#i fuss a lot about how i write him because. i like him a whole awful lot

[lultimagoccia]

just popping in to say i love how u write pepp.. i love pathetic men.

" ... why you got to call me like that. rude. "

[lale-txt]

✱ confessing to you w/ Gojo, Nanami, Higuruma & gn!reader

@snailor-bee asked: LALEEEEE!!! (o゜▽゜)o♥ WHAT'S THIS I HEAR?? REQUESTS ARE OPEN?? FOR MORE FANDOMS?? You just know I just gotta... May I please request Gojo, Higuruma, and Nanami trying to confess to reader? (*/ω＼*) Like headcanons/drabbles whichever. I just think it's real cute. And you're real cute. It just works out perfectly, hehe. Hoping you're doing well!! ;3; Sending you hugs and kisses!!

a/n: BEE my sweet (´⌣`ʃƪ) it feels like forever since i for around writing something for you, so i was super excited when you sent something in for me! i had a lot of fun writing these small drabbles, i hope they're to your liking! ps: i think YOU are super cute love you ok bye

➸ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐: Geto, Toji & Shiu

❦ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

Gojo is used to being fawned on. He has the good looks and he knows. Keeps running his mouth without any consequences because there simply are none when you’re Gojo Satoru. The strongest. The balance of the world depends on him. He’s untouchable.

And then there’s you, who is tearing his whole act down with such ease, it makes his heart stop.

You don’t fuss over him and you don’t bow before him. His name doesn’t fall out of your mouth as if he was a deity, someone holy; and still it’s the sweetest sound he has ever heard. When you call out for him, Gojo wants to be there in an instant. There’s this unknown calmth whenever he’s with you, his heart feeling lightweight somehow. He’s drawn to you like the tide to the moon.

For someone as grand as Gojo, he loves so quietly. 

He can’t bring himself to say those words out loud, as if they carried a weight that threatened what you two have. Still, he doesn’t know what to do with all this love; he never learned where to put it down. You can handle it, can you? The burden and the curse of being loved? You wouldn’t be scared to love him back, right?

So Gojo makes sure to show you his love in the most mundane things, so there’s no room for doubt just how tight he holds you in his heart. Midnight strolls to the candy aisle at the supermarket. I love you. A hand on the small of your back when you’re moving through a large crowd. I love you. Your fingertips brushing over his long white lashes while he rests his weary head in your lap under the cherry blossoms. I love you. 

It’s only when you kiss him one night, in the middle of the parking lot, that those big words get caught in his throat. Six eyes aren’t enough to comprehend the feeling in his chest when his big hands cup your face, as if he wants to hinder you from ever pulling away from him. It would be so easy to mumble his confession against your lips, but you already know. So instead he simply kisses you back, sweeping you off your feet when you lose your balance from being on your tiptoes. 

He smiles when you shush him with another kiss. He doesn’t need to say it out loud; you know, you’ve always known.

❦ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

Nanami’s confession is apologetic.

The words have been weighing on his heart until one night, they just fall out of his mouth. Maybe he had one drink too many, not enough to be drunk, but enough to loosen his tongue. His thumb rubbing over the rim of his glass, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, his tie not so accurate anymore. He isn’t looking at you; it’s easier if his gaze doesn’t catch yours, if his eyes can’t wander to your lips. Your hands are next to each other on the bar counter, almost touching. He could close the distance so easily, but he’s aware that he wouldn’t be able to let go of your hand anymore.

“I’m in love with you.”

His voice is low, whisky-raspy. The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable; it’s a warmth that’s surrounding you like a veil. At this moment, it’s just you and him. In another life, this could have been so easy, couldn’t it? In a life where he doesn't have to worry about fighting curses, and the horrors humans are capable of, and about the day he might not come back home to you from work. He wouldn’t have to break your heart like that.

“So deeply, utterly in love with you.”

In another life, you could have had it all. The shared books on the nightstand, the matching rings on your fingers, the messy blankets in the morning. Maybe he was being greedy, yearning for this. He couldn’t help himself when you tugged on his heartstrings like that. He tried to fight it, this attraction to you; but the more he tried to keep his distance, the more he yearned for a glimpse of your attention. Your bright smile from the other side of the room–it should have been enough. And still…

“I hope you can forgive me.”

Was it really greed that made him cradle your face in his palms, gazing into your eyes before leaning in for a kiss? No… no. But he knows he can never let go of you now, not when he tasted the sweetness of your lips. Not when you kiss him back with such hunger, years of yearning unraveling in this very moment. Not when forgiveness lies on the tip of your tongue, asking to be devoured. All he can do is hope that when his time comes, you’ll let him pick up the pieces of your broken heart and that the light of your love will guide him somewhere south; back to the warmth the two of you feel in this very moment with his lips on yours. 

❦ 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀

Higuruma has no doubt in his heart regarding his feelings for you. They’re clear as day to him. His heart leaps in his chest when you enter a room and your laughter washes away all of his exhaustion for a bit. 

He studied you from afar for a long time; he can read all of your small gestures and expressions like a language only you and him know. The way your tongue pokes out between your lips when you’re in deep focus, reading over a file from a case you’re working on with him. Your fingertips picking up a tiny piece of lint from his suit before you enter the courtroom together and the small smile playing on your lips when he looks over his shoulder to catch what you’re doing. That one strand of hair that seems to be loose no matter how often you try to tuck it away, much to your annoyance and his adoration. 

“I’d like to ask you out.”

His words are as clear as his intentions. Higuruma is a straightforward man, not brash but gentle in his own way. With him, you don’t have to wonder what's between you two, he’ll tell you what’s on his mind and he’ll expect the same from you. Never pushy, but longing for connection, for mutual understanding. He sees no point in hiding his feelings and he knows you’re clever, you’ve probably had them figured out anyway. 

Higuruma and you have to face them daily, the abysses of the human mind. It’s easy to let your heart go cold over them, to lose a bit of your own humanity. And yet, when your eyes meet, it’s all forgotten. It’s like he can see the essence of your soul and you can see his and it’s all golden; so golden.

You don’t pull away when his fingers weave between yours one night when you leave the office together. He feels a sense of relief wash over him in this moment, not because he was afraid that you wouldn’t reciprocate his feelings, but because his world got a bit brighter in this moment, a bit warmer. He missed this for much longer than he’d admit.

To Higuruma, loving you comes easy. It feels as natural as breathing. It calms him, as if you’re the eye of a storm. And so he doesn’t even hesitate to say those words out loud, almost stating them like a matter of fact, and sealing them with a kiss. Guilty of loving you.

[bookshelf-dust]

no trace of skin left unkissed

art donaldson x fem!reader

gif by @jennacrtega

word count: 2,072

warnings: swearing, flirting, a little suggestiveness/allusions to intimacy/sexy stuff, but otherwise this is pure fluff

synopsis: art wants you to play tennis with him. and when you do, it only cements how whipped for him you really are. only in competition with how whipped he is for you, of course.

a/n: hello!!! i’ve been sitting on this idea for at least a month now, simply because i just couldn’t get my fingers to do the typing and my brain to do the storming! but alas, i have finished it, and i’m super super soooo happy with how it turned out. this is the first thing i’ve written for art, but i think i got a good handle on his mannerisms. i’m all giddy just because i enjoyed writing this so much. i hope you enjoy reading it!! <33

————

“What are you doing? Why are you blushing? Stop blushing. You are not into this.”

Your boyfriend removes his hat from where it sat perched the wrong way round on his head. He shoves it on yours instead, his warm fingers brushing your forehead as he tightens the strap for you. 

His grin is downright sinister. “You’re into it when it’s me. I don’t look nearly as good in a skirt.”

Your hand shoots out, on a mission to slap the shit out of your boyfriend’s arm, but he senses the rift in space and time, catching your wrist before it makes contact with him. Art uses that leverage to pull you forward, his lips crushing against yours. 

“Mm!” you yelp, suddenly way too interested in his mouth to fuss over his choice in distraction technique. 

Art has this way of kissing where it’s like he needs you to consume him, like he needs to press all of his affection for you directly into each slot of his lips over yours. He needs you to know you’re the only person in the world, and when he kisses, he’s determined to lose sight of anything other than you. 

The only downside to this is that each time he pulls away, you’re forced to recalibrate. 

“But seriously, does it fit okay? ‘Cause I looked at the labels for some of your leggings and stuff and then had Tashi help me pick it out,” Art breathes.

You look down, smoothing your hands over the pleats of your skort. “The fact that Tashi supervised makes me feel a lot better.”

Art’s expression shifts, his brows scrunching and his lips taking a downward turn. “What, you don’t trust me?” The lilt in his voice is nothing short of teasing. 

“I trust Tashi’s ability to pick out something practical for the tennis lessons you’ve decided to give me.” 

You shoulder your bag, push your sunglasses up your nose so they settle right into that little sweet spot. You smell like sunscreen and vanilla shampoo, and Art can’t even process the fact that you're giggling your way out the front door. 

That and his eyes are glued to the way your skirt bounces with each of your steps. Tashi picked out a lightweight, baby pink tennis dress for you. It has shorts built in, and the sweetest little ruffled hem. 

“Wait, you think I’m gonna put you in something all flouncy, a-and,” he snaps his fingers, “what’s the word for it?”

“Slutty? Yes, Art. You see something short and scandalous and your eyes bug out of your head.” Your hands shoot out in little bursts like baby fireworks. “See? They’re doing it right now,” you laugh. 

Art pouts. Literally. His plump bottom lip juts out and you have the urge to bite it. “Hey. Don’t be mean to your tennis coach. I’m a gentleman.”

You snort. “Then open the door and lead the way, Mr. Donaldson.”

————

“You know, I think I like watching you play tennis a whole lot more than I enjoy actually being on the court.”

Art catches the ball you’ve just smacked in his direction. Your brows furrow, confused as to why he’s stopping. 

“Hold this for a sec,” Art says, a suspicious lilt to his voice. The tacky grip on his racket is damp from his sweaty palms. You almost want to make a joke about how you're holding the Art Donaldson’s tennis racket. Almost.

But then the man in question pulls off his shirt. It takes a little effort, considering the heat of the day. You watch as he peels it away from his sweat-slickback, revealing the prettiest spattering of freckles across his skin. 

The sunlight reflects off of his pale complexion, making him look almost…ethereal. You’re starting to understand why Icarus flew directly into the sun. 

Art flips his hat so that it’s backwards and tosses his damp shirt on top of your bag perched sweetly in the corner. The smile he gives you is sick. 

He looks down, nodding at his own bare chest. “This help, baby? A little motivation for you?”

Art picks up another ball, bouncing it up and down as he struts your way. He grabs hold of the net separating the two of you and leans into your space. His blonde hair sticks out in little tufts around his ears and forehead. 

You fan yourself with your hand. “Hmm. Maybe. Gives me motivation to kick your pretty ass.”

He laughs, pearly white teeth reflecting the bright afternoon sun. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You press your lips to Art’s in a quick fashion. You can taste the sweat on his upper lip, smell his deodorant when he raises his arm to cup your jaw. “It’s not fair that you get to be pretty and good at tennis.”

Art feels your clammy fingers brush his as you take the ball out of his hand. He backs up, grinning endlessly. 

“Remember what I told you. Put the ball against the racket like that. Feel it out. You gotta figure out which serve feels best for you. What works for me won’t be the same for you.”

It feels so strange to hold the ball in your non-dominant hand, knowing if you even want the ball to reach Art’s side of the court you’ll have to toss it high enough that you can successfully hit it. 

Your hand-eye coordination surely isn’t winning you any awards, but your first toss isn’t horrible. A little low and definitely not a straight shot, but it’s high enough that you manage to both hit it and have it reach Art. 

He doesn’t say anything, not when he recognizes that look in your eye. This is something he wanted to try with you, something you could do together without any of the stress or socializing that usually accompanies tennis. 

Your tongue pokes out from between your lips, the skin much more swollen and plump than usual due to the heat. They look like they do early in the morning, when you’ve coaxed each other awake and he kisses you until you can’t breathe. Full and slick and enticing. 

Art goes decidedly easy on you, but you’re having fun. 

The longer you play, each time a breeze hits the backs of your knees and Art lets out one of those noises you love to tease him about, you start to see why he and Tashi and Patrick love this so much. 

There’s a solid ten minutes where neither of you lose the ball, lose your rhythm. You’re completely focused on making sure that ball hits your racket. It’s almost liberating, being somewhat mediocre at this. 

Art, on the other hand, isn’t focused at all. He’s doing his best to keep up with you, but he can’t get over how good you look right now. 

The pleats of your skirt bounce with each of your steps, each of your little hops when he hits it just too high. There’s a sheen of sweat glistening on your neck and collarbones, making you look like a fucking goddess. 

Not to mention how pretty you look in his hat. In clothes he bought for you. And he can’t help himself each time you bend to pick up the ball or get a sip of water, because he gets to see the slightest bit of skin at the tops of your thighs, the little creases left permanently in your skin where the fat of your ass meets the slope of your leg.

You catch on after a while, seeing his eyes drag over your bare legs, your chest, your neck. You smack the ball particularly hard, a hit Art should’ve taken in stride, but instead, he misses. The ball makes a pinging sound as it hits the chain link fence and bounces down the court. 

You toss your head back and laugh. 

That’s all it takes for Art to drop everything and grab hold of your legs, tossing you over his shoulder. You’ve been poking at his ribs, telling him how you can’t concentrate when he’s looking at you, but he was insane to think he’d be fine to play tennis with you. 

He can’t concentrate worth a shit. Not when you look like that and are looking at him like that and you’re smacking his ass and laughing so hard and fuck—he could marry you right now. 

————

A wet towel slaps against Art’s ass. “You look like a slut in those underwear, Donaldson.”

He looks at you over his shoulder, hands in the dresser drawer. “Are you complaining?” he asks. 

You splay out across the mattress, feeling the cool comforter against the soft of your belly where your shirt has ridden up. 

“Me? Oh no, just complimenting you,” you quip.

Art lets out a small snort, pulling a pair of plain cotton pajama pants up his legs. You watch as his fingers tie a quick knot at the waist. 

His eyes are on you, blue irises unforgiving, but there’s the tiniest lift at the corner of his mouth. It’s not something you’d notice if you hadn’t spent so much time learning his mannerisms. 

“I like your slutty underwear,” you say. 

Art moves toward the edge of the bed, lowering himself onto his knees so that he’s level with your face. You watch his collarbones shift under his skin as he reaches up to cup your cheeks. 

“I like your slutty underwear too, princess.” He reaches one arm behind you to smack the swell of your ass. Your panties aren’t really slutty. Just dainty. Lace and whatnot. Art’s hand lingers on your bum just long enough for him to give it one good squeeze. 

His chest is directly in your face. You take the chance to lean forward, nipping at the skin over his ribs. His hips are soft beneath your hands, freckles covering almost every inch. 

Art’s brow furrows as he looks down at you. “Hey, hey. Why are we so bitey tonight?” he asks, lowering himself back onto the rug in front of you. He starts peppering your face with kisses. They’re gentle and sweet, yeah. But the way he paces them, the way he makes sure you can feel the drag of his nose, his lashes, against your face makes them sensual. They give you goosebumps. 

When he kisses your lips, you make sure to gently pinch his bottom one between your teeth. “They’re called love bites for a reason, lovey.”

You let your arms stretch out in front of you, your chest hitting the mattress. Your hands smooth over Art’s shoulders and up to his neck. You pretend not to notice the flush your chosen pet name has given him. Patrick would have his ass if he heard that. 

You raise your gaze to meet his. “And you deserve so many of those sweet bites for giving me such a fun day today.”

Art’s nails scratch over your neck and you stifle a moan. “Yeah? You enjoyed it?”

You nod, biting on the inside of your cheek. Art taps his thumb on your jaw, signaling for you to quit before you hurt yourself. 

“Maybe we could do it in one of those air-conditioned places next time? It’s too fucking hot for that.”

He chuckles, slotting his lips over yours once again. His brow furrows, and you can practically feel him pressing his affection into you. When he pulls away, he wipes the dampness from the corner of your mouth. 

“You know we can,” he starts. “It’s always better in the fall, too.”

Your stomach flips with the urgent need for him. He’s too perfect, and he’s too far away from you. He should never be that far.

You put your hands on his sides and add the slightest bit of pressure, as if you’re going to hoist him up. He gets the memo and stands. 

For a moment, the image of him towering over you, looking at you with those doe eyes, makes you forget every thought that was previously in your head. Art’s hands fall to your sides, mimicking your moves from seconds before, and you allow him to maneuver you onto your back so he can settle on top of you. 

“And next time, princess?”

You hum, preoccupied with the weight of him above you. His hand cups your chin, encouraging you to make eye contact with him. 

“Next time, that cute skirt stays on when we get home.”

————

note: none of the gifs or images i use are mine! i get most of my images from pinterest or here, and gifs from about the same. please let me know if i ever don’t credit someone properly!

rb banner by @steph-speaks

[charliemwrites]

A reader x Simon commission piece I just recently finished for my sweet bean N.W. I had a lot of fun writing a little scenario I never would have thought up on my own!

(Reader is described with FAB anatomy, but no gendered pronouns are used. No sensitive content warnings, just spice.)

It’s a perfect day.

The sun is a bright golden marble in a perfect jewel sky, toasting the sand into a powdery bed. There are only wisps of flossy cloud to interrupt the light, a feathery salt-soaked breeze to soften the edge of heat. The water is nothing but lazy ripples, foamy waves crawling up the coastline before slithering back.

And your coworker is soaking wet.

When you first signed on as a lifeguard, you didn’t expect more than some extra pocket money. A little financial cushion while you finished working through your master’s program. A chance to get some sunshine instead of holing up in your room. Maybe the occasional bit of eye candy while you fished children out of the shallows and fussed at families for littering around the barbecue grills.

You didn’t expect Simon “Walking Wet Dream” Riley. (Okay, that’s not his actual nickname – apparently it’s “Ghost.” Because of course it is.) You didn’t expect his big, fuck-off muscles, or his perfect sun-bleached hair, or the dark ink of his tattoos, or…

Well.

You got more than just eye candy when Mister Price hired you. Simon is a whole damn feast. Especially when he’s fresh from a cool-down swim, red trunks weighed down by water and tides, revealing the tantalizing curves of his hips. Droplets skittering over the bulges and divots of his body, sparkling in the sun…

“Excuse me?”

You try not to jolt, head jerking to the guy that hopefully hasn’t been standing there too long. He looks about your age, maybe a bit older. Wavy, chin-length brown hair and eyes nearly as blue as the water. Pretty, in a young Instagram prince kind of way. Maybe your type in another time – the time Before Simon.

“Hi,” you say quickly, “did you need something?”

“Do you have any plasters?” he asks. “My little brother scraped his knee.”

You glance at the kid shuffling just behind him, his knees dirtied and one red with a bit of blood. Nothing serious, you determine, but could use some first aid.

“Oh, poor thing!” you say. “C’mon, we have some bandages in the shack.”

You wave to get Simon’s attention, make the quick hand-sign indicating you’ll be gone for a moment. He notices you, the two boys, then nods and makes his way back to his usual lookout spot.

The shack is a quiet, cool oasis away from the heat. You’ve dozed off next to the mist fan more times than you care to admit, only to be woken by Simon pressing a cold water bottle to your cheek. It used to annoy you, but now you appreciate the reminder to hydrate.

There’s a robust first aid kit in one of the cabinets, though you groan a bit when you see how high Simon’s stashed it this time. Damned tall man; you could swear he does it on purpose. You try to reach it on your toes, but when that doesn’t work, you jump a bit. Still no luck. You’re going to have to get the stepstool at this rate.

“Here, I’ve got it.”

You jump a bit as Insta-Prince comes up behind you, sliding in close before you can scoot out of the way. He stretches his arm over your head, tugging the kit down from the shelf. When you glance up – concerned about something falling on you – you find him smirking down at you.

“Thanks,” you say trying not to snatch it out of his hands.

“Seems like an… inconvenient place to put that,” he muses.

You sit the younger brother on a plastic chair near the door and kneel, kit open on the floor. “We usually keep it lower… I think Simon forgets I’m shorter than him.”

The kid winces a bit at the sting of wound wash but puts on a brave face when you smile at him.

“Seems pretty rude. Is he hard to work with?” Insta-Prince asks.

You hesitate, trying to think of how to respond. Simon was intimidating, at first. Dark eyes and stoic expression, he was difficult to read. Always within a stone’s throw, you used to feel like he was hovering. Like he didn’t think you could do your job right.

Over the months, though, that insecurity has bridged into a tentative friendship. Even if he’s not talkative himself, he lets you chat to your heart’s content. Keeps you hydrated, reminds you to eat snacks and apply sunscreen. Even handles the rowdier beachgoers when they break rules, his bigger stature and sharp glare enough to cow even the most entitled people.

“No, he’s—”

“What’s the hold up?”

You glance up at Simon’s broad form angled in the shack’s doorway. His eyes aren’t on you or the kid, though. They’re on Insta-Prince – standing a little close to you, now that you’re not focused on the younger brother.

“Just finishing up,” you answer, smoothing a waterproof bandage over the scrape. “You did great, buddy, high five!”

That earns you a little smile and the requested high-five as the kid hops out of the chair. When you stand, Simon’s eyes flick to you. Darker than deep water, something swimming within that you can discern from the surface. It makes you fidgety, like you’ve been caught out doing something you shouldn’t.

“Remember to log it,” he rumbles.

“On it!” You lean over the wooden counter to pluck the clipboard from the wall on the other side, relieved that someone put the pen back for once.

“So, you have to write down all the injuries people get?” Insta-Prince asks, trying for casual conversation. The air feels oddly stifling, and gets worse when he settles closer, peeking around to see the sheet.

“Just if we use medical supplies,” you answer, scribbling quickly.

“Lifeguards only in the shack, kid,” Simon interrupts. “Get moving.”

You try not to snort in amusement. While Simon might tolerate you, he’s got a general disdain for most beachgoers – ironic considering how adamant he is about safety. But he seems to find the average person a nuisance to be constantly monitored and herded away from trouble. Like a shepherd with a flock of particularly stupid sheep.

“My brother was hurt, man, give me a break,” Insta-Prince protests, annoyed.

“And now he’s not,” Simon replies. “You should catch up with him. Kids need to be watched, isn’t that right, sunshine?”

You hum absently in agreement, signing off on the injury log with your initials. There’s a beat of silence that itches at the back of your mind. When you look up, Simon’s arching an eyebrow at the guy, thick arms crossed across his barrel chest.

Sir, firearms are not allowed on the beach, you think, before wrenching your eyes from Simon’s biceps.

“Did you need anything else?” you ask Insta-Prince.

“Just what time you get off work,” he replies, giving you big, soft, hopeful eyes.

You blink, a bit shocked. Flirting happens rarely for you, except maybe platonically with Soap or Gaz. To be fair, you’re not exactly the female lifeguard idol that most people would fantasize about. Half the time you jog around in shorts and a rash-guard, more comfortable in unisex swimwear and keeping the worst of the sun off yourself. Helpful to avoid wardrobe malfunctions if a panicking swimmer grabs at you.

Besides, you’re not really looking to get hit on. Hard to keep an eye out for emergencies if someone’s chatting your ear off for a shag by the restrooms. (You didn’t think people really did that until Farah groaned about it at the bonfire when you first hired.) Still, now that it’s happening… you don’t hate it. This guy is objectively attractive, apparently cares about his younger sibling enough to get him first-aid, and is weathering Simon’s increasingly annoyed scowl.

You figure there’s no harm. Not like someone else is showing a similar interest.

“At sunset,” you answer. “So, uh…”

“6:30,” Simon offers.

You shoot him a grateful look as the kid begins scooting for the door, skirting around Simon’s wider, thicker frame. Christ, the difference is stark. You tug at the front of your rash-guard to relieve some of the sudden heat.

“Maybe I’ll see you then,” he says before disappearing around the corner.

You stare after him for a second. He didn’t even ask for your name. “Huh.”

“The hell was that, sunshine?” Simon grouses.

You turn to him and shrug. “No idea.”

“Really now?” he scoffs.

You shake your head, already agitated by the whole thing for no reason you can pinpoint. Lean over the counter again to hang up the clipboard. “Really.”

“This isn’t a place for your silly summer fantasies and little meet-cutes,” he growls. “This is a real job, with real lives on the line.”

You twist around, brows furrowed as your mouth drops open in offense. “I know that.”

“Do you? Then why the fuck were you in here flirting?”

“I was helping the kid,” you argue, “you saw him!”

“Real convenient, that. When the older one’s been eye-fucking you all damn day.”

Any snappy retorts drown in the shock of his crass language and the accusation. All day? That guy? And Simon noticed? Never mind all that – Simon would seriously think you’d use a kid’s injury as an excuse to… what? Get cozy with an attractive stranger while on duty?

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you huff, “but I need to get back out there.”

As you pass, a big, rough hand snaps out and catches your elbow. You come up short, half-turning towards him, face hot. Equal parts angry and ashamed for some reason. Summer romance your ass.

“Get it together,” he orders.

You click your tongue at him. “Same to you.”

You wrench your arm back and storm out onto the sand, snatching your floatie from the shack railing along the way. Don’t know what jellyfish stung his ass, but you hope he figures it out. Don’t think your self-esteem can take another round of… whatever that was.

The rest of the day passes tense and slow. Without Simon to talk to, and the beach relatively peaceful, you’re left to fixate on the incident in the shack. What was that about? You thought for sure you’d grown on Simon a bit. Sure, you’re one of the younger lifeguards, which is why Price assigned you to Simon’s post, but you’ve worked hard. You thought you’d proven yourself.

Checking your watch, you find that it’s nearly 6:30. The sun doesn’t seem that low yet, but the beach got empty while you were idly keeping watch. Might as well pack it in, you figure.

Not even thinking of Insta-Prince when you hop up the little wooden steps to the shack. Simon isn’t back from wherever he’s monitoring yet, and you’d like to be clear before that changes. Just in case he’s still in a bad mood.

You shed your blue swim-shorts and rash-guard on the counter, leaving you in the more standard one-piece. Roll your shoulders a bit uncomfortably, itching to squeeze into your binder after a day with tits-out. You’ve gotten accustomed to the sensation of leaving it off for the job, but you’d still prefer to wear it when safe.

You flop onto the counter, reaching over the side to fish your bag out from its cubby. Of course, that’s the exact moment that you hear Simon’s heavy step on that creaky board by the doorway.

“Bloody hell,” you think you hear him mutter.

“I’m just about to head out,” you assure him.

“Meeting up with that knob?”

Your temper flares. You abandon your bag and land on your feet, spinning around. Come up (very) short when Simon’s right there, not enough room to breathe without your chests brushing. But you don’t allow yourself to be deterred.

“So, what if I am?” you challenge.

His eyes darken, then narrow. “This isn’t a game you want to play, sunshine.”

“Maybe I do,” you insist, planting your hands on your hips.

He exhales slow and heavy, boxes you in against the counter with hands on either side of you. Your stupid, traitorous heart skips a beat, then trips into double time. Normally he wears a rash-guard too, but not today. No, today it’s swathes of tanned, scarred skin. And it’s so, so close to yours.

“You won’t win,” he warns.

Your tongue feels heavy and clumsy, maybe because your thoughts feel the same way. Now, you’re not always the most aware of “signals,” but there aren’t many other ways to interpret someone near-pinning you to a counter with smoldering eyes.

You scramble to review the earlier confrontation through a new lens. The way Simon glared at Insta-Prince, not you – until you seemed open to his interest. Oh. Ohhhh.

You wet your lips; the way his eyes lock onto the movement bolsters your courage.

“What if… I don’t want to win?” you ask.

His eyes dart up to yours, something a little sharper than longing when he whispers, “I’d make you a sore loser.”

An unexpected laugh bursts out of you; his teeth flash in a crooked smile as he scoops you up so easily. He sits you on edge of the counter and steps between your thighs, pelvis bumping against yours. You gasp, head dropping to stare wide-eyed at the frankly monstrous bulge in his trunks.

“W-wow,” you mumble faintly, thighs squeezing around his hips.

“C’mere, sunshine,” he growls, cupping your jaw.

You tilt your face up, sigh softly as his mouth slots over yours. He tastes like blue powerade and sea salt, tongue curling against yours when you grant him enthusiastic access.

Your hands make scattered, eager work of exploring him, unsure where you want to touch first, just that you have to. He’s as solid as you always expected, densely packed muscle under healthy, hydrated layers of fat. Sun-warm beneath your palms, shudders as your skim them dangerously close low on his twitching abdomen.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, tugging gently at the shoulder strap of your swimsuit.

“Yeah,” you mumble, wriggling closer.

He huffs in amusement, peeling the elastic material over your arms and down your chest while you scatter kisses over his jaw and neck. You gasp into his peck when his calloused thumbs brush your hard nipples. Just a small touch, yet electricity is racing up and down your spine.

“This alright?” he checks.

You hum the affirmative, pressing into his touch as he pinches and rolls the sensitive peaks, slow searching. Reclaims your mouth to swallow each and every little mewl and moan that spills off your tongue. You can’t help rocking against him, hot and hard through the thin layers of swimwear.

“Simon,” you whine against his mouth, “c’mon.”

“Impatient,” he teases, nipping your bottom lip.

“You’ve kept me waiting long enough,” you complain, tugging at his trunks.

“I know, sunshine,” he coos, “just wait a bit longer.”

He takes the tiniest step back, fingers hooking in your swimsuit again to roll it the rest of the way off. You lift your hips to help, nearly squirming as strings of slick web between the fabric and your pussy. But Simon seems hypnotized, snapping the strands with his fingers and following them back to your swollen cunt.

“Fuck, all this for me, baby?” he rasps.

You make an embarrassed noise – which quickly graduates into an alarmed squeal when he drops to his knees.

“Simon, wait, I’ve been working all day and—”

“Don’ give a fuck,” he growls, “I’ve been dying to taste you for weeks.”

He yanks your thighs over his big, strong shoulders and dives in. It’s messy and obscenely loud, filling up the tiny shack and all the empty space in your head. Would be embarrassing if you had any room for something so frivolous. Instead, you’re gone on the way he sucks your clit and laps thirstily at your entrance. Utterly obsessed with the deep, throaty groans that leave you throbbing.

It's been a while, true, but you know he’d have you on edge so fast regardless. And he does, rushing up on it like a building, rolling wave. The devastating kind that’ll drown you in unyielding currents.

“Wait, wait,” you squeak, tugging at his coarse hair.

To his credit, he stops instantly, though he sounds absolutely gutted about it. Pulls back licking his lips like a cat with cream, chin practically dripping.

“Alright?” he asks, voice shredded to ribbons.

“I just,” you pant, “I just w-wasn’t ready to – to… I wanna cum on your cock. Please, Si?”

“Fuckin’ hell.” He surges up, pressing you down flat to kiss you stupid(er) and senseless. The taste of you isn’t as offensive as you expected, not coming from his tongue. “You’ll get anything you want if you keep talking like that.”

“Just want you.”

He helps you off the counter, drags you by the wrist to the plastic chair by the doorway. You’re about to protest – no way can that chair support someone his size, never mind both of you. But then he’s spinning you around, crushing you to his chest, and yanking you down into his lap. Any such nonsense as good sense dissolves like a sandcastle.

You can feel the length of him pressing hot and a little wet against your spine. (So, so high up your spine, good god). When he freed himself from his swim-trunks, you’re not sure, nor do you care at this moment. Your priorities narrow down to one absolute necessity: getting him inside you now, now, now.

“Easy now, baby, don’t hurt yourself,” he purrs in your ear. “Let me help.”

He curls big hands around your hips, tight enough that you relish the bruises that may bloom there later. Supports your weight as if it’s nothing to him, propping you over his lap as you line up his cock, dragging the flushed head through your pooling wetness. He curses low and rough, sinking you down until the tip catches on your entrance.

“There we are,” he grits, hands flexing in your soft flesh. “Nice and slow now, sunshine.”

If you had your way, he’d already be balls deep in your aching pussy. But his grip is firm and unrelenting, lowering you inch by thick inch down his shaft. You back and squeeze around him, encouraging him deeper, faster, helpless little noises escaping from your gaping mouth.

“That’s it, halfway there,” he breathes. “Doing so well.”

You choke. Halfway?! You already feel stuffed, walls gripping every contour of his cock like you were made for him.

He twitches inside you, bulbous, leaking head grinding deliciously, and your resolve cracks right down the middle. You dig your nails into his thighs and slam your hips down, crying out as he buries deep inside. Can feel him nudging your cervix, stretching your silky walls, all the way down to where your opening is sealed tight around the base of him.

“Fuck,” he snarls.

“F-feels so good,” you whimper, head falling forward as you clench around him.

Oh, you are definitely going to be so perfectly sore after this. You can’t fucking wait.

“If you’re that impatient to be ruined,” he chuckles breathlessly, “best brace yourself, lovie.”

You barely manage to get your feet planted before he’s fucking up into you, hard and mean. Just what you want, what you need. Your head falls back to cry your pleasure to the shack roof as you bounce. Rocking your hips each time he bottoms out, grinding him against that spongy bundle of nerves inside you. It’s mind-numbing; you’re leaking around him, know it must be dripping onto the floor at this point.

He snakes a hand around to your front. Brushes where the two of you are connected, the strange and dangerous sensation making tears prick at your eyes. Then his fingers skip up to your needy, oversensitive clit. You almost want to stop him, already so overwhelmed with pleasure. But again, anything like coherent thought is ripped away on a tide of ecstasy when he begins rubbing quick, tight circles.

Your rhythm faulters at the new stimulation, but Simon just widens his stance. It changes the angle, drags the head so perfectly against your g-spot. With the hand still on your hip, he starts jerking you down to meet each thrust. It’s slightly slower, but so much sweeter, combined with the rhythm he’s strumming on your clit.

Your orgasm rises like a tsunami, higher and higher, a devastating force building up inside.

“Simon,” you keen, “Simon, I’m gonna – right there…”

“That’s it, sunshine. Get me nice and wet with your cum.”

That voice, saying such filth in your ear, sends you over the edge. You nearly convulse, eyes rolling back in your head as you scream. Back arching, writhing and gripping crescents into his thighs. And you can feel yourself gushing all over him, onto the floor.

“Yes, yes, fuck, just like that.”

You’re near limp as he keeps hammering into you, practically using you like a toy to get himself off. The thought alone makes you squeeze around him again, a powerful aftershock bringing another flood of wetness. Your head lolls back against his shoulder, crying into his ear, begging him to cum inside you, fill you up…

He crashes his mouth into yours as he cums, groaning into your lax mouth, jerking violently into your overstimulated pussy. You swear you can feel him spurting inside you, thick and white-hot. It feels… it feels…

You break the kiss to suck in a deep breath, lightheaded and still squeaky with pleasure. Simon trails soothing kisses over your shoulder, grip easing up to caress over the forming finger marks. You hum softly, voice husky. Flutter your eyes open and blink at the pink sky out the window.

“Is it… is it just now sunset?” you ask.

Simon chuckles against your ear. “Looks like I was about thirty minutes off. Whoops.”

[fedcrypt]

HIGH SPEED AND FULL THROTTLE

poly!fast-team x female!reader

WRITING WARNINGS: pure adorable fluff because the team deserves all the love &. patience that the reader can give them!

XOXO, CHESHIRE — i’ve always kinda wondered what it would be like in a poly relationship with everyone of the crew so here is a small lil drabble about it! now to specify since i know some may bring up dom and mia being siblings, yes they are siblings and NO they are not in a relationship they simply share the reader along with their friends and NO they aren’t ever near each other in intimate moments either, i know that isn’t discussed here but i wanted to clarify that as well AND i can do a whole list of headcanons if anyone is interested <3!

the growling rumble of numerous cars surrounded the block causing the woman to grin softly to herself as she continued humming along to the voice of reba mcentire that swept through the kitchen. the warming smell of lemon pepper seasoned chicken, homemade mashed potatoes, fresh corn on the cob, and the cinnamon from the apple pie that had been finishing up baking in the oven had flooded through the kitchen of the toretto home. the grin stayed upon the woman’s lips as she moved around the kitchen to grab down the plates for the dinner before she moved towards the silverware drawer and grabbed some prior to heading out the back door, setting up everyone’s spots at the outside table as she heard the shared laughter reaching towards the front door.

“babe?” both dominic and brian had called out in sync as they entered first and couldn’t find their beloved girlfriend who usually greeted them at the door. mia chuckled softly as she took a sniff of the air and knew the woman was probably setting up for dinner, leading to her and letty rushing towards the kitchen in order to beat the boys to the greeting kisses. tej and roman were quick to realize what the girls were doing and quickly rushed after them leaving dom, brian, and han shaking their head and laughing at the antics of those four.

the trio soon found themselves in the kitchen with the rest of the crew who were trying to help y/n plate the food onto safe to carry dishes and help her carry them outside to the backyard table. “there y’all are! y’all had me worried!” y/n exclaimed with a wide grin and made her way through the crowd of her lovers towards the trio who willingly awaited her arrival kisses and gentle fussing checkovers to ensure that they weren’t hurt. “we’re alright sweetheart, don’t worry your pretty little head over that.” han replied while placing a gentle kiss upon her forehead making the woman gleefully giggle at her man’s actions. the h/c woman was quick to grab at brian’s hand and hold it gently in hers as she quietly with a grin on her face dragged him out the back door of the house with her. dominic and han were quick to follow the pair outside and notice that the rest of the lovable idiots were passing around the drinks that were in the nearby cooler.

“alright which one of y’all wanna say grace?” the woman questioned as roman pulled out her chair as she went to move to do it herself while letting go of brian’s hand as he went to grab himself a drink. she sat down between roman and tej with mia and brian next to the pair of them and letty with dominic and han across from them. y/n found herself filled with so much love in this moment as she watched her lovers all glance at each other and childishly point fingers at each other trying to get the others to say grace.

she simply grasped her hands together and started grace for the lot of them over the dinner that she lovingly prepared for her hungry law-unbinding loves of her life. this time though they all had their heads bowed and only y/n had her eyes shut, all of them stared at her as they all silently wondered how she did it. how did she find the time, energy, and love in her heart to love and provide for them all the very best that she could without any hesistation whatsoever? their beloved girlfriend deserved to be pampered and spoiled after tonight’s dinner and they were going to do just that — just like they always do.

[backtothefanfiction]

Hiii! i love your writing 😘 if your ok with writing this could i request some fluffy dad!felix catton if you have any in store?! again, totally understand if your uncomfortable writing this or just don’t want to 😊😊

It’s taken me a while to get to this because I’ve been struggling to find my way in when it comes to Felix as a Dad. I’m not sure if I do have a Dad!Felix fluff in me but I do have some thoughts/head canons on Felix as a Dad as a whole I’m slowly developing. So here are those…

Felix is all in in the newborn stage. It’s a novelty for him. The easy stage before they find their voices and start screaming the place down. When all you have to do is hold them, feed them, change them. He’s so there for that.

He’s happy to get up in the middle of the night, looking out the windows at the grounds with a baby in his arms, telling stories and recounting memories of his youth and that time running around the grounds with Farleigh and Venetia.

He loves see you with HIS child. He’s very protective. While you lie in his bed with tea and toast, feeding your child he shoos everyone else from the room, not wanting to share that sight or special time with anyone else in the family. Venetia is the only one who occasionally slips through the cracks. (She is a great aunt to your child by the way)

When the baby starts to grow older though he begins to struggle. You are a very hands on parent in comparison to him and he’s happy for you to be. After all his mother was very hands on with him and Venetia, however as a child he never saw his Dad there as much as his Mum and so has adopted a similar way of thinking that of his father and grandfather that fussing kids is a Mother problem.

Don’t get me wrong, he still loves showing up to be the fun dad. Running across the lawns with them. Enabling their hobbies and paying for anything they want. But when it comes to the hard stuff you feel completely abandoned.

As time goes on you realise you aren’t on the same wave length about parenting at all. And a lot of that has to do with Felix’s upbringing and family.

Elspeth is always there to step in and make a fuss, forcing herself on her grandchildren like she makes everything better, but often (especially if a child is already in a tantrum state it can sometimes make it worse until she just hands the child back and leaves you with a screaming child.

When Felix’s mates come knocking, asking him to go on golfing or skiing holidays with them it’s always “you’ve got this, haven’t you babe? Great. I love you. See you in a week.”

And because that’s how Felix was raised, what he observed from his family over the years, he honestly knows no better.

“If you’re struggling we can just get a Nanny.” He says when you confront him. It always has you seeing red. “I don’t want a Nanny Felix. I want US to raise our kids.”

You realise the only way things will change is if you all get out of that house and away from his family. So you give him the ultimatum: “it’s either us or your family.”

Of course it’s that honour in him, that unspoken traditional allegiance to your wife and kids that has him reluctantly agreeing, hoping in a few months you’ll see sense and see how difficult it is without all the servants and his daddy’s money. But you thrive, despite the way Felix shuffles his feet and does the bare minimum in protest.

After another argument where you tell him to show up or fuck off back to his family he finally takes you seriously and the more time he spends with you and your family and more modest hands on parenting and living styles he begins to thrive, seeing that the grass can be greener on the other side.

The more time away from his family he sees how toxic his families dynamic is. When you visit he sticks up for his kids and is protective of them when his parents begin to push their values and views on his kids.

You stand by him as he begins to put in boundaries and really analyse his life, his youth, his privilege and how it has in fact hindered him in life in so many basic ways. You support him and feel pride when he helps enforce those boundaries around his parents, his family as he ultimately gives them the same ultimatum you gave him all those years ago.

Although his father is reluctant, Elspeth is desperate to know her grandchildren and apologised to you both and promises to respect your parenting choices and swears to try and uphold those values in front of your children as much as she can.

With the new boundaries in place, summers in Saltburn become regular things for your kids. All of you playing together on the grounds. Chasing each other through the maze. Swimming in the pool and the lake.You and Felix set up scavenger hunts for your kids. And they ultimately grow up with the best of both worlds.

So yeah. Those are my more realistic Dad Felix thoughts. Tell me what you think….

[darylsfavoritegirl]

SUMMARY: fem!reader gets sick after the events of terminus and daryl takes care of her!!

this was requested by @welcumetomyescape thank you for the idea once again!!!

A/N: this could've been a lot longer than this i just got really impatient because i finished early at school today so i was very much eager to write this. i hope you enjoy it and it satisfies the person who requested it!!!

You coughed for the millionth time, seeking your hand to cover your mouth as you leered through your brows at the crowd infront of you.

Your raspy cough caught Michonne's attention as she turned her head lightly to your side, her hands loose on her sides due to thirst and hunger.

"You alright over there?" She worried.

"Ahem." You made it out through your chapped, sore lips and moist eyes as you simply nodded. You scrutinized your surroundings, goosebumps swarming through your entire body in contrast to the heat of the south. You were left behind from the others, leisurely dragging your feet along as you hoped you'd make through the day until you'd find a roof to sleep under.

Michonne turned her head down, observing her shoes as the group halted on the side of a road and you thanked the one who suggested it.

You didn't bother to check to see what they were up to as you collapsed to a pavement, your palm reaching the paving stones eased your fall. You placed your elbows on your knees, your left palm massaging your forehead wretchedly.

You spotted Daryl's boots drawing near you from your semi-shut eyes. You raised your head, feeling dazed due to holding your head high too much. You lowered your head as he knelt down infront of you, grabbing your kness softly to get strength for his position.

You observed his face, dark circles shaping under his eyes and were you so sure you had them, too.

"You look awful." You joked with a withered voice escaping your mouth.

A pityful smile tugged on his lips as he lingered his eyes through your soul. He had been perceiving you all day long, how you'd grown more tired with each passing hour, how you'd been burning up; yet resisting it with the very less brittle power left in your body.

He lowered his head

"Brough' ya water." and passed you a bottle of water that was on his pocket.

"Save it for Judith." You spoke low, putting your hand on the water bottle to push it away as you eyed the others from the corner of your eye.

"She dun' need water."

"She need' formula."

"Sum' damn baby food."

He uttered in a deflated tone. He broke the eye contact, behelding the woods as he kept resting his hands on your knees.

"Plus, yer burnin' up." He shifted his gaze to you with heavy-lidded eyes.

"I'll get through this, too." You assured him, putting a constrained smile upon your face.

"Like hell ya ar'." He disdained as he heaved out a long sigh. He got up, looking down at you.

"Don't make a fuss about it." You hissed under your breath, making sure no one else heard it. A brief silence passed like a decade as you glared at him with stern eyes. His posture didn't shift after all, not taking in to process anything you said. You felt all your boldness flowing away as he didn't seem to give your words a second thought.

"Screw you." You bellowed in a tone above whisper when your hands met on your lap, drawing your knees to your chest as you looked away.

"I'ma talk ta Rick." He grunted, maintaining the eye contact he just forced you.

"And then what?"

"There 's gotta be sum' cabin I know of 'round here." He uttered, scrutinizing the area with his smokey eyes.

"I'm not so sure... After all that cannibal sensation." you huffed as you started scribbling the ground with a damp twig. Your whole journey was about this, escaping the what so-called safe sanctuary terminus.

"We got real far off." He shrugged his shoulders, the water bottle swinging on his fingertips as he eyeballed the others. His eyes met with yours.

You simply heaved a sigh, whimpering under your breath to the unbearable aches on your joints and entire body. You lifted your head, not uttering a word. You were very well aware of your condition, sweat beading your neck mixed with dirt repulsed you with nausea.

"I ain't jus' gonna sit 'ere and watch yea torture yerself." He stated with furrowed brows. You, once again remained silent as you lowered your head at your doodles covering the soil.

A part of you would give worlds to stick to one place with roofs and a tender bed with pillows for a while, yet it wasn't the time nor the place to mull over for such self-centered ideas.

You ran your fingers through your hair as you hunched your shoulders. You refused to gaze at him, though you felt his penetrating gaze sticking through you.

"Tha' wound ain't gon' heal itself, neither." He mumbled, resting his body weight on his left leg.

"It's just grazed me." You shrugged your shoulders, embracing your legs even thightly with your left arm. You wished to be as small as possible, as invisible as possible.

He stood there with complete silence briefly, seeing that you weren't lifting your head even an inch to meet with his gaze nor saying anything else, he left you there. You heard him exhaling abruptly.

You observed him approaching Rick from the corner of your eyes as you shook your head in apace as if it'd heal your maddening migraine. You screwed your eyes shut, resting your forehead on your knees as you gradually let go off your clutch on the twig.

All you could hear was your shallow breaths along with the muffled conversations from your people that wind carried all the way to you.

You opened your eyes. It was almost like your wide-eyed gaze gave you your five senses back. You were suddenly sweating buckets, though sane part of your mind notioned it was like that all along. You leered at the center of your shorts zip and your hair obstructing a clear view when you heard shallow footsteps drawing near you.

You raised your head, saw Rick looking down at you with his hands on his waist.

"Damn, you look awful." He exclaimed in a raspy voice owing to thirst.

You failed to find strength in responding back so you stayed put, waiting for him to talk again. You sighed as you spoke

"It isn't safe."

You noticed Daryl rolling his eyes lightly as he shifted his position.

"You got Daryl." Rick remarked with self-confidence.

You slouched your posture, locking your eyes on the opposide direction.

"C'mon." Daryl grunted as he reached his arm to grip you by the biceps.

"I can't." You breathed out as you shook your head and gave him a stern glare.

A brief silence as no one said a word.

"Y'ain't gon' do nothin' but slow 'em down." He growled, getting looks from the group, some of them you'd just met a few days ago.

"Come on y/n. Daryl's right." Rick mumbled, inattentiveness bearing his features.

"I got it." Daryl huffed under his breath to Rick.

Daryl clucthed you by the biceps with his firm grip as he held his other hand close to your waist.

You couldn't comprehend how sitting down for 5 minutes had an unbelievable impact on your body as you almost toppled over him. Your legs were practically useless as Daryl caught you by the waist and lingered through you with his smokey eyes. You leered back at him through your lashes, failing to find the might to speak.

"We'll catch up with you all in a few days." You mumbled as you turned your body towards them, your right hand was over his shoulder, he held your hand securely.

"Well, don't you look like shit." A new bulky ginger guy called Abraham uttered, sniggering under his long ginger mustache.

"I've heard that many times today." You forced a smile as you narrowed your eyes at Michonne and Rick friskfully. He scoffed tauntingly with his girlfriend.

"Ain't yea a chatter now?" Daryl quipped low, not loosening his grip on your hands as Rick approached you. You rolled your eyes, craving nothing but to spend atleast a day in a safe cabin.

Your hair danced with the breeze as you tucked strands of it behind your ear. Rick started walking to your direction as he passed you a pistol, giving you an assurring look then shifted his attention to Daryl.

They exchanged silent agreements by nodding their heads consecutively. A sense of safeness washed all over you.

"Can ya walk?" He inquired with cautious eyes incase you'd lie.

"I'm fine." You whined as you started walking toward the woods, peeking a glance at the others for the last time.

You strolled through the woods, then a hilly, then a road. Your head felt like exploding at the heat, sweating buckets hence leaving your body sticky.

Your undertaking of not letting out moans due to your pain grew to fell short swiftly.

"Where is this cabin, Daryl?" You puffed sharply as you halted in the middle of the road.

"Ain't so far." He lifted his shoulders, scanning the area.

"Can we stop for a minute?" You asked, glancing through your brows as you put all your effort to maintain your heaving chest.

He clattered a sound to indicate it was ok. You tossed your backpack to the ground as you sat down on the warm surface.

Your placed your hands on your knees as you observed the area.

"Should'n be out in the open like dis." He spoke, lifting his brows to scrutinize his surroundings with a wrinkly forehead.

You kept quite as your head sagged on your shoulders out of lassitude. You squeezed your eyes.

"Hey hey, stay wit' me." He rushed next to you, taking out a water bottle out of his backpack.

"Need yea ta stay hydrated." He muttered as he cupped your neck softly. He passed the water bottle near your lips, almost forcing you to drink. You heaved a sigh and wiped your mouth with your thumb.

"Gon' cook ya up a nice squirrel or sumthin' once we get there." He joked.

You creased your brows and painted a smile on your lips.

"I'm good with anything as long as it's not a snake." You uttered tauntingly. A sense of darkness hovered his features as if he was insulted and it passed within seconds. You sat like that for quite a long time.

Your flu got worse by the time you got to the cabin. Plus, it was almost like you were at the brink of a seizure with your wound on your leg. Daryl had to carry you all the way down to the cabin, safe to say you were slowing him down.

Your bottom lip trembled as he put you on the bed, tucking the hair behind your ear that was soaked with your sweat. Your eyes were heavy-lidded, seeing only a blurry view infront of you.

His eyes darkened as he observed you with concerning eyes. He knelt down on the wooden floor, opened the backpack's zip in a rush and took out the rain water he stocked earlier that day. Thankful thoughts lined in your head to the rain, your friends most likely had benefited from it aswell.

He got up and placed the jar on the broken table. He scanned the cabin in a flustered manner as he patted his hands on his denim jeans.

Daryl made his way to the thin sheets laying on the floor and cut a piece of cloth and rushed back over to you. Your gaze followed his every move.

"Dis ain't gun' do much."

"Still, better than nothin' " He spoke to himself as he inserted the cloth into the jar, making sure it absorbed the liquid equally.

You looked over him, your eyes fighting to hide behind the lids. You swallowed dryly as he came near you. Water droplets were sliding down his forearm to his elbows and to the floor. Goosebumps flooded through your entire being as some of them hit your skin.

He pushed your baby hairs aside, placing the soaked cloth on top of your forehead. He gazed upon you, then your clothes and how incompetently you tried to cover yourself up.

"That ain't gon' fly." He huffed as he pushed the covers aside.

"I'm cold." You whined, eyes semi-shut. You weren't aware of your surroundings, condition and Daryl being with you. You tried to grab the covers to your chest.

"Yer burnin' up." He grunted as if to correct you.

A moment of bickering passed with him persuading you.

"Might wanna lose the shirt, too." He spoke.

You whined once again as he didn't let you utter a word. He grabbed the hem of your shirt as your fixed your posture, the cloth on your forehead fell on your lap. He grabbed it and tossed it on the table.

"Sit up." He stated.

You got strength by your knuckles from the mattres. The bed sinked under your weight as he pushed the table aside. You raised your arms up high as he took off your shirt and helped you lay on your back. Your teeth chattered as you rubbed your arms on your biceps. A wash of despair washed all over him as he felt useless, that he couldn't do more.

He observed you for a while, contemplating what more he could do. He then, made his way to the end of the bed and started taking out your boots. He held you softly by the leg and tossed them to the ground. A groan of relief escaped your chest.

You raised your head lightly, getting strength from your elbows and chuckled at the scene.

"What a caretaker you are?" You joked as your head fell back.

He mumbled a "Stop." as he came next to you, a subtle smirk tugging on the corner of his lips at your teasing words.

He put the cloth in the jar and let it sink to absorb more water. His attention shifted to you as he sat on the edge of the bed. One could sense that he was in a huge dilemma, that he wasn't completely sure which course of action to take.

You swallowed dryly once again. He reached for your hair, your eyes widened at him. He clattered an "Sssh." between his lips without looking at anywhere else besides your hair. You had to lift your head for a brief moment. With stiff and an upright neck, did he grab all of your hair in his fist and spread them on all over the pillow. Your hair was no longer sticking to your back and neck and you sighed in relief at the feeling.

You lied down as you crossed your hands together on your stomach. You peeked at him with weary eyes, so did he. His attention spaced out to the wall as you uttered after observing him all the way down.

"Help me sit up?" He turned to you, immediatly grabbing your torso with his big hands and helping you sit up without questioning. He couldn't help but ponder in his head how you'd heal more quickly if you didn't try to be the tough one once.

Your fingers digged his bare shoulders as you groaned out of pain. You raised your head to meet with his gaze. You could sense the hesitation on his features as he looked back and forth between your lips and eyes. Safe to say, his hesitation wasn't because of your sickness but because of your potential reaction. He, then let go as he leaned forward.

"Ew, no. Disgusting." You grimaced as you pushed yourself away from his touch and leaned back on the wall.

You avoided an eye contact as he came closer on the bed, forcing you to look at him. You finally gave in and stared upon him, face rosing with heat.

His hands clutched you by the side of your faces and slowly leaned in for a kiss once again. You didn't pull away this time, letting his balmy lips leaving you overstimulated and shaky. So many thoughts, worries ran through your mind. You didn't want him to get sick if he hadn't already catch it, yet you could never resist his touch, his lips. Your face loosened at the feeling of his body against yours. Your grip on his left wrist fell loose as you breathed out after a short kiss.

He gazed through you for a hot minute before he got up.

"Sleep." He grunted as he grabbed his crossbow that was hanging on a hanger.

"Get sum' rest."

"I'll be in the front." He uttered before leaving the cabin

[bloodyquillink-blog]

White at Your Wedding, Ghosts HC’s

Prompt: How the Ghosts would react to someone wearing white at your wedding.

A/N🪶: Hello again. To anyone who may have been keeping up with my fic “Sugar and Lemon”, I’m sorry I haven’t been writing. Between creative juices for the fic running out as well as school, I haven’t been as motivated. However, I do want to continue it. I just need to find the right time. I’m doing summer classes otherwise I probably would be working on it now. It’s just overwhelming at this point. But I still want to give y’all something with the Ghosts since I know a lot of people in that part of the fandom don’t usually get a lot unless it’s with (typically) Keegan. Nothing wrong with that, I just want to include more of them, especially more underrated characters like Ajax and David/Hesh. Thanks for reading this blurb <3

HC Note/TW: May include descriptions/mentions of weapons, violence/violent intentions, shitty people, harassment. Please note: I’m gonna make this AU style where Rorke wasn’t turned and no one was killed because I said so. Reader is gn so their groomsmen/bridesmaids will just be referred to as your “friends on the side”. 

I made a separate one for David because I love him, find that here

Storyline:

He was almost done getting ready. Today was finally that day, that beautiful day that he never thought would happen. Between the world gradually being broken down each time it was nearly put back up, he had expected to be killed in action like everyone else. But perhaps fate was on his side for now. He knew better than to expect everything to run smoothly, though. 

With two different people from two different families, someone was bound to have some opinions. It was just a matter of whether or not they voiced it. Of course, he had made plans just in case. He was getting married to you and there was no way in hell, heaven or on this Earth someone was going to stop that. They could interrupt the wedding all they wanted to, however they pleased. They could set the whole damn thing on fire, but he’d still marry you. 

He tried not to think about how beautiful you’d look, lest he start blushing. It didn’t work but the attempt was worth it, despite the pestering the other Ghosts would no doubt lay upon him. 

The time came and he stood on the slightly elevated stage, groomsmen and best man at his side. Normally, he doesn’t wear white but this is a wedding… his wedding… his and yours wedding. His back was to the hallway you would walk out of, so he kept looking to the faces of his friends and family for any indication. His heart beat was relatively controlled… and then the music began playing… and they smiled… and the officiant gave him the look to turn around. So he did.

And by God, you were ethereal. He couldn’t tell if his heart stopped or was beating so fast he could no longer feel it. His brain was short-circuiting. You had made your way up to the stage, your friends on the side smiling. He just stared, had he been smiling since he saw you? His cheeks were hurting already. You looked up at him, your smile like the sun, he couldn’t care less about going blind if it meant the image of you would be imprinted in his eyes.

Logan Walker

This man would be trying so hard not to panic.

He almost gets whiplash from how fast his head turned to David who, alongside Merrick, would pipe up and tell off the person.

Logan would have been prepared in a rather classy way. 

See… There’s a thing where, if someone wears white at a wedding, especially a dress, the bridesmaids can take wine and pour it on them, effectively ruining the dress.

Logan absolutely has heard of this and got your friends the cheapest wine possible.

Logan looks at your friends and signals to them to get the wine. 

One of them moves around closer to them so their attention is away from the friends with the wine.

David and Merrick tell them that they need to leave.

As they get up to get in their face, wine is poured on them.

They yell and fuss, claiming you and Logan are going to pay for their outfit as they stomp out of the room. 

You, not having expected this, stand there. Your hands are held by Logans and your mouth hangs open.

Your friends smile at you, David and Merrick chuckling to themselves as they all come back to their original positions.

You struggle to form coherent words.

“Did you- when did- where’d the wine come from?! Was that planned?!”

And the wedding continues, the smell of wine and the sound of laughter flowing through the air.

Elias T. “Scarecrow” Walker'

You know this man would be willing to drag out the guilty party himself. 

I fully believe he’d pick them up and carry them outside. 

Otherwise he’d probably set up his other comrades to be guards so people don’t try to get in.

I could imagine it being an old ex or probably a family member he hates. None of the soldiers he knows would dare do that to someone like him, he’s garnered so much respect from them over the years.

Any one of his friends, whether groomsmen or guests, I know they’d all stick up for him as he just watches with a smile.

Thomas A. Merrick

Roasts the ever loving shit out of whoever is wearing white.

“If you’re gonna wear white, at least pick an outfit that fits you right.”

“Did you get that from Walmart? I think I saw that when I went last week.”

“That would look better on Riley, but hey, who am I to judge?”

I know the person would willingly walk out without having to be escorted, due to embarrassment.

Gabriel T. Rorke

I can’t see him having a very public wedding. There is a very short list of people allowed and if there’s someone he doesn’t know, he’s meeting them beforehand.

If someone dared to wear white, well…

As all eyes are on them as they stand, showing off the color that was only meant for the two of you, he takes the opportunity since everyone is distracted.

He slowly reaches and shifts his white suit jacket, lifting just the edge, enough for the offender to see the gun, or other weapon, he has tucked away.

He lets go so he looks normal again, while the person is left with wide eyes, suddenly nervous.

They leave with minimal issue and everything resumes, people are left confused but eventually shrug it off as Rorke having intimidated them with his presence alone.

Keegan P. Russ

Keegan would be the type where, prior to the wedding, he expects everyone to show what they are planning on wearing.

He makes sure the two of you set guidelines so it is absolutely clear that if anyone tries to come in wearing white, they will be thrown out and not allowed back in. 

This man does not leave room for error. 

He takes advantage of having your friends/family’s (bridesmaids/groomsmen) contact info so he can keep an eye on everything.

Would absolutely sweet talk your grandparents or parents into keeping him informed whenever possible, especially if there’s gossip (Keegan loves gossip and you can’t tell me otherwise).

Alex V. “Ajax” Johnson

He wouldn’t bring weapons like Rorke or make snide comments like Merrick.

This is a man of respect, and while he’d be annoyed, he’d be prepared.

As people turned around and gasped and gossiped, he’d remain calm and relaxed despite his comrades wanting to push the person out.

He’d want them to be politely escorted out and you wouldn’t have to do anything.

Naturally, he’s fuming but this is your wedding after all. He maintains his composure.

If the person speaks up, they’ll be escorted out. If not, I can imagine him letting them stay, not wanting to waste time and probably continuing to marry you out of spite and right before the dinner, they suddenly aren’t allowed in.

They’re edited out of any photos they may have forced their way into, everyone basically ignores them. 

I love you, Ajax <3

Kick

This guy is just getting married privately.

Mostly just because regular weddings are so hectic and frankly, he isn’t much of a people person but he still wants to marry you.

[majinbangus]

Hii <3 I love your blog so much especially it's about captain mactavish😩🤍so can I ask hcs about captain mactavish with his pregnant wife!and after birth because BOY he's so manly man

imma use the twins i’ve given soap, usually i picture ‘22 soap, but gonna write this with the captain in mind this time

Mans was prepared

Like a whole month early prepared before the due date. Got the overstay bag packed and everything.

It was sweet how on top of things he was about this–you expected nothing less from your special forces husband–but you thought it was a bit overkill how he was acting like you were a bomb about to explode, watching your every move, seeing if you needed him at a moment’s notice. You could barely breathe with how closely he was sticking by your side in that last month.

You had to tell him to relax, this wasn’t like the missions he went on, risking his life

And you know what he said?

“You’re right”

You are?

“Aye, it’s much more high stakes” 

This was going to be your life on the line, while he sat on the sidelines, unable to do anything while you would be in pain. 

Let the man fuss, goddammit. He’s preparing himself for every possible outcome, especially the worst ones, but he doesn’t say that

You shut up and let him fuss

When the time came for the twins to arrive, you didn’t feel an ounce of worry with John by your side

The birth went smoothly, thankfully, and as much as John loved his children, he wasn’t able to fully relax until you were confirmed to be okay, only then did the tension finally leave his body

Hard part was over, now he got the easy part: tending to your needs and helping with the twins

He wanted your recovery process to be as comfortable as possible, so every time you winced or needed help with anything, he was by your side in an instant, never judging you if you couldn't do something without needing him. in fact, he loved that he could help you

Sometimes you didn’t even have to say anything, John just knew how to read you and got you whatever you needed before you asked

And if the twins started crying or needed a diaper change?

He got it, you just worry about resting up, though if the twins need a feeding, he’ll be ready to help get them latched to your breasts

But if you don’t breastfeed, he’s also read up on other options to feed the babies

He made the whole transition into parenting a lot less daunting and your recovery went smoothly with him supporting you in anyway he could

You almost felt like you weren’t doing enough, but John reassured you

“I’ll be deployed soon enough. Let me be a Da to Gav and Greer while I’m still here. Let me take care of you before I go”

You were almost ready to give him another child for that. But two was enough, and you would be forever grateful of John for being your rock and anchor not only throughout the pregnancy, but also with your children

-

what do you guys think about the names Gavin and Greer MacTavish? took awhile for me to decide on the names

[islayhawkin]

Compliment

Jack dawkins x f!reader

1,3k words

Summery: you wake up together and spend time as he escortes you to a social gathering

Request: HIII!! I really liked your posts and if you are okay with writing how jack dawkins spends his day of with the reader I would really be happy!🫶🏻💗

A/N: thank you! This makes me so happy if I get feedback and request. I hope you like this bit of fluff with jack. I wanted to highlight his cocky personality a bit.

Fluff

It was a lazy morning for you both. It was one of the rare days that both you and jack had taken a day off.

You lay tangled together on jack's small bed. Your arm draped over his belly, your head snuggled up against his arm. He was the first awake so he gladly took the chance to observe you.

It was a weird feeling for him to see you lay snuggled up in his arms. Your warmth against his side. Of course he had been physically close with a lot of women. But he never felt someone he loved snuggle up to him in their sleep. In fact had he never really felt love. The only one he always had was fagin. And he wasn't excactly the most warm and loving person.

You introduced him to love so to say. And he was just beginning to learn what it meant. It is a unsetteling feeling to suddenly not only care about his own wellbeing but yours too. When not even more.

It made him want to pull you closer to him to protect you at all times. Wether it was because he grew up constantly living agitated in fear or every men felt this way, he didn't know.

Usually jack was a confident, if not cocky man but this feeling made him crave your care. He'd never admit this but he wanted you to fuss over him. He felt like a child in these moments and he thought himself pathetic for it. Still he loved it when you made him something to eat, pulled his clothes straight, cleaned dirt of his face, went through his hair or even helped him bathe.

He smiled at you softly. You looked adorable to him. Your mouth slightly opened, your breaths tickled his arm slightly. With every breath he took your arm moved up and down with his belly.

Jack waited in this position until you fluttered your eyelids open and groggily took in the place you were at.

"Mornin', love" he grinned at the sleepy look on your face.

"Morning" you smiled and buried your head into his chest. You sighed contently. Hugging his arm to your chest. "How long have you been staring at me for?" You giggle as you breathed in the scent of him.

"Mhm a while." He grinned.

"Creep." You giggled.

"You know you love it."

He pulled his arms around you to pull you on top of him. You laughed as you struggled to get out of his grip. But he held you thight. "You're not getting away from me." He grinned.

You huffed in defeat and let yourself slump on top of him. He let out a small 'oof' at your sudden weight resting on him but he still held his arms thighly around you. "I win?" He teased.

You pouted. "You're awfully strong for a lanky man."

"I was a soldier and a sailor darlin' " he smirked and gave you a wink. You snorted but there was a loving smile on your lips.

He rolled you both around to position himself above you before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours softly. You hummed contently as you kissed him back. Your hand pulling up to his hair.

He pecked your lips one last time before removing himself from you and standing up from the bed. He searched his room for his clothes and started to get dressed while you watched. He looked around for his waistcoat and you spotted it on the backrest of the bed, pulled it off and brought it over to him.

You held it up for him to slip in and he obliged happily. Your hand rested on his waist when you turned him around to face you. You buttoned up the waistcoat and pulled it straight, your eyes switching up to his eyes again. "This blue suits you."

His whole face lights up. "Thank you. You think it looks good?"

You absenently straighten the fabric of his trousers. "You look very handsome."

Jack grins. "Thank you love." He kisses your cheek.

You pull your clothing for the day on too and ask for his help in binding your corset.

With skilled fingers he pulled it close and made a ribbon at the end. "Does it fit well?"

"Yes. Thank you."

All set jack opened the door and held his arm out to you.

"May I escort you my lady?" You curtsied and took his arm. "Gladly mister."

He escorted you outside of the hospital while putting his hat on. The sun was shining brightly again which almost made it too warm in all the layers of clothing. Jack did have a free day but he was expected to attend a social gathering from the governor. So you were on your way to this social gathering you knew very little about, jack after asking him, knew not much more himself.

It was held in a hall as you arrived and jack greeted a lot of people politely. You curtsied and held your hand out a lot of times as you were expected as jacks companion.

"Dr Dawkins." A relatively tall man with sideburns and a mustache greeted him with obvious distaste as he shook jack's hand.

"Dr Sneed." jack gave him a nod with furrowed brows.

The eyes of sneed wander to your figure. "You must be miss Y/L/N." He took your hand and gave it a kiss.

You smiled politely. "Yes. It is a honor to meet you dr sneed."

"The honor is all mine." Sneed smiled sickeningly flirtatious.

Jack pulled you closer against him while he shot daggers at sneed with his eyes. Sneed seemed to share the same feelings as his eyes glared coldly at jack.

Jack escorted you further down the gathering to get away from sneed. "I hate him. Have you seen the way he looked at you?" He whispered furiously.

You layed a hand on his chest. "I know. Relax. You don't want to get in trouble again." You whispered while a polite expression was plastered on your face.

"Easy to say. I wanna punsh him just for that look-"

"Dr dawkins!" Another voice greeted him from behind us and we turned quickly around.

Jack cleared his throat. "Governor. What a honor to be invited. It seems lovely." He smiled.

You could clearly see that this wasn't what jack was good at. He was good at snarky comments. Always saying his opinion. At surviving on the streets or on a ship. He was good at dirty jobs.He wasn't made for fancy gatherings, clean clothes and pearls and polite small talk.

You made a small curty again greeted the governor with equal politeness. After the greetings were done, music started to play and drinks were served, you stood in a rather quiet corner together with a, guess what, fancy drink in hand.

You observed the people around you and your eyes fell on the dance floor in the middle of the room. Mostly courting pairs dancing formally together. Jack seemed to have noticed your interest and stood before you, one hand outstretched to you.

"Will you honor me with your hand for a dance?" You giggled and happily took his hand. He led you to the middle of the room and took a dancing position in. You started to carry out the dance moves with him. Almost moving as one.

"Where did you learn to dance?" You asked surprised as he pulled you closer to him for this move again.

"You didn't trust me to do that?" He teased.

"Actually no."

"I'm hurt. As a sailor. There was a lot of dancing. Though we lacked the women."

You smiled at the thought. "You know you're a real gentleman if you want to." His eyebrows raised with a grin.

"Is that a compliment?"

"I compliment you all the time. Your ego is way too big already."

He cocked his head to the side. "Aww come on. I never get enough of your compliments. Or your touch. Or your care. Or you for that matter."

"You know how to get a girl don't you?" You sighed.

"I assure you." He told you slightly more serious.

"I love you too jack." You whispered as you two swayed to the music.

[laura1633]

laura, i just read that bit about how the silverstone crash affected max so much. i have so many feels rn. unfortunately, i was not a fan of f1 back in 2021. i just want to wrap maxie in the fluffiest blanket and hold him tight until he feels the love so many people have for him. want to feed him warm tomato soup just the way he likes it and tell him over and over again that he's good enough and deserves so much more than the world offers him. he deserves more love. he is enough. just want to tell him that it is fine, darling. we are all human. sorry for the long rant. as i said, lots of feels.

No need to apologise at all anon. I have very similar feelings which is why I end up writing so many fics where Max gets so much love and praise. It's why I also love writing him as an omega getting fussed over and looked after. He deserves to be wrapped up in the fluffiest blanket and fed the best tomato soup!!

I have gone on a very long rant below the cut 😂 -warning for talk about Silverstone and the 2021 season but ending on a positive note.

Silverstone was an awful accident, the way it was discussed afterwards honestly showed the worst side of F1 to me. I do genuinely think that the impact of it was downplayed a lot. People seemed to have the impression that as it was Max it was "deserved" or "bound to happen at some point". I won't even go into the worst comments but they were vile, including some comments from people within F1 teams.

I cried so, so much when Max won that championship. I don't think I have ever been that emotional about a sporting event in my whole life but he so deserved it. He drove amazingly all season long under immense pressure placed on him both on and off the track.

I think Max has been treated unfairly for most of his career. He jumped into an F1 car when he was 17 so he made mistakes and had to mature on track. Some people will not let him forget any of those mistakes whereas I think other drivers have been given much more forgiveness. The reception Max got from some drivers was not as welcoming at it should have been to a literal child!

Netflix drive to survive also did not help, they completely mischaracterised him in order to make an entertainment show packaged up as a documentary and so people believed what they were seeing as fact.

Then we have the fact that Max has been up against British racing drivers when the bulk of the reporting press is British. The reporting over Austria 2024 gives an insight into how it can be!

However, it's not all doom and gloom and I do believe Max knows how much support he has. There are large groups of people who travel all over the world to support him, he has grandstands in multiple races, he even has his own store(s?) in the Netherlands. He is truly loved by so many fans.

I have been lucky enough to go Spa and Zandvoort and seen the love people have for him. On the walk from the station to the track in Zandvoort I was actually a little emotional because there were decorations lining the way and Max flags and people blaring music. It was a celebration not just for F1 but for their driver. It was a wonderful experience. They even named the trains going to the race the 'Max Express'. I am only saying all this because I think that sometimes it can seem that he is not popular but he really is. He is loved and supported by huge groups of people.

Sorry, when someone mentions Max I can't stop talking!!! I have so much to say I could talk for hours 😂

[cerise-on-top]

Can I request Rudy (maybe AleRudy poly??? You decide lolz) x a female ( you can choose not to write this as I know you write mostly gender neutral) reader who proves The Whole toxic masculinity thing wrong as a strong (physically and mentally) independent woman? Like she is strong and can defend herself and she does things that most men thinks she can’t do? (Like carrying heavy things, etc.)

Thank you!!

Hello! This is more Rodolfo centric, which I hope you don't mind! But Alejandro is there too, of course :>

AleRudy with a Strong!Independent!Fem!S/O

Alejandro would have a field day with you, Rodolfo would still be a little bit concerned. Though, that is not to say he wouldn’t like it. I think you’d be a certain kind of awakening for him, especially if you’re pretty muscular too. Rodolfo would have never thought he’d find a muscular woman this hot, but here we are. Both Alejandro and Rodolfo would sometimes have conversations about you when you’re at work. Alejandro would know just how capable you are and would allow you to do just about anything, even if he would offer you his help. Nothing wrong with helping your lovely girlfriend lift some heavy things as it gets done a bit faster that way. Rodolfo wouldn’t believe you to be weak, not in the slightest. Especially not with your kind of personality and body, but he’d still insist on him doing some of the things at first, such as carrying heavy things or scaring away some sleazebags. He’ll tell you a little bit about how he views the world, how he’s supposed to be the one protecting you, but when you just laugh and tell him that you can handle yourself, he actually gets kind of embarrassed. At some point he’ll realize that yes, indeed you can handle yourself in just about any situation life throws at you, but that doesn’t mean he won’t voice his concerns. Picking him up is actually kind of fun, he’ll go completely quiet and hold onto your shoulders for dear life. At first he’d feel kind of bad, he’s the one who’s supposed to pick you up. But, as mentioned previously, you being this strong actually does things to him. It would take a while, but he’d come to trust you more and more with some things that he thought women shouldn’t really be doing. If you work a men dominated job too, then Rodolfo will just shut up, actually. You’re a mechanic? He doesn’t know jack shit about cars. You’re an IT-technician? Computers hate this man, he always needs help since some error comes up. Once the initial embarrassment is over, he won’t hesitate to come to you for help. It’s for the best you work on this since he has no clue what he’s doing in those fields anyway.

Alejandro is super chill with you being strong and independent. Sure, sometimes he’d love to just watch a scary movie with you and have you cling to him in fear, but you carrying those big tires is also pretty nice. He always thought he’d be more into a shy and timid girl, but you’re actually pretty nice too. He wouldn’t fuss over you as much as Rodolfo, he’d just let you do your thing. If you need help, he’ll help, but he won’t be overbearing. Besides, he could probably learn a lot of things from you. You’re an electrician? Awesome, amor! The GFCI just turned off again, could you do something about it? He’ll sometimes talk to Rodolfo about how he should put more trust into you. Just because you’re a girl doesn’t mean you can’t be a total badass and strong like them. Alejandro will also egg you on to pick Rodolfo up since he wants to see him flustered beyond comparison. He loves you both, but there’s just something so fun about a flustered Rodolfo.

[ineffectualdemon]

I can't do it tonight because I need sleep but should I or should I not write a crack fic where Liu Qingge and Shang Qinghua fall into a plot device that summons "a child as if conceived between them"

The plot device is from a crack extra Shang Qinghua wrote in a collab with another author and just summons a character from a different book for a set period of time or until some conditions are met

And for Shang Qinghua and Liu Qingge it summons Jiang Cheng

And even though it's quickly cleared up that Jiang Cheng is from a different reality and has parents of his own and therefore isn't actually their son Liu Qingge is still like "No but here you are my son and so I must Take Responsibility™ and like makes Jiang Cheng go hunting with him and they spar and Liu Qingge would really enjoy himself and would have fun showing him how to do stuff

And Shang Qinghua who is stressed about losing the dude from another reality and also he knows who Jiang Cheng is and has a soft spot for him ends up going along and cheering from the sidelines and fussing over him while giving him excellent practical sect running advicen

Basically they parent the shit out Jiang Cheng who has a lot of Emotions™ about the whole thing

[imtrashraccoon]

Been looking forward to this all month! I rediscovered that it is very hard to write spicy stuff while listening to a classic Markiplier video...everything hurts from laughing now. Side note, did anyone else watch the most recent Lackadaisy short "Stratagem"? It's pretty much unrelated to this chapter but I thought it was funny!

@owl-bones

First Day, Previous Day, & Next Day.

Bad Sansuary: Free Space - Glow

Word Count: 2,886

Feat. Dust & Nightmare!

The castle was absolutely massive and while you'd explored quite a bit of it, you had the feeling you'd only scratched the surface. Pretty much every room was massive and filled with expensive furniture. You basically felt like you were a mouse that broke into a mansion and was adopted by its occupants.

Your bedroom had a queen size bed, a fireplace, a small but comfortable couch, at least a dozen different pillows and blankets, a walk in closet, and even an on-suite bathroom. The whole room felt larger than your entire apartment had been and it was all yours.

You hadn't left your room, let alone your bed for several days, except when you had to look after your human needs. At first, Nightmare hadn't let anyone bother you, but after the first day and once you'd recovered from the shock, he eventually allowed the others to come visit you.

You were pretty sure there had been an argument over who would get to see you first but ultimately, Axe was your first visitor. You didn't know how that had come about and you were too exhausted to ask. He practically fussed over you like a mother hen, except it was even worse than when you were sick. You weren't complaining yet though, as you'd really missed him. He took it upon himself to make sure you were never hungry and seemed to always have something he wanted you to try.

Killer was next, which you weren't surprised about in the slightest. He seemed to be up to his usual antics, although slightly toned down because you were bed bound. He tried out a bunch of new jokes, all of which ranged from unfunny to cringe inducing, but you'd be lying if you said you hated it. He also was a lot more touchy than usual, although it was in an affectionate rather than sleazy way.

You saw very little of Dust though, which was a bit strange, but not unusual for him. He always had acted kind of distant with you but had warmed up over your time knowing each other. Unfortunately, now he seemed like he had regressed significantly and was avoiding you. Then, you woke up in the middle of the night one time with him sitting on the floor against your bed, holding your hand and tracing small circles over your knuckles. He seemed rather embarrassed when he realized he'd woken you up but you couldn't be upset with him. At least he'd come by a few times when you were actually awake since.

Today you'd decided to try to do some reading to distract yourself. It seemed like you were adjusting well to this new environment but you weren't sleeping well on your own. You kept getting flashbacks of the day your world broke down and nearly had to beg Nightmare to help. Whatever he'd done had been effective since you were sleeping without any bad dreams, although you weren't getting any dreams either, or at least you couldn't remember if you were.

Nightmare had a massive library and easily hundreds of books that he had collected from various worlds over...however long he'd been alive. You'd never asked how old any of the boys were actually, let alone him. There was also plenty of cozy seating in the library and even a couple of nooks you could hide in if you didn't want to be bothered.

You had sat down in the main seating area today with the first of high fantasy series that Nightmare had personally recommended. It was a change of pace from your usual literature but change was good. It helped keep your mind off of...everything.

The issue was that you weren't able to concentrate on any of the words and had to restart a chapter multiple times with no luck. At some point you found yourself staring into the soft glowing flame of a candle that you certainly hadn't lit when you sat down here.

There wasn't anything you could have done to save your world and you knew that it wasn't the boys' fault that the world code had become unstable. The way Nightmare explained it, once Monsterkind was freed from the Underground, the story had run its course. Essentially, it was only a matter of time before everything broke down like that.

You still felt awful about it though. You wished with all your soul that you could've saved others or even prevented the destruction entirely. You understood quite clearly now what people who survived horrible accidents where lots of other people died felt like.

Hearing someone scuff their shoes across the carpet, you looked over sharply to basically come face to face with Dust. He had a concerned look on his skull, although it quickly morphed into one of relief when you made eye contact with him.

"are you okay?" he asked.

You grimaced and looked away. "I've...been better..." you murmured.

He sat down next to you and wrapped an arm over your shoulders in a slightly tentative side hug. "i'm not good at the whole comfort thing..." he muttered in your ear. "so just tell me if i'm being a nuisance, okay?"

You nodded but remained silent. He was selling himself sort in your personal opinion as just being there for someone was still a valid form of comfort. So what if he didn't make you food or make jokes to cheer you up?

After several quiet minutes, he gave your shoulder a light squeeze. "would a distraction help? we could play some chess if you want?"

"Sure, why not? So long as you give me a sporting chance anyways."

He chuckled and his mismatched eyelights seemed to flicker with untold thoughts of mischief. "i can't promise that but i'll try, bean. i'll be back with the game in a sec." He stood up and teleported away before you could retort.

You rolled your eyes at no one in particular and put your abandoned book away. You'd have to try reading it another time it seemed.

Dust reappeared a few seconds later with a small box and an intricate game board tucked under one arm. He started to set up the game on the coffee table and you quickly realized that this was the most beautiful Chess set you'd ever seen. The pieces seemed to be made of polished ivory and all had gold detailing. You weren't sure if the board itself was also ivory or something else like marble, but it was just as beautiful as the pieces were.

"It's gorgeous..." you whispered.

He nodded, "i got it recently since i enjoyed playing the game with you so much. i haven't had anyone to play with though..."

You couldn't help but frown as he sat down next to you again. "The others don't like Chess?"

"nah, axe has no interest as there's too much to focus on and killer can't sit still for more than two seconds to even try." He scratched the side of his skull before adding, "i haven't actually asked nightmare, but i don't know if he'd even be interested when he's so busy all the time."

You hummed thoughtfully as the game began. Dust had assigned the white pieces to you for seemingly no particular reason, not that you minded as it just meant you got to go first.

The game went on a lot longer than you thought it would. Compared to the last time you'd played, he didn't seem to be trying to win, or at least not actively trying. He wasn't resorting to making obviously bad moves though, so you didn't feel like he was babying you at least. Still, you weren't about to give him a pass just because he was being nice. No, you were playing to win.

At some point during that game, you saw Dust glance over at something out of the corner of your eye. When you looked up though, you realized that Nightmare had entered the library at some point and was now watching the both of you play. Maybe he was interested in Chess afterall? With the way his cyan eyelight was studying how the pieces moved across the board, you felt inclined to believe that he was.

If Dust was bothered by having an audience, he didn't act like it and just continued to play as if nothing was different. You were less successful at doing so as you couldn't help but wonder if Nightmare would think less of you if you made a silly mistake. He didn't make any teasing comments, or any comments really, until Dust inevitably won the game.

"Would either of you be willing to let me play a round?" Nightmare asked, glancing between you and Dust.

You shrugged and glanced over at Dust, only to catch the briefest glance of his surprised expression before he carefully masked it again.

He nodded and started to set up the pieces again. "sure, if you really want to." He glanced at you with a silent question on his metaphorical lips that you answered with a small nod.

You didn't mind tapping out for a game if it meant you'd get to see two of your friends mentally duke it out. So, you scooted a bit closer to Dust in order to make room for Nightmare on the couch, which left you sitting between both skeletons.

Dust finished setting up the pieces, interestingly with the white ones facing him this time, and glanced at Nightmare. "we were just playing for fun earlier, so what are the stakes?" His tone was quiet but there was an underlying competitive edge to it now too.

Nightmare got an intrigued expression on his face and he tapped his clavicle thoughtfully. His gaze turned to you and he gave you a look that could only be described as devious. "I can sense that you're feeling down, my dear. So," he looked over at Dust as his grin widened, "why don't we play for who gets to cuddle with the human?"

"What...?" You could feel your cheeks grow rather warm at the idea, although a small part of you almost leapt for joy. "You can't be serious?"

Dust didn't even hesitate and his eyelights seemed to burn brighter with determination. "deal," he confirmed and moved his first piece.

Nightmare chuckled quietly and gave you a suggestive look, which only served to fluster you further. You really had no preference on who won, although Nightmare was quite good at cuddling, while Dust generally seemed a bit adverse to most physical contact. You just hoped that whoever lost wouldn't be too upset by it.

It quickly became apparent that Dust was actually trying to win and he wasn't pulling the intellectual punches. You could tell that Nightmare knew how to play but that he seemed a bit rusty. He wasn't a bad player by any means, he probably could beat you anyways, but he seemed to be forgetting to utilize quite a few of his pieces when it mattered most.

As such, you weren't surprised when Dust managed to win. You saw it coming several turns in advance once he'd captured most of Nightmare's useful pieces, especially because his smile grew wider the longer it went on.

When he'd finally managed to corner Nightmare's king, he smirked at you and slid an arm around your waist, tugging you closer to him. You let him and couldn't help but giggle when he did so. You admittedly teased Nightmare a little bit by sticking out your tongue, although he didn't seem too put off.

"How about a rematch?" he asked Dust.

"sure."

The two skeletons played again with Dust winning once again. He chuckled and his smile became more cocky now.

You were suitably impressed with his skill and gave him a congratulatory pat on the arm. He had other ideas though and gently tilted your chin so you'd look at him again. He then pressed a chaste kiss against your lips before releasing you.

While you hadn't expected Dust to go that far, you would be lying if you said you didn't like it. When you glanced at Nightmare though, your heart did a little somersault.

He wore a neutral expression on his skull and if it weren't for the way his left eye socket was narrowed slightly, you wouldn't have known he was frustrated. Whether it was from losing twice in a row, the way Dust was now obviously taunting him, or both, you couldn't tell. Although, you could tell that despite his outwardly cool demeanor, there was a layer of danger lurking underneath the surface.

"Let's go again," he said quietly.

Dust shrugged and set up the board again. "sure, if you're willing to lose again," he teased.

The tension was palpable between them as the game began. You noticed Nightmare seemed to be ultra focused this time and moved his pieces a bit slower so he could be sure he wasn't making a foolish decision.

You didn't want him to actually get upset if he lost again. It was obvious that Dust wasn't going easy on him though, so what could you do?

Between turns, you got a bit of a cheeky idea. You started with snuggling a bit closer to Dust and lightly running your fingers over his ribcage through his shirt. At first, he didn't seem to really notice what you were doing but when he did, he gently squeezed your waist and nuzzled against your forehead.

You kept this up until both of them were down to only a half dozen pieces each. You then pulled away slightly which got Dust's attention.

"You're practically glowing," you whispered, although it was loud enough that even Nightmare could hear.

Dust blinked and got a confused look on his skull. He stared at you, trying to figure out what you really meant, but you noticed he seemed to be getting a little flustered if the soft violet glow that began to colour his cheekbones was anything to go by.

You were doing your damn best to keep a straight face and maintain your oblivious air. It was getting really hard but you hadn't sucked up to a crappy boss for years to slack off now.

You lightly traced his clavicle with a finger and tilted your head curiously. Glancing up at his face again, you murmured, "I haven't seen you this happy before... It looks good on you."

He still seemed confused but your sincerity must've been very effective and he actually smiled more genuinely at you. He moved some of your hair behind your ear and started to lean closer when Nightmare cleared his non-existent throat.

"It's your turn..." he hissed.

Dust huffed and shot him an annoyed look. Nightmare just crossed his arms and stared passively back, although you could see the tips of his tentacles twitching with irritation.

Dust quickly scanned the board and used his magic to shift his last pawn ahead a square. "there, happy?" he grumbled.

Nightmare studied the board for a moment before nodding. You noticed the edges of his smile seemed to twitch and his restless tentacles suddenly went stock still.

"Quite," he hummed and slid his only remaining bishop across the board. "I believe that is checkmate."

Dust stiffened and Nightmare's grin only grew more smug the longer he scanned the board. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand down his face.

"yeah, you win..." he muttered.

You let out a breath you didn't realize you'd been holding when neither of them got angry. With a soft chuckle, you rubbed reassuring circles into Dust's shoulder blades with your fingers.

"Hey, it's okay, you had a good run..."

He turned to you and narrowed his eye sockets. "you purposely distracted me," he grumbled.

You shrugged, "Maybe, but I only told you the truth." While you were trying your best to remain the perfect picture of innocent, you knew Dust that could see through you.

Nightmare hummed and beckoned for you to come closer with one of his claws. "I believe you belong over here now, my dear," he almost purred.

You smiled and shifted over to sit with him. To your surprise, he wrapped his tentacles around your entire body and pulled you into his lap. His claws pressed into your skin in a possessive way and he nuzzled his face into your hair as well.

Your face felt like it was on fire and you ducked to try and hide your embarrassment. Nightmare seemed to take great pleasure in the effect he was having on you, if the little amused chuckle he let out was anything to go by.

Dust's face was strained with annoyance but when you caught his eye, he smirked. "that's what you get for being a tease," he remarked. He did seem a little disappointed that Nightmare was giving you so much attention but at least he wasn't mad.

He looked over at Nightmare and his mismatched eyelights took on a competitive glint once again. "want to go another round?" he asked.

Nightmare pretended to think for a moment before nodding. "Of course." He hugged you a bit tighter and added, "I think I like playing this game..."

You were going to be stuck here for a while...

[codfanficedits]

Before the mask - Part ten.

Pairing: Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Because Simon wasn’t born as Ghost.

Wordcount: 2479 | Rating: E! (18+ only!)

Warnings: Angst.

A/N: Simon would be around 22/23 in this fic, so it would be set around 2015 ish?

Skipped my classes to write this <3, anyway this is what I think having a functional, loving family is like.

A feeling of dread washed over you as you watch Simon walk away. His movements are stiff, muscles tensed, as if he was seconds away from exploding.

And all you can do is feel guilt.

You’ve done this before, shutting people out whenever you felt overwhelmed, and he would be the first person you lost because of this. Your whole life you had tried to be strong, to be independent, and it had lead you to a path of being unable to ask for help, to accept help and to let people in.

You didn’t mean to push him away, you just couldn't really cope with the constant stream of information being thrown at you, but instead of communicating, you had shut him out.

Your throat starts to get dry and you really want to reach out, but Simon was gone before you could fully react. Your feet feel heavy as you open the door to your quarters.

It had started to be such a lovely day, and now it had all gone to shit, you could feel the tags on your clothes, the music was too loud, the lights too bright, and on top of that, you couldn’t really shake the awful feeling this whole interaction had given you.

Though you had this every now and then, you would be overwhelmed, to the point that you really couldn’t stand have anyone, or anything around you. In response you close your curtains, making your room a whole lot darker, next to go were your clothes, the feeling of the fabric on your skin just felt too much, and you needed to get rid of it. Sliding under the covers was the best solution right now.

Maybe it wasn’t the best thing to take a nap right now, but you knew that if you tried to talk to Simon at this moment, it would just be a whirlwind of emotions. Neither of you would benefit from it.

Not that you could sleep much, you could hear his door slam shut, and all you could do was toss around, switching from your left side, to your right side, trying to sleep on your back. Nothing seemed to work, every time you closed your eyes, you saw his face again. The initial disappointment, the anger, the insecurities, and it made you feel like shit.

After what felt like hours, you couldn’t take it anymore, and your kicked your blankets off yourself, putting your clothes on once again. Even though you hadn’t been able to sleep, just trying to rest, with little to no stimulation, had calmed you down immensely, your clothes didn’t feel suffocating, and when you opened the curtains again, you could actually stand it to look at the world again.

Now would be the right time to talk to Simon, so you went to his door, politely knocking once, twice, three times, four times.

Fuck.

That awful feeling you had, came right back to you, your heart pounding in your chest. Was he ignoring you, or was he really out and about? How could he be out and about while you felt so awful, did he really care so little?

Without making a fuss you return to your own room, slamming the door shut as you drop yourself to your bed again. There is only one person who could help you right now, and it’s your dad.

You know it is expensive to call overseas, but you really need to hear his voice today.

Holding in your breath you wait for the phone to connect, and just when you think he won’t pick up, you hear the familiar voice of your father.

“Sweetheart! Everything alright?” Of course he is worried, getting a random call from a soldier never meant good news.

“No.” You couldn’t remember the last time your voice sounded this soft, this insecure. “I need your advice dad.”

“Hmm,” He wondered what would make you this distraught. You were usually much more cheerful in nature. “About?” He enquired after a moment, wanting nothing more than to reach out to brush his thumb against the side of your cheek, if he would’ve been here, he could’ve comforted you through his touch, but your father couldn’t, and it was killing him.

You sat down on your bed. "I've been dating Simon for a little while now. You've seen him once, and you like him too." You began, hoping he would get the hint.  "But he wants to spend so much time together, and when I asked for some time apart, he got quite upset."

“I see,” He furrowed his brow, an all-too-familiar frown marring his features. You were growing up, becoming an adult. No doubt you’d find yourself in situations where you’d need guidance. He was ready.

“What did you say to him, if I might ask?” he enquired, his tone measured as he waited for you to answer.

"Okay, so." You began. "We had spent nearly the whole day together, and then he asked if I would sleep over at his quarters, or if he would sleep over at mine." You explained.

"So I told him I hoped we could sleep at our own quarters and that I needed some peace and quiet."

“And how did he react? Did he get angry?” Your father inquired, his brow furrowed even further. In his mind, there was very little cause for you to be upset. Your boyfriend had acted as he should; it was typical in relationships for couples to want to see one another, and your father knew about your tendencies to shut yourself off completely.

"Well, not angry. Just disappointed." You responded. "As if I was rejecting him."

You let some silence linger for a brief moment.  "And then I may or may not have called him dramatic." You admitted. "He just, turned around and said we needed some space, and now I’m worried I’ve shut him off completely."

“I see...” he replied, letting out a breath of disappointment as he pinched the bridge of his nose. So it was just a miscommunication. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed. Your father wanted to say more to you, to offer you some of his advice, some of his experience, but he was interrupted by the voice of a woman.

 “Let me talk to her!” The voice of your grandma was evident on the background. “She needs some advice from a woman!”

You didn’t have to be there to know what type of scene was unfolding. Your father holding up the phone a little too high for your grandma to reach, and her not giving up until she got what she wanted. It brought a smile to your face.

The amount of distortion on the background indicated that your grandma had won the battle. “That man doesn’t know what he is talking about.” She huffed, the moment she got her hands on the phone.

“Tell me what is wrong sweetheart.”

You straighten your back and you tell the story again. You needed some space, Simon reacted to that, and you called him dramatic.

“Hmm.” Your grandma stays quiet for a second. “I need some wine for this.”

You hear a faint protest on the background. “You can’t have alcohol with your blood pressure medicine!”

But by the Gods, your grandmother is a stubborn woman. “I’ll take a red, please and thank you.” And you know your father will fold for this.

“You know, sweetheart.” She speaks to you. “Your grandpa used to be the same. He would spent hours in his shed when he was overwhelmed. I hated it in the beginning.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did, I was madly in love, I finally had my soldier back with me, and then he went to spend his whole evening in his shed after we had done something together.” She explained, sipping on her wine. “It caused all of our arguments in the beginning.”

“How, how did that happen?” You bring out.

“Well, I didn’t manage to tell him what disappointed me, and your grandpa was horrible at managing his energy, mostly his social battery, so I would drag him along to something social, a party, a dinner, we could go out to dance, and he wasn’t able to tell me when he needed to unwind, so he shut me out and isolated himself. Drove me mad.”

It feels like a breathe of fresh air, of course you weren’t alone in the world, of course you weren’t the only one who experienced this, but it was nice to hear that someone from your direct family suffered from this and that very same person was loved all the way to after his dead.

“How did you two manage to deal with this?” You ask her.

“Well, first, I need to tell you, that just because it worked for us, might not mean that it works for you and your soldierboy.” Your grandma began. “But, I had to work a little on myself first.” She continued.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I reacted very strongly whenever he told me he needed his space, no matter if he said it very bluntly, or if he said it more, sophisticated, I would always feel this surge of anger, disappointment run through me.” Your grandma said.

“Why?”

“Well, that took me a little while to figure out. But, all my life I had been told I was too strong willed, too loud, too unlovable, and every time your grandpa told me he needed some peace and quiet, I took that personally. I took that as a personal rejection. I realized I was so afraid I was really unlovable, that the idea of him not wanting to spent his time with me, gave me the worst feelings of panic, and those feelings of insecurity, made me lash out horribly.” She explained.

And you stay quiet, not once had you thought your grandparents went through the same thing, they even managed to beat it!

“But.” She continued. “That didn’t mean that your grandpa was without blame. He could spend the whole day being with me, and all of the sudden he would drop a ‘I’m tired and I need some space’ bomb on me.”

“Oh.” You have to swallow the lump in your throat, that had been exactly what you had done. You had ignored every little thing that would indicate you were getting overwhelmed and you only put up your boundaries when it was already too late.

“You’re just like him, you know? You do the same things, being a stubborn little shit, who doesn’t want to accept any help, because you’ve been told that you need to be strong. So you ignore your own boundaries until you can’t take it anymore, and then you shut out the people who love you.” Grandma wasn’t holding back, instead she gave you the reality check you needed a while ago.

You swallow to get rid of your dry throat. You wanted some words of comfort, not your grandma ripping open the oozing wound, and forcing you to look at the issue, instead of ignoring it. “But.”  You protest. “It is not like I can prevent it.”

“You can.” Your grandma retorts. “And even if you couldn’t, it is an explanation for your behaviour, not a free pass. Try to let him in, ask him for help, and for gods sake, learn to regulate. Tell him when you’re starting to feel overstimulated, tell him when you feel like it will all be too much. Because if he truly loves you, the only thing he wants to do, is to help you.”

She was right, and you hated it, you had been shutting him out, regarding that subject that is, and why? Because you felt like you had to carry the whole world on your own shoulders? Where had that gotten you? Not that far it seemed.

“Right now I don’t appreciate your words.” You tell your grandma. “But I’m sure I’ll find some truth in to them when I’m calmed down.”

The little cackle on the end on the line almost sounds endearing. “I know you don’t like them. Your grandpa hated it when I held a mirror out in front of him in order to make him look at his actions, but just promise me you’ll let those words sink in, okay?”

You knew she was right, and you also knew those words would make sense once you had thought about it for a little while. “I promise.”

“Good. Now, I’ll have to go, I have to wrestle your father for the remote, Judge Judy is on and he won’t let me watch it.”

Before you can even say a thing, your grandmother ends the call, and you stare at your phone for a second. The moment you realize the call is ended, the tears begin to flow.

It was all too much. Your argument with Simon, the self-reflection you had to do. The realisation that your family was at the other side of the globe. It hurts.

Your pillow gets used as a plushie and as a tool to muffle the sobs that leave your lips. Worry clouding your mind, your grandparents had managed to survive their hardships, but could you and Simon?

That cry felt good though, everything that had bothered you, was set free, and after a couple of minutes, the tears started to stop, your breathing started to regulate, and you even stopped the soft sniffles.

As you got up from your bed, you pass a mirror. You’re a goddamn mess, eyes red and puffy from crying, the skin on your cheeks wet. But despite all that, you give yourself the peace sign before you clean yourself up a little bit. A few deep breaths before you splash some cold water against your face.

You needed to talk to Simon, you needed this to work out, even if that meant biting the bullet. You had heard his shower, which meant he was back into his room, all you needed to do, was go over to his door, knock, and apologize. Easy peasy. Just follow the script.

Go to his door. Knock. And apologize.

Door. Knock. Apologize.

As you swing open your door, he does the same, the both of you stepping out of your quarters at the same time.

Door. Knock. Apologize?

An awkward silence followed as the two of you made eye contact. What could you even say in a situation like this? Should you apologize already? Tell him about the conversation you had with your grandma? Just.. What could you do? Maybe it would be best to start casual. The whole script you had made up, was blown to smithereens and you had some trouble adjusting to it.

“Hi.” The word leaves your lips, as he begins to speak too.

“We need to talk.”

[not-goldy]

the thing is I'm sure jimin was suffering too during the months jungkook was working nonstop like july,september,october,november

I'm sure he missed jungkook just as much he's just way more lowkey about it and would never showcase it online

just different types of people

I don't disagree

He's either better at pretending things don't bother him when they do or better at processing negative feelings as and when they arise because if it were me, FAM🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

The whole world is about to know.

The in laws will know

The siblings will know

The ancestors will know

The pastor will know

Even your therapist will hear about it.

I'll call into radio shows and air our business cos you are not about to make me the broken hearted girl😌

And missing someone who isn't reaching out to you is a whole other level of pain Jesus 😕 💔

Forget the ego

It's your self respect vs your emotional needs and feeding one destroys the other. You don't know pain till you've been put in that tormenting situation.

And it makes a lot of sense why dude keeps complaining about chronic loneliness dude been repressing so much it's alienating😭😭😭😭😭

I want to go to therapy with Jimin😭😭😭😭😭😭

There's a lot we both need to work through

And I feel he's wrapped himself in so much principles it's barring him from expressing certain things certain very human things that's now working against him.

He set himself up and now he gotta hide certain things and certain feelings

Imagine telling Jungkook he's childish for throwing tantrums when he misses you- now you gotta be the better person and live as an example when you in the same situation otherwise you no better🥴

Imagine constantly setting yourself up like that. Imagine feeling you have to be the better and bigger person in every situation because you feel your whole life is an example to others.

He has that first born curse and 1st born syndrome. He expects too much of himself and he's allowed those around him from the BTS group to his fans to have the same high expectations of him.

I'm not mad at that except it can be draining and exhausting and a lonely experience cos not too many can relate.

And people wonder why his solos are the way they are constantly making up ridiculous unsustainable unattainable standards for both him and others to follow, constantly putting him on a pedestal and acting shook if he goes off even a little bit.

Meanwhile he's only human and humans aren't perfectly flawed. ITS OKAY TO HAVE FLAWS you know??

I'm glad Jk spoke about Namjoon admitting he didn't know what to do with Jk. When it was happening and I spoke about it people came for me. I recall people making such a big fuss about me saying Namjoon gives of elitist energy (much like PJMs) and was constantly having at it with Jungkook because he wouldn't fall in line while Jimin would.

I said this before, Jimin made his leadership so easy for him because people like that do not stirr shit up. They are predictable easy to manage and easy to deal with.

And I recall saying they were constantly looking up to Jimin to set the pace and keep Jungkook in check and how that was a lot for a teen- because Jimin was a teen too.

That expectation of perfectionism is crazy. I'm not a fan of anyone who expects that of Jimin- particularly his solo stans. Namjoon can get away with it, he's tall.

Dude didn't want to be bothered he just wanted an easy tenure of office and Jungkook was anything but. It's why he will always write him letters and always invest energy into repairing their dynamic and why he would always feel he owes Jungkook an apology.

And Suga is right in telling him never mind. Embrace your self the whole of yourself it's okay to make mistakes it's okay to be flawed

You don't gotta live life in a constant teacher mood where you feel every aspect of you is a curated lesson for others.

And I'm glad he explored this theme in his 1st album but please Jimin, let's go to therapy 😩

We have so much to work on baby

Or who knows, may be he's just super human and I'm wrong🥴