move was his.

It would have been the first kill too if Law had still been that literal to those old teachings. But he left his own sword sheathed against his shoulder.

As it was now, he had no interest in making a scene. Law had planned to initiate a room and simply swap the blade that man held for some of the fresh horse shit he’d already noticed piled up along the street’s edge.

The resulting shock and disgust would have caused plenty of distraction for him, Shachi, and Penguin to quickly be on their way.

But that heavy feeling within Law had somehow remained, even as his hand and lips had begun to move with that whisper of a room.

A dread in him that was not explained until the moment that stranger’s coat had opened further with his playful movements against the girl.

And Law’s eyes had widened as he finally saw the distinct tattoo across that man’s chest. That feeling clicking in him as he knew the absolute mistake he was about to make even before it happened.

No.

He could not stop himself.

He didn’t want to.

“Takt.”

Shachi and Penguin’s surprised gasps were drowned out as the girl’s resulting scream met Law’s ears.

Her boyfriend’s body had been ripped away from her without warning. And flung like a ragdoll, straight through the bar’s long window and all those wooden slats which supported it.

It was a terribly loud crash, so many eyes then looking to Law and his friends from both sides of the street.

The Heart Pirates didn’t hesitate either.

“Go!” Law yelled.

And all three of them had doubled back, beginning to sprint for the harbor.

——————————

Sarquiss had landed hard, stunned and sprawled on that barroom floor to the brief silence of so many other pirates inside. His own crew was chief among them.

The circular tattoo on his chest now smiled to the ceiling. Its left eye struck through, and its wide grin becoming accented with fresh red as blood began to seep from so many cuts dealt from that broken window.

“I don’t…I don’t know what happened.” Sarquiss stammered, bewildered and in pain as another pirate’s boots came to stand near his head.

“Somebody got a cheap shot in while you were buzzed on this shit liquor. That’s all.” The owner of those boots scoffed indignantly. “They’re trying to ruin our party.” But Bellamy still grinned in a practiced copy of that now scratched up jolly roger on his first mate’s chest.

He motioned for his other crew to help Sarquiss up off of the floor while he strode for the door. “It’s fine. I was getting bored of this place anyway. Gladius said we only had to lay low for a day or so after Orlinde before we could put our flags back up.”

Bellamy stood in the doorway then, just seeing the backs of those other young pirates disappearing behind a building further down the street as they ran.

“So meet me back at the ship.” His legs were already coiling as he readied to jump and start clearing right over those buildings to catch up with them. “I’ll get us some fresh meat, and we’ll have a little fun while we wait on Joker’s next instructions.”

——————————

The return to the palace had come soon enough. And you were drinking whiskey straight by that point, no ice, no mixer. Right out of a fancy cabinet of top shelf bottles that likely weren’t meant for anyone but the king himself.

You were still in uniform, but long off duty in your own mind. With one of your legs crossed over the other, and an arm over the back of Doflamingo’s couch in his office.

Whatever anger remained in you for your lack of choice in all of this, was enough to keep even the three executives away. That danger must have been exuding in your body language still. Though you felt their eyes on you intermittently regardless.

They were here to witness your defeat, and to congratulate their master on his success in spinning this into exactly what he wanted it to be.

But you were staring at nothing while they talked. Your gaze on an empty corner currently, and miles from this well appointed room as you drank yourself away just as you’d wanted to do on that dark beach earlier this evening.

You were quietly furious for this treatment. But you also believed you were every bit as responsible for how quickly this relationship had escalated.

No one had picked up or dialed your phone for you the night you’d first called Doflamingo and asked him to meet you in Scylla.

No one had actually put a gun to your head and drug you into that beautiful church to wait for him alone.

No one had told you to fall for him.

Regardless of any blackmail he’d used to this point, you could have been less willing to let it work. You could have told the truth from the beginning and hid behind your betters. Tsuru, Aokiji, or likely even so many others who would have at least tried to help you.

The truth would set you free.

Wasn’t that the old saying? What an optimistic mismatch of words.

More like the truth would cut your heart out and feed it to you with a smile.

“(Y/N).” And his voice did easily rise through that other chatter.

He was the only one here that still would make you pay attention as you looked back to Doflamingo’s desk. Where he now sat, binding you to him for life with each additional swipe of his pen.

“Answer the magistrate’s final questions. It’s required.” The warlord ordered you then, yet with a veil of patience not yet fully undone.

Besides yourself and Doflamingo, the only others in this room were the executives and the government official that had arrived with all those stacks of paperwork and questions.

Questions for you too that you’d mostly ignored, especially once you’d been several glasses into the whiskey.

While peasants may just do a quick hop over to the local justice of the peace and call it a night, anyone becoming property and consort to a world government endorsed king seemingly had far more to worry about.

And when your gaze did go back to that thin little government busybody, he reminded you only of a small rat. Fussing with his hands in such a nervous way as the papers shuffled through them. Like wringing little paws, frightened and stuck between all the monsters now in this room.

“Why can’t you answer everything for me?” You exhaled back to Doflamingo though, the accumulating burn of the whiskey making your body feel so warm at least as you finally responded to the pirate.

“Because that’s not how this works.” Doflamingo replied, still tolerating you even then somehow.

Your eyebrows raised. “Yeah? Since when? Because that’s all I’ve ever seen here.” You answered. He always spoke for you. He chose for you. He was the perfectionist. He was the control freak.

And you were the idiot.

A depressed woman who’d attempted to bury all her problems with a devil, just to be as surprised as anyone when she’d inevitably woken up in hell for her efforts.

“What’s the next question?” Doflamingo just asked the official directly then, all while looking back down to the papers he was still signing.

That warlord didn’t explode, he didn’t even raise his voice that time.

And you didn’t dwell on it as you went back to drinking, having gotten what you wanted if even for a moment in being left alone.

It was only the executives that seemed to take notice, subtly surprised as Doflamingo allowed that little pushback.

“Ah, well…” The official still stammered. “Sire, the next section was about the verification of her birth status. She was born on the island of Orlinde, correct? Within the North Blue?”

“Yes. That’s already in her marine record.” Doflamingo’s tone was notably shorter with the official too, further confirming the clear difference in treatment you had just received.

“Well, there’s a slight discrepancy…a clerical error I’m sure.” That small man produced the weakest chuckle you’d ever heard. “I just needed her to say it was indeed an error.”

And Doflamingo did look back up at that, those facial muscles of his tightening in a way which never meant anything good. “What error?”

“The more discerning background check required for unions of this, um, level. It…it noted her name on the registry for Orlinde as being born to a…well, to a slave woman, sire.”

You felt the room change.

The official became even shakier too, horrified really as an inhuman growl came from that desk before the magistrate could say anything more.

“She was never born of a slave. So your first assumption of that being bad data was the correct one. Is that understood?”

And you were just watching. Observing these further lies as Doflamingo told them.

His lips were pulled back from his teeth in an expression you fully recognized too.

Note anything different and I’ll gut you where you goddamn stand.

That’s what that energy so clearly said.

“Of course, your highness! I’m fixing it now! I’ll correct it all immediately!”

You knew how fucked up it was for you just to be an observer to such bullying of the weak. You were supposed to protect others, even when they sniveled and whined like this man now was.

But you didn’t feel that guilty either as you uncrossed your legs and shifted on the couch.

And Doflamingo’s head turned the moment you had moved even that much again.

You knew he had to do that, to properly see you at this angle. But something about that instant attention made you look at him even longer in return.

Because what did he think you were going to do?

What did he want you to do?

“King Doflamingo and Ms. (Y/N), that only leaves the oath itself…” The official’s fully uneasy voice interrupted those additional odd thoughts.

“Then go ahead.” The warlord commanded him just as quickly. “Read it to her.”

The official nodded, with a pen clutched in one of his sweating hands. And the final pages of all of that paperwork in the other as he looked down to read it.

“Ms. (Y/N)…do you hereby agree to loyalty until your death to King Donquixote Doflamingo of Dressrosa? Do you also understand the legal bindings of this union? And the consequences of non compliance, up to and including charges of treason against this aforementioned monarch and our World Government via his status as a sanctioned vessel beholden to our Holy Land of Mariejois?”

You really were too far gone for this shit.

So what? If you got into another fight and decked him when he deserved it, that’d now be the same as rebellion against the Red Line itself? Just because he was a government backed dictator?

Was arguing with him treason too? What about ever leaving this island? Was that desertion and dereliction of your soon to be wifely duties?

Even signing your marine recruitment papers hadn’t felt this restrictive. And that’d been you literally agreeing to march to your own death if your commanding officers simply said to.

“Yeah…what else am I supposed to say?” You knew you weren’t going to be let out of this room otherwise. And you did want out as you stretched your legs away from you, still seated on that couch.

Things were starting to feel too much for you again, like everything was closing in once more. “Fuck it…yes. I guess I do.” You forced another couple of breaths as you brought the whiskey glass to your lips again.

Or at least you’d tried to.

The strings that then looped around your wrist had jerked your hand hard enough to splash that liquid down the front of your shirt instead. Right before you were being pulled up and onto your feet.

“I already said yes, you-” You started to bitch at him immediately. It was hard enough to catch your balance when this inebriated without Doflamingo also pulling you so roughly to his desk.

“And I accept your agreement.” He laughed abruptly, cutting both you and the official off before any other response could be given.

It hurt you as your hips hit his desk. And with him already seated, he didn’t have to lean as far down to reach your mouth across that desk either.

Doflamingo got to taste the full brunt of that alcohol you were now hiding behind as he kissed you.

While you got to taste his still enduring desperation for any piece of you that was left for the taking.

It was going to be a very long night.

——————————

The paperwork was done and sent. Clothes were scattered across the floor, and Doflamingo was already back over the top of you in his massive bed.

A large glass of his best cava was in his hand as his hips pumped against you slowly while he drank. He was savoring the drawn out pressure of you around him, mixed into that chilled feeling of the sparkling wine now flooding down his throat.

He swallowed again, then moaning as his mouth came back off of the glass.

“You fucking lush…you’re such a bad influence.” He laughed a little after, running his thumb firmly over your parted mouth while his cock continued to move in and out between your legs at that languid pace.

He could nearly get off on just the sound of his own voice by now though. He was so stimulated. Everything felt good. Everything felt right.

Because he’d done it.

You were his in every legal way that mattered.

And you were still somewhat conscious this time. The alcohol metabolizing enough by now to mostly take your voice. But you were watching him as he fucked you. His every action slow and deliberate as he fully enjoyed himself and this renewed lack of your resistance.

You even gave a few little moans and gasps as he rewarded you again by angling himself just right.

“Good girl…such a good girl for me. It feels amazing, doesn’t it?” He panted a bit anyway, his lust driving up his body temperature regardless of the careful pace. He reached briefly to set his now empty glass back onto the nightstand.

“I want this all the time…all the damn time. You know that right? I can’t stop…not when it’s you.” He just kept on, using that steady, long lasting rhythm.

He did try to keep his full weight off of your wounded thigh at least. Mindful of where he moved your leg as he took you. But this was still a celebration after all. He also wanted to feel you under him in all the right ways.

“Doffy…” You did grimace a little as the tip of him kissed against your cervix again.

He smiled at the plea of his name from your lips though. You were so pretty like this. And all of it was for him.

Maybe tomorrow your brain would be back to functioning well enough for him to explain your other wedding gifts as well.

Ever since the two of you had first sailed from Scylla together, he’d gotten busy with moving his chess pieces all over the board for you.

The nearest loyal mongrels Gladius could assign for him to your home island of Orlinde, had already razed that brothel you’d been born in to ash in a much needed cleansing of your pedigree.

While another official on Doflamingo’s payroll had just as recently planted forged documents of your revised parentage for Big News Morgans to find instead.

Doflamingo had already teased you with the idea of gifting that Scyllian villa to you. The villa that became the first nest the two of you had ever slept side by side in, would of course now be important to him as well. It was not leaving your and his new family no matter what now.

But that was still not enough.

With the machinations he had going, your bloodline was going to be from Scylla.

Any children you could give him would then have both Dressrosa and Scylla to their credit.

Which, that was now another thing he needed to follow up on starting tomorrow. Caesar had had well enough time to deliver.

Doflamingo smiled again though as you shuddered quietly beneath him.

“Still with me?” He hummed, seeing your eyes close then as he rubbed his hand down your side and you stilled again. “Or have you forgotten your own name, dear, while that poor liver of yours cries out from abuse?”

The moonlight highlighted his entertained expression as his lips pulled back from his teeth again. His hand had moved up to your throat as he gripped it in his continued pleasure.

He watched as your breasts rose and fell a little harder with those deeper breaths your body was then forced to take as he gradually restricted your airway.

It made his cock twitch so well inside of you.

“Forget your name anyway.” Doflamingo growled as he felt himself nearing that edge of climax when you finally coughed beneath his ever tightening hand. He was beginning to choke you, and it only made him want more of that feeling. “Because you’re a Donquixote now.”

Or at least the property of one as he felt your own hand then move to close on his larger wrist weakly.

Your body was too drunk to stop him, but that reflex of self preservation still flickered up in you all the same.

Doflamingo moaned loudly too as he saw your eyes reopen, half lidded to look at him in that new, pitiful way.

That helpless look is what did send him over the edge. As you tried and failed to breathe in his grip, he only bucked his hips that much harder as he spilled himself out into you yet again.

This is what it meant to truly own you.

———————————

“She hasn’t called?” Aokiji asked as he’d entered the other admiral’s office without warning.

But Kizaru looked unbothered as usual even at the surprise visit, just glancing up from a mission report that Sentomaru had submitted for sign off.

“Well…hello to you too. You’ve been off base quite a while.” He did comment though, watching Aokiji through those amber tinted glasses. “We were starting to think you may have gone rogue actually.”

It was said so calmly, but with just that hint of a smirk. “Sengoku wouldn’t have liked that.”

“I went patrolling on my own for a few days. That’s nothing new.” Aokiji frowned, and not taking a seat as he continued to stand. “But did Captain (Y/N) call today? Akainu’s got the Fleet Admiral in a meeting, and no one else seems to know.”

Kizaru shrugged. “I haven’t talked to her.” He looked back to his paperwork, but with noticeable disinterest in it now. “Why don’t you just call her yourself if it’s really become that distracting to you?”

But the resulting silence did make Kizaru finally look up again. That slight amusement was clearer on his face now. “Oh? Are you afraid to call her?”

Aokiji’s arms were crossed, his whole demeanor looking incredibly stern. “This isn’t about me. So get that stupid look off of your face.”

Wasn’t this his normal face? Kizaru thought to himself. Regardless, he didn’t seem insulted. “Hmm. Think you might say something unprofessional if you did call?” He mused to only add to this instead. “I guess that could be embarrassing for someone of our rank.”

And a cold palm did slam down onto the desk then. Aokiji could hold back much longer usually. But that cool composure was seemingly less and less lately. Especially when it came to the subject of you.

“Enough. I’ve told you so many times…” The ice admiral still warned.

Yet Kizaru barely reacted to that flare of temper, just glancing to the now frost covered hand and then back up into the frustrated eyes of its owner.

“Yeah? …You think you’ll just endanger her if you make any obvious fuss, don’t you? Doflamingo is quite an unstable man. But how many years have we known each other now? I’d say you’ve already made your move if I was to bet.” Kizaru nearly smirked again. “Where have you really been these past few days?”

“You’re no help at all. As usual.” Aokiji grumbled, just stepping back from the desk at the accusation.

He didn’t deny this either.

But Kizaru simply watched him, rather expressionless once more. “Did you ask for my help? I don’t recall that happening.”

Aokiji’s eyes narrowed as he looked back at him. “You’d be in Akainu’s ear in a heartbeat if I did.”

“And so what? We’re all comrades in arms…aren’t we?” Finally there was that minuscule trace of a frown on Kizaru’s lips.

They were supposed to work together.

But that look of disappointment was just for a moment before he set his pen down and grabbed the receiver from off of the large transponder snail on his desk.

Aokiji’s eyes widened slightly at this movement, surprised and untrusting as Kizaru leaned back in his chair while the operator connected.

“Yes, admiral?” HQ’s switchboard girl answered kindly while Kizaru put the phone on speaker.

“Hello, Miss,” He said with a new, slight smile. “I need you to ring someone for me.”

“Of course, admiral. Who do you want me to connect you to?”

“Pull the warlord numbers if you please. I want Donquixote Doflamingo’s most direct line.”

There was just the briefest pause there too. Her voice changing a little. “The Fleet Admiral has put a restriction on that line, sir. No non-emergency calls. Is this considered an emergency?”

“Sure.” Kizaru was patient as anything, almost relaxing in his chair. “Let’s say it’s an emergency.”

“Yes, sir. Then I’m connecting you now.” Her nervousness gave way to dutiful obedience quickly enough as there was a click followed by momentary silence.

“The hell are you doing!?” Aokiji snapped at him in that brief delay before the line began to trill in new ringing.

Kizaru looked back up at him, unfazed.

The phone continued to ring.

“It’d be pretty late in Dressrosa right now wouldn’t it?” Kizaru just thought out loud instead of giving a proper answer, glancing at the multiple clocks across his wall which denoted the different times across the seas.

But Aokiji was not amused at all, starting to reach to hang up that transponder snail himself before a loud click had both admirals pause.

“This better be good.” Came the noticeably sleep hazed voice. A sharpness to it already though, with that transponder snail scowling up at them now.

“Oh…did I interrupt your beauty rest, pirate?” Kizaru responded, watching that snail as Aokiji went fully silent.

“Huh…” There was that moment of thought and maybe even a bit of surprise on the other end of the line. But the real recognition didn’t take long. Because there weren’t many men that would have been so casual as this. And those that would, didn’t sound like that.

“Admiral Kizaru is it?” Doflamingo recovered quickly, dark voice sounding more interested now.

“Yes, I’m calling from HQ.” Kizaru drawled. “Seems our captain that you appointed to your island recently hasn’t reported in to us today. And you wouldn’t have had anything to do with that little lapse in her communication, now would you?”

The implied threat didn’t even have to be overt. It was well enough for any of the three navy admirals to take a personal interest in anything like this of course.

And this would now be the second admiral to do so in your name if the rumors of Aokiji’s previous visit to Doflamingo’s house in Sabaody were to be believed.

And Kizaru did believe it.

What he was surprised by was that it hadn’t been enough.

A pirate that didn’t have the sense to back down for even an admiral.

It was a problem.

And the snail had quieted for a moment, its serious expression seeming to consider the weight of this new questioning from the admiral.

But Kizaru was exactly correct. Doflamingo understood the threat.

Doflamingo chose not to heed it.

Because the snail smiled then, wide and cruel as the warlord’s decision was made.

“Well…it is late. But if you insist, then why don’t you ask her yourself, admiral? It really has nothing to do with me.” Doflamingo replied with an all new goading.

And there was a sound of a bed creaking.

The warlord’s voice became slightly quieter as he’d moved away from the receiver.

“Captain…hey.” It almost sounded gentle. But that snail was still grinning, Doflamingo’s dark voice still close enough for his real expression to be picked up. That smug pride radiating even as the intentional softness continued. “No…you need to wake up. You’ve got a colleague on the line…come here.”

The two admirals stared at that snail.

“…what?” A confused female voice finally protested.

“The phone, darling. It’s your work. Already not respecting your off duty hours at all it seems…”

The temperature now plummeted in Kizaru’s office at that vulnerable sound of you, as well as the full implications of what this truly meant.

But Kizaru cut in before Aokiji could. Even as both admirals’ breaths were then coming in trails of vapor within the room.

“Captain.” Kizaru said louder and firmer than he ever normally would to you.

And you heard it. Also recognizing his voice that you’d heard far more times than any warlord ever would.

There was more noise of the snail moving then. Like you were now picking it up from off of the bed. “…Admiral?” You asked in delayed surprise.

But there was more to it than that. You didn’t sound right, even in just these couple of words.

“Yes. Checking in, Captain. You didn’t give your status to anyone today.” Kizaru answered.

“I…” You tried. “There was…” Yes, they could fully tell now. You were trying so hard, but slurring every brief word none the less.

You were fully drunk.

And you finally gave up, starting to actually plead in that humiliation of being ambushed in this way. “I…I’m fine. But I can’t…debrief right now. Sir…I’m…I’m sorry…”

The snail trembled, its eyes heartbreakingly defeated.

It was worse than any of them had ever thought then.

This was not the woman they knew.

Aokiji was about to snap. And Kizaru considered transmitting himself towards Sengoku’s office here and now.

But their shared enemy still most running this show wasn’t ceding his spotlight yet either.

“Admiral.” Doflamingo’s voice came back, shamelessly calm in contrast to your now evident emotions. “The Captain can speak with you later. I’m sure you’d agree that there’s nothing wrong with a little over indulgence when off the clock…we’ve all been there.”

And he even made a noise as if he was comforting you beside him. Hushing you with a mimicry of affection before he spoke again. “…I’ll have her touch base with you tomorrow. Once she’s sobered up of course.”

Yet that snail also showed its teeth again before it was done. The harsher expression forming which didn’t match that measured tone at all.

“But tomorrow we’ll be very busy as well. Some news will be coming out, and her work for Dressrosa will be taking priority. The mission always comes first, correct? And she is one of your most dedicated.”

The snail’s tongue moved across those teeth. One final jab then added like a garnish on the heap of bullshit already being presented.

“This king is certainly glad to have her services at least.”

And Kizaru was forced to make a choice.

He disappeared in a flash of yellow light, taking the snail with him as Aokiji had reached for it to speak.

No one could match Kizaru’s speed. And Aokiji had then turned, the purest rage within those dark eyes as Kizaru now stood all the way out in the hallway, holding that snail.

It was already back asleep as Kizaru had disconnected the call even before he’d moved.

“I’ll kill him.” Aokiji breathed, ice having already overtaken half of his face.

Kizaru was initially silent. His eyes had narrowed as well behind his glasses.

But then he spoke to his peer, blunt and sure. “They’d order me and Sakazuki to erase you for treason, brother. And that wouldn’t help anybody. Now would it?”

Aokiji gave him a look of disgust. Words seemed pointless by now. They both knew how wrong this was.

Yet Kizaru did begin walking back to him. A show of continued trust really. Because they were not enemies.

“Whatever you already did…” Kizaru started. “Is that going to help her?”

Aokiji’s shoulders sank ever so slightly, but his ice did not recede.

“Temporarily…but I came back here to do the rest of it. I am going to get her off of Dressrosa. No matter what that takes.”

——————————

Borsalino had actually hung up on him. The least passionate of all three admirals, and Doflamingo was certain he’d still gotten under that man’s skin.

Were you really that important to all of them then? Doflamingo’s own ego was happy to believe that you were.

Because it made you feel even more hard won if so. His marine treasure, stolen straight from the top and now further slipping through the hands of even the world’s greatest soldiers.

And how interesting that they didn’t seem to know about your public betrothal yet. Kizaru was a hard one to judge though. He hadn’t mentioned it at least.

Hopefully this really did mean that there were no marine spies left on Dressrosa to call and tattle to HQ. None outside of the toys working in his underground port anyway.

And he’d taken your own phone away immediately after the incident with Crocodile. You’d only been allowed to make calls right in front of him now.

Morgans’ reporters were likely playing things close to the vest too, to not share anything until those newspapers went to press. They wanted the first and only scoop for tomorrow’s worldwide release.

But there was nothing Sengoku could possibly do to reverse this either once he would find out. You were still a marine, just as Doflamingo had promised he’d let you remain. But you were also now his wife, with all of the added immunity that provided for you.

You couldn’t be fired, or even demoted. Not unless Doflamingo wanted you to be.

The five old men on the Red Line had reluctantly agreed to this in his stipulations. No doubt just humoring the traitorous brat that they still thought he was.

If they believed he was distracted, it made their lives easier. Less trouble he could cause for them.

Perhaps you’d actually thank him some day though. He was a generous master after all. Pulling his strings all the way from heaven to hell in this whirlwind of a love affair with you.

But tonight you were still too upset. Still too close to it all to realize how lucky you actually were to have his attention this deeply.

Your head was on his chest once more as he rubbed your back idly in the dark.

He could feel that dampness against his bare skin. Your silent tears as you surely thought your career was now dead and gone.

You were crying yourself back to sleep like the pitiful, broken thing you still were.

But he didn’t mind.

Doflamingo kissed the top of your head as that new whim overcame him.

You were his responsibility now.

His prize and his companion to defend.

Dawn would come again tomorrow, and with it the world’s reactions to what he’d done to you. But he welcomed that challenge and whatever new enemies it would bring him.

Because he’d bury them all like the good mate he was. He would protect you. This was his nest and his woman.

He nuzzled his face back down against your hair. Hiding his scarred eye as the other eye watched the room for a bit longer before also drifting closed.

Your arms were tight around him. It felt right. But even in all his intense possessiveness that this inspired, there was something else so wholly new as well.

He felt safe.

He felt needed.

Until death do you part indeed. As that would be the only possible way for anyone to ever carve you from him now.

———————————

T⨂ BE

CONTINUED

———————————

Thanks for reading!

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silverflqmes · 5 months

Note

Okay hear me out, may I request Cloud x reader fluff where we spend lovely spring morning together? Nothing nsfw just pure comfort, our cat laying in bed with us, laziness at it finest.

Off the topic I really adore your work! I'm quite new to ffvii, basically I've just started playing, but your work made me fall head over heels for Cloud haha. Anyway have a good day!

໒⦂ 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐄𝐖.

notes. hello! thank you so much for the request and the kind words akajsks i’m still fairly new to ff7 myself, but i’m glad to have amplified your love for it and cloud<3 the cat saga continues✨ i did something experimental here so it’s a little shorter, but i hope it’s okay :’)

genre. fluff + comfort

disclaimer. before any confusion arises.. sora is the name of your cat, who was first mentioned in this post if you are eager to see more of her!

cloud strife x gn!reader.

sora’s purring joins the gentle whistle sung by the breeze that swept through the bedroom window, chiffon curtains dancing to the soft tune like delicate petals.

cloud couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a taste of spring weather — of bitter cold melting into tender warmth.

the change of seasons was hardly ever noticeable without trees to flourish the busy streets with life, lakes to freeze over at the gradual drop of temperature, and flowers to splash the otherwise monochrome edge with color in the spring.

perhaps, it made the planet worth saving after all. to have been rewarded for his efforts at the very end with the beauty of the world, along with his beloved partner.. and a feline friend.

your chest rose and fell with breath, quietly, but surely, eyes fluttered shut. an unspoken trust, which your boyfriend treasured more than he could verbally express.

it was too early to even be up right now for most people.. but cloud, unfortunately, had to represent his little company as its only delivery guy and employee within the next two hours.

he fought back an annoyed sigh at the mental reminder of it.. only to remember that you had still been fast asleep.

any indicative sound that threatened to portray his irritation and spill from his lips all but melted away, falling completely silent on his tongue. because how could he possibly ruin the serene image of you all bundled up and cozy.

the exasperated exhale died all together in the stream of his windpipe as his features relaxed once more in repose.

normally he preferred taking up long distant deliveries by himself, but on this particular occasion, the client happened to live in your seaside hometown — costa del sol. a place that was untouched by the unpleasant smog of edge, and instead painted in a kaleidoscope of vibrant coats.. rather than a trillion shades of gray.

a shift in movement made his mako tinted sapphires flash just briefly before sliding to your stirring form.

his ears caught a jumbled, almost incoherent murmur ( were it not for his amplified hearing ) and cloud wondered to himself for a moment what dreams had joined you in your slumber. something lovely, he hoped, a gentle caress to your conscience.. and not the nightmares that haunted him until dawn on some evenings.

moonless nights when cloud thought too hard for comfort, let alone decent rest.

although, those had been few now. infrequent, thankfully, all because of your solace-filled presence — pressed into his chest.. and the light nuzzling of your calico kitty tucked into his side.

a silent, meow-less request for breakfast.. or maybe not. maybe it was just to ask cloud to stay a little while longer, and enjoy that which he could not back in edge.

waking up to unsullied air- a mixture of floral aromas and the soft, but welcome dripping of morning dew traveling from petal to petal, was.. sadly a rarity, the former infantryman realized.

which is why he found himself sinking into the pillows and duvets in submission, allowing darkness to greet his eyes for another round of sleep. two hours were more than enough to get dressed and to his destination. so truly, all he needed was thirty minutes to be dressed and out of your childhood home.

the hour and a half remaining could blissfully go to cuddling you a little while longer, all else drowning into background noise as he would slip further and further, deeper and deeper. surrendering himself completely to your warm company, the serendipitous quiet, and spring morn.

notes. okay this is way shorter than what i normally write, but i hope it’s still good😭 not much dialogue, just cloud being soft and at ease for a change ahaha

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

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somber-sapphic · 6 months

Note

hi it was me who sent in the request it was a emily x reader and the prompt was i am not sick i think , it was the reader who is sick thank you 🫶

A Call For Rest

〖Summary: After an exhausting week Emily convinces you to go home and rest.〗

〖Word Count: 900〗

〖Pairing: Emily x sick R〗

〖Notes: I'm so glad that reached you! And so so sorry about my accidental deletion, I truly don't know what happened there. I sincerely hope this makes up for it <3〗

“Hey love,” Emily murmured, appearing in the doorway as if she’d teleported there. You hadn’t heard her walk up, though you couldn't hear much through your clogged ears. You set your pen down and wiped your nose on your sleeve, too tired to care about how gross it was. The world was sort of hazy, your mind cloudy.

Writing up case reports was probably not the best idea considering your current mental state but you remembered enough to feel confident that you could go over notes with JJ to get the full story.

The media liaison would likely be okay if you just dropped the papers on her desk, she had already checked in on you twice and tried to force you to take some medicine. When you refused she’d settled for leaving a cup of tea on your desk. You drank a little bit but forgot and let it get cold, cold tea wasn’t appetizing.

“Hi Em.” You croaked, the words grating across your throat. Swallowing was already painful enough but talking seemed impossible. Emily walked into your office and leaned against the side of your desk, looking down at the papers that you were scribbling on. She frowned at the illegible writing, trying to make out even the simplest words. You typically had great penmanship, rivaling even Hotch’s, but this was bad.

“Is it safe to assume you aren’t feeling very well?” She put a hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently, concerned that she could feel the heat through your shit. It was a light shirt, but still, she shouldn’t be able to feel your fever through a layer of fabric.

“I’m fine, just tired. Long week.” You were trying to use as few words as possible while still speaking somewhat normally but with the way your voice sounded, it didn’t matter. Nothing could save you from the reality that you weren’t going to win this fight. The last thing you wanted to do was leave work unfinished to pile up, but Emily didn't look like she was letting you get away that easily.

“Hmm, long weeks don’t usually make me sound like I gargled knives for fun. And you feel pretty warm. And your nose is running.” If she kept listing off things you were doomed. You wiped your nose on your sleeve again and sniffled, not removing your eyes from the papers. It was getting harder and harder to focus, everything was so blurry, and your head felt so groggy.

“I‘m not sick.” You protested, swiping a hand across your eyes in a useless attempt to clear your vision. You refused to accept that you were just lightheaded and no amount of blinking or rubbing your eyes could fix that. Emily sighed and laid her palm on your forehead, making a face at what she felt.

“I think your fever would beg to differ. You aren’t getting much done here anyway. I can’t read any of that.” She gestured to your sloppily written paperwork, not bothering to sugarcoat it. She’d had enough experience trying to reason with you that she knew you responded better to directness than to dancing around a subject.

You frowned down at your desk and coughed into your fist, your lungs protesting the extra effort they were being forced to use. Emily put a steadying hand on your back, providing support as you choked on whatever your body decided it needed to hack up.

When you were finally finished you looked up at her to find dark brown eyes staring back, filled with concern.

“Please, you need to rest. You’re so pale, you look like a ghost. I don’t want you to pass out here.” She caressed your cheek, leaving her palm there as an extra show of her love for you. She wasn’t always the best at offering comfort, she had trouble figuring out how to, but this she could handle. There was an easy fix to being sick and she was more than willing to take care of you through it.

“What about-”

“I’ll take care of it. Let Emily take you home, I’ve seen corpses that look more alive than you.” JJ’s voice startled you, making you jump a little in your seat. God everyone was just popping up out of nowhere, maybe you were worse off than you thought. Emily smiled at the media liaison and wrapped an arm around your shoulders in a loose hug.

“Come on love. Let’s go home. I’ll help you walk.”

“I don’t need help walking.” You protested as she lifted you from your chair, proving that you not only needed help walking but you couldn't stand on your own. After taking a few wobbly steps under the concerned gaze of JJ, Emily picked you up deciding that it would be the easiest way to get you to the car in a timely manner.

You whined but settled into her arms, relieved by the warmth of her touch. She was warm and soft and strong enough to carry you easily. You pressed your face into the crook of her neck and closed your eyes to protect against the harsh light of the bullpen.

“Feel better hun,” JJ said softly, squeezing your arm on your way out. You tried to nod but your head was too heavy. You were practically asleep by the time Emily reached the parking lot, but you didn’t mind. Though you would never admit it you were eternally glad that Emily had shown up when she did, any longer and you were confident you would’ve fallen asleep at your desk.

#sickfic #fanfiction #sick fanfiction #fever #sick reader #sick fanfic #caretaking #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds sickfic #criminal minds #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x reader #jennifer jareau #sick you #sick fic

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python333 · 1 year

Text

scary dog privileges — python333

— — — —

synopsis ur super duper scary to almost all 141 soldiers, but to price soap ghost and gaz ur just the sweetest little thing ever :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 4.6k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], no usage of c/n [call sign chosen for this fic is 'Cerberus'!], might sound kind of rushed/shitty :{

note normally i try not to rush fics BUT i started this at like 12 pm and as im typing this out its 11 pm and ive only written 2285 words so im kind of rushing this so i can keep up my little posting daily thing!! this idea has also been rotting in my brain for a while, so i might make a hcs thing from it, idk, but for now its just this fic!! also, thank you everyone who gave reblogged my last fic, reblogs are the best sorta motivation for a reader and i absolutely appreciate all of them :> anyway this is all fluff + comfort no hurt and has some soft!ghost in it because hes my dad and i love him so enjoy!!

The Private in front of you may as well have been pissing his pants with how scared he looked. His commanding officer, and one of your closest friends, Soap, had reported him to you for ‘insubordination’. He’d said, verbatim, when telling you about him, “I’d deal with him myself, but I’m too tired to,” so now you had to deal with one of his subordinates.

You sighed through your nose as you looked down at the Private in front of you, the latter comically small compared to you, both physically and mentally.

“Well?” You ask expectantly, raising an eyebrow at him, “Are you gonna tell me what happened?” The Private shakily nods and you can hear him gulp, “Right, yeah, so basically, it was earlier this morning and I was following orders and everything, doing what I was supposed to, then I accidentally interrupted Soap while he was giving me orders, which I didn’t mean to do, I swear, I just wasn’t thinking and it happened and I just— I didn’t mean to do it. And then later on, we were both—me and Soap—talking with a few other people who I guess were some higher ranked soldiers from different tactical operations and I accidentally interrupted some of them. It was—” “I’m sorry, hold on,” You put a finger up to silence him, to which he responds with immediate silence, letting you talk, “You don’t accidentally interrupt someone. Either you do it or you don’t. You don’t just slip up and interrupt your CO in the middle of him giving you orders. Secondly, always refer to Soap as ‘Captain MacTavish’, or ‘Captain’ if that’s somehow too hard for you, don’t act like you get to talk about him like you’re both all buddy-buddy and—” “Okay, but if you’d just let me finish—” The Private tries to interrupt you, making you draw your eyebrows together in confusion. “Excuse me?” You ask, mildly offended that he had the audacity to interrupt you, “Did you just interrupt me?” The Private stays silent for a moment, looking up at you, wide-eyed. His whole face looks even more stupid like this—like he doesn’t even know what he did.

“I asked you a question, Private,” You remind him, leaning down a bit, tilting your head to the side questioningly, “Did you just interrupt me?” “Right, yeah, I did, sorry about that—” He tries to apologize, “Didn’t mean to. Swear.” “Right,” You narrow your eyes at him, standing back up straight and crossing your arms, “Remember what I just said? About not accidentally interrupting people?” “Yeah, I do.” “Could you say ‘Yes, Lieutenant’ instead of that?” You ask, “This isn’t a casual conversation. This is one of your superiors telling you that you can’t blatantly disrespect your commanding officer, so act like it.” “Yes— Yes, Lieutenant,” The Private stammers, which really shouldn’t make your lips twitch at the corners but it does, and you have to fight off a smile, pursing your lips instead.

“Like I was saying earlier,” You continue your words from earlier, “In conversations like these, when you’re not out doing an assignment, I don’t want to catch you referring to Captain MacTavish as just ‘Soap’ ever again. And you don’t want me to catch you doing that either, you understand?” “I understand, Lieutenant.” “Good, good,” You nod, before gesturing for the Private to keep giving you his side of the story, “Continue telling me what happened then.” “Right, so, after that, Captain MacTavish gave me some new orders, and I felt like I had a better idea of what to do than him because I’d thought of something that makes more sense than what he told me to do, so I told him as such, and he acted all shocked like I didn’t have a really good idea, and told me that I was to follow his orders not the ones I tried to give to myself so I told him that mine were better and—”

“Have you read the military regulations and codes of conduct? Ever?” You interrupt, making the Private shut up almost immediately and hesitantly nod his head affirmatively. “I really don’t believe you. Everything I’ve heard so far is a direct violation of it, I just—” You pause to give a small, humorless laugh, “You have me speechless here, really.” The Private watches nervously as you struggle to find the appropriate words to say, before you finally come up with, “Is there more that you need to tell me about?” “… Yeah,” The Private answers sheepishly, making you sigh through your nose and gesture for him to tell you the rest. He clears his throat before starting up again, “And then he said that he’s the commanding officer for a reason and that what he says goes so I said okay and did what he told me to do. Then after that whole thing, he told me to go to your office and tell you what I did.” Why do I have to do all his dirty work? “… Okay then,” You look up at the ceiling and try to think of what to do, before taking a deep breath and looking down at the Private, muttering, “Well, I appreciate that you didn’t go into my office without my permission, at least you know not to do that.” You clear your throat before speaking louder, “Let’s head into my office instead of just standing out here. This is probably violating some sort of code…” The Private nods and lets you unlock the door to your office that’s just a few steps away and walks in after you, being sure to close the door behind him. He automatically sits at the chair across from your desk and you sit down at your own chair behind your desk.

“Right, okay, let’s see…” You dig around the drawers of your desk, before letting out a small ‘ah-ha!’ and pulling a corrective action assignment form out of one of the small drawers of your desk and setting it onto the top of your desk. You grab a pen from the small cup by your desk and write down the date on the form in your usual neat handwriting.

You read a question on the form and look over at the Private, “Could you give me your full name, please?”

“John— John Williams,” The Private stammers again, making you raise an eyebrow.

“Your name is John-John Williams?”

“No, just John Williams, Lieutenant.” “M’kay,” You write down his name and fill out a few more things on the form before signing it off with your name and looking over at the Private once again, folding the paper in half as you do, “I’m gonna trust you to bring this to Soap, and tell him that it’s from me. You think you can do that?” “Yeah, of course,” John breathes out, grabbing the paper from you as you hand it to him. “Yes what?” “Yes— Yes, Lieutenant.” “There we go,” You sigh and lean back in your chair, “Go on and pass that to him. And tell him to send anyone else who’s being insubordinate to Ghost or something, anyone but me.”

John simply nods and gets up, walking out your office door and making sure to close it behind him. You cap the pen you’d used and put it back in the cup where the rest of your writing utensils are, before yawning and leaning forward to rest your head on your desk when suddenly there’s a sharp knocking at your office door. You muffle a groan and wait a moment before calling out, “Come in!” You watch as your door slowly opens, making a creaking sound that hurts your ears a bit, and much to your annoyance, yet another Private is standing in your doorway, looking just as sheepish as the last. “Oh my f— you know what?” You stand up and take a deep breath to momentarily calm yourself, “Who sent you? Was it Soap?” “… Yes,” The Private answers, their voice shaky as they speak to you, the whole thing only making you more annoyed. “Where is he right now?” You ask, walking towards the door and opening it wider, towering over the much smaller Private in front of you.

“The— the training facility.” You blink at the Private and you take another deep breath to calm yourself. “Yeah, no sh— ugh, you know what? Thank you. Just—” You look up at the ceiling and tell yourself not to snap at this poor rookie, and look back down at them, “Just follow me. I have to go yell at him.”

“What?” The Private asks dumbly, their eyes widening a bit in surprise. You don’t bother to look over your shoulder and check that they’re following you, instead just walking out of your office, somehow hearing their footsteps even with the thundering stomping your boots made as you walked.

You eventually made it to one of the training facilities, the only one that currently had anyone in them, and opened the door louder than you meant to. You walked in, the shaking Private behind you as you walked up to Soap and took several deep breaths to calm yourself, ignoring the several rookies that stared at you as you walked over to him. You could hear small whispers forming amongst Soap’s small platoon of soldiers, but ignored them as well, simply walking up to Soap, who finally noticed you. He turned to you and gave you a knowing grin, like he knew exactly why you were here. “Hey, L.t—” “Why have I had two Privates coming into my office telling me you sent them because you couldn’t do your damn job?” You question him immediately, ignoring the small gasp from the Private behind you, “Do you know how many CAA forms I have left? Three. Three forms. Because you can’t deal with your own rookies. If I wanted to be dealing with them, I would’ve let Price make me a CO. You know what I said when he asked me to be one? Fuck no. I said it for a reason.”

“… Sae ye din’t want me tae report onyone else tae ye?” Soap asks, like the little shit he is, in a teasing tone. “Absolutely not.”

“Noted,” He nods, as if he understands, and gestures for the Private he’d sent to you to come back over to him, “I actually got yer message a minute ago from Williams. I think he almost shat himself.”

“I’m kinda happy about that, honestly,” You mutter, “Everything he told me was like… a direct violation of the code of conduct and was just so stupid.” “I ken!” Soap agrees, “I swear, naebody reads the code ‘o conduct ony mair.” “I asked him if he did, and he said yes, but I know he’s lying,” You roll your eyes before adding on, “And you know what? I’ve only had issues with British people ever since you and Gaz started reporting people to me. I think that they’re just the issue.”

“Jesus, I ken,” Soap mutters, “Fuckin’ Brits.” “Fuckin’ Brits.” You nod in agreement, before sighing and looking over at the rest of Soap’s platoon. You look back at him, “I also told Williams to actually refer to you as ‘Captain MacTavish’, so… there’s that.” “Guid, guid,” Soap nods, before clearing his throat and continuing,

“So did ye only come here tae yell at mae?”

“Yeah.” You admit, making Soap laugh lightly.

“And yer done now?”

“… I guess,” You mutter, making him chuckle and pat you on the shoulder.

“Guid,” He says, looking over at his group of soldiers he’s meant to be training, “I think yer scarin’ my soldiers more than mae.”

“How can you tell?” You ask sarcastically, following his gaze to the rookies that were trying their best not to look like they were eavesdropping when they clearly were. “They don’t even know we’re talking right now.” Soap huffs out a small laugh, “Right, o’ course.”

“I’m gonna head back to my office and take a quick nap,” You let Soap know, “So don’t send me anymore people. They’re stinking up my office, it’s ridiculous.” Soap raises an eyebrow at you questioningly, “Why don’t you just go to your sleeping quarters?” “Don’t tell me what to do.” Soap raises his hands in surrender, “Alright, then.” You huff out a tired breath and say, “So if anyone asks where I am, just let them know that.” You don’t wait for a response before you walk away from Soap and immediately hear whispers starting up again, but you ignore them as you walk out the door, sort of used to them at this point. You didn’t know why you were so scary to some of the lower-ranked soldiers (and even some of the higher-ranked ones), considering you never intentionally did anything to scare them. Sure, you were taller than most of them, and maybe just a bit quicker to lose your temper with people, but it was never that bad.

You vividly remember Gaz and Soap when they both found out a majority of the soldiers that were apart of the 141 were afraid of you or at least intimidated by you, the two had said that they wanted you around more often, just hanging out with them, so that they wouldn’t get bothered as much by people for unnecessary things.

Scary dog privileges, you remember they’d said, laughing as they did. It’s actually where you’d gotten your call sign, Cerberus.

It’s not that you hated it at all, in fact, you didn’t mind being a little scary if it meant people were less likely to bother you, it’s just that it makes it a hell of a lot harder to actually talk to people without them starting to stammer or shake.

It was one of the reasons you turned down being a commanding officer—you didn’t really like the thought of commanding a platoon of soldiers that cowered in your presence. Plus, it was getting really annoying, not being able to talk to another soldier that wasn’t Price, Soap, Ghost or Gaz without them looking like all they wanted to do was leave the conversation.

You finally make it back to your office and let out a sigh of relief as you open the door and walk in, closing it behind you, not even bothering to lock it as you immediately walk over to the chair behind your desk and sit down in it.

You reach below your desk and pull out a nice, fluffy blanket and a fluffy pillow to go with it that you always kept in your office—just for times like this, when you felt like going to sleep in your office, for whatever reason.

Were you supposed to be napping at all? No. Would your superiors let you anyway because you’ve somehow managed to get emotionally adopted by both Price and Soap? Absolutely.

You move some of the papers cluttering your desk out of the way and set down your pillow, as well as wrapping yourself in the blanket, and sigh happily as you lay your head down onto the pillow.

Just as you’re getting comfy, you hear a knock at the door. No. You don’t get up to answer it. You just sit there, head on your pillow, nice and comfy. In fact, you refuse to answer the door, because you’ve opened it for two other people already, and God knows who you’re gonna snap at once you open that door.

Another knock—you ignore that one too, knowing full well you told Soap to tell anyone who was looking for you that you were in your office but also knowing that you never said you’d open the door, you just said you’d be there.

You bury your face into the pillow and scream into it, knowing the scream wouldn’t be too muffled with how loud it was, but doing it anyway. You then take a deep breath and call out, unenthusiastic and tired, “Come in!”

You watch the door open and see Ghost step in, and you’re silent as you watch him close the door behind him and walk over to you, his century old shitty laptop in hand as he sits down in the chair in front of your desk and sets down said laptop.

You pay no mind to it, deciding you’d rather take a nap, and set your head back down on the pillow, pretending that you can’t feel Ghost’s eyes on you. “… Are you okay?” He asks, sounding a little concerned as he looks at you bury your head into your pillow, before his concern turns into confusion as he asks, “When did you get a pillow in here— you have a blanket, too?”

“Mmph.” You don’t respond with actual words, even if you did they’d be muffled beyond relief by your pillow. You can’t see him but Ghost raises an eyebrow at you and his lips twitch into a small, amused smile.

“What, you’ve just had those in here?” Ghost asks, knowing he’ll get nothing more than a muffled hum from you.

“Mmph.” “Alright, then,” He mutters, “Keep your secrets.” “Mmph.” You feel too tired to bother responding with anything else. “I feel like you shouldn’t sleep in your office, considering you have your own sleeping quarters you can sleep in.” “… Mmph.” “That’s fair,” Ghost nods. You hear him opening his laptop and you hear it crack when it opens, the noise making you huff out a small laugh into your pillow. God, that thing is so old, it’s ridiculous.

“What’s so funny?” Ghost asks as he types in his password. You don’t say anything in response, which doesn’t shock him in the slightest. You feel yourself start to get closer to sleep, but can’t get quite there, instead sort of just hanging right on the edge of sleep.

You quietly grumble in frustration and shift a bit in your seat, not knowing what the issue is. Ghost notices this and raises an eyebrow at you, but doesn’t do anything about it just yet, instead getting back to his work. Why’d he have to go into your office to do his work? Who knows.

You shift again in your seat and Ghost knows that he’s not gonna be able to focus if you keep shifting—why wouldn’t he just go to his own office?—around, so he sighs and picks up his laptop and drags the chair in front of your desk with him around to behind your desk where you are.

You lift your head up to try and see what he’s doing, confused, and see him putting his chair right next to yours and setting his laptop down onto the desk.

Before you can ask anything, he gently puts a hand on the side of your head and guides it to rest on his shoulder, and—oh. This is much better, somehow.

He seems to know that it’s that much better, too, because his eyes crinkle a bit, giving away the fact that he’s smiling. However, he stays silent, and keeps his hand on the side of your head for a moment before letting it fall down to the side of your forearm, his thumb gently rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

He opens up his laptop once again and types in his password with one hand, the typing going by significantly slower than it would’ve if he used both hands, but he decides against keeping his hand off of you, seeing as it assists in helping you go to sleep.

Are you supposed to be asleep right now? Definitely not. But like mentioned before, Price wouldn’t mind. And you’d probably laugh if Soap minded, because even if he’s a Captain, he’ll always act like a little shit. Ghost knows this too, and with this information, he figures that he might as well help you sleep, since he knows exactly how to help you sleep.

One too many nights spent pacing in your room, which eventually woke Ghost up, which led to him helping you sleep, so that he could sleep too, You sleepily remember, He always said he was annoyed by the pacing, and that’s the only reason he helped you sleep. But now, seeing what’s happening now, makes you question that a bit. Was it his annoyance, or something else? Or am I thinking too much about this?

Cutting off your train of thought is another knock at the door, and it’s not loud enough to completely snap you out of your drowsy haze but it’s enough to make you a little more aware, and for you to readjust your head your head so that your face is practically buried in the crook of Ghost’s neck. His thumb stops rubbing against your forearm, and he glares at the door like it was the door’s fault it got knocked on.

The knocking persists and neither of you say anything, just waiting on whoever it is on the other side to give up and go away, but whoever it is must be feeling pretty determined because even louder knocks sound at the door, making you and Ghost sigh in unison.

You both continue to stay silent, hoping that whoever was on the other side just goes away, but they don’t. You don’t hear any footsteps retreating, and the knocks keep coming.

“Hello?” You both hear Price’s voice on the other side, “Cerberus? You in there?” “Say no,” You mutter into Ghost’s neck. He nods and clears his throat.

“Nope!” Ghost calls out in response to Price’s question.

“… Ghost?” Price’s surprised voice comes through, “What are you doing in there?” “Say this is your office,” You murmur, making Ghost huff out a small, amused laugh and nod again.

“This is my office,” Ghost responds, “Why wouldn’t I be here?” “What? No,” Price’s voice becomes confused, “This is Cerberus’ office.” “No it’s not,” Ghost denies, lying straight through his teeth. You laugh quietly against his neck. “Uh… but it is?” Price argues, “It has their name on the front.” “No it doesn’t,” Ghost blatantly denies, continuing his thumb’s slow circle movements on your skin, the soothing action making you hum contently. You don’t know how, but somehow your humming is loud enough for Price to hear. Does he have his ear against the door or something?

“I can hear Cerberus in there,” Price argues again, “Don’t lie to me.” “Sorry, lamb,” Ghost apologizes to you softly, tone significantly more soft than it typically is, “I think he’s caught onto us.” “… I guess it’s fine for him to come in, then,” You mumble against his neck. He responds with a nod.

“Come in!” Ghost calls out, and almost immediately you hear the door open and Price’s loud footsteps walking in. You can’t see him, but he opens his mouth to say something, when his eyes catch on your face buried in the crook of Ghost’s neck.

He looks questioningly at Ghost, the latter simply blinking over at Price, daring him to comment on it.

He doesn’t, and instead closes the door behind him and walks up to the desk.

“Cerberus?” He asks. You hum offhandedly, and he takes that as a sign to continue, “You okay?” “Mhm.” “You know you can sleep in your own sleeping quarters, right?” “Mhm.” “And you’re choosing not to?”

“Mhm.” Price blinks at you for a moment before muttering, “Alright, then,” under his breath and turning to Ghost, “And you’re here because?” “Felt like having some company,” Ghost answers simply, watching as Price glances at his thumb rubbing circles into your forearm, and continues to watch as his eyes slowly make their way up to the way your face is buried in the crook of his neck.

Price looks at Ghost, mouthing the words, ‘I’m telling everyone about this,’ to which Ghost mouths back, ‘Don’t you dare.’ Price grins at this and opens his mouth to say something else before there’s another knock at the door.

“Are you always this popular?” Ghost asks you, sounding both mildly annoyed and amused.

“Mhm.” You hum affirmatively.

Ghost sighs and he and Price call out in unison, “Come in!” The door opens and you temporarily readjust your head so that you’re just resting your head on Ghost’s shoulder with your face facing the door, and you watch as Gaz enters the room and his neutral face turns into one of both surprise and confusion.

“Were you lot having a party in here, or something?” He asks, closing the door behind him.

“Not originally,” Ghost deadpans, watching as Gaz walks over next to Price and leans against your desk, “What’re you here for?”

“Needed an extra corrective action form,” Gaz answers. Ghost looks down at you for permission to rummage through your desk drawers and you nod.

“Second drawer to the right,” You mumble, and Ghost opens that exact one up and pulls out a CAA form, handing it over to Gaz, who takes it with a ‘thank you’ and folds it in half, stuffing it into his back pocket.

He looks between you and Ghost questioningly, and opens his mouth to say something, before Ghost gives him the same look he did to Price, and Gaz immediately snaps his mouth shut.

“If you’re tired, Cerberus, you should go to your sleeping quarters,” Price comments, tone worried. You look over at him.

“What if someone needs me, though?” You ask, slowly blinking at him.

“Kid, I don’t think anyone would get any good help from you with the state you’re in right now,” Price says honestly, ignoring the small glare you send him. “Anyone who needs you can just refer to someone else.”

You hum neutrally and sigh before muttering, “Fine,” and tentatively take your head off of Ghost’s shoulder and unwrapping the blankets you’d wrapped around yourself earlier, bundling it into a little ball and putting it into the box under your desk, putting the pillow in there as well.

You crack your knuckles quickly and get up from your seat, quickly putting your hands on the edge of your desk to steady yourself, standing up on slightly shaky legs. “I can help you get over there,” Price offers, frowning a bit when you shake your head negatively. Ghost lets out a sigh and stands up, closing his laptop before quickly walking over to you and wrapping an arm loosely around your side, over your arm, pulling you closer to him and helping you stand up a bit straighter. Gaz observes all of this with a raised eyebrow but otherwise says nothing, instead watching with Price—who watched this with disbelief in his eyes—as Ghost walked with you to the door wordlessly, opening the door and walking out of it with you, not looking back as he closes the door behind him. “You think everyone’s gonna think Cerberus is all scary after they see them leaning on Ghost trying to get back to their sleeping quarters?” Gaz asks Price, staring at the closed door. “Somehow, yeah,” Price says after a moment, still caught up in his disbelief, “That is… the strangest thing I’ve seen all day.” “It’s only thirteen, Captain.” “I don’t think anything’s gonna top that.” “Top what?” Gaz asks, a little confused, “Seeing Ghost helping out Cerberus?” “Yeah.” Gaz huffs out a laugh and pats Price’s shoulder, “Jesus, man. I’m surprised that’s the first time you’ve seen that.” Gaz ignores Price’s confused look and walks towards the door, opening and closing it as he walks out, leaving Price dumbfounded in Cerberus’ office. “Huh?”

488 notes · View notes

cheoliehansolie · 8 months

Text

Flowers (Valentine's Day Special)

Summary: It's your first Valentine's Day with your boyfriend Wonwoo and he wants to make sure it's the best Valentine's Day ever.

an: Hey everyone! This is my first time writing something like this so please let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy it! Sorry in advance if there are any mistakes, I may have missed some.

wc: ~2.6 k

Y/N’s point of view - T minus 3 days 'till Valentine’s Day

You just got home from a long day of classes. As you tug your shoes off in the entryway of the apartment you share with your boyfriend Wonwoo, all you can think about is changing out of your stuffy clothes into one of your boyfriend’s hoodies and laying on the couch until he gets home. As you make your way further into the apartment, throwing your bag onto the floor you let out a huff of frustration when you hear your phone ring. I guess my plans of relaxing are gonna have to wait, you think to yourself as you pull your phone out of your pocket.

“Hey sis.” you say once the video call connects.

“Hey! What’s up with the glum face? Rough day?” your older sister asks, her concerned face staring back at you through your screen.

“Is it that obvious?” you ask as you flop onto the couch.

“I’m your older sister, I can tell when something’s bothering you. Now spill. Do I have to punch someone?”

“Calm down, it’s not that big of a deal. I just got home from being on campus all day and I had a really long day. The group project I’m working on for my business class is taking longer than I thought it would and no one wants to step up and get the work done so it’s been like pulling teeth getting my group members to get stuff done.” you complain. “Anyways, that’s enough about my day, why’d you call?”

Your sister visibly perks and she can’t hide her excitement. “I actually called because your sweet brother-in-law just told me what he’s planning for Valentine's Day coming up.”

“I thought normally he keeps it a surprise?”

“He does, and it still kind of is. All he told me that he’s taking me on a trip somewhere tropical and warm for the whole week of Valentine’s Day.”

“OMG, really!” you exclaim. “I can’t believe he planned something so sweet for you!”

“Hey, he can be sweet when he wants to.” your sister pouts.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. When are you leaving?”

“He said we leave tomorrow, but he hasn’t told me anything else besides packing for tropical weather.”

“Wow, that sounds so romantic.”

You’re so focused on your conversation with your sister that you don’t even hear Wonwoo open the door to your shared apartment. He’s about to announce his presence when he hears your older sister ask, “So, has Wonwoo dropped any hints about any Valentine’s Day plans yet?” in a teasing tone as she wiggles her eyebrows at you. He stops with his mouth still open as he waits and listens to see what you’ll say.

“Not yet, but it’s honestly fine if we don’t do anything big and fancy. We’re both broke college students and I doubt he has time to plan a big lavish thing with his busy class schedule while taking up extra shifts at the bookstore.”

“Yeah, I get that, but don’t you have anything you want? I get that you don’t want to be a burden, even though we all know that Wonwoo sees you as the most precious person in the world, but if he were to get you anything, what do you want him to get you?”

“Hmm,” you hum to yourself as you think while Wonwoo stands at the entryway waiting patiently to see what you have to say. “You know what would be romantic? A bouquet of flowers.”

“That’s it?” your sister asks, appalled in your simple answer. “You’re so high maintenance that I thought you would say something like a necklace or something. Plus, flowers don’t last forever and this is your first Valentine’s Day together. Don’t you want something that you can remember the day by?”

Wonwoo, still glued to his position at the entryway, mentally asks you the same question. He knows you aren’t super materialistic and rarely ever take gifts from him not wanting him to waste his money on you (even though Wonwoo sees it as anything but a waste of money), but he thought that at least while talking to your sister you would say something special like jewelry. He’d been taking extra shifts at the bookstore to be able to buy you something to remember the day by.

“Yeah, I get that it’s simple, but I’ve never gotten flowers from anyone before.” you explain.

“I guess, but all you want is flowers? Nothing else?” your sister prods on.

“Well, I guess there’s something else.” Wonwoo’s ears perk as he makes a mental note to find the best flowers he can get you. You didn’t tell him that you’ve never gotten flowers before and if he had known earlier he definitely would’ve gotten them for you sooner.

“What is it?” your sister asks.

“We’ve both been really busy lately with work and school that we don’t really have a lot of time to see each other and spend quality time together. Going out for dinner or spending a night at home watching movies or playing games would be so much fun. I don’t even remember the last time we got to spend time together like that when we weren't exhausted.”

“That sounds really sweet, I hope Wonwoo will plan something like that for you.”

“Me too. Sis, I have to go, I still have so much work to do and I need to get Jihoon to focus on getting our project done as much as he focuses on making his music. I’ll call you later and have fun on your mystery vacation!”

“Bye y/n. Don’t stress too much about your project. If Jihoon doesn’t do his part, give me his number and I’ll give him a stern talking to.”

“Okay mom,” you joke as you wave and hang up on your sister.

Wonwoo sees this as the best time to make his presence known as he jiggles his keys loudly in the keyhole and acts like he’s stepping through the door for the first time today. You look up from your phone and smile.

“Hey y/n.” Wonwoo greets as he takes his shoes off and makes his way over to you. “What’re you up to?” he asks as he plants a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Hey Wonwoo. Not much, I just got off the phone with my sister.”

“Oh really, what’d you talk about?”

“Nothing much, she just called to tell me that my brother-in-law’s taking her on a trip to the tropics for Valentine’s Day.” you explain as you get up to make your way to your shared room to finally change into something comfier.

Wonwoo trails behind, listening to you continue to ramble about your day as he begins to mentally plan how to make this the best Valentine’s Day ever.

-----------

Wonwoo’s point of view - T minus 2 days 'till Valentine’s Day

The next day, all Wonwoo can think about is what kind of flowers to get you and what else he can do to make Valentine’s Day as special as possible. You hadn’t said anything about what kind of flowers you like when you were on call with your sister, and he couldn’t exactly ask you now because that would just give away his entire plan. He’s so engrossed in looking at pictures of bouquets on different florist websites that he doesn’t even notice when the professor ends class and everyone starts packing up their things.

“Hey, you coming?” Soonyoung asks him as he stands in the aisle staring at Wonwoo.

“Yeah, you’re blocking the exit and I can’t get out.” Mingyu whines as he impatiently taps his foot. “What’re you even looking at?” Mingyu asks as he leans down to steal a glance at Wonwoo’s laptop screen.

“It’s nothing.” Wonwoo replies nonchalantly as he tries to close his laptop before Mingyu can see, but to no avail.

“Really? Because it looks like someone’s looking for flowers to buy for a special someone named y/n for a special day coming up.” Mingyu teases as Wonwoo’s ears turn red. This is exactly why he didn’t want his friends to see what he was up to. I guess the cat’s out of the bag now. Wonwoo thinks as he packs up his things.

“Wow, I didn’t know Wonwoo was so whipped. Look at his ears, Gyu, he’s shyyy.” Soonyoung teases as Mingyu and him burst into giggles.

“Yeah, I was looking for flowers for my girlfriend, is that a crime?” Wonwoo asks.

“No it’s not, but it’s fun to make fun of you.” Soonyoung responds as the trio makes their way out of the lecture hall to grab a bite to eat at the dining hall.

“Besides, aren’t flowers a really basic gift? Where’s the heart? Where’s the romance? Where’s the uniqueness?” Mingyu asks as they step out into the cold.

“Yeah!” Soonyoung agrees loudly. “I thought you’re obsessed with her? I thought you would get her a bracelet or something. Oh, oh, oh! Or you could get her a necklace with a W on it like Troy gave Gabriella at the beginning of High School Musical 2! That scene made my heart flutter.”

“Well, Soonyoung, I’m not trying to make your heart flutter, I’m trying to make y/n’s heart flutter. And you two can complain about flowers being the least romantic thing in the world, but I heard y/n on the phone with her sister yesterday when I got home. She asked y/n what she wants for Valentine’s Day and she said flowers because no one’s gotten her flowers before.” Wonwoo explains to his friends hoping that they’ll be satisfied with this answer and they’ll drop the subject.

“Aww, that’s so sweet.” Soonyoung coos.

“But, you’re not just getting her flowers, right? Are you planning anything else?” Mingyu asks as they finally enter the warmth of the dining hall.

“Well, I’m trying to plan what else we could do. When she was on the phone, y/n said she wanted to do something where we could really spend time together because we’ve both been so busy recently.”

“Wow, she really gave you a step by step guide of what she wants.” Soonyoung admires.

“Well, she actually gave her sister a step by step guide. Wonwoo here was just lucky and was in the right place at the right time.” Mingyu corrects.

“I guess you could say that, but I still need to plan the details. She said she wanted flowers, but nothing about what kind of flowers and she didn’t even say what she wants to do together. All she said was that she wants to spend time together, but I don’t know what we could do together.” Wonwoo complains as they make their way over to grab their food.

“I would suggest you cook her a nice dinner, but that’s off the table since we all know you can’t cook to save your life.” Soonyoung says as they make their way to an empty table.

“It’s not like you’re any better Soonyoung.” Wonwoo teases back. “I’m sure I’ll figure something out, I want to make sure it’s something she actually enjoys.”

The conversation eventually shifts, but Wonwoo can’t stop thinking about what to do on Valentine’s Day.

-----------

Y/N’s point of view - Valentine’s Day

As you make your way back to your apartment after your classes, you can’t help but feel like there’s something off with Wonwoo recently. He’s been so engrossed in his thoughts that it’s like he’s on another planet sometimes. You wonder if he even remembers today's Valentine’s Day because he hasn’t brought it up at all. You decide not to get your hopes up as you walk out of the elevator. He’s busy so you understand if he completely forgot about it. Maybe you could get him to watch a movie with you tonight just to spend some time together.

“Wonwoo, I’m home!” you say as you walk through the door.

You’re so focused on getting your shoes off that you don’t even notice the state of your apartment until you step farther into the apartment. When you finally look up, you see it. There are tea candles all around the kitchen island, red rose petals scattered around the island, little paper hearts stringed together to make a garland around the edge of the island, and standing there next to this beautiful display is Wonwoo in a cute burgundy polo sweater and jeans. In the middle of the island sits a bouquet of pink roses.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Wonwoo says as he makes his way towards you with a smile on his face. As he reaches down to take your bag from your hands, he notices the tears welling in your eyes.

“Y/n, are you okay? Why are you crying? Do you not like it?” Wonwoo asks, concern laced in his voice.

“No, I’m fine. I love it so much, Wonwoo. It’s so pretty. No one’s ever done anything so thoughtful for me.” you explain, blinking away your tears and Wonwoo visibly relaxes.

“I’m glad you like it, but that’s not all.”

“Really? You didn’t need to do anything else, this is already so much.”

“This is barely scratching the surface. Now close your eyes, I have another gift to give you.”

“Wow so many surprises today, I must be the luckiest girl in the world.” you say as you close your eyes.

You hear Wonwoo pull something out of his pocket and a few seconds later you feel his hands gently lifting your hair away from your neck. You feel the cold metal of a necklace against your skin and shiver causing Wonwoo to chuckle.

“You can open your eyes now.” Wonwoo says as he fixes your hair.

You look down at your neck and you see a beautiful gold chain with a cursive W pendant. You look up at him with shock as you say “Wow, Wonwoo this is beautiful.”

“Really? I wasn’t sure if you’d like it.” He says sheepishly as he rubs the back of his neck.

“I love it, it’s gorgeous.” You say as you go up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss to his lips. “It’s like we’re Troy and Gabriella from High School Musical.” you joke.

“That’s funny, that’s exactly what Soonyoung said.” Wonwoo laughs. “Well this isn’t all, I still have more planned.”

“Jeon Wonwoo!” you gasp out, “How much more are you going to spoil me today?”

“Definitely not as much as I want to, but it’ll have to do for now. You don’t even know what I have planned, you can’t be mad yet.”

“I guess so. Enlighten me then Wonwoo, what else do you have up your sleeve?”

“I ordered take out from your favorite restaurant so we could have a night in together. We’ve both been so busy these past few weeks with school and work that I thought it would be nice to eat together and catch up on what’s been going on.”

“Wonwoo, that’s so sweet, I can’t believe you planned all of this for me.”

As you both work to unpack all of the food Wonwoo bought, you slip into comfortable conversation asking each other questions about your day. As you sit across from each other to begin eating your meal, you can’t help but think to yourself how lucky you are to have the sweetest boyfriend ever. As Wonwoo reaches over to put some food on your plate, you say “I love you.” as you stare lovingly into his eyes.

“Yeah? I love you too, y/n.” Wonwoo replies as he takes your hand in his and brings it up to his lips to place a chaste kiss on your hand.

Yeah, you’re definitely the luckiest girl in the world.

-----------

an: Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it! If you did be sure to like and reblog. This is my first time writing fanfic so please leave a comment letting me know if you liked it and if I should change anything for the next one 💕

#seventeen #svt #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #fluff #svt valentine's day #seventeen valentine's day

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sexydoffyman · 24 days

Text

FRIENDS TO LOVERS P.4

genre: romance/fluff

characters: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

A/N: Hope ya like it!

P.1 P.2 P.3 P.4 P.5

Day two of being stuck without anyone that you know was approaching. You were stressed. You knew that you were going to be tested or at least they’d go for your neck. Gaz told you, that they do this for fun in their free time and that usually there are no serious injuries. You knew that that wouldn’t be the case for you. You were getting ready, stretching all evening. You were never the fighting type, but you were still a soldier. You had to prove yourself somehow.

You didn’t want to go to the fight empty-handed. You decided to look at the others and figure out how would they fight, their weaknesses, strengths and everything else. Fighting was never your speciality, but getting intel was. You were always watching over them. You were always one step behind them. You found out that Ghost likes to fight Soap a bit the day before to get used to fighting one-on-one in fair settings.

You just hit the jackpot.

You looked at the room where your fighting would take place. It wasn’t huge but it wasn’t cramped either. There was a ring roughly six by six meters and a meter above the ground. There weren’t any windows, but there was air conditioning. There was a table tennis table a bit by the side and a few benches. You looked for a place to hide, making sure that you would not get caught.

You decided to hide under the benches. That would be a very bad idea under normal conditions. You were lucky. There were countless bags, towels, shirts and other kinds of rags placed on the benches. No one wanted to clean them so they just stayed there until their owner went to get them. That made the perfect hiding spot. You looked in a bag and made sure it was signed by someone else other than them. There was a chance one of their towels was going to be there and it would be pretty damn awkward if they found you. You placed the towel you found earlier in a way that wouldn’t look suspicious. You put your phone in the ring and recorded yourself from there. You checked the video to make sure you wouldn't be seen even if you peeked out a bit. You were set and all you had to do was wait.

Your timing was great since they appeared about fifteen minutes after you hid. You understood that your biggest problem would be Ghost. Price wasn’t attending since he thought it was a childish way to spend time. Gaz will definitely go easy on you. And just watching Soap you could guess that he would make a reckless mistake.

They stretched a bit and that’s when you noticed your first hint. Ghost stretched the upper part of his body, but not the lower part. Just from that, you understood that he would wait for Soap to charge at him and then take him down. You made a mental note that you had to get him into a position where he had to use his legs.

Soap hopped into the ring full of energy like always. As you predicted, Ghost just stood there and let Soap do most of the offence. After watching them for a couple of rounds you noticed Soap getting slower, but Ghost staying as sharp as ever. You needed to make Ghost move around to make him do something he doesn’t usually have to do.

Going defence on both of them would be your best bet.

As they both got more tired, you realized that they were finishing up. Your plan was to wait for them to leave and then go. “Where ye goin? Yer towel’s over there.” You heard Soap. “Fuck” you thought silently. “Mine hasn’t been washed for a while. I’m just gonna use this one. No one will know anyway.” His voice sounded almost mocking. The worst was that it felt like he was walking straight towards you. “Ya sure? I think that guy is still here, he might notice.” You watched Ghost turn away for a second. You took your chance and relocated to a way less conveniently placed shirt.

“Who cares?” Ghost said while taking the towel in his hand and wiping the sweat off of him. They left shortly after. You were finally able to stand up straight. You were done for the day. You got all you needed and now you just needed to get some well-deserved sleep.

#requests are open #requests open #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x male reader #cod x female reader #call of duty #cod x gn!reader #kyle gaz x you #kyle gaz x female reader #kyle gaz x reader #gaz x female reader #gaz x male reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #kyle gaz x male reader

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scarletta-ruan · 2 years

Note

helloo, how are you? hope you're doing good! could you do a scenario with sigma, nikolai, fyodor and jouno where reader haves a mental breakdown in front of them??? you can choose the motive!

anyways, take care! i love requesting here, you're so kind and your writing is perfect 😭😭😭

SIGMA, NIKOLAI, FYODOR AND JOUNO WITH HIS SOMEONE HAS MENTAL BREAKDOWN

WARNING: OOC, mention of suicidal thought, reader is trying to against the mental breakdown, character is going to comfort them, soft!character

TYPE: Scenario

PAIRING: Sigma || Nikolai Gogol || Fyodor Dostoevsky || Saigiku Jouno x fem!reader

WORDCOUNTS: 0.9+ words

NOTES: Oh, and you too are also precious since you love putting request here. I hope that I would have more and more works for you to enjoy in the future. And your request is finally here.

1. Sigma

Sigma paid his attention to you when he heard you let out a long sigh again, just a few hours had passed and you gave him some signs that you weren’t in a good mood. This did hurt his heart for a bit, because he couldn’t stand your sadness. That was when Sigma approached the couch where you were sitting. Like normal, you just leaned on his shoulder and let out another sigh. Sigma wasn’t feeling good now, his mind came up with lots of questions when you showed off this side of yours.

“Is there anything… okay to you?”

“I’m just… not feeling good, you know.”

You chuckled bitterly, and when your eyes faced him Sigma saw a gleam of darkness was hiding deep in your eyes. So dark, so alone, even so… empty. Then again, you buried your face into your palms and groaned.

“Everythings is just too much for me. And I… am too tired for everything. I think I should-”

I think I should die. You couldn’t say those words out loud even if you wanted to, but when somebody faced their loved one they wouldn’t have any courage to show that person the weakness they had been carrying in their heart. Suddenly, you felt someone’s warmth surrounding your body. When you lifted your head up, Sigma slowly pulled you closer to him, he let your ear close to his heart.

So gentle, so warm, so precious, you thought all of this was too much, Sigma was always there when you needed some help. His arms around you felt more tight, then he whispered.

“Don’t… Don’t say that. It is too much for you, right? Then, will you take a breath in my arms?”

The heartbeat resounded in your ears just like a song, gentle and full of worry. You felt like yourself just like a small child weaving for their parents' love. He just soothed you down by letting you lean on him like this, he was too precious for you now.

2. Nikolai Gogol

You were sitting alone in the empty room. How many times did you lift your head up, looked around then buried it again? You didn’t get it at all, being mental breakdown stole away almost all the happiness in your life. You heard a rustling sound resounding near you, and as you lifted your head one more time, you saw a hand appear from the portal.

It was waving at you like it wanted to say hello. A moment later it pulled out a bunch of flowers and you heard someone was giggling at the door. There stood a young man with white hair, his mismatched beautiful eyes looked at you while still giggling.

He then approached you who were sitting alone in the corner of the room a moment ago. He picked you up with his arms, when you were surprised he put a lot of kisses on your face. You shyly asked.

“W-What’s wrong, Kolya?”

“Huh, nothing. I just saw you were sad a moment ago when I entered the house, so… I thought you might be happy again when I kiss you.”

Nikolai replied without any hesitation. When you were lost in his mismatched eyes, Nikolai’s chuckles pulled you back to reality. And he quickly escaped the room with you in his arms, it seemed like he was going to pull you in another surprise just to cheer you up.

3. Fyodor Dostoevsky

Fyodor had been paying attention to the figure which was sitting on the couch an hour ago, he had no idea what you were doing now. But through the way you acted, he might guess you were having a bad time. He slowly put the tea pot and some cups of tea on the tray, by that way he could easily bring it up to you.

By the time Fyodor put the tray on the table in front of the couch, he finally saw your face. Eyes were full of tears and your hands were trying to wipe it all away but when you saw a pair of violet eyes were looking at you. You hid your face away from him, Fyodor let out a long sigh when he saw this.

A moment later, you felt his cold slender arms wrapped around your body. Fyodor was trying to hug you tightly in his arms.

“Wh-What-”

“Sh, just keep quiet. Rest, my dear. Just rest.”

He said, his other hand gently patted your back like he was comforting a child. You then naturally leaned on his touch, when you closed your eyes, Fyodor was humming a song beside your ears.

4. Saigiku Jouno

“There, do you want something else?”

Jouno said as he put the cup down on the table in front of your eyes. He was always gentle like this, though his eyes weren't able to see your face, but still himself was sharp enough to know what you were needing.

And since he was sharp enough to know about others' feelings through their heartbeat, Jouno always got his way to know that you were alright or not. He already knew that you were too tired and in a bad mood.

“I had just made you some hot cocoa, it may help you to feel better.”

You slowly picked up the cup on the table and took a sip. The sweetness of the drink went through your throat, the warmth made you feel better than just an hour ago.

“Is it good to help you feel better?”

Jouno asked again, this man he knew it clear like the back of his hand but still he always asked. You smiled at him and replied.

“Much better than now, Sai.”

He also gave you a familiar smile as he put a kiss on your forehead then hugged you tightly and said.

“Yeah, just don't push yourself too much next time. Remember that I still got you, okay?”

#bsd x reader #bsd x female reader #bsd x you #sigma x you #sigma x reader #nikolai gogol x you #nikolai gogol x reader #nikolai x reader #jouno x you #jouno x reader #jouno saigiku x reader #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor x reader

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heartbeat-eras · 8 months

Text

~Intro Post ~

Hi everyone!

Long time cardiophile in the community but just discovering tumblr for the first time. Please bear with me while I work this out 😅

About me:

My first memory was me, maybe 3 years old, with my head on my Mums chest asking her what that was. Ever since then it’s always been a thing I’ve been fascinated in.

My cardio-interest can be many things and have evolved over the years. I have the curiosity about what certain things make it do. How it reacts to exercise or caffeine or nicotine or standing different ways. How holding your breath makes it skip and slow down. I love seeing the reactions to different things. This was the era I started in.

Then there is the emotional side. The heart can’t lie. If you had a stethoscope on my chest right now, while these words could be trying to portray confidence - you you hear her thrashing in my chest with nervousness / excitement. (Talking about hearts, even anon, gives me anxiety). It’s one of those things that in my real life I would love to be more open about but the level of trust to do that is something that needs to be earned.

And the dark / …. Adult side… if you asked me years ago I would have said hell no. It depends on the day, month, mood, etc. I’m more open to it these days. Electro, breath play and cpr is what I would lean into, but I’m either in the mood or definitely not. There’s no in between.

RP / Messages - I’ve never RP before. Maybe I want to try? I’m not sure. I need to be comfortable to talk about hearts so it would have to be a slow intro into it. I also never know how to answer a blind message saying “how’s your heart?” It kinda feels intrusive and personal so unless it’s a comment about a post PLEASE just start how you would any message to any friend 😊

About my heart

My heart wasn’t all the exciting. Sleeping she gets into the high 40s - low 50’s. Just sitting around working she’s chill around 68. It’s the exercise that gets her. I’ve been a smoker for about 16 years (the last 3 of those vaping instead). When I exercise she shoots up and stays in the 170-188 range on a run. Her recovery is ok considering nic. Slows down initially pretty quickly but says just about 100 for a while. She doesn’t throw many skips and I can induce a couple from a breath hold / push but usually will just beat really slowly after that.

… well all that was until 6 month ago. Yo girl was diagnosed with ADHD as an adult and started on stimulants. Now she feels completely different. I needed to go through the full heart check prior to this, I wanted so bad to see the ECG and see her beating but I was mentally not in a good place and didn’t get to.

They say that Dexadrine is meant to only increase your resting by 5-7 beats. I would end up sitting at my desk and her beating away happily in the 90s. I haven’t exercised yet but when they wear off at night I can definitely feel her pounding a bit harder and faster than she used to. I’ve now noticed late at night she will occasionally get skippy and throw 5 or 6 beats in a row. But only occasionally and then goes back the normal pounding rhythm.

Last night I wore my chest strap to bed to see how she was behaving. When she would usually be around 50, last night she didn’t get lower than 65. Today I decided to test her and record her without getting up and taking my meds. A true resting test. She was steady around 68 for 45 mins. Then she increased to about 72 as they kicked in. So maybe they weren’t lying. Maybe just being up is enough to jack her up into the 90s 🤔 she is pounding really forcefully though. I think I’m going to continue monitoring and see if this the norm.

Anyway, you’ve made it this far you probably deserve some of her sounds. After she didn’t take off into the 90s like I thought she would I decided it was time to have my morning nicotine. This is where the changes took place. A short sound for you to hear hear speeding up. This is before I’ve stood up still.

What do you hear? How fast is she beating? What do you think she’s feeling?

Soon I’ll try some exercise and we will see how that goes. 😅

#cardiophile #pounding heart #cardiophilia #fast heartbeat #beating heart #female heartbeat #self stething

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justmeinadaze · 1 year

Text

Ghost in the Machine Part 2 (Eddie X You)

A/N: It seems I need Daddy Eddie lately <3

Warnings: Daddy Rockstar Eddie and Fem Stripper Sub Reader, SMUT, degrading, dirty talk, FLUFF, ANGST, reader mentions that she doesn't talk with her parents, fears about releasing control, Eddie doesn't push her (He's a sweet boy), mentions of their jobs and the negatives. Nothing too dramatic in this one.

They do have a text conversation in the beginning and Eddie's is in red.

Word Count 4511

Part 1 Here

“Good morning, pretty girl. Or afternoon rather. I don’t know. All I know is I’m up.”

“Anyway, I just wanted to say I hope you have a good day and we should be finished by about 7. See you later!”

You smile at the messages Eddie had sent you wondering if you should reply. You didn’t want to seem too eager but you didn’t want him to think you didn’t care.

Ugh! What is it about this man that is making me think shit like this?

Throwing your phone aside, you decide to not respond and go about your day like you normally would. The problem was you didn’t have anything to do. After taking a shower and making lunch you found yourself sitting on your couch zoning out as you scrolled through the tv. After a while you gave up, throwing the remote on the table, and grabbing your laptop.

I shouldn’t look him up. We’re going to talk later and what’s online probably isn’t all true anyway.

Sighing, you guiltily type his name in the search bar and browse what comes up.

As to be expected, a lot of information about Corroded Coffin came up first. You skimmed through regular bio pieces about how they formed and how excited they were when their first single became popular. A few had videos attached that you played, watching how Eddie behaved. He was slightly reserved during each interview, trying not to sound nervous as he spoke. When you found some videos with fans, however, his whole demeanor changed. He became so much more animated and smiled wide as he talked to people especially little kids who had on Corroded Coffin t-shirts.

There were a few tabloid reports about actresses he supposedly dated or slept with. One article had a blinding white light flash in his face as he tried to shoo away the people taking the photo. One of the articles had a video of him being thrown into a cop car, sticking out his tongue as they drove away.

Is this who he really is?

You began feeling yourself get antsy forcing you to click away from articles like that and scroll through his social media. It looks like the only thing he had was an Instagram he barely used however a lot of the pictures he did have made you smile. There was one fairly recently with him standing next to an older gentleman who was wearing a shirt with their band name as they both stood backstage at what you assumed was one of their concerts. Eddie was holding up the rock & roll symbol as the other man was mid laugh.

Your phone suddenly dinged as a message came through.

“Hey sweetheart. We’re taking a little break here but we’re almost done so I should be there in about an hour or so. Is that ok?”

“Yeah, Eddie. No problem.”

Closing your device, you began to get ready for your visit from a famous rockstar.

#####

Eddie smiled wide as you giggled at his story about the shoot. When he showed up, his hair was relatively styled and he was wearing some light make up they put on him. While you two ate the food he brought, he regaled you with stories of other photo shoots that had been way more chaotic as well as some stories from the road.

He did make a mental note that you didn’t respond with stories of your own or even say anything really. You continued to grin as you sat there nodding your head and intently listening in as you hung on to his every word.

“Well, sweetheart, as much as I enjoy talking about myself, I’d love to know a bit more about you.”

“Oh, there isn’t much to tell.”

His eyes scanned over you as you took a sip of your drink, avoiding his gaze. “Why do I doubt that?”

“Good question because you shouldn’t.” The metalhead tilts his head to your remark, relishing your sassy tone. “Honestly, there isn’t much to me. I moved here, I strip. I’m broke so I signed up for the ‘side business’ and now I’m here.”

“Mhmm and before you moved here?”

“I lived somewhere else.”

“Where?”

“None of your fucking business.”

This time Eddie’s eyes narrowed as he glared in your direction. Sass, he loved, but out right disrespect was something completely different.

“Look at me. I said look at me, little girl!” His voice raised as you turned away from him at his first request. “I can handle your attitude but you will treat me with respect and not fucking talk to me like that. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.”, you sneer through clenched teeth.

He weighs the options of forcing you to say it correctly. You weren’t technically his yet but you had let it flow so freely from your lips last night that he considered giving you a bit more of a taste of what a relationship with him would be like or at least the kind he preferred.

“Good.”, Eddie exhales. “Y/N, I’m not trying to pry but I’m not one of your clients or whatever. I genuinely just want to learn more about you.” He notices you soften slightly so he jumps on the opportunity. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t we play a game.”

“Game?”

“Yeah, a game. Think of it like twenty questions. I imagine you did some snooping today before I came over which I also assume has you wanting to ask some questions of your own. Ask me anything you want and I swear I’ll answer but in return I would like you to do the same.”

When your eyes find his chocolate ones again, you can’t help but smile at him. He seemed so sincere and you already told him you struggle with releasing control like that so you thought he would know how to guide you through while getting you to slowly open up. You finally nod and his grin grows.

“Ladies first.”

“Oh, I feel special.”, you smirk. “Ok, um, on your Instagram there’s a picture of you backstage with an older man. Is that your dad?”

Eddie blinks as he scoots a little closer to you. “Interesting. Before I answer, may I ask why out of all the questions, THAT is your first one?”

“You seemed different next to him, happier. It made me the most curious.”

“Fair enough. Wayne was very much like a dad but he’s my uncle. He raised me for a good chunk of my life.” He gnawed on the inside of his cheek. “Do you get along with your family?”

“Define ‘family’.”

“How about we stick with mom and dad for now?”

Swallowing, you push down the urge to tell him to fuck off. “My parents and I haven’t talked in a very long time.”

He nods before taking a sip of the beer in his hand. “Yeah, I know how you feel.”

Eddie’s eyes briefly flash that same glint of loneliness you noticed after he gave you his phone to put your number in. Your brain runs through multiple topics to ask, fearing that if you stay on your current one, he’ll want to dig more into your history or he’ll continue to be hurt by his own.

“Your turn, sweetheart.”

“I’m scared.”

His eyes immediately locked with yours as he searched with concern. “Of me?”

“No. I told you last night I struggle with letting go of control. A lot of my history…my life…I’ve kept to myself and never really talked about it. I get the vibe that your kind of the same. I don’t want you to be hurt or force yourself to tell me things.”

Eddie turns his body a bit more to face you as he speaks. “Y/N, you’re right. I don’t go around talking about my history because it’s not something people need to know especially since 99% of the people that walk into my life walk right back out again. But…I don’t know, baby. Maybe I’m just really hoping you’ll stay.”

You pleasantly sighed at his last sentence and he smiled in your direction.

“How about this? How about we talk shop. I tell you what I’m looking for in a relationship and vice versa.”

“Can we still do the questions? Because I have a few there.” Eddie’s grin grows as he nods. “You said you want to talk care of me. What exactly would that entail?”

“Everything, I guess. I want to talk with you about things like our days or anything really. I want you to feel comfortable being open with me not just emotionally and mentally but physically. I want to kiss you till your lips are numb. I want to make you cum till you beg me to stop and then some. I really want to handcuff you to my mattress and fuck your tight little pussy till you can’t walk straight.”

Your eyes closed as you tried to control your breathing.

“Was that too much?”

“No, no. I, um, so this wouldn’t be…intimate?”

Eddie blinked again as his head tilted. “Define intimate.”

“Are you going to get jealous about men at my job?”

“Are you when it comes to mine and other women?” You shake your head and he nods. “No I won’t get jealous but I want you to know that…you at least don’t have to do that ‘side business’ anymore. I can help you if you need money for anything.”

“Eddie, I can’t take advantage of you like that.”

“How about you think about it this way? Instead of fucking multiple men, you’ll only be fucking me. I can give you however much you usually make in a night and then some.”

It’s your turn to nod as you push some hair back behind your ear.

“Is there anything you don’t like, Y/N? Something I should steer clear of.”

“Don’t…hurt me. I mean I like it rough but not too rough you know?”

“Gotcha. So no canes, flogs, or any of that other stuff?”, he playfully smiles.

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“What?! Pretty girl like you in your field doesn’t know about that side of the BDSM spectrum?”, he asks in a lighthearted tone making you laugh.

“What about you? Anything I should avoid?”

“A couple. One I’m a little steadfast on, the other has some wiggle room.” Eddie takes a sip from his drink before placing it on your coffee table. “I, um, I struggle with being touched. I spend so much time getting grabbed on day in and day out sometimes I just need a minute.”

“I understand that.” His eyes shift to you as he watches you speak. “I mean, obviously, as a stripper men think I’m free reign. When I have a bad day or something I just need people to go away. Can you let me know? Like whenever we see each other, if you don’t want to be touched just tell me and I can fuck off.”

Eddie laughs at your choice of words and it makes your smile widen. You liked his tooth filled laugh; it seemed genuine.

“Of course. But I expect you to do the same.”, he scolds with joke filled eyes.

“Yes, sir.”, you giggle. “What was the other thing?”

“Disrespect. I can handle sass but disrespect…”

“Define disrespect.”

“The way you answered me before. ‘None of your fucking business’.”, he mimicked making you blush. “I don’t like that. Don’t talk down to me either.”

“Aw, poor rockstar. You don’t like being talked down to or put in your place?” You knew what you were doing and so did he. When he glanced your way again, you could see the fire. It wasn’t necessarily angry but more like he was amused. Now if this is what that looks like, you’d hate to see fury because his beautiful brown eyes were currently burning holes into your own.

“I don’t know, whore. Do you?” Your mouth fell open at his response as he slung his arm over the back of your couch and scoot so close to you that his knee was touching yours. “I’m not like the other men you fuck, Y/N. I’m not going to throw a tantrum because you talk back or leave because you hurt my feelings. I have no problem playing your game and putting you in your place.”

“Said the man who struggles with ‘disrespect’.” You say the last word in a deep, sarcastic dad tone as you grin wickedly in his direction. The chuckle that leaves his lips, however, startles you as he looks away and runs his hand over his shirt, pretending to straighten it.

“Oh, baby. I can’t wait for you realize sentences like that have consequences.” Eddie continues to look anywhere else that isn’t your face and it kills you. You desperately want his attention again. “You said nothing too rough but what about things like choking or hitting?”

“I don’t mind either. The, um, the way you choked me last night was okay.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“No. I’ve never done this before.”

“Ok, we can utilize the stop light system. If I ask you what color you’re at, green is good, yellow is slow down, and red is stop. Just say red if you feel uncomfortable.”

“Alright, Eddie.” You growl in frustration as his eyes remain downcast. “Eddie? Please… can you look at me?”

“Oh? Little girl wants my attention? After being a brat a moment ago, I don’t think you deserve it.”

Your instinct is to touch his chest and curl up on his lap, cooing in your high pitch voice you use on the job to get him to do what you want but after his confession about being touched you don’t want to make him uncomfortable. Plus, you have a feeling your normal tactics won’t work on him here.

Sliding onto the floor, you place yourself on your knees next to his leg.

“Please, Daddy.”

Eddie’s chest deflated as his eyes closed, trying to hide the pleasure hearing you say that gives him. When he opens them again, they meet your big doe ones as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

“I really did just come over with the intention of talking to you.”

“I know. We can still just talk if you want to or maybe we can watch a movie…” As you glance towards the tv, he places two of his fingers under your chin, and turns your face back to look at him.

“We’re not going to watch a movie, sweetheart.”

“Oh, um, ok. Do you want to maybe see my bedroom?”

Eddie nods and as he rises to his feet, he extends his hand for you to take, helping you off the floor.

“What do you say?”

“Thank you.”

He steps into your personal space and just like last night you can feel his cigarette smelling breath warming your lips as he hovers just above them.

“Thank you…?”

“Thank you, Daddy.”, you whisper.

“Good girl.”

When you don’t move his smile widens as he gestures down a hallway with his eyes and you laugh nervously before leading him to your room.

“Aw, this is cute.”, he grins as he looks around taking everything in.

“What did you expect, Mr. Munson? Some neon lights with a stripper pole in the middle.”

You watch him as he continues to explore, ignoring your sass as he scans through your music.

“Geez, I didn’t think people bought albums anymore.”

“I do. I like the way they sound.” Walking over to where he was standing, you run your fingers through you collection and pulled out one he definitely recognized.

“Well shit. I didn’t know we sold any physical albums either.” Taking the Corroded Coffin album from your hand, he quickly gave it a once over before handing it back to you. “Seems like you don’t listen to it very much.”

You shrug as you place it back in with the others. “What album gets you in the mood for work?”, he asked.

“Huh?”

“You’re getting ready for the evening to go to a client’s house or to the club where you dance. You know it’s going to be a long night of hoots, hollers, and flirty touches with drunk assholes until 3am. What do you listen to, to get you mentally in that headspace?”

“I don’t know to be honest. I think it just depends on my mood.”

“Let me ask you this then. Did you listen to music when you got ready to come over last night? What did you put on?”, he asks when you nod.

Lightly moving him to the side, you grab the album on top of another stack by the record player and set it up before carefully dropping the needle on the record.

“You keep dreaming and dark scheming Yeah, you do You're a poison and I know that is the truth All my friends think you're vicious And they say you're suspicious You keep dreaming and dark scheming Yeah, you do.”

Eddie’s eyes meet yours as the man begins to sing and he can see the music already affecting you as you begin to lightly sway.

“It’s a band called Two Feet. They’re rhythm and lyrics just…” Your voice trails off as he continues to watch you. He doesn’t move or say anything and his strong, powerful demeanor is making you wetter by the second. This time you move, pushing your body so close to his you can feel his heartbeat against your own chest. His chocolate eyes scan your face before landing on your lips.

“I feel like I'm drowning I'm drowning You're holding me down and Holding me down You're killing me slow So slow, oh no I feel like I'm drowning I'm drowning.”

“Please, Daddy.”, you whisper, desperate to feel his mouth on yours.

Eddie obliges tilting down to kiss you firmly as his fingers tangle in your hair to bring your face as close to his as possible. Walking you backwards towards your bed, he falls on top of you as his lips continue to dance with yours.

“Y/N...I need to hear…hear you agree to…what I’m asking for.”, he pants out between each peck and heavy breath.

“I—we can end it at any time?”

“Of course. Of course, sweetheart.”

“Ok. Ok, Eddie.”

He softly smiles as his fingers caress your cheek. “Can I see your body? Can you show it to me, please?”

“Please? I wasn’t expecting that.”

“You treat me with respect and I’ll do the same.”

Rolling to his side, he allows you space to remove your shirt and pull down your jeans with your panties.

“No bra? Naughty little girl.”, Eddie teases as runs his hands along your legs. “You really are beautiful, princess.” Guiding your leg over his waist, you licked your lips as you felt the tips of his fingers glide ever so gently up and down your inner thigh. “Look at you. I haven’t even touched your pussy yet and you’re making a mess already.”, he chuckles with slight condescension that has you pouting.

“Oh, come on now, pretty girl. Don’t make that face. Is all of this for me?” When you only nod, his palm lightly but firmly slaps down against your folds making you yelp. “Properly, please. I want to hear you. I always want to hear you.”

“Y-yes, Daddy. It’s all for you.”

You both groan as he slides his fingers between your lips, the sound of your slick causing the bulge in his own jeans get tighter as it pressed against the denim.

“Fuck me, baby. Can Daddy taste you? Are you going let Daddy make you feel good?”

“Yes, Daddy. Please. I need you to.”

After yanking his shirt over his head, he tosses it to the floor and slides his body between your legs, tenderly kissing parts of your skin along the way. When his tongue licks a long stripe through your folds, your eyes roll back as you loudly moan.

Eddie can’t help but laugh under his breath at the sound.

“Do you like how my tongue feels, pretty girl?”

“S-so wide. Please don’t stop.”

He does as you ask and your whole body comes to life as he explores every part of your cunt; making mental notes at what makes your whimper the loudest. Coming off you, he gathers some of your arousal with his fingers and slowly pushes two of them into your entrance.

“Goddamn it, sweetheart. You are so fucking tight.” His mouth eagerly wrapped around your clit as he pumped his digits inside you. Eddie’s eyes remained on your face as he watched you squirm and play with your breasts.

“Yes, Daddy! Pl-please! I’m gonna…”

“That’s it, baby. Let go and cum for Daddy.”

Practically screaming, your body shook as you came, your hips grinding against him. Eddie continued to lick you, smirking as he felt your body twitch with the aftershocks of your orgasm.

Kissing his way up to your lips, his smile grew wider as you beamed up at him with hooded eyes.

“You did good, princess. You taste so good and your pussy is so tight. I’m going to ruin you when I fuck you.”

“You’re not going to fuck me now?”, you whine.

“No, Y/N. Not tonight.”

“Do I get to at least make you cum?”, you ask gesturing towards his groin.

Leaning against your headboard, he collects you to his side till your head was on his shoulder with his arm wrapped around you as he kissed your forehead.

“You want to make Daddy cum, honey? Go ahead and take out my cock.”

Your eyes remain on his as you tug at his belt with one hand before unbuttoning his pants and guiding them down his hips enough for his cock to spring free. You had felt him the night prior but seeing him now made your eyes widen. He really was going to ruin you.

“You can touch me.”, he murmured.

Licking your palm, you reached out to hold him and his dick twitched at the contact. Your mouth salivated as your thumb grazed the pre cum already dripping from his slit. Eddie deeply exhaled at the action but as you leaned forward with the intention of choking on his cock, his hand grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back.

“Nu uh. I said you could touch me not taste me.”

“Please, Daddy. I really want to.” He shook his head and you whined. You actually whined like a child as you crooned your face into his neck.

His fingers roughly tugged on your hair, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“Who’s in control here?” Your lips formed into a thin, defiant line causing him to yank harder making you moan at the action. “Answer me.”

“You are, Daddy.”

“If you want to keep giving me that fucking attitude, Y/N, I can jerk myself off while you watch. Be grateful I’m allowing you to do anything.”

“Can I at least spit, please?”

Taking hold of your palm, he brings it to his lips as he lets a glob of spit fall into it and places your hand back around him. Watching his face, it killed you that it was now contorted in annoyance. You wanted him to feel as good as he had made you feel.

As you began to stroke him, you curled your body closer to his and tenderly kissed his cheek.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t mean to give you attitude. I just want to feel you in my mouth so badly.” Eddie moaned at your confession as your hand twisted around him, your thumb occasionally grazing his tip. “I want to feel you in the back my throat. I want you to feel me gag around you and make a mess over your cock.”

His calloused palm ran down your side till you felt his fingers pinch your nipples making you mewl in his ear.

“That’s right, Daddy. Touch me. Use me to cum.”

“Fuck. F-faster, baby.”

“Is that you need, Daddy?”, you coo as you pump him quicker, squeezing your hand tighter around him.

Eddie’s lips land on yours for a passionate kiss as his tongue massages your own. You mewl at the taste of yourself as his mouth travels down your cheek to your ear.

“Your hand feels so good on me, sweetheart. Fuck… maybe if you beg me…D-Daddy will let you swallow his cum.”

As his lips and tongue caressed your throat, his ear hovered just close enough to your mouth for you to whisper you pleas to him as he groaned at the sound.

“Please. Please let me taste you, Daddy. I’ll be a good girl. I promise. Please…”

Eddie’s jaw went slack and you felt his face scrunch against your skin. Roughly gripping the back of your neck, he guided you over his cock and you opened your mouth just enough for him to thrust himself inside of you.

“Fuck me, babygirl. Your mouth is so fucking warm. Don’t move. Daddy’s going to give you what you want.”

After a few more sloppy movements of his hips, he grunted above you as you felt ropes of his release hit your throat. As soon as his hands fell, you utilized the opportunity to run your tongue along his tip, licking him clean.

Gently kissing up his stomach, you laid your head on his chest as you listened to him breathe. It took him a while before his fingers finally reached up to play with your hair as he laid his arm on top of the one you had strewn across him.

“Eddie? What are the rules for after?”

“That’s up to you, sweetheart. Do you want me to go?” You didn’t see but he softly smiled as you held him tighter.

“No…but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“I’m actually quite comfortable if I’m being honest.”

“Me to. Which is new for me.” He cranes his neck to look at you and you lean back a bit so your eyes can find his. “If I’m being honest.”

“I don’t know if this needs to be said, Y/N, but you’re safe with me. If at any point you do feel uncomfortable or you need tell me something please feel free to be open with me.”

Nodding, you smirk as you sit up, grabbing the bottom part of his jeans at the legs and tug them off before throwing them aside. Eddie watches you with amusement, grinning as well as you tug his shirt over your head and climb back into bed to pull his boxers back up over his hips.

Turning off your bedside lamp, you take his hand, and place his arm over your waist as you melt your body into his own. Sliding his other arm under your pillow, he leans forward to softly kiss your shoulder as he brings you closer to his chest.

“Good night, pretty girl.”

“Good night, Daddy.”

#######

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inchidentally · 8 months

Note

Why do you think Max f protect Lando like his children? Do you think he does it because he saw how Lando struggled in f1 and couldn't just stand there and watch?? 🤔

oh anon idk how much Lando/Max F lore you know but Max has been Lando's protector from day one. Lando was teeeeeny tiny for his age up until like 19?? so Max was bigger than him up until around then. I'm still learning a lot about them as I go but Max's protective instincts toward Lando run extremely deep. it's why I can't decide if they're more common law husbands, platonic soulmates or each other's weird gamer racing gremlin guardian angels.

I think for me one of the biggest standouts for me about their bond is how much Lando wanted to look after Max when Max left racing for good. because when you read about Max's particular struggles, it's like hearing Lando all over again:

Getting bad results each weekend was just having more of a knock-on effect on my mental health. Normally, I’d say that’s one of my strengths through a championship. That’s how I’ve been able to win titles, I’m able to stay calm under pressure and I don’t let many things get to me but when you have a bad qualifying result and you see guys up there that you know you’re capable of beating, it definitely takes a dig at you inside and it’s been a lot to process throughout the year. -- As soon as more thoughts come into your head, it gets worse, then you start panicking, over-driving, and it all goes wrong. I think a lot of the pressure is in your head, but it does get to a point where it just all piles on you. [source]

it's got to mean the world to have a best mate who can completely and openly identify with exactly what you're feeling - esp since they're each now looking at racing from the inside and the outside.

what I find interesting is that Max was just as much of a hyper competitive kid as everyone who came up through that system and from what I can tell he performed strongly enough to easily assume he could make F1 (but he doesn't seem to have assumed that) so him taking to this tiny kid with all these little quirks who was absolutely dusting boys older than him, idk that's just something special about Max. he comes across as kind of gruff or misanthropic at first but he's extremely emotionally intelligent and self-aware - he's always the one to open up and be vulnerable to Lando and unlike Lando he doesn't squirm or make jokes when things get serious. it sounds like I know the guy super well which obv I don't but idk, it just feels like Max is an easygoing but also extremely loyal guy - especially with Lando.

anyway I'm not enough of an authority on nortrell and if anyone wants to add to this please do <3 but yea

side note I always love how in this video we get a sort of funny confirmation that Max approves of Oscar as temporary guardian of Lando. but then I get a little emotional and serious about that bc Lando has cited precisely Oscar's ability to stay calm and not let things pile on top of him as something he's reminded to do for himself. and that Oscar quickly observed Lando and after only a couple months (or maybe even just a month) as his teammate realized that patience and loyalty are what make Lando feel the most relaxed and comfortable with someone. he's adorable and fun w the friends who make him laugh all the time and swat him down when he gives them attitude. but as a self-described shy kid who's also hyperactive, you can see the difference between Lando alone with Max and Lando with other friends. and well, Oscar spent years before his McLaren contract watching that dynamic so. makes sense he'd get the nod of approval from Lando's closest friend <3

#inchreplies #nortrell #landoscar #ln lore #please everyone with more lore knowledge add to this #inchidentallyanessay

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elliesflower · 2 years

Text

i saw you in a dream [2]

chapter 1 here

summary; you and ellie get closer as she helps you with playing guitar.

chapter; 2/? 2.7k words

cw (per chapter); recreational marijuana usage, language

a/n; let's play a game called 'how many times did i use the word 'guitar' in this god forsaken chapter?' anyways, i'm sick with a cold right now so i've had lot's of time to write, but little mental capacity for proofreading. let me know what y'all think of this chapter <3 (and find it on AO3 here)

“Be my guest,” Ellie relaxed a bit once she realized you were truly okay with everything, reaching behind her to grab her guitar. “You sure it won’t mess with your concentration, though?”

“Oh please,” you waved your hand dismissively. “If anything, it’ll help.”

“With the guitar playing, or the nerves?” Ellie smirked, crossing one leg and resting her guitar in her lap, fiddling with the tuners. Almost immediately, you felt another blush creeping up your neck. Were you that obvious? You opened your mouth to speak, but she cut you off before you could get a word in.

“Relax, I’m just fucking with you,” she laughed, not even glancing your direction. You gripped the bong tighter, letting out a nervous laugh as you let your eyes wander down, admiring the tattoo that graced her forearm and trailed off on her wrist. Her hands worked their way around the guitar, dancing over an intricate moth design at the top of the neck that matched the one on her arm.

“Well to be fair, you are giving very suspiciously free guitar lessons,” you pointed out, walking past her to sit gingerly on the edge of the mattress. It felt very personal all of a sudden, sitting on the bed of a complete stranger, about to smoke weed that may or may not be laced with poison. Ellie laughed again, plucking a couple strings in an unfamiliar melody like it was second nature. She looked up at you, and you only hoped that she couldn’t somehow hear your heart rate increase.

“This is true,” she said thoughtfully, resting a hand on the side of the guitar. “Yet here you are.”

You swallowed harder than normal, and instead of saying something potentially embarrassing, you brought the mouthpiece to your lips, lighting the bowl. Yet again, you faintly heard Ellie’s enchanting laugh over the sound of the bubbling water before pulling out the bowl to breathe in the smoke. You held it in for a moment, letting it flood your lungs before exhaling gently, passing the glass to Ellie. She took it with a quiet thanks.

You didn’t smoke nearly as often or as much as Dina, so the first hit—especially off a bong—always gave you a slight, yet pleasant and relaxed high. It was definitely needed, as you found yourself scooting back farther onto the bed, before prying open your guitar case. The anxiety in your brain slowly dwindled as you pulled your own guitar out along with the sheet music, crossing your legs before resting them in your lap.

“So, are you a music major?” You asked, looking up at her.

“Oh, no,” she smiled before blowing smoke. “I’m a graphic design major. Music is just a minor. My step-dad taught me to play guitar when I was in high school and I just fell in love with it.” Ellie moved the guitar back into playing position and strummed a few chords. A few loose strands of hair fell into her face as she looked down at her hands, and you let your gaze follow—her long, slender fingers produced a beautiful sound from the strings, and you had to stop yourself before you stared for too long.

“So you just decided to give free lessons…for fun?” You pressed further. The weed had you caught between feeling both assured and apprehensive.

“Well, kind of for fun, kind of because I’m bad at remembering to do my homework and my teacher agreed to extra credit in exchange for me giving out some free lessons,” she explained, ceasing her strumming and grabbing the bong once more. She pulled it to her perfectly pink lips, and you couldn’t help but to stare this time.

“Anyways,” she said suddenly, looking back up at you. You quickly averted your gaze, but not before she caught you looking. She smiled, warm and inviting, blowing smoke from her nose. It was hard to tell what was making you high at this point—the weed, or the way she looked at you. Probably both. “What is it that you’re having trouble with? A certain song? A certain technique?”

To be honest, it was kind of everything that you were having trouble with. It felt clumsy whenever you tried to move your fingers at the same time you strummed, you always forgot the difference between a whole step and a half step, and all the notes on the page sometimes just looked like hieroglyphics. But you couldn’t tell her that—not when Dina was halfway-right and Ellie does seem like some sort of guitar legend.

“Well, for the final we just have to pick a song and play one verse, but we get extra credit if we can do the chorus too,” you explained. “I picked Sparks by Coldplay because it seemed pretty easy. I’m…okay at doing the verse, but I’m having more trouble with the chorus. I think it’s the strumming pattern I can’t get down.”

“Ah, that's a good song,” Ellie beamed at you, eyelids just a bit lower now. “When’s your final?”

You hesitated for a moment.

“Wednesday.”

Her eyes widened almost comically.

“Wednesday, as in, this coming Wednesday?” she asked. You nodded sheepishly.

“Well…let’s hear you play the verse, then,” she conceded. The nerves started to settle back in; however, this was no one’s fault but your own at this point. She stood up, reaching behind her to grab a short, well-loved music stand, before placing it in front of you. It wobbled slightly as you opened the sheet music onto it, watching her settle back into her chair. God, was it too late to ask for another hit?

“Okay, um,” you mumbled, sitting up straighter and positioning your hands on the guitar. You took a deep breath and looked at the music sheet—there were only eight notes in the whole song, and you knew them, logically, but getting your fingers to cooperate was a different story. It especially didn’t help that Ellie was laser focused on you now. You gripped the neck and placed your fingers in a C-chord position, taking in a deep breath.

Slowly, you began to strum, and almost immediately you could tell your strumming pattern was off. It sounded like a five-year-old was playing as you moved your fingers into A-minor-seven on the wrong beat. You continued playing for a moment, feeling abashed until you reached the chorus and gave up. You risked a glance at Ellie, and to your surprise, she didn’t look like she was going to laugh at you. In fact, she said:

“That wasn’t so bad!”

You let out a laugh that was both amused and mortified.

“Thanks for sparing my feelings,” you said, burying your face in your hands.

“No, I'm serious! I’ve heard worse, trust me,” she assured, standing up and walking towards you with her own guitar. You felt the bed dip near your side as she sat next to you. You peaked through your fingers and saw that she was this close to touching your thigh with her own. “You should have heard me when I first started playing.”

Lifting your head from your hands, you rested your elbows on your guitar. Her reassurance was appreciated, but you still felt embarrassed. Ellie looked over at you with sympathetic eyes, sparkling in the faint lamplight, and it took everything in you not to burn under her gaze.

“Look, let’s just simplify it for a moment. You know what the original song sounds like, yeah?” she asked, pulling her guitar into position.

“Yeah, I love the song,” you replied, watching her movements.

“Okay. We’re basically playing a few different variations of the same three chords: C, A-minor, and F-major,” she strummed the notes as she listed them. “Do you know those three chords?”

You nodded.

“Good. So I think one of the main things that you’re struggling with is the strumming pattern. Try leaving a beat in between, like this,” she played the three notes in a much more basic strumming pattern—though it was obviously not the original, it was easy enough to understand, and definitely made more sense than the one you had been trying.

“You’re really good at this,” you seemed to lose inhibition around her, though, of course, you’d just blame it on the weed. Ellie didn’t look at you, but gave a breathy laugh.

“Okay, let’s hear you try now,” she said, avoiding the compliment. “Just pick one chord and practice the pattern.”

You lingered on her side profile for a moment, admiring the way her nose bridge sloped into an adorable peak, the slit in her eyebrow, the concentration on her face as she studied her own guitar. Before she could look over, though, you brought your guitar back into position and did as she said.

Much to your dismay—and humiliation—this new strumming pattern sounded worse than the first one you’d been practicing. You groaned in frustration, slapping your palm over the strings to stop the awful sound they were emitting. Squeezing your eyes shut again, you refused to look over at Ellie, in fear she may be about to give up on you already.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she said softly, and without warning, you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. Normally, your instinct would be to shrink away from the touch, but you found yourself completely subdued by it. It was gone just as quickly as it had come, and by the time you opened your eyes, she was already standing up. Had you just imagined that?

“Put the guitar down for a sec,” she said from across the room now. Her own guitar was already leaned against the dresser as she grabbed the bong from her desk.

“Don’t I kind of need the guitar to practice guitar?” You questioned, despite following her instructions anyways. Faintly, you heard your mother’s voice in the back of your head, asking you, if all your friends were going to jump off a bridge, would you really follow them off it? Unsurprisingly, your answer was almost always yes.

Ellie gave you an amused look. “Not always. Just trust me.”

She outstretched the bong to you, and you accepted it, gratefully. She began messing with the speaker behind her as you took another hit, and another one, and another one, until she was sitting in her chair and rolling it towards you. All the racing, anxious thoughts in your mind slowed, one-by-one, and your arm felt heavy as you handed the glass back to her, pushing your legs out in front of you to hang off the edge of the bed.

“Feeling better?” She asked with a slight smile. Your mouth unconsciously turned up at the corners to match hers, and you nodded.

“I don’t know if I can play like this, though,” you laughed now, your restraint flowing out the slightly-open window. “Do you get all your students high?”

Ellie laughed, rich and harmonious.

“Just close your eyes and lay back.”

Though her words should have had you nervous, the insinuation enough to send a shiver down your spine, you obliged. Your head fell back onto the duvet with a soft thump, eyes closing in bliss. The smell of her was everywhere, in the bedding and in the air, the woodsy-amber combined with the ever-present peppery musk of weed. You were only slightly aware of her presence at the edge of the bed until she spoke again.

“Just listen to the song. Pay attention to the guitar,” her voice was almost commanding. Not that you needed any persuasion—you were ready to jump off that bridge as the music started, the wistful acoustic filling the room.

Did I drive you away?

I know what you'll say

You say, ‘Oh, sing one we know,’

Your fingertips lightly traced the silhouette of your guitar next to you as you listened, eyes fluttering open slowly to stare at the ceiling.

But I promise you this

I'll always look out for you

Yeah, that's what I'll do,

Faintly, you heard a second guitar chime in with the song, quiet, yet heady. Your head lolled to one side and you caught sight of Ellie, strumming along with the track. Her mouth moved slightly in time with the lyrics, but the combined sound of the speaker and the guitar were too overpowering to hear her voice—you longed to know what harmonic sound escaped her lips.

Sitting up, you watched her face as she continued to play. She didn’t glance up at you, but she did stop singing out once she caught you looking from the corner of her eye. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly with concentration, yet she exuded bliss. It was like she was in another world as she played.

My heart is yours

It's you that I hold on to

Yeah, that's what I do,

Remembering why you were even listening in the first place, you tried to focus on the guitar like Ellie had said. Not her extremely enticing face. You listened to the blend of her playing along with the track itself, willing yourself to focus. Maybe taking so many hits wasn’t such a great idea.

La, la, la, la, o-oh

La, la, la, la, o-oh,

“Aren’t your eyes supposed to be closed?” she asked, playfully squinting at you as the song came to an end.

“Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me guitar?” You retorted with a laugh. You felt at ease now, looking at Ellie through the thin cloud of smoke in the room—she didn’t look away this time. She only looked back with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“Just pick up your guitar and try again,” she shook her head in defeat, a small grin still present on her lips. “Start from the beginning. Try it with the basic strumming pattern, and just focus on the C, A, and F chords. Fuck everything else.”

Though your nerves were long gone at this point, you still weren’t sure you’d be able to play in your altered state. The guitar felt bulky as you pulled it back into your lap and leaned forward, toes just barely touching the floor. You drew a deep breath as she watched you, pulling together all your brain power.

And then, it was magic.

You could visualize Ellie in your mind, her tattooed arm flexing as it moved up and down along the guitar, and you mimicked the movements. The sound coming from the guitar actually sounded halfway decent—not great, but definitely an improvement. You chanced a look at the redhead, and she was already smiling at you. Before you reached the chorus, you stopped playing and looked down at your fingers, wondering if she possibly performed some sort of witchcraft on you.

“See? Sometimes you do need to put the guitar down in order to play,” she smirked, putting her guitar down. “That was much better.”

Your cheeks flushed and you averted your eyes. Normally, you could take a compliment, but it felt…different, coming from Ellie. Here she was, a perfect stranger, letting you into her space, letting you smoke her weed, dedicating her time to you—it all felt remarkably intimate in such a short amount of time. Was it just the sapphic passion that seemed innate in you at this point?

“Yeah, yeah, I guess you are a pretty good tutor…or whatever,” you trailed off, bashfully looking back up at her. She beamed back at you, but before she could say anything, your phone chimed from your pocket. Ellie simply twirled around in the chair, beginning to play yet another song that she plucked from her memory, and you only wished you could have even a fraction of the skill she seemed to possess.

You pulled your phone from your pocket and unlocked it.

hey, you still alive over there??

i’m actually really bad at writing please don’t make me write a eulogy

do you think i could pay someone to do it

would you be offended if i paid someone to write your eulogy

You nearly snorted at the messages from Dina. It was almost hard to imagine that barely an hour ago you had been nervous to even come here.

Everything’s going good!

You texted back. Her reply was almost immediate:

just good???

“good” as in you’re good at guitar now?????

or good as in good ;) ?????

orrrr good as in you’re narrowly avoiding death as we speak?????????

You looked up at Ellie through your lashes, and watched as she bobbed her head lightly, singing softly with the sweetest voice you think you may have ever heard.

You texted back:

Good ;)

chapter 3 here

#ellie williams #tlou #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x you #tlou part 2 #the last of us #dina tlou

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that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction · 6 months

Text

Angsty fight/venting alternate ending

(Part two to this)

For @guiltyscarlet and @aceauthorcatqueen who asked for the angsty ending

CW for major character death. I’m not sure if this counts as dark!Arthur but there is murder scene so mild description of injury. There’s also self destruction from Merlin, possibly self harm, I’m not sure where it falls, and a mental breakdown or two here as well. Also canonical character death right at the end but it’s not graphic.

You’ve all been warned. You’re responsible for your online media consumption so take care of yourselves and don’t read if you think this will negatively affect you.

(Click more for angsty shit.)

I imagine this version to happen around season 5, if it was the hurt/comfort version, I’d say between season seasons 2/3 but the angst needs more time to have the full effect. Merlin is worried because of Mordred and the disir and everything else going on.

After Arthur says “Really. All you do is follow orders. It’s not hard.” Merlin looks over, angry and upset, but when he sees Arthur’s attempt at caring, tears start pooling in his eyes.

Arthur looks startled, unsure what to do, when Merlin looks away, shakes his head and whispers brokenly “Fight me” and it sounds so defeated, like really the last words of a man who’s officially given up. Arthur doesn’t move, and Merlin looks up again, something pleading in his eyes, as he begs, “Fight me. Please.”

Arthur’s in new territory now, their fights have never had anything other than frustration or anger or irritation, occasionally jealousy after that one time where he thought someone was flirting with Merlin Arthur would never admit to. But Merlin seems like he’s just going to use it to get beat up and hurt more. It goes against what they do, and he’s seen Knights fall to similar fates after such things got too far. So Arthur is terrified, he doesn’t want to lose Merlin and doesn’t know how to help so he can keep him.

So he asks “What’s going on?” Breaking the script and throwing Merlin off. Which definitely isn’t something he needs, while he’s that close to a breakdown all he really wants is to remember that the world will keep going forward so he can figure out how to keep going forward too, he really just needs a constant that he can rely on. Arthur’s attitude tends to be a pendulum swing between an array of things depending on multiple factors out of Merlin’s control so he can never figure out what side he’s going to get. So he’s resorted to their fight vents. It’s also not what he needs, but it’s consistent. He can shout or scream, throw a punch, take a punch or two, and then focus on the ache in his muscles instead of the pain in his chest and head.

Merlin doesn’t reply to Arthur’s question, instead he stands up and drops his stance, telling Arthur again to fight him. Arthur knows he isn’t going to get anywhere so he stands up too and as soon as he’s on his feet, Merlin is throwing a punch at him. Arthur manages to partially dodge, taking a hit to his shoulder instead of his face.

It’s right over the questing beast scar, if anyone’s wondering. If I was properly writing this, I’d have a parallel between Arthur’s scars from times Merlin’s saved him and where Merlin is hitting. Probably something about all the times Merlin saved him and how because they’re two sides of the same coin, destroying himself is destroying Arthur too.

Anyway.

Arthur realises how much it hurt, and how Merlin really isn’t pulling any punches now. He starts fighting back, properly defending himself while Merlin dances around him. With each punch there’s choked back sobs or hitches in his breath.

Arthur realises Merlin is crying and tries to help him with something of their normal routine. It helps Arthur, so hopefully it’ll help Merlin too. It doesn’t, of course. But he does try.

He tries taunting Merlin into talking about it, “don’t cry, your fighting skills aren’t that bad.”

Merlin growls through his tears, biting back, “Why? Not worth my tears?” As he attacks viciously and relentlessly.

It confuses Arthur, because that’s what he said about the dragonlord years ago. “You can’t cry over every fallen soldier.” Arthur bites out, dodging a particularly harsh punch aimed at his jaw. And he’s known that lesson for a long time, he kept it with him when he lost young knights while he was still a prince, all his fallen comrades, his best knight, his brother in law, all of them.

“He wasn’t a soldier!” Merlin screamed as Arthur felt his head snap to the side with a punch to his jaw. It’d definitely bruise, but he could blame it on training. “He wasn’t supposed to die!” Another punch knocks Arthur over, “I was supposed to save him!” Merlin jumps on him, and Arthur can barely process that, only just rolling out of the way from instinct alone. Merlin doesn’t move away to come after Arthur, just crumbles on the floor, punching the stone weakly while sobbing.

“It’s my fault.” He says brokenly, “I couldn’t save them, how can I save you?” His body is wracked with sobs, he can hardly see for the tears blurring his eyes, and Arthur is behind him unsure what to do.

Merlin gets a ringing in his ears, sharp and piercing and he can hear his heart beating, breath comes short to him, images of Mordred thrusting a sword into Arthur’s middle playing over and over in his head.

“I- I couldn’t- I can’t-“ he’s clutching at his throat, trying to breathe, trying to think of anything to say, as he scrambles at his neckerchief, he can’t get it off. In a moment of clarity, he desperately cries out, “Arthur?”

Arthur is there, ripping through the fabric and rubbing up and down Merlin’s back to get him to breathe.

“Why is it your responsibility to protect people better equipped to handle dangerous situations than you are?” Arthur asks quietly, not fighting anymore but Merlin shrugs him off.

“They aren’t knights.” He’s gritting his teary and the words have a bite Arthur knows means Merlin isn’t done. “Will, Freya, Balinor, they weren’t knights.” Merlin gets angrier and angrier as he’s speaking, “and I’m not some hopeless wimp like you think I am, Sire.”

Merlin pushes himself up and paces the length of the fire place. “It’s my duty to keep you safe.”

“You’re not a knight!”

Arthur stands up too, yelling in frustration at not understanding what’s going on with Merlin. He’s frustrated at Merlin for being stubborn and at himself for not knowing what to do. Clearly, Merlin wants to fight. Both times he tried letting him speak, Merlin went back to biting and anger and whatever else was left as a result of his pain. Now he’s hopelessly letting Merlin lead him but Merlin isn’t in the mental state to know what he needs.

It’s a new situation for them both, and they’re struggling.

They argue some more, Merlin shoves Arthur back a few times when he’s unintentionally insensitive. “Balinor wasn’t even necessary for defeating the dragon!” “I can protect myself just fine without you cowering behind trees ten feet away!” “William was a sorcerer!”

At some point, Merlin snaps, shoves Arthur back again though not hard enough to fall, and yells that he has magic. Arthur, feeling betrayed and already frustrated from their fight not working, throws a full force, vicious punch. Merlin palms it, and starts yelling about everything he’s done.

Arthur’s getting angrier, and angrier, and angrier. And he isn’t truly angry, he’s hurt, betrayed, confused, lost, afraid, and a billion and one other emotions all at once. But anger is easier to feel, so he defaults to that.

Arthur stars really fighting Merlin, yelling about the lies and “how could he keep this a secret? Why would he lie for ten years?” Merlin doesn’t even have a chance to reply, too busy dodging or minimising the damage Arthur can do. It’s reversed at this point, and Arthur is the one trained to kill with hand to hand.

Merlin is struggling to keep up.

His nose is definitely broken, he’s covered in bruises, his muscles are burning and he’s more focused on just getting Arthur to calm down.

It doesn’t work, and at some point, Merlin ends up pressed against the wall with Arthur pinning him by the throat. Arthur’s still yelling his questions and accusations about Merlin’s magic. It takes a while, he’s pinned and loosing air for a few minutes.

It never even crosses his mind to use it to get away when Arthur starts pressing too hard against his windpipe and Merlin’s vision starts blurring and fading darker.

Arthur notices this and yells at Merlin to defend himself and fight back, Merlin only rasps out, “won’t hurt you,” before going limp. Arthur steps back, and Merlin crumples to the floor.

It’s at that point that he sees Merlin bleeding from a gaping head wound and notices his knuckles broken from where his rings have shattered them during their fight. He panics and pulls off his shirt to press to the head wound.

Arthur is left trying to stop the bleeding, he scoops Merlin up, calls for guards and grabs the first aid kit Merlin made him keep in his rooms a few months after working for Arthur (after the Sophia incident) the guards come in and he immediately sends them to Gaius, starting to stitch Merlin’s head and doing everything he can.

Merlin’s breath is fading and his heart rate is sluggish at best.

It takes another five minutes for Gaius to get there, by that time it’s too late and Merlin is going to die.

Gaius knows this, and the most he can do is give Merlin pain killers, but even if he survives he won’t wake up and he’ll have a few weeks at most of being comatose because of medieval medicine. (This is not historically accurate, but I can’t be arsed with research)

Arthur can’t accept this. He keeps trying to stop Merlin’s bleeding and covering his head in honey to fight infection and anything else that isn’t doing anything. Gaius tries to pull Arthur away but he refuses, and threatens Gaius with execution if he stops Arthur from saving his Merlin.

In the end, Arthur is working on Merlin’s head for two hours before he stops breathing and his heart gives out fully and half an hour after he’s died. Gaius declares Merlin dead and Arthur can do nothing but scream. It takes four knights to hold him down so they can take Merlin’s body away.

Arthur still doesn’t understand why Merlin wanted to fight him, and it takes him a long time to remember anything Merlin said about magic, or Balinor, or protecting Arthur. By the time he remembers, Gaius has left Camelot in his grief so he has no one to ask for answers.

Arthur goes mad, seeking answers from Druids and other magic users, all the stories about Emrys make him believe people are lying to him because Merlin couldn’t be the most powerful sorcerer and not tell him about it. After Merlin lied for ten years, Arthur closes himself off and doesn’t trust anyone. He’s paranoid and in his Paranoia, he’s killed by Mordred who’s angry that Arthur killed Emrys, the golden age doesn’t happen and magic fades from the land.

The end :)

—

Thoughts?? Hope you enjoyed :)

I tried to keep it as mild as I could, if I wrote this properly it’d most likely end up a lot more graphic and with a lot more character analysis and emotional shit. I don’t know what I’m allowed to post on here but this is about as mild as I can make it without loosing any of the important bits.

I could easily write 20-30k of this but I’m not starting anything new at the moment. I might come back to it at some point to turn it into a full fic but it won’t be for a while yet. I’ll see what the dopamine decides when I have time and energy for another project.

#bbc merlin #merlin #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #merlin bbc #angst #hurt/no comfort #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #merthur #sort of #I never said it was happy merthur #i’m bad at tagging

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