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m0llygunn · 8 months

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deathbed confessions (eddie munson x fem!reader one-shot)

summary: cold and flu season hits you hard but luckily you have your best friend eddie to take care of you. If the cold medicine makes you admit a few things... eddie sure isn't complaining.

contents: 18+, best friends to lovers, r is dramatically sick with a cold (talks about dying but it's just drama), fluff idk a/n: guys i am so sick help me i had to lay on the bathroom floor after braving a shower because i thought i was gonna die (but also i wrote this so maybe im ok) wc: 4.4k+

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“Holy shit, did Halloween come early?” Eddie snickers from the door of your room.

All you can muster up is a low groan and that alone makes you feel like your head is on the brink of explosion.

“Jesus, you’re really sick, huh?” he says with the huff of a laugh.

You answer with another groan. Yes. You are 'really sick'.

“Can I do something to help?” he replies, the first hint of empathy appearing in his voice.

“Put me out—” you interrupt yourself with a sniffle followed by a phlegmy cough. “—out of my misery.”

You were supposed to be seeing some double feature with Eddie tonight but yesterday, right before bed, you felt the slightest of tickles in your throat. By morning you were the living dead with everything from your big toe to your forehead aching in one way or another. You called Eddie and before you could even mention that you were sick, he knew from your stuffed up voice.

No matter how many times you told him you’d be fine he was strangely insistent in checking on you at the very least. By the end of the call he’d quickly worn you down and you told him that he has the spare key and he can do whatever he wants but if he gets sick that's his fault— a little mean but arguing was the last thing you felt like doing.

From the time you hung up to now— which has only been a handful of hours, you’ve gotten substantially worse. Earth shatteringly worse. So terribly worse that the simple task of opening your eyes has been too much effort. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, and your lungs are just begging for salvation. That’s why when Eddie called twenty minutes ago letting you know he was on his way you told him no. It would have been wise if he listened to you but instead he replied ‘too bad’ and abruptly hung up the phone.

Cut to twenty minutes later he was at your door, letting himself in. He was willingly walking into his very own death sentence. He clearly thought it was more of a joke than anything.

You hear Eddie’s tell-tale gait as he walks further into your room. You assume that he’s standing over your bed, maybe a hand on the back of his neck, maybe a hand on his hip. Mustering the efforts to confirm your suspicions would take too much of your very limited energy so you continuing laying in your bed, not doing as much as opening an eye.

You hear the ruffle of his hair and he definitely is rubbing the back of his neck as he gauges what to do.

“So…do you want, like, medicine then?” he asks.

“A gun,” you croak, earning a deep belly laugh from Eddie.

“At least your humour’s still intact, that’s good to know,” he says, sitting down on the edge of your bed.

You try to shuffle over to make room for him, but that effort alone makes you wince.

“Call an ambulance,” you whine, sniffling pathetically.

“Really?” he asks, a genuine nervousness creeping into his voice. You feel his hand tug at the blanket you’ve cocooned yourself in, revealing your face for him to see. If you were more cognizant maybe you’d care about Eddie seeing you like this, but you’re too far gone to think about that.

“No,” you answer, nodding your head up and down in contrast to your answer, earning a huff of relief from Eddie.

The blanket slackens from his pull and the bed dips deeper as he leans in further to get a better look at you. Once again, if you were more cognizant you’d probably rather he didn’t, but you wouldn’t have the will to fight it anyways.

“Did you take anything?” he asks.

“It’s been a few hours.”

“Did you eat?”

“Yeah, whipped up a quick 4 course meal earlier, michelin approved of course,” you mumble. You contemplate cracking an eye open to see his reaction but you don’t.

“Right, so no food.”

“No, surprisingly not that hungry when you’re on your deathbed,” you say, sniffling.

“Tell me you’ve at least had water,” he says and from his tone you know that he already knows the answer.

“I had water until the bottle was empty, then I decided I’d rather succumb to death than get out of bed,”

“Funny, funny girl,” he says dryly, obviously not impressed by your answers.

“Tombstone quote,” you say weakly, hoping that Eddie gets what you mean. He laughs softly and you consider that enough of a success.

You hear the slightest bit of shuffling, not Eddie getting up but more like he’s looking around your room. Whatever state it’s in, you couldn’t even work up the courage to care.

“Do you want a movie on or something?” he asks, breaking the lull in conversation.

“Would you do that?” you ask, tilting your face towards him despite not opening your eyes.

“Oh yeah. I’m giving you the mortally ill special— the deathbed works, if you will,” he says, and you can tell he’s smiling. You do your best to smile back but it’s weak and probably looks more like a grimace.

You feel shuffling before the bed rises from Eddie standing.

“Okay, so I’m gonna get you medicine first. Then movie, food, and whatever else, deal?”

Your lower lip pouts out appreciatively for the boy you’ve called your best friend for forever now. If you weren’t deathly ill, you’d kiss him.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you whisper, voice getting caught in your throat for an entirely different reason than your cold this time.

He mumbles back some version of ‘don’t worry about it’ before he’s off, leaving you in the quiet of your room with only your breathing, coughing, and sniffling breaking the silence. It’s barely a few minutes before you hear his footsteps and the edge of your bed dips again.

“This is what you took right? The cold and flu medicine?”

“Mhm” you hum.

“You have nasal congestion?”

You sniffle loudly and nod.

“Right. Nasal pain, sinus congestion, and sinus pain?”

You hum again, catching onto the fact that he’s reading the symptoms off of the box.

“Chest congestion?”

Weakly you swat your hand out trying to find Eddie. When you do, you give him the weakest of taps. “Too many questions,” you muster.

“Well, I know you’re joking about dying but I don’t want to actually kill you,” he says. You hum again.

You hear him fumbling with the cardboard before fumbling with the plastic pill packaging.

“Do you wanna sit up?” he asks.

“I want to die,”

“Well you can’t do that so I’m gonna help you sit up, okay?”

Eddie starts tugging at the blanket and you let your weakened limbs go limp, undoubtedly making the task much harder for him but he doesn’t say anything. Eventually, he pulls you up by your underarms, propping you up against your headboard.

When you feel his cool hands on your forehead, pushing your hair back and out of your face, you open your eyes for the first time since Eddie got here.

“There she is,” he laughs lightly, still pushing back the disheveled mess that is your hair.

“Your hands feel nice,” you whisper, focusing on the coolness on your skin. Before you have a chance to really absorb the relief of his hands on your skin, he pulls away, grabbing for the water he had set down on your bedside table.

“Yeah, you’re really hot,” he replies, passing the water to you.

“Tombstone quote,” you say, catching his eye, making him laugh again. With a shaky hand, you take the water.

“Funny and hot, that’s a killer deal.” He hands you the little cold and flu pill and you place it in your mouth, swallowing it down with small sips of the cold water that feels like ice going down your throat.

You redirect your gaze to Eddie, “you’re gonna get sick, that’s the real killer here,” you say.

“I’ll be fine,”

“You don’t want this cold, trust me,” you say, taking another sip of water before holding it out to Eddie.

“I’ll be fine,” he repeats as he takes the water, putting it back on your bedside table.

You nod. You appreciate Eddie’s help more than anything. Fending for yourself wasn’t exactly going so well— clearly.

“You had this with your other stuff, do you want it?” he asks, holding up the vicks vapor rub.

When you felt the cold coming on you went to the pharmacy and picked up a few things just in case. The vapor rub was on sale and you bought it on a whim but haven’t tried it yet.

“Do you think it really works?”

“Wayne used to put it on me, I guess it does?”

“Where do you put it?”

“On your chest or back,” he answers, looking at the fine print of the packaging. “Yeah, it says chest, throat, and back.”

You open your mouth to reply but instead feel the creeping up of the tickling in your throat. Turning the other way, you do your best to not cough all over Eddie. Sucking in a deep breath, you only trigger another cough that divulges into one of many coughing attacks that you’ve had today. When you’re finally done, you drop your head to the back of the headboard in defeat.

“C’mon, let’s try it on your back for now,” he says, putting a hand on your shoulder encouraging you to lean forward. You move how he wants you without protest.

“I’m just gonna lift up your shirt a bit, okay?” he says, you nod but he pauses, fingers just barely slipping under the hem of your shirt.

“Eddie, with the way I’m feeling, you could see me butt ass naked right now and I could not care less,” you say.

He snorts a laugh before his cool fingers trail up your spine giving you tingles that make you shiver. “Sorry,” he hums but you shake your head. His hand makes contact with your upper back, rubbing the ointment on your skin and it honestly feels incredibly soothing. Whether it’s the rub or the physical contact, you’re not sure, but you’re not questioning it either.

The noise that comes out of you could have been a moan had you not been congested. Instead it comes out like a low, stuffed up groan— not unlike a movie zombie.

Eddie rubs a few more circles on your back before his hand travels back down your spine.

“How’s that feel?” he asks, helping you sit back up straight.

“So fucking good and like I need you to rub my back like that again,” you say, resting your head back against the headboard. Maybe you put a little too much conviction in your words but that truly felt amazing.

The room is silent and you blink open your eyes to see Eddie holding the tub of rub in his hands, paused halfway through closing it. It takes a moment for him to look up at you but when he does, he smiles softly.

“What movie do you wanna watch?”

Had you not been distracted by your sickness, you might have noticed the faintness of a blush spreading across the tops of Eddie’s cheeks. Coughing and forcing air back into your lungs takes up every ounce of your consciousness though, so you don’t notice.

You shrug your shoulder taking a deep breath, “anything, I’ll probably pass out from the medicine anyways,” you reply, turning away again to cough.

Eddie hums before he’s moving to your dresser opposite your bed, angling the TV for you to see it better.

“Sixteen Candles, Children of the Corn, Gremlins, Teen Wolf?” he says, listing off the titles of the different tapes you have sprawled next to the vcr.

“Any.”

“Gremlins seems kind of relevant,” he says, pulling open the clamshell box.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask. Eddie turns to you, smirk spreading across his lips.

“Nothing,” he sings lightly. He turns away from you, pushing the tape into the player and then pressing the combination of buttons to get it working.

“You better not be implying that I look like a gremlin because—” you interrupt yourself with another cough that quickly divulges into yet another coughing fit— worse than the last.

With each cough being so strong it makes your head pound. You don’t notice Eddie crossing your room or him settling back on the edge of your bed. You only notice his presence when he’s encouraging you forward, hand rubbing your back again.

When your coughing finally calms down enough for you to take a good breath, Eddie brings the glass of water up for you to take a sip. You take the cup in your hands, guiding it to your mouth. At the same time, Eddie never fully lets go of the cup, making sure it doesn’t spill. You take a drink, nodding when you’re done and he sets it back down, hand still running up and down your back.

“It’s probably just the rub working, getting all that nasty stuff out,” he says softly.

You nod again, letting your head fall to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. It’s probably not the smartest idea to be so close to him because you're pretty much sentencing him to his demise, but with how terrible you feel you’re desperate for anything to make it better— and right now the only thing making anything better is Eddie.

“The medicine’ll kick in any minute and you’ll feel much better, okay? I’ll go get you something to eat and then I can rub your back some more. How’s that sound?” he says softly, brushing the edge of your face with his chin as he tilts his face downwards towards yours.

Your lower lip pouts out again and you feel your eyes water behind your closed lids. Maybe you were already hyper emotional from feeling so sick, but Eddie being so sweet is also doing a number on you.

“Sounds really nice,” you whisper, sucking in a breath.

“You’ll be okay,” Eddie whispers, hand switching from rubbing up and down your back to rubbing circles at the top of your back. “I’ll take care of you, I got you.”

Before the tears in your eyes have a chance to breach your waterline, Eddie’s shifting beside you, leaning you back against the headboard with the promise of being quick while he gets you food. Only once he’s gone and you’re left alone in your room do you notice Gremlins has already started playing. Opening your eyes, you spare a few glances at the screen that distract you from your teary eyed state.

As Eddie promised, he was pretty quick in his return. You could hear him the whole time, kitchen utensils clanking and cupboard doors closing. Maybe all concept of time is lost on you right now, but it seemed like barely any time had passed before he was taking slow, careful steps back towards your room.

“Alright— got that soup you like, got crackers, and got you some juice,” Eddie announces as he situates the dishware on your bedside table. “I even made sure not to warm the soup too much so you can eat it right away,” he says.

Eyes closed again, you don’t know what you expected him to do but him manhandling you took you by surprise. A hand slid behind your back and another under your upper thighs, he was sliding you right over on the mattress.

“Just giving myself some space here,” he says absentmindedly as he fixes your blanket around you. He quickly settles in next to you before grabbing the sleeve of crackers and settling them in front of you and grabbing the bowl of soup.

Sitting with his legs stretched out next to yours, you let your head dip to his shoulder again, this time like a silent thank you where you cozy your head against him, not unlike a cat.

“For the record, you’re more like Gizmo,” he says, a tease intruding in his voice.

“Hm?” you hum questioningly.

“You don’t look like a gremlin, you’re cute like Gizmo,” he says.

You sink your face further into the crook of Eddie's shoulder, lip jetting out once more. He’s done nothing more than call you a cute gremlin rather than an evil gremlin, yet you feel yourself turning misty eyed yet again. This time you squeeze your eyes shut, closing them on purpose, hiding your sickness induced emotions.

“Soups gonna get cold,” Eddie says, twisting his neck to look at you again. “C’mon, it’ll be better for you if you eat it warm,” he says, using his free arm to move you.

Once you’re finally propped up again in an appropriate position to eat, you feel Eddie’s hand on your cheek— no doubt becoming aware of your tears.

“You okay?” he asks softly, thumb rubbing under your cheek.

“You’re being so nice to me,” you explain, sniffling back your need to cry.

“Just taking care of you. Want you to feel better,” he replies, keeping his voice quiet.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“You don’t gotta thank me, just gotta eat your soup, okay Gizmo?” Eddie says, making you snort out a snotty laugh before sucking it all back in with an apology that he quickly dismisses.

You take a few breaths, getting your tears under control. Shifting your focus to the soup, Eddie holds the bowl close to you while you slowly feed yourself spoonful after spoonful.

“Crackers?” Eddie offers.

“Maybe one.”

“How ‘bout two?” he replies, peeling back the plastic and pulling two out for you. You nod softly before taking them from him.

You feel yourself running out of energy and it’s exasperating that all it took was lifting a spoon to your lips a measly few times. When you let the crackers sit in your lap for too long, Eddie turns to look at you, resting the bowl of soup down in his lap.

“Y’okay?” he asks.

“Tired,” you answer.

“Just finish those and you can be done, okay?” he says, meeting your gaze. You shake your head.

“Can’t,” you reply.

“You can,” he says, turning his torso to put the bowl of soup on the table. He turns back around, reaching for the crackers in your hand. “Know you can,” he repeats, bringing the crackers to your lips.

“Eddie—” you try to protest.

“Bite,” he says, cutting you off and nudging the cracker into your mouth.

You bite, giving into him. It feels weird being hand fed. It’s probably even weirder when two bites in you close your eyes in an effort to conserve your energy. Regardless, Eddie doesn’t say anything besides positive affirmations about how good you’re doing which you really, really appreciate.

“How about you drink some of this,” he says, reaching for the glass of juice as you chew the last bite of cracker. “Then I’ll help you lay down and I can rub your back s’more?”

“You don’t have to if you wanna go home, you've been here a long time,” you say, swallowing the dryness of the cracker down.

Eddie lifts the cup of juice to your lips, tipping it back for you to sip at. When you take more than a few drinks, you lift a hand lightly pushing the cup away. Blinking your eyes open you look at Eddie as he returns the cup to sit with the other dishware on your bedside table.

“I’m serious, Eddie. You can go home if you want,”

“Don’t want to,”

“You’re gonna be— you interrupt yourself with a yawn this time. “—gonna be so sick,” you say groggily.

“Just let me cuddle you, you know you want it,” he says, a teasing tone hinting in his voice. You blink open your eyes again to see a genuine smile as he looks at you—one that shouldn’t be there considering how gross you feel and are sure you look. Despite that, it’s there and you do want cuddles so you nod softly, making a weak, sad attempt at getting closer to Eddie.

Eddie meets your attempt by gently pulling you down the mattress. He maneuvers you to have your head resting on his chest while his arm snakes around you, rubbing circles on your back. With the sleepiness settling in and your cold symptoms dialing back due to the medicine, you can’t help but hum happily.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he says quietly.

It feels beyond good. Good is an understatement. Having him take care of you like this is making you feel mushy and only highlights your feelings for Eddie. In combination with your partially delusionally, sleepy state the only thing on your mind is expressing your feelings, all of them true no matter how far out of it you are at this point.

“Eddie, if I die, just know that I love you,” you mutter into the fabric of his shirt.

“That’s just the cold medicine talking,” Eddie laughs softly. You find the energy to shake your head.

“Nuh-uh, love you,” you repeat. “Love you so much.”

It’s faint, maybe he whispered it or maybe it’s the fact that you were slipping into sleep but you heard it.

“I love you too,” he says quietly.

As if those words gave you a short lived second life, it had you perking up, desperately needing to clarify just in case he didn’t understand.

“But Eddie I love you as my best friend but also more than that— I love you so much.”

He leaves you in silence but you don’t have the clear consciousness to overthink it, you just keep talking.

“I don’t even care if you don’t like me like that, I love you Eddie.”

“I love you too. Love you a lot, but I think we should talk about this when you’re not tired and on cold medicine, okay?” he whispers softly.

As your thoughts start to drift, you focus on the first half of Eddie's sentiment. He loves you— and he loves you a lot. With that on your mind, intermixed with the comforting friction of his hand on your back, you fall into the deepest and most comfortable sleep of your life despite being so sick. Eddie loves you.

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Arguably, the best thing that came out of your cold was your confession. It was bound to happen eventually and although it did sort of seem like a deathbed confession at the time, it was genuine— that of which you clarified for Eddie. To your fortune, he also clarified that his reply was true as well. Beyond that, you were still sick and neither of you had done much more than just sharing those little words that one night. So yes, arguably, that's the best thing that came out of your sickly state; however, in your opinion, you think the best thing that happened was that you got Eddie sick too.

It was less than a day after you started feeling normal again that Eddie was running a fever. He ended up staying at your place for the majority of your sickness but he had left once to get some things for himself. Since he had his stuff here already, you offered for him to stay over at yours while you returned the favor of playing doctor.

Eddie took on a much different position as a sick person than you did. Undeniably, you both were on the dramatic end of things but while your cynical humour came out during your time being sick, Eddie was much different in how expressed himself.

Normally, a very touchy feely person, his affectionate side heightened tenfold while he was sick. He was all grabby hands, wanting you closer to him. Maybe it was because the two of you had broken the touch barrier while you were sick or maybe Eddie just turned into a touch deprived baby when he was sick, you’ll never know, but you didn’t deny him of the cuddles that you so dearly appreciated while you were under the weather.

The most interesting part— which shouldn't have came as a surprise, was that not only did he appreciate holding you, but he intensely appreciated you holding him, whether that be hands scratching his head as he rested it on your stomach, or your arms wrapped around him from behind making him the little spoon. Additionally, he was also incredibly affectionate with his words, constantly telling you how grateful he was for you and how much he appreciated you.

Your favourite confession came late one night, probably at the peak of his sickness. Fairly similar to your deathbed confession, but a moment to remember regardless.

You had just finished helping him eat, similar to how he had done for you, and were cuddling with him, smoothing your hands over his side as he rested his head on your chest.

The medicine was kicking in, making him drowsy, eyes fluttering shut as he let sleep take him over. He had kept babbling random thoughts but as he got more and more tired he was eventually reduced to heavy breaths. That was, until he titled his face up to yours. You looked down at him, meeting his sleepy eyes.

“I love you,” he said. “Love you so much.”

“Love you too, Eddie,” you replied, smiling.

“But I love you so much,” he said, voice returning to its babbling cadence. “Love you so much I wanna kiss you and love you and—” his babbling started to slowly fade as his head got heavier on your chest. You couldn’t help but laugh softly as your heart swelled.

You smoothed a hand over his face, brushing back his hair as you stared at him with nothing but love for your very, very sick boy. Like you had given him a second wind, his babbling started up again.

“Wanna marry you. Love you so much wanna marry you,” he said, words slurring.

“Think you’ll have to ask me on a date first, cutie,” you replied quietly, partially under the impression that he was already asleep.

“I will. Love you so much, I will,” he mumbled and with that, he was out like a light.

From there, the rest was history. If curious minds were to inquire, you would say that Eddie’s always been very good at keeping his promises, and mindless babbling or not, he meant every word that he confessed in his sickly, drowsy state.

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thank you! <3

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x fem!reader #bestfriend!eddie munson #eddie munson friends to lovers

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bunnyreaper · 7 months

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𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 1 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 5.7k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, eventual romance/smut, medium burn? notes - first part of my owner!soap x pet!reader, woohoo! i already regret writing something centered around texting and calling lmao, crying!! the formatting is killing me!! anyway, also on ao3! and if you wanna send a request, pls do! ♥

Lonely girl looking for owner.

Posting on this subreddit again was probably a mistake—but a deep-down part of you clings to the hope that this time will be the time you find someone, the time you get to go home to him.

At least this time, you'll be better at spotting the signs right off the bat—if only you can take off the rose-tinted glasses long enough to take note.

Your inbox is flooded with the usual kinds of messages—unsolicited pictures, low-effort one-sentence wonders, and so-called doms jumping straight to the part where they call you a nasty whore with no actual consideration for the person you are.

You're just about to give up, delete the post, and ignore all chat requests when a message arrives in your inbox.

From: squeakycleanscot

Subject: Lonely guy looking for girl

Hi,

Saw your post and knew I had to message. You sound like everything I'm looking for and more.

I'm a little younger than the age you put on your post, but I think I fit your other requirements. I'm 27, Scottish (yes, with the accent), and in the army, I hope that's a turn-on rather than a turn-off.

When I'm not deployed, I like cosy nights in, preferably with my love by my side. Don't mind a night at the pub either, especially if there's a Celtic match on, not that anywhere near here shows them.

I'm looking for something longer term like you mentioned (would love to collar my girl one day, which is probably ironic considering I'm a wee bit scared of dogs.)

Happy to send a picture if you'd like :)

Hope to hear from you soon,

Johnny.

You reread the message, turning his words over in your mind.

Something about his message has your attention—it at least suggests he has a brain in his head and a heart capable of empathy, and that maybe he's serious.

You begin typing your reply instantly, your fingers moving so fast you have to type and retype so many parts to rid the message of all of the overexcited mistakes.

hi johnny,

scottish?! is it bad im already imagining how your dirty talk will sound?

it's funny, i always wanted to join the army growing up, but it never worked out. maybe it's for the best as now i'm not immune to enjoying a hot man in uniform... which I'm assuming you are ;)

cosy nights in are my favourite too! I'm a bit of a homebody and love being snuggled up more than anything. i have to let you know in advance that you have some stiff competition in the form of my giant teddy bear, barnaby.

i'm looking for something longer term too, or at least not a one night kind of thing—a collar one day would be the dream <;3

if you send a picture, ill send one back, nothing sexy just yet though, if that's okay?

have you met up with someone off here before? just curious about your experiences!

y/n

As soon as the message is sent, the overthinking kicks in—was that too much? Is he going to think you're weird?

You shuffle in bed, turning over between the sheets and trying to flick through other apps as you wait for a reply—otherwise, you'd just be staring at the notifications bar waiting for that silly little robot face to pop up.

Johnny doesn't leave you waiting long, only a few minutes passing from your last message.

Maybe you'll find out sooner rather than later just how my dirty talk sounds ;)

I tried to sneak in before I was old enough, but they caught on. Served since I was 18 though, you'll have a lot of stories ready from me if you're ever willing to listen. Not sure if the uniform is anything like you're thinking though, in my unit it's mostly just t-shirts, tac vests and trousers.

I'll prepare my best snuggling arms for if we ever meet. You should inform Barnaby now about his replacement, mind.

Can't not send a sexy photo though, sorry lass, all my pictures are. I'm sure you understand, lol

Haven't met anyone, had a few conversations but nothing worth pursuing, and had kind of given up until I saw your post.

His message is the perfect mix of sexy, sweet, and sincere—and if that is the essence of the man, you know he's everything you're looking for.

You try not to think too hard about a hot Scottish accent calling you all your favourite names or telling you exactly what to do, or even those stories he has to tell, as the idea is all too exciting.

Reading his message, you instinctively reach out to pat Barnaby when you see he may end up replaced—hopefully the poor bear will understand when he has to vacate the bed for this sexy soldier man.

looking forward to it. can I start putting in requests now for bedtime stories too?

i still wanna see, maybe in your sexy-not-sexy pic?

barnaby will be devastated by the news, and you may have to give him hugs too (but not for too long, or i'll get lonely!!!)

same here, about things not going anywhere... or people turning out to be a bit scary, so you're not allowed to let me down, okay?

Maybe the last part of the message was too much, but your heart is already soaring with unbridled hope—along with that hope comes doubt too.

Each second waiting for a reply drags, and you take to re-reading his messages and clicking on his profile to investigate.

It's largely empty of posts, but there are tons of comments across different communities—including his aforementioned football team, r/Scotland, and eyebleach.

Clearly, he's a softie at heart.

When his next message comes through, it's an Imgur link with a short message.

Here we go, a few months old though now. Don't have anything more recent from work :)

You take a moment or two to steady yourself before you tap the link. While you definitely feel like you and Johnny have already started to click, if he's not your type then it probably won't go anywhere...

It's a situation you've been in before—great conversation, similar interests but no physical attraction, and back then you didn't have the heart to break it off straight away.

You tap the link and are greeted by a full-body shot of a tall, well-built man in tactical clothes. His hair is a neatly trimmed mohawk, and while his face isn't crystal clear, he's clearly fucking handsome. His biceps bulge from the gray tee stretched over his torso, his large hands are covered with gloves and grasping a gun.

Your eyes trail to his long legs, thick thighs encased in camo and strapped with various holsters. All in all, the picture is perfect. You find yourself zooming in desperately to get a better look at his face, the handsome jaw lined with stubble that you can already imagine between your legs. The whole image and every new detail has you squirming in your bed, and cheekily wishing to save the image to your phone.

holyfwucj

holy fuck

Like what you see?

i need a hug from you urgently.

now i feel shy...

It had crossed your mind ever so slightly that Johnny may be out of your league, or that he simply may not be attracted to someone like you, which would be a complete shame. Now you've set eyes on him, you want him even more—want to kneel at those feet and stare up at his hulking figure while he tugs on a leash around your neck.

Hopefully, just like you, he'll be smitten from the first glance.

Scrolling through your camera roll, you decide you don't exactly love any recent photos of yourself. The ones at your last work event have you looking far too corporate, and the only image from your last night out was taking in a bathroom mirror in the local Wetherspoons—neither of which is ideal.

You crawl out from the warmth of your sheets, kneeling on the end of the bed and posing as you point your camera in the mirror that sits across the room and captures you perfectly. Before you start snapping, you adjust your top to make sure too much isn't on display, even though it's strappy and cropped, and definitely a little bit more on the tantalising side as far as your pyjamas go.

Hopefully, Johnny likes the pose and the outfit... and you. You can see your smiling face just to the side of your phone as you press to capture the picture—and when you return to your inbox to send the picture link, a message is waiting for you.

I already know you're gorgeous. Don't leave me hanging, bonnie.

okay. this is me now, all ready for bed!!

Holy fuck yourself.

And I'm assuming that's Barnaby in the background.

If he notices the pose, he doesn't comment on it, instead delighting your heart by commenting on Barnaby instead.

sure is! he's ready for snuggles and sleep.

Can you do me a favour?

That message makes your heart skip because usually when something like that is asked, it's followed with a request for nudes or something sexual—and while that is a large part of something like this, you crave the connection first, crave someone actually sticking around and getting to know you.

depends on what it is!

Tell Barnaby to keep looking after you until I get there, yeah?

does that mean you're coming for me?

One day, if we're both lucky.

seems promising so far, Johnny.

Get some sleep, yeah? Maybe tomorrow night I'll give you a bell.

The idea of this conversation ending is heart-wrenching, but at least sleep will bring you closer to that possible phone call. Hearing his voice, now that will be even more incredible.

how do you expect me to sleep after telling me that? so mean!

Patience, bonnie. Be good for me?

You clench, your thighs squeezing together as arousal rushes through you. It's like he knows exactly how far to go, what buttons to press, what you're looking for.

It's the right kind of commanding, toeing the line perfectly between flirtatious and in charge. A lot of guys you've talked to have rushed it made commands too early, and sent you running. Johnny's words, be good for me? You can't help but want to behave.

okay, but I see how this is going to be :(

Bet you look so fucking good with a pout ;)

now you're just being a cruel tease, Johnny...

Sorry, I'll stop. Sleep, yeah, for me?

cuddling up to barnaby now.

You decide to attach another picture, your eyes screwed shut and cheeks squished as you wrap yourself around the bear and cuddle up under the sheets.

talk tomorrow?

Of course, bonnie, sweet dreams <;3

You lock your phone, your eyes feeling relieved as they adjust to the darkness.

For a brief moment, you just clutch your phone to your chest and recall the picture Johnny had sent, how much you'd love to be wrapped up in his arms tonight.

He's the only thing on your mind as you drift off to sleep.

-//-

Your dreams are tumultuous, starting off with a nightmare of being chased and chased until your legs give out, only for you to find salvation and safety in a stranger's arms—one who seemed vaguely familiar.

The first thing you do when you wake is roll over to check your phone, elation overtaking you when you see a notification from Johnny already waiting there—already he's blessing you with a good morning message.

Good morning, sweet girl.

Attached under the picture is another image link, and clicking on it brings up an absolutely gorgeous picture of Johnny, lazing in bed. There's just enough light in the room for you to see the brightness of his eyes that you couldn't see before—his mohawk is mussed, and his smile is easy, drawing you in.

He's even more handsome in this up close photo, you can only imagine what he looks like in person, right before you.

morning Johnny <3 how did you sleep?

Like a baby. Yourself?

not the best, but I swear you were in my dream.

Sorry to hear that, but oh already? What did I do?

I mean, it was a bulky guy with a mohawk but he didn't have your name, I think it was meant to be you though.

You recall the safety you felt in the arms of the strange figure, it was serene, and everything you hope to feel when you find the one—hopefully that's Johnny.

My dreams were shite, you didn't show up.

i'll try harder to be there tonight!!

Promise?

promise.

God, he's so fucking sweet. It's hard to imagine he's into all the things you mentioned in your initial post, at least right now. But you're all too familiar with how appearances can be deceiving—you wonder what else your sweet Scot is into.

You peel back the covers and head out into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on mindlessly as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen—not wanting to be even a minute late to answering Johnny's texts, even though it seems there's a natural lull in the conversation.

You return your focus to making your tea, and your thoughts don't drift from Johnny for even a moment, as you ponder ways to keep the conversation going. Admittedly, you have a million and one questions you want, but you don't want to come across too... eager? clingy? Like some serial killer fiending for information?

It's crazy the way your heart yearns for him so soon—and it's crazy the way that you wish he feels the same as you do. You wonder how his day is going, and if he's staring at your phone waiting for your message.

With tea brewed, you set it on the coffee table and flop onto the plush couch, rushing to open the app when a new notification pops up.

What's your plan for the day?

lazy day, binge-watching... texting you? wbu?

I have to work for a bit, but I'll message you when I can.

On a weekend? That's horrible, but I imagine they run a tight ship over there.

You rush to follow up your message with something else.

will you still be able to call tonight?

Aye, give me your number, I'll save it!

You send off your number and don't hear anything from Johnny for a good few hours. You pass the time watching one of your favourite shows, and trying to resist the urge to go scroll down Johnny's profile once more.

The next time a message pops up, it's well past lunch.

Cute profile pic on whatsapp.

Johnny has clearly added your number to his contacts and spied your picture on the app. You blush thinking of him seeing you in that costume—especially after he knows what you're into.

it was Halloween, I swear!!

You make an adorable little kitten, lass.

imagination running wild now? ;)

Aye, but I'm a gent.

hopefully not always...

Oh, you'll see. Talk to you tonight, kitty.

talk to you then <;3

Now you're just itching, waiting for the hours to crawl by for Johnny's workday to end, so you can talk to him again, so you can finally hear his voice.

What will it sound like saying your name? Whispering sweet nothings in your ears?

The hours pass slowly until a different notification lights up your phone as you cuddle into your sheets.

Hey, it's Johnny! Just got home.

You scramble to click on the pop-up, spying his own profile picture in the corner—tapping on it to view it closer.

It's the Johnny you recognise, smiling wide with his arm slung around another man. He looks so ridiculously happy, probably due to the pint in his other hand. The more you look at him, the more you can't believe you're talking to this man, that he wants to talk to you.

You quickly add him to your contacts, putting a heart next to his name, before you return to the chat and begin to type.

i'm not the only one with a cute pfp!!

Three sheets to the wind in that picture, actually.

i can tell <3

Ready to call?

whenever you're ready!

The image of him floods your screen, the screen pulsing as it waits for you to accept. Your fingers tremble as you press the button, and you fall silent as you press the phone to your ear, nerves gripping at your throat.

"Hi, bonnie." His voice drifts from the phone speaker, sweet like honey and warm like sunshine, with that gorgeous accent too.

"Hi." You squeak out, silently cursing at yourself for being so nervous and seemingly unable to speak.

A melodic laugh follows your words, amused but not cruel or mocking. "Are you nervous?" His voice is soothing, his concern and sweet nature evident.

You cradle your burning cheek, feeling the way your blush spreads across your smiling face. "Just a little, can you blame me?"

He's laughing again, and you hear a shuffling noise that suggests he's getting comfortable. "Don't be, I'll look after yer, I promise."

Fuck. You could get used to hearing that. "I really like your voice." You admit, whispering into the phone with a ridiculous grin on your face.

"I like yours too, you sound so sweet."

You drop your voice lower, giggling mischievously. "Only sometimes."

"That's what I like ta hear." The way Johnny's voice dips as he says that has your insides fluttering, but you can only assume he's returning the favour. His tone returns to its usual charming tone as he asks, "How was your lazy day?"

"Well, I kind of spent a fair bit of it distracted, thinking about this important call I was going to have tonight..."

"Oh aye, I should get off the phone so you can wait then."

"Funny. How was yours? What do you even do day to day, anyway?" You ask, voice brimming with curiosity—there are so many things you want to ask, but you imagine his job can be secretive.

"Lots of training, and sometimes paperwork, which is right shite."

"Not when you don't have someone under the desk keeping you company." You laugh, taking the chance to flirt. If you were into Johnny after reading his messages, actually hearing his voice is only making your attraction soar.

A quiet fuck can be heard, as the man on the end of the phone heaves out a breath. "I'll have ta look into getting you clearance if you keep talking like that, lass."

"Glad to be of service, what can I say?" You find yourself in a giggle fit at your own silliness, a mix of nerves and joy at enjoying yourself so much.

"God, I love yer laugh." The deep sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten.

The drug that is Johnny is already so intoxicating.

"I'm so glad you can't see me blushing."

"I'm no'." He sounds so indignant about that. "But I could listen to that laugh all day, really."

If only he could see you pout too. "Now you're just trying to make me blush more."

He chuckles, his voice dropping dangerously flirtatious again. "Maybe I am, nothing you can do about it."

"Now I'm pouting."

"Better not pout in front of me, lass." His suggestive tone makes you shiver.

"Oh, why's that?" You ask, playing coy.

"'Cause I'll just have to start kissing ya, might even nibble on those soft little lips."

You suppress a delighted squeak, already so flustered at even the idea of a kiss. "I'm not hearing a downside."

"No?"

"Nope."

"Might not be gentle with you, though."

"Good thing that I like it rough." The words are out of you before you can reconsider, but they have exactly the effect you intend as you hear Johnny inhale sharply.

"Ach, you and yer wicked mouth."

"You have no idea..."

He lets out a rough exhale, his voice turning gravelly and deep. "Fuck, bonnie."

"Hey, I'm only repaying the favour, I've been squirming desperately pretty much since I picked up the phone."

He whistles approvingly, his voice now teasing and playfully menacing. "Just you wait til I'm really in ya head."

"You're already making good progress." You admit.

"Oh aye?"

You hum contentedly, eyes flickering shut for a moment. "I'll be imagining your voice as I fall asleep tonight."

"I'll just have ta send yer voice notes to drift off to, so I can end up in your dreams again." You can almost hear the smirk in his voice.

"Already spoiling me, too."

Fuck, how is it this man seems to know exactly what to say? Everything that comes out of his mouth takes root in your brain and sends your thoughts running wild—it's like he's already in your head, or as if someone made him in a lab.

"I'll spoil ya every day, if you're ever mine."

You groan in frustration, unbelieving that a stranger can be so seemingly perfect. "How are you even single, Johnny?"

"I could ask you the same. Taking everything in me to not ask for an address right now, if I'm being honest." He huffs a laugh.

While the idea is thrilling, you know you should have at least some sense of preservation, and shouldn't blurt out your postcode for this strange man you barely know. "I'm worth the wait, I swear." You whisper your promise.

"I'm sure yer are. But to answer your question, my work keeps me busy a lot, and this lifestyle isn't for everyone." There's a hint of vulnerability to his voice, and you sense such a fact is a sore point in his personal life.

In the fantasy of all of this, you suppose the reality of the situation isn't something you'd stopped to consider. Life for a man in the military was surely so different from a regular 9-5. "I'm guessing that you're away a lot?"

"Aye, sometimes for just a few days, sometimes for months, all depends." His admission is soft, as if you can hear in his tone that he's waiting for you to bolt.

If that's the big 'catch' when it comes to Johnny, you can breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I guess you need someone strong and loyal to hold on and wait for you."

There's a tense silence, something lingering in the air.

"Hard to come by, I've found."

The thought makes your stomach twist in the worst possible way. Johnny, at least on the surface, seems so worthy of love.

You chance the question that's on the tip of your tongue, hoping Johnny doesn't mind your reckless curiosity. "Have... you been cheated on?"

"More than once, gets less surprising over the years." He finishes with a sad laugh, as you can tell he tries to infuse humour into the whole thing.

"That's... horrible."

Being sent away from your home to face gunfire and warfare, all to keep the people back home safe... only to be betrayed by the people back home who love you, who are supposed to wait for you. It's a gut-wrenching thought, and your heart aches for the man.

"A few of the lads here have a similar story."

"So the army, not for the faint of heart, and dating an army man, not for the faint of heart." You sigh, though you don't feel put off by the thought.

"Exactly. That you then? Faint of heart?"

"No. I mean, inside I'm clingy as hell, and I'd miss you like crazy every day until you got back..." Your emotions overtake you, as you imagine a future where you'd have to kiss the man goodbye for maybe months at a time. "But I get the feeling that what we could have would be worth the wait. Hypothetically of course."

At that, Johnny laughs, and his light tone returns. "Don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves, aye."

You don't want to get ahead of yourself, you know you shouldn't, but the way you and Johnny have clicked is unlike anything you've felt before. "But... I have a good feeling."

"I do too, already dreading putting down the phone."

"I'm not planning on it anytime soon, even if I have to be up early tomorrow."

"So do I, alarms set for 4."

You do not envy his lifestyle one bit.

"That's awful! I'm gonna be so cranky tomorrow, I might have to use my lunch break for a nap." You admit, preemptively yawning into your hand.

"You one of those perpetually sleepy girls?"

You nod, even though he can't see it. "The sleepiest."

"Barnaby is a lucky bear, getting to cuddle up to you so much."

You burst out laughing at the hint of envy in his words. "Are you... jealous?"

"For now, but soon the tables will turn." He faked an evil laugh, that only makes you giggle harder.

"Oh, you think you can give better snuggles than him?"

"Oh, I know I can, bonnie. The bear can't wrap his arms around yer, can't whisper sweet things in your ear..." His voice dips back into that seductive, teasing tone. "... Can't trail his hands down to that pretty little pussy."

Once more, you flush with desire, every nerve alight as Johnny's words wash over you—although it seems like almost everything he says has your body reacting. "You have an interesting way of cuddling, Johnny."

"Didnae say I was actually gonna do anything once my hands got down there."

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed."

"When you're in my arms, you wouldn't have a choice, lass." The dark, dominant voice makes you shiver, makes your submissive instincts awaken.

"Oh yeah?"

He hums slowly. "Once you're mine, you leave the choices to me. Johnny knows best, yeah?"

"Johnny knows best." You whisper breathlessly, the words coming out automatically, like they just feel right.

"Steamin' Jesus, can already tell yer gonna be the death of me."

"Can't have that, your family won't get your death in service payout!" You laugh awkwardly, before a sense of guilt rears its head. "Sorry, grim joke."

"I don't mind. You should hear some of the ones my Lt. comes out with, he's a right sick bastard." He chuckles.

"Never want to make light of it and hurt you, though."

"Telling jokes makes it easier hen, you'll be wishing me dead in no time at all."

You gasp, shocked by the prospect. "I'd never!"

"Not even when I deny you from touching yourself for my entire deployment? Months of nothing at all?" The sick grin is evident in his voice.

"You wouldn't, that's so mean. You're too sweet for that."

"Aye, for now, but don't you like a little bit of meanness, if yer into men like me..." The edge to his voice and the truth to your words has you trembling.

"Maybe..." You singsong in response, not wanting to give away just how much you liked the idea of his mean side.

"Bonnie..." He tuts disapprovingly. "Don't play coy."

You shudder out a breath as you squeeze your thighs together for relief. "I just don't want you to bully me too much right now, I'm already soaked."

"Is that right?" He seems delightfully surprised by such a revelation.

"Mhmm."

"I'm fucking rock hard if it helps, think I have been since last night..." You hear him shuffle, and you try not to imagine what's happening on the other end of the line, or how he looks lying in bed with said hardness.

When he groans hungrily down the line, you feel yourself quake once more. "The sight of you on your fucking knees... Christ alive."

You can't help but giggle at your unintended teasing. "It wasn't on purpose, I thought it was cute more than anything."

"Adorable and naughty, could cum just looking at it." He huffs.

"You're just flattering me, besides, I could say the same about your picture."

Every part of you flushes thinking of the first photo he sent, all muscle and alpha male—it's like he was the physical embodiment of dominance, and just looking at him makes you want to kneel.

"You like the military get up?"

"Love it, more than I probably should."

"Oh aye, bet you'd love for me to order you around?" His words are playful, but underpinned with a hint of promise. "All in due time, eh?"

"All in due time. What's your rank, anyway?"

"Sergeant."

"Wait..." You take a deep breath as you consider your question. "Can I ask for your last name or is it too soon?"

"Mactavish."

Johnny Mactavish—you should remember to give that a quick Google search later.

"Sergeant Mactavish." You test the name on your tongue, trying to imagine him at work, following and giving orders.

"Sounds too good when you say it, bonnie." He laughs.

"Thank you, sergeant." Your affectation of the word is entirely intentional, as you attempt to rile him up with the use of his title.

The throaty groan that leaves him is addictive.

"What else do you like to be called?"

"Depends on what you want to call me really, but I like... sir."

"I like it too, will have to remember that for the future, and just torture you with sergeant in the meantime." You can't help but giggle as you flirt.

"Oh don't worry, am keeping score." He growls playfully. "Wait til I get ma hands on you, bonnie."

"You're keeping score?" You gasp, a heady mix of fear and arousal coursing through you almost urges you to be even more of a teasing brat.

"Aye, spanking arm at the ready."

"My pouting lips are ready."

"Won't be the only thing you use them lips for."

Fuck fuck fuck. Not that you hadn't thought about it already, hadn't already let your mind drift to what his cock might look like—whether it matches the size of the man—now you're definitely thinking about it. Fixated on it, craving it.

Some cards are best kept close to your chest so early on, so you change tack and go a different direction with his flirtation. "Yeah, with you in the room, I'd probably be smiling a whole lot."

The two of you continue to chat, you asking what you can about his work as he asks about yours, and you fill him in on the boring world you live in, which seems especially boring in comparison to taking down cartels and traveling the world.

The conversation never stops being easy, the flirtation and innuendo always right there at the tip of your tongues as you tease each other relentlessly—giving as good as you get. All night, you're practically grinding against your duvet as you get lost in Johnny's dulcet tones, and you find yourself just letting him speak for the sake of getting to hear more of his voice.

As Johnny is about to ask you more about your background, you're overcome with a harsh yawn that you desperately try to stifle. Your eyes have been shut for the last hour at least, but with the command Johnny has over your nervous system right now, it's been easy to stay awake.

"Tired, bonnie?" He asks, voice laced with sweet concern.

"Yeah..." Your voice falls quiet, as the thought of ending the call makes your throat constrict. "But I don't wanna stop talking."

"Me either, but av got bad news."

You know what's coming, and you know it isn't remotely anywhere near the end of the world, despite what your heart is telling you right now. "Go on."

"I have to go." Even he sounds sad about such an outcome.

"It's not even that late?" The clock reads 2 am.

"Gotta get a wee bit of sleep before I hit the gym, and then get off ta work. Don't you have work too?"

"Work from home tomorrow, so it's not too bad. Not fair though, I wanna keep talking." You admit quietly. It's too much too soon, but you're overwhelmed, the tide of your emotions crashing over the edges.

"Tell yer what. Next time we call, we can try leaving it on while we sleep."

Your heart flips, as you almost whimper at how cute the gesture is. "Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?"

"Obviously." There's that gorgeous laugh again. "Is it working?"

"Just a little, but that might be the lack of sleep talking, I might be going slightly insane."

Johnny sighs, and it's clear he's battling to keep a handle on his self-control. "Rest, bonnie, I won't be able to work knowing you're not sleepin'"

You sigh too, accepting your fate. "Okay, just for you."

"Just want what's best for you, you need your sleep."

Your head spins at how utterly sincere he sounds—the care in his voice after such a short amount of time serves to drive you even deeper into this infatuation. "Already?"

"Can't turn it off, am just protective by nature, bonnie. If you were my girl, you'd have a bedtime."

And that makes your cunt clench and your heart soar. "Johnny..." You whine.

"Yeah?"

You hesitate to say what you want to say next, but everything within you is calling out for him, desperate to be in his arms. "Don't make me wait too long to meet you, please."

His laughter is sweet, conveying a sense of understanding more than anything. "I'll try ma best, supposed to be off on Friday."

"5 whole days."

"Sure you don't wanna wait a bit longer?"

You shake your head, mumbling a sound to convey your feelings. "Feels right, don't know how to describe it... do you feel it too?"

Johnny takes a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks. "I do, lass."

"Good." You couldn't even attempt to fight the idiotic grin on your face, or how warm you feel inside and out. "I'll get some sleep, talk soon."

"Goodnight, bonnie. Sweet dreams."

You wait for Johnny to end the call, not wanting to push the button yourself and have his presence fade away. When your screen dims, you resist the urge to text him more, opting instead to put your phone on charge and roll over to Barnaby—wishing it was Johnny instead.

#john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #soap mactavish #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty fanfic #soap mw2 #this is a crime against literature i swear #also a crime against graphic design #crimes all round???#anyway posting and pretending this doesnt exist so the self loathing goes away xox #aaaaaaaaaaah #collars and cages

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strongheartneteyam · 10 months

Text

Realize where you belong.

Pairing: neteyam sully x female!dreamwalker!reader/female!human!reader

Chapter 5

CW: dubious consent, mentions of NON CON, neteyam yearning for reader, angst all over, you can see the sexual tension with your naked eyes, possessive neteyam, feelings of general and sexual confusion, mentions of sexual fluids, talks of being sexually aroused, sexual content, tsaheylu is mentioned, reader is still scared of Neteyam but she longs for him too, fear kink (if you squint), mentions of blood, size kink (if you really squint), primal [hunter/prey] kink (if you squint HARD), crying, strong language, the word "harassment" is mentioned, MAY BE TRIGGERING to some people, mentions of exophilia, indecisive reader, heartbroken Neteyam, heartbroken reader. Please, tell me if I missed anything important!

I slept a lot during the day yesterday and was up until late with my bf having dinner, watching YouTube etc and, when he went to sleep, I was restless, still didn't feel like sleeping so, I decided to edit and finish this chapter that was being kept in my Docs for way too long, it was getting dusty 😂 So, I might have stayed up until morning in the zone editing and finishing this 👀 I'm REALLY sleepy and exhausted rn, so, if some parts of this chapter don't really make sense, try to have empathy for my poor tired being and forgive me <3 I'm aware that I'm a hot mess who has insomnia and needs to get a grip and not put her art above healthy sleeping habits but what can I do? I'm one of those chaotic artists who have a hectic, unstable life and feel the most alive when they're immersed in their craft, running away from their problems, pouring their whole soul into their works 🤷🏻‍♀️

Not proofread. Me. too. tired. 💤 I'll do it ASAP! hope you guys like this. 🤍😘 comments will ALWAYS be incredibly appreciated.

Chapter 4

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

From lashes to ashes and from lust to dust

In your sweetest torment I am lost

And we sense the danger but don't want to give up

It's heartache every moment, from the start 'til the end

It's heartache every moment with you

Heartache Every Moment (HIM)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

You stared at Neteyam, at his big face, covered with stripes and fascinating bioluminescent freckles, leaving unique patterns all over his blue skin.

Even though he was kneeling down, doing everything he could to seem smaller and not so scary, to make you feel less intimidated by his size, his face was still way above your eyes, you still felt your neck hurt a little when you had to look up - straining your muscles, already sore from working too much - to gaze at his eyes.

"Oh, paskalin" (honey) "I could make you feel so good, you don't even know..." he was now even closer to you - you didn't even think it was possible but there he was, his massive frame making you feel smaller than ever. Fear of him snapping at you, in case you did something that didn't please, and hurting you was taking over your mind. You didn't know that Omatikaya boy, how could you trust him? "Give me a chance, be my mate and lemme show you how much pleasure I can give you, how I can make you feel safe and fulfilled in my arms after we make love. Like no fucking human male could ever do. Not like I would." Neteyam's fangs got prominent at that moment, and you could tell he was restraining himself from hissing at the thought of a human man having you in his arms. God, that had a name...

"Obsession." you thought

Despite those horrible feelings you were experiencing, his foreign accent still sounded weird but strangely fascinating to your ears, simultaneously. You hated yourself for feeling drawn to Neteyam, even though he was clearly stepping over your limits. You didn't know if maybe it was a na'vi courtship behavior for the male to get this close to the female, even if she hadn't shown any signs of wanting him to. But Neteyam wasn't exactly courting you, you thought. It was more like... straight up harassment, at least in human culture.

Your breath became heavier inside your oxygen mask when you thought about him using his fangs to draw blood from your skin in case you were able to be fast enough to go past where he was kneeling down next to you, and, tried to run away. With his incredibly slender, toned legs he could easily catch up with you in a millisecond and grab you, being free to do whatever he wanted to your small, defenseless human body. That thought made you feel like someone was knotting your intestines tight.

"Eywa... You're just so fucking pretty, even in this demon form, that I... I wanna do to you, right now, all I've been dreaming about, since I first saw you and you made my blood run hotter through my veins, such a fire you ignited inside me, syulang..." (flower)

Neteyam's breath was so heavy once out of his nostrils, clouding your mask, like he's controlling his urges, trying to hold back from touching you. You felt your knees weaken, fear and tension being the reasons why.

"Y-you don't want me, Neteyam. Not really. You just think you do. You're only intrigued by me because I look different from the girls you're used to. The na'vi girls." You didn't know how but you dug deep inside your chest and found the courage there to say that, looking into the alien's eyes.

Neteyam chuckled faintly, air coming out of his nose, in disbelief

"How can you say such thing, hì’i?"

"Hì..hì?" You tried to pronounce what you had just heard, in vain. You had no idea what that na'vi word meant. It's not like you knew that much of the na'vi language, anyway. You only knew the basic stuff that you had to study and learn to be able pass one of the tests that would determine if you were ready to get an Avatar body from the lab

"Hì'i." He corrected you, smiling wide and laughing quite a bit. "You're so silly and cute. Hì'i means "small in size" in my people's language. You are small, in this current physical form. But, let's talk about what's most important: what makes you think I don't really want you?"

"Because I am a demon to you, as you said. I am a human girl, not a na'vi girl." you said, rage slipping through your eyes. Why the hell was that crazy na'vi guy calling you a "demon", saying that he wants you sexually and calling you pet names, all at once?

"But you have an Avatar body. Nothing is preventing you from having your consciousness transferred for good to that body. If my father did it, so can you." The alien said, full of confidence. You wondered if he was going insane.

"And what makes you think I wanna do it?"

“My tawtute," (human) "I can smell you. I know you want me too. You're wet for me. Don't forget my senses are way sharper than what you're used to" Neteyam smiles calmly while enjoying the way your scent hit his nostrils. You felt your face flood with color, so much blood going directly to that part of your body as you felt incredibly embarassed when you heard those words. You had just realized your panties were soaked. "And, I'm sorry, but I have to tell you… Your juices smell so fucking delicious. You're driving me insane right now, yawne. I think that, at the end of the day, becoming my mate and making tsaheylu with me wouldn't be such a horrible experience for you."

Your thoughts cursed at you like crazy: "Damn it!! I must be kidding my own self!! Having a slight crush on him is one thing, getting fucking wet for him is something totally different! Do I have a fear kink, a rape kink or am I just into freaking exophilia?! For real, girl... There's gotta be something extremely wrong with you for you to be this turned on by the thought of this alien guy taking you by force."

"You're crazy! I'm not gonna be your mate! Just fucking let me go!" You wondered if you had just lost your mind to say and do that to Neteyam, being currently in your human body (if you were Dreamwalking it would obviously be safer) but you couldn't take all that was happening at that moment anymore. Your heart was beating too fast, like you were about to have a cardiac arrest. It was too much. You were overwhelmed.

You caught Neteyam off guard, the words you shouted stinged him so hard it left his very heart wounded, the muscles throbbing in pain. You noticed he seemed hurt, the sides of his mouth curled down faintly and his cat like ears were pointing towards the ground.

You felt bad for hurting his feelings. Even though he was disrespecting you, there was still enough empathy inside you to make you feel bad for making him suffer. You did not enjoy hurting people.

You inhaled and exhaled, trying to calm your nerves and, finally, you said:

"Look, I don't mean to be rude, even though you honestly deserve it. There's no excuse for what you're doing. You can't force me to be your mate. I'm not even na'vi! And don't start with that "You have an Avatar body" thing, please!" You breathe in deeply and let the air out slowly "I'm not your dad and I don't intend to follow his steps. I know very well I could die if I tried to go past Eywa's eye. Even if I wanted to get my consciousness transferred forever to my Avatar form, it's too damn risky. Plus, what makes you think I'd ever do it for you? I barely know you." You sighed, exhausted from it all. "Let me go back to my room. Please…?"

Neteyam looked tired and he was starting to feel defeated, like a soldier fighting in the front lines of a war who was losing his stamina after shooting way too many enemies in a very short period of time.

"I just wish you could…" it's like the words felt too rough against his throat, like it was too hard to talk at that moment "... could see that I won't hurt you." He sighed again "I know it feels weird and I'm big and scary, like you say…" His heart hurt at the reminder of your tough words "But I promise you - and I take promises very seriously. My parents taught me to do so, ever since I was old enough to understand their words - I would never lay a finger you." The expression on his face looked utterly serious, like he truly meant it. "Ever."

"You're hurting me with your actions, your words... the way you talk about me, about my body. I don't know about your culture, but it's pretty disrespectful in mine. I feel violated. I do think most of what the human race considers right or wrong is just bullshit, dumb society rules made up by even dumber people. But I have to agree with them on this one." You said

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, hì’i tawtute." (small human) Neteyam looked down at the floor and there was shame all over his face

"Opening my window for you was a mistake."

Neteyam looked at you with eyes filled with sadness

He got back on his feet and stepped away from you, staying now arguably a good amount of steps away from where you were standing.

"Please, don't say that…" Neteyam pleaded with tears in his eyes

"I'm sorry. I have to go."

༊⁀➷

Once you got back to your room, took your oxygen mask out of your face on autopilot and closed the window, you stared for a while at Neteyam's oddly tall figure, still standing in front of your room.

You looked at him and your heart broke. He looked so hurt. His big yellow irises shone insanely in the dark of the eclipse. But his eyes were tainted with tears. His dark braids fell onto his shoulders perfectly. He was incredibly beautiful. But why could you only let your guard down when he was away from you? When you were behind a glass and he was standing on the other side? It broke your heart to do that. But you also knew he was being too much. Too eager. Stepping over your limits and making you uncomfortable. But what if that was just his na'vi nature? You had heard before that the na'vi were humanoid but still animalistic. Maybe it was just… his primal instincts to find a mate. You wondered if maybe you were being too harsh on him. But you still felt like you could not and should not trust him. Even though you wanted to.

You watched him walk away, his shoulders pointing downwards, his posture showing he knew he had lost that battle.

You wondered if he would come back or if he would give up on you. You felt so idiotic. Why did you want him to come back? He was not treating you the way he should be, with respect for your boundaries.

You felt so confused. There was a lump in your throat. You felt like you were about to cry too.

Your hands were cold and you were feeling anxious and your chest was filled with angst. You wanted to scream Neteyam's name and ask him to come back. But you did not. You knew you shouldn't. It could awake someone. It could be dangerous. You should not trust Neteyam, you kept repeating in your mind.

Your feet started to move, almost as if they did it on their own, because it felt like your mind was somewhere else, like your brain was occupied with something else other than sending a message to your feet and tell them to take you back to your bed. You were lost in your thoughts. Dazed as hell.

Once you laid on your bed and covered your body with the warm sheets, you felt a sinking feeling of sadness and guilt bruising your chest. Hot, painful tears streamed down your face and the lump in your throat intensified. Why were you crying? And why were you thinking about Neteyam Suli while you cried?

You wondered if he could imagine that you were now crying, just like he was when he left.

༊⁀➷

Taglist:

@kitsunefirewail @tumblingdevils @a-blog-name-2003 @xylobee @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @henhouse-horrors @lala-1516 @xylianasblog @samistars @crazy4books1 @explosiongamora @lik0 @your-girl-mj @darktyrantwinner @sereisstuff @yeosxxx @die4niyahhh @iman-lu @manumanulau @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @hana-yuri @thehoneymushroomhealer @melllinaa @annaibansworld @siriuslysmoking @avatar4eva @ellabellabus07 @badbishsblog @neteyamsmate4life

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spacecowboyhotch · 2 months

Text

The Dead Horse

summary: santi brings you back to reality.

pairing: fem!black!reader x santi garcia

contents: angst & fluff— happy ending, canon typical violence, blood, gore, ptsd, depression, feelings of hopelessness, friends to lovers, kissing

wc: 2,419

an: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now bc of nerves, but always wanted to write Santi with a black love interest. planning to dip my toe into that pool more in the future 🥰

oscar issac characters masterlist

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting here like this. It could be minutes, hours, even days. In these four walls beneath the shower’s spray, there is nothing that matters. Not even you, not anymore. And while you’re usually the first to be cheery, to tell each of the guys that the work they do— the work you all do together— doesn’t compromise the goodness you see in their hearts, you’re having a hard time believing that right now.

Not with what you’d done. It was to survive, and while you’ve come to terms with how scary you could be in the past you thought it stayed there.

In the past.

Tonight had proven to you that you could always access that piece of you. That terrifying piece that was a killing machine. The emphasis doesn’t lie in efficiency, but in ruthlessness. You had shown no mercy, the switch for empathy and compassion turned off as soon as your hindbrain decided that it was fight or flight. Dormantly thirsty, lurking in the shadows waiting for its time, it chose to fight. But you had gone a step too far—like always— because of your lack of control.

You were messy, enjoying the cutting of thick flesh, the warmth of the blood as it sprayed you. The copper smell, so familiar and embarrassingly comforting, though you didn’t have the mind to think that now, not when you were exposing the pink underbelly of a corpse.

Santi’s been pacing the hallway since you all made it back to the safe house. He’d tried to chat you up on the way home with no success. You wouldn’t meet his eye, and when he drew nearer to catch your gaze it was empty. It chilled his blood. He wasn’t sure of what exactly happened in that room you’d gotten ambushed in but he’d seen the aftermath. Recalling the image of standing over one too many dead bodies, a gleam in your eye had made his stomach curl. He’d smoothed his hand over your knee and left it at that, trying his best to banish all the red and pink and white.

It’s been an hour since you’d stumbled into the bathroom. He can hear the shower still going when he puts his ear to the door and sighs, a mix of frustrated and concerned. He’s not sure what to do– he’s never had to take care of you before. He’s always been grateful for that given all the fondness he has for you bubbling just beneath. Any acknowledgement could jeopardize too much– missions, the dynamic of the team, and most importantly your friendship.

“You alright in there?” He calls softly through the door.

He’s met with silence. He rolls his neck, cursing beneath his breath as his mind goes back and forth, trying to decide what to do.

“Just go in there and check on her,” Frankie says from behind him, causing the other man to flinch. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You alright?”

“I’m fine,” Santi assures Frankie, leaning against the wall to face the man. He nods at the door. “She could be naked.”

Frankie snorts, shrugging. “She’s seen all of us at least half naked and well, Benny—“

Santi quickly cuts him off, trying to keep the sour jealousy out of his voice. He knows that there’s nothing going on between you and Benny, that Benny is as much of a flirt as he is but sillier and less concerned with his image. “But we haven’t seen her. I don’t— I’m a dog but I’m a respectful one.”

“If she’s gonna get help from anybody on this it’d be you. She trusts you man.”

Santi looks at him like he’s grown two heads but feels a little warm, “She trusts all of us, kind of a prerequisite of living and working with a group of men.”

“It's different with you. You should hear the way she talks about you when you’re not around.”

Santi almost lets himself think about it. Almost lets himself dream a little. Almost.

“Or see the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. Like a lost fucking puppy,” Benny pipes in, breezing down through the hallway between the two of them.

“Don’t sound so concerned, Benjamin,” Santi calls after the man, mouth quirking into a grin.

“Don’t look so smug, Santiago,” Frankie teases.

“I’m not smug,” He denies. He decides to go in, okay with being kicked out by you if it means that Frankie will be gone, done poking and prodding at what the man must know is his heart.

“Good luck.”

Santi murmurs a quiet thanks before slowly entering the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He stands, frozen in place for several moments as he digests the sight of you. It's heartbreaking. His chest goes tight, and he curses softly again. What could he do for you? He’d do anything, but he’s just not sure what. He feels helpless seeing you like this. He could burn this entire city, burn anyone who would look at you wrong. Hell, he’d burn the entire world if it meant some warmth would come back into your eyes.

You’re curled up, your arms resting atop your knees, head resting to stare forward. Your curly hair that usually frames your face is completely soaked like the rest of you, flat and sticking to your face in various places. He knows that your eyes are unseeing, that you’re so incredibly removed from yourself because you make no indication that he’s stepped into the room.

“I’m gonna come sit beside you, okay? That’s it. No words,” Despite his words he stays where he is for a handful of seconds, hoping to get some sort of answer from you. You don’t speak a word, don’t utter or sound or so much as look in his direction. But you do shift slowly, making more room for him underneath the water.

“Fuck, it’s freezing,” He grits out, drawing close enough to you that your shoulders rest flush against each other.

He gazes over at you, noticing the way the water glimmers on your brown skin. The way its collected on your dark eyelashes. If these were different circumstances maybe for just a handful of seconds he’d let himself get lost in your beauty. But then you acknowledge him– sort of. You hum softly and the leaning of your head on his shoulder. It's a good sign and he relaxes beside you.

“Do you want me to shut it off?” He asks gently, reaching out to take your hands into his. Your fingers are cold as ice, and he rubs at them in a futile attempt to generate some heat.

“No, please. No,” You beg hoarsely, suddenly springing to life. You grip at his hands desperately, eyes wide with panic as you finally meet his gaze.

“Alright, hush, cariño, I’ve got you. C’mere, baby,” He shushes you, pulling you into his arms and flush against him.

At little more present in the moment, you feel the chill registering. You curl up, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. There’s still some warmth in his skin and you press into it, letting the sound of his steady breath lull you back into a dissociative state.

Santi holds you for an undetermined amount of time. He runs his hands up your back, over the crown of your hair, feeling the difference of how your curls feel when wet. His hand drifts to your chin, and he leans away, tipping your head up.

“Honey, you’ve gotta talk to me,” He whispers.

Your dark eyes have a little more life to them, but that’s only amplified the sadness they hold. “Santi, I can’t. I can’t. Don’t make me, please.”

“I have to, you can’t stay like this. We’ve got to get it out in the open.”

“Like you do?” You challenge– your voice distinctly unkind, harder than he’s ever heard it before. His brow furrows and guilt blossoms inside of you. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. This just fucking sucks, Santiago. Its all wrong again.”

“Tell me what’s wrong and we’ll fix it.”

“There’s no way we can fix it. I’m just broken. I’ll always be haunted by her. She’ll always be here, waiting for an opportunity for that.”

“You preach that shit to me and the guys. Day in and day out. Every mission, and you don’t believe it?”

“I do— I did. I believe it for you. For them. You’re good people, Santi. Good men, all of you. You take care of me.”

“You take care of us, honey. Fish hangs on your every word. Will too. Benny is well— Benjamin.”

“And you?”

He shrugs, “You know I gave into this a long time ago. Before we even met. No other way for me to be.”

“Do you believe me?”

“I try to. I want to. There are parts of me too that I don’t like. I want them gone. I rip them up and bury them but they always come back to haunt me. I don’t think that means I’m not trying to be better, but it means I’ll never be the man I want to be.”

You frown at him, concerned, “Santi—“

“It’s okay. I accepted that after the first tour. Sometimes you gotta let the horse be dead.”

“Do you think my horse is dead?”

There’s no room for his ego, no room for hiding when he hears the blatant fear in your question.

He rests his head back against the wall, murmuring, “I think you’re the sweetest thing this earth has to offer.”

“You think so?”

“Bouncing around with your curls, and your sweet little smile. Kicking Benny’s ass with grace while you’ve got a cake in the oven. You should see yourself with Frankie’s little girl.”

“Seems like you watch me a lot,” You suggest softly.

“I watch you all the time,” He admits, but there’s no shame in his voice. In fact you can see resolve in his eyes, and possessiveness. A chill runs down your spine and it’s not from the water. Santi mistakes it for that anyway. “Let me turn this off for us?”

He’s still asking. Still checking in with you though there’s much more light in your eyes.

“Yeah, okay.”

Santi leans up and turns off the shower, letting out a sigh of relief. He runs his hands over your wet curls, pushing them away from your forehead. His thumbs swipe your cold cheeks, brushing away some of the water droplets.

Without that steady sound of the shower, sheets cascading down on you, you both are feeling a little more exposed.

“I came in here to make sure you were alright, not spill my fucking guts. I just had to take care of you,” He says, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant.

“You can always take it back,” You say teasingly, though most of you expect him to bite at your offer.

He’s said much more in these last few minutes than he ever has to you— Santi’s a sweet guy under all his charm, but he never lets you see below the surface. Not until now, when letting you in seemed like the only way to get you out.

It takes more effort than he expects to pull himself away from you. He leans back against the shower wall, nimble fingers lacing together in his lap. “And lose you?”

“You could never lose me, Santi,” You murmur, reaching out to grab one of his hands.

Your eyes roam him, a little in disbelief at what’s happening right now. But yes, it is Santiago Garcia sitting next to you. With his dark brown eyes, his sharp jaw dappled with stubble, his salt and pepper hair looking much darker and curlier than usual due to the water.

“Yeah?” Santi asks, eyes glued to where yours sits atop his. He traces slowly over the sight of you two linked together, admiring how soft and rich your skin looks even after sitting in a shower for so long.

He’s a goner isn’t he?

“Yeah.”

There are butterflies in his stomach. Butterflies, sweat slicking his palms despite the fact that he’s soaked through his clothes and down to the bone. He realizes in this moment that he’s not just a goner. No— he loves you. He knew that he was harboring some kind of feelings for you, but when your eyes meet his— earnest and tender— he can only think one thing: I love you.

His eyes hungrily drop to your full mouth, and another shiver runs down your spine. “Let me kiss you.”

You nod, squeezing his hand that’s still in yours.

“I need to hear you say it. You have to say it for me, so I can believe it.”

“I want you to kiss me, Santiago. Please.”

He’s on you then. All over you. His hands move quickly, guiding you back into his lap before one loops around your torso and holds you close. The other cups your jaw, angling it back so that he can press his mouth to yours. You’re breathless before the space between you is closed, chest heaving at how sure and firm his hands are. He kisses you. Kisses and kisses you, like his life depends on it. Like you’re lost and the only thing that will guide you home is his insistent tongue.

Your hands slip and slide against the fabric of his wet shirt before you give up, raising them to tentatively cup his face so that you can have leverage.

“That’s it honey, kiss me back. Take what you want to. Whatever you need,” He encourages between kisses.

Take you do. You squirm in his lap until he lets you shift and straddle him. It had started with him leading you, consuming you but now it’s your turn to surround him. Santi gives in, sighing into your mouth as your tongue goes on the hunt for his. You kiss him. Kiss him and kiss him until your mouth aches. When you pull away his is flushed pink, newly wet. You run your thumb over his lips before wiping your own mouth.

He looks up at you like hang the moon. His eyes are soft and hazy, pink mouth pulling up into a smirk. There’s the Santi you know. The Santi you love. But even now, he’s softer and sweeter, gathering you close again.

“What do you need now, sweetheart? What can I do to make it better?”

“You.”

“I’m yours.”

santi taglist: @jitterbugs927, @theconsultingdoctor10, @tanzthompson, @clairevoyanceee, @moonmalice, @tiffanypooh, @dearvirtualdiary-blog1, @marc-spectorr, @xbellaxcarolinax, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @missdictatorme, @whatthefishh

#santi garcia x reader #santi garcia x black!reader #santi garcia x fem!black!reader #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x black!reader #santiago garcia x fem!black!reader #santi garcia #black!reader #santi garcia fanfiction #santiago garcia fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #arson writes

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smytherines · 2 months

Text

Not to get too serious about something that was super fun and we all enjoyed immensely, but I keep thinking about the Mega Bastards headcanon video because the thing is...

in A1P1 Agent Mega is already shown to be drinking alcohol at inappropriate times (i.e. trying to escape a Russian weapons facility with his boyfriend). We tend to focus on Curt's drinking post-banana because of course we do. It's a traumatic event (even if it's his fault, ugh agent Mega) and definitely accelerates his drinking to the degree that he can't do his job for four years.

BUT he clearly already has a drinking problem at the beginning of the show. Owen reacts to him drinking out of the flask like this is a thing Curt regularly does, a thing Owen is at least somewhat concerned about. Curt even (very defensively) teases Owen into taking a swig himself.

So thinking about what Actor Curt Mega believes about Agent Curt Mega, that he regularly used to have to seduce women despite having no interest in women, it just makes the Mega bastards lore (as much fun as I've had with that) incredibly fucking sad. Like most things with SAF, first it's a farce, then it's a tragedy.

Curt Mega even uses the term "masking" (which definitely shot me in the heart as an AuDHD person), and while I personally headcanon Agent Mega as ADHD, there are still plenty of things that ADHDers have to conceal about themselves. A gay neurodivergent man in the 1950s-1960s would have to conceal so much about themselves that it absolutely could lead to substance use as a way to deal with it. Substance use is a pretty serious problem for ADHD & autistic (and queer!!) people precisely because we live in a society that is not built for us, that is often actively hostile to us, and we have to find ways to survive that.

Maybe this is too personal but I'm a chronic oversharer- my dad had alcohol use disorder. It destroyed his life. He passed away several years ago, and one of the hardest parts of my getting diagnosed with ADHD & autism as an adult was having to really reckon with the fact that he wasn't drinking because he was a bad person or because he didn't love me- he was drinking because he was born in the 50s and things like ADHD & autism weren't as well-understood, and as someone who was certainly autistic and possibly ADHD (there's a heavy genetic component there) he had to hide so much of himself. All the time. He was masking 24 hours a day. And I think he coped with that incredible pressure and physical and emotional distress by drinking. That drinking often made him defensive and petty and irresponsible.

Anyways, the more I think about the Mega bastards lore, the more heartbreaking it becomes. Agent Curt Mega's job requires him to have sex he doesn't want to have with people he is not attracted to. His life, safety, reputation, freedom all depend on nobody knowing he is in love with a man.

Actor Curt Mega kinda nailed it when he used the term "masking." There is really no part of Agent Mega's life where he is allowed to be himself, except for **maybe** when he and Owen are alone together, so when Owen "dies" and Agent Mega loses that one tiny place where he gets to be his authentic self, his drinking just goes over the edge.

As an Owen Carvour apologist I sometimes feel like the narrative doesn't really punish Agent Mega for being kind of an asshole in A1P1, but I'm sort of reframing it after the headcanon video, because it does make me wonder how much of that asshole behavior stems from his persistent alcohol use, his defensiveness when people point out issues arising from his alcohol use (Owen, Cynthia criticising his job performance), and the general macho tough guy affect Agent Mega has adopted to just survive living as a neurodivergent gay man in the 1950s.

I know it was just a fun unofficial kickstarter goal (and I got to make like six tinlightenment promo posts out of it so thank you for the promo content, sir), but it has legitimately kinda forced me to extend empathy to Agent Mega in a way that I didn't really do before.

Goddamn, this show has l a y e r s

#tinlightenment #spies are forever #agent curt mega #owen carvour #curtwen #curt mega #mega bastards #ok to reblog

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cookie-crumblr · 6 months

Text

The Smell of Smoke

Innocent F! Reader x M!Yandere Bully OC

Part 3~

His Info: 🖕✨

Part: 1 2 3 4

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

CW: !F reader, use of she/her when referring to reader, reader has a vagina, YANDERE, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, name calling (bitch, slut, ), BULLY, NSFW, NON CON GANG BANG, multiple partners, SA. violence against reader, burning, drugged reader(pot edible), (is this angst?), choking

It sprays directly into his face.

“You’re gonna get it bitch!” He let’s go in favor of rubbing his eyes. “You’re not-AHG!-not even supposed to have shit like that on campus!”

Shit… You know he’s right. You really shouldn’t have. At least you’ve never been in trouble before. Maybe the headmaster will have mercy.

You laugh on your way down the stairs, thankfully you tumble slow enough to make it out at the bottom unscathed.

“Oh ho ho, what do we have here?” Ezra’s voice comes from behind and you freeze.

“E-Ezra!? s-sorry! I-I didn’t know she was—” The guy stumbled on his way down, still not able to see past burning tears.

“She’s not. Now get out.” Only two of his gang members are nearby, but the weight of his status would carry even if he was alone. “You,” He points to one of them, “make sure he doesn’t rat this bitch out.”

Before the guy’s backs are even out of veiw, Ezra’s hand is in your hair, pulling you up painfully to his hunched over, but still tall, level. You struggle to hold yourself up in effort to lessen the pain in your scalp.

“Looks like somebody just broke a huge rule and…” He stares into your eyes, “Are you high~? on campus~?”

The realization hits you hard. “You mean…”

“Ya better cooperate if ya don’t wanna get in trouble”

Tears prick at your eyes.

No…

At this point you already know not to defy him.

You nod your head yes.

“Good slut.” He throws you forward into a walk in front of him.

You think a of running, but your body feels so heavy and hot. The more you stumble the more Ezra pushes you, but he doesn’t seem angry. In fact, the worse you get, the happier he looks.

You start to giggle again, unaware of your sealed fate.

Your vision is hazy, everything feels like a dream.

Ezra almost completely misses the door, he’s too busy paying close attention to the haphazard swaying of your body.

He wraps an arm around your neck to pull you back a few steps, “Huh? Woah!” his skin feels so warm, you practically snuggle into him. Along with being so close to his body is the almost nostalgic scent that comes from him. It permeates your senses making you dizzy.

Ezra is taken completely back by you, watching you forget everything in that moment, as if you’re just an innocent little puppy in a field. For just a split second, he has a feeling he can’t quite explain or label. In the next, it’s gone.

He’s infuriated.

You are infuriating him.

And he’s going to make sure you suffer.

You’re still giggling at first, as your guts twist into knots trying to warn you of the danger you’re in.

“Be as rough as you want with this one,” He throws your disheveled form into the room with a dozen or so men.

Lewd heat spreads between your thighs.

The first couple of guys step forward and it sets in.

For some reason you look desperately to Ezra to save you. Even after everything he’s done to you, you search his face for any empathy at all.

You see nothing.

Your heart sinks, and your body shakes, as too many hands start to assault you.

Ezra lights a cigarette, and pulls out his phone, he’s unable to meet your big pleading puppy dog eyes with his own.

“E-Ezra…?” neither of you know why you call to him, begging him to please make them stop.

For it all to just be a joke this time maybe.

But he appears unbothered to you, and you quickly and quietly give up.

Silent sobs wrack you.

Before long and you’re stripped naked, the men have you on your knees, straddling one of them, with another behind you, one is in front of your and two on both sides.

Guiltily, there’s so much heat between your legs it’s practically unbearable, you resist the urge to move.

Disgusted by yourself and your situation, your mind reels… It takes you far, far away as the first dicks touch and rub and penetrate you.

They take everything from you.

Any peace you’ve felt, any hope you had, any dignity and happiness.

You are becoming a shell as a repulsive pleasure fills you.

They rub you and bite you, and suck on you as they pound into you. The way you bounce from one shoves you into the others, you reach for purchase only for your hands to be filled with more cocks.

Ezra finaly walks over to you but it’s to grab you roughly by your hair, he pulls his lighter back out in his other hand.

You try and shake your head no. No! No, Please! as he brings the heat closer to your skin.

He plays with the flame under your forearm. It feels like you might actually be catching on fire, it burns horrendously.

When you cry out, not even registering your own voice, another stranger’s dick stuffs your throat.

Before long everything hurts and the burning is becoming unbearable.

You aren’t sure where they all end and you begin.

You aren’t sure where you even are in this anymore.

Ezra’s smoke hangs in the air above you.

You smell it over all the sweat and musky bodies around you.

One of the men even finds your bulging throat and squeezes it.

You see thick stars fast.

Your body becomes too hot to bear any longer, and you shake with an overwhelming orgasm. Tears you hadn’t noticed thicken as they fall down your cheeks.

You feel sick as the men start to finish inside and all over you. They slowly pull out of your sopping holes, and you think for a second it’s over.

Then you realize they’re all just taking turns.

You open your mouth on your own this time, hoping if you just cooperate with them it will be over sooner.

Your hips start to move all on their own, in tune with them, and soon you’re all one.

Once they’re all spent, they throw you onto the ground. Some of them take your clothes on their way out.

You are left with nothing. physically and mentally.

Ezra turns back to glance over your abused and dirty body and stands still just long enough for you to notice.

He then flicks his burning cigarette butt at you and slams the door behind him.

You don’t know how long you even lay there, sticky, cold, and in agony.

You might have even passed out a couple of times, but you can’t even tell the difference between the two, until a thin stream of light comes through the doorway.

“D-don’t…” You weakly cry out, hoarsely and almost too quiet to hear.

They take you to the ER.

When you wake up, you scream.

Ezra is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, until he sees you stir and rushes over.

His hand slaps over your mouth to silence you.

“Shhhh! Are you fuckin’ done?”

You nod vigorously.

He slowly pulls away, and shoves his hand in his pocket.

He leans over you against the wall, “I didn’t think you’d wake up so soon…” His eyes are trained on your shaking legs.

“Wh-what a-re you doing h-here?”

A guy with fluffy pink hair enters the room with a tray of food in his hands, and a frown on his face. “You still haf’ta eat—”

Both you and Ezra slowly and silently look over to him.

“Oh, hey! You’re awake” He looks down to the tray and back up to you. “I’ll go grab another one of these!”

… He shifts uncomfortably.

“A-are you gonna be okay?” He inspects your eyes from afar.

You glance at Ezra, who’s still leaning over you.

If he was going to hurt you he would.

“mhm,” you nod with a shrug.

He sighs in relief as he leaves the tray, and then walks out the door.

Clearing your throat you ask, “What are you doing here?” with more energy and confidence, managing to steel yourself. Though your voice is still hoarse.

“I… Don’t know.” he sounds unusually uncertain.

“You don’t know?”

“No! I said I don’t!” He turns away to knock a chair onto the floor. You jump and yip, and he spins back around, his eyes wider for a second. “Stop!” He steps closer again.

“Stop what!? You’re the one tormenting me!” You meet his volume.

“Just… Stop…! I don’t know!” He leans swiftly toward you causing you to jump, “Just… Shut up.” His voice is as cruel as his face, but his words are quiet. His eyes soft.

He grabs your chin and squeezes you between his finger and thumb, turning your face to his.

In the same moment he brings his lips to yours.

His scent fills you, along with a tingling warmth.

You’re too dumbfounded and dizzy to move “mm!” you moan quietly and high pitched without meaning to.

His hold on you becomes… Gentle.

He pets your head, and shushes you.

You didn’t notice you were crying.

The heels of your little fists come to your eyes as you begin to sob, he continues to lean over you, an arm against the wall.

Before he can let you finish crying on your own, the other man walks in again, a second tray in his grasp.

“Oh no! you’ll let the food get cold!” He rushes over to dote on you.

“I need’a smoke,” Ezra slowly stands, before leaving without glancing back.

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the-s1lly-corner · 5 months

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uh, hi i’m pretty new to this but can you do a tadc headcannons for a reader who constantly wears a box and/or paper bag on their head because they don’t like how they look?

i’m not expecting you to see this! i’m just curious

TADC cast x reader who wears a box on their head due to their looks!

sorry it took me so long to get to this! my feelings have been in a bit of whirlwind lately and my motivation has taken a nose dive and i may or may not have stopped answering requests chronologically in favor of answering the ones that are easier on my brain </3

CAINE:

assuming he knows you wear it because you feel insecure, i think he would do his best to try to uplift you; especially if you guys are friends and/or partners! he cant stand the idea of you not liking yourself as much as he likes you, you know? makes it a point to tell you that he thinks youre attractive, as well as giving you extra affection... kind of goes overkill, will likely do way too much to try to cheer you up. like im talking he probably dedicates a firework show to you or puts your name in lights, stuff like that to let you know that he cares a lot... but hes got good intentions, i promise!

POMNI:

i think she would find out about the reason behind the box after you open up to her about it. she always just assumed that it was a part of your digital body... and it very well could be, just detachable, like how zooble can take parts of themselves off... not the best at comforting you and telling you youre pretty, but i think her awkwardness and stammering makes her words more sincere. they dont sound rehearsed and scripted, you know? it sounds more natural and earnest. you cant help but believe her when she says she thinks youre pretty, if you decide to show her what you look like under the box

RAGATHA:

also very sweet about it. does not ask for you to take off the box, but she does express that you can unwind around her... very reassuring whenever its brought up, in fact i dont think she wound bring it up unless you did, fearing that she would make you feel pressured to take it off. little scenario but i do think that if you took the box off around her for the first time she kind of just. doesnt notice for a moment before actually paying attention and she kind of just stands there and stares, before simply saying youre beautiful. doesnt make a big stink of it, you know?

JAX:

has probably drawn on your box at least once or put something on it (gum, stickers, slime, ect) but i dont think he would keep doing it when he finds out why you do it... though.... he does purposefully break gangles mask/steps on it so im not... actually sure about that. hmm... i think he would try to play it casual when you bring up your thoughts of yourself to him, though it may come off as him minimizing your feelings. to put it simply jax doesnt think there should be a huge fuss about it. i mean its not like its your real face... might lead to some conflict due to him not having much empathy, for you.. apologies to the jax enjoyers but i do think he would steal the box to try to prove that its not that deep

KINGER:

also thinks that the box is just a part of you before you fill him in on the reasoning around it. displays some brief curiosity before apologizing for prying. i think he would have a similar scenario to ragatha where he wouldnt realize that you took the box off around him for a minute... though unlike ragatha, he doesnt just say youre pretty. i think he would pick apart every part of your face and complement it.. though, i think he generally complements every aspect of you, face or not... you know? not quite as bold as caine, but just as much of a sap, you know?

ZOOBLE:

kind of understands, since theyre a little... complicated and they like switching out their parts to fit whatever feel that want to have that day. but im not sure how deep their feelings would go, because i can kind of see them being similar to jax in this scenario, but less of an asshole. they wont take your box, nor will they write off your insecurities because they actually hold some understanding to them. i think they would offer to help you find a look that you feel comfortable with, sometimes a little something can change a lot of things, you know? but if its something more deep rooted, they would let you talk about it... doesnt speak much on the box since ultimately thats youre business. though, you cant help but notice them complimenting your skills and talents more now that youve opened up to them

GANGLE:

i think she would relate to it. i recall seeing someone say that gangle isnt actually more confident and happy with her comedy mask, rather its a false thing to pretend theyre happy. and honestly, i can see it. id tag the person but i saw this a while ago and i failed to save it </3

moving on, i think she would find some kind of relatability in you. like sure, its not the exact same thing, but you guys are both hiding aspects of yourself behind an object. she wouldnt ever dare make you feel pressured to take it off around her. i think out of all the characters, asides ragatha, shes the best with making you feel comfortable. you can take it off around her when youre ready. i dont think she would flood you with compliments, but i do think she would do her damndest to make you feel good about yourself. leaves you lots of notes reminding you how much she values you + little doodles

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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marypaol · 3 months

Text

From the Start

Draco x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader stop Draco from walking over to his parents when they call him over after the Battle of Hogwarts.

Warnings: Death Eaters, mention of past deaths, aftermath of war, You-Know-Who, strict parents, I think that’s all? :)

Note: I felt like all more stories are short, so I wote a little long one. I’m so proud of this one I how you guys like it!

Genre: Angst with happy ending :)

Masterlist

___

Thinking back on her years attending Hogwarts, there wasn’t a time when her heart wouldn’t be considered as something served to Draco Malfoy on a silver platter. Thinking about it now, she would give it to him in a heartbeat if that was what it took to make his heart beat better.

And she could tell when his was staggering, fighting to beat like everyone else’s, the wanting gaze landing on anyone with a regular blood bumper in their chest. If only his heart did that; cycled blood throughout his body like a never ending circle of life, giving him the liquid he needed to say alive, yet if he lost too much of it he would fade away. But to his misfortune his didn’t work that way. In fact, it seemed to be working for the purpose of suffocating him instead of helping him, flooding his lungs and wrapping invisible hands around his throat, daring him to try to at least take a breath.

So yes, she noticed every bit. Every single longing glance and curious looks of people laughing away, living their lives to the fullest while his was limited. Since when couldn’t he be free? Since when was it decided? Was it from the moment he entered the world, not even knowing his name or what his life was going to end up like? Or was it the second the envelope of acceptance into this magic school touched his finger tips, telling him the supplies he’d need to go to a place that would change his life forever as a Malfoy?

She wouldn’t know the answer, he wouldn’t know, nor would even his parents know even though they were the ones to decide. It didn’t affect the decision made in the first place, since he never did nor ever will have a say.

Years of Hogwarts go by, each one having a special memory that beholds their childhood in a tight grip. Not only did they have their ups and downs, but also magical knowledge that will forever be with them as guidance into their later years of life. Sadly those memories and countless lessons had to eventually come to an end, ending all the happiness that once was, fading into something that they wouldn’t ever be able to experience again but only remember.

But that didn’t mean that they didn’t have something big and effective before they left for good, leaving their magic school full of memories behind. Which led to the screams of loved ones, calling out to others and hopelessly waiting for a reply that will never come. The beautiful castle that once stood was no longer, just piles of rubble as if their childhoods were nothing. The past couldn’t be changed, not when curses were flying left and right and green light blaring everywhere imaginable. Nothing could erase the scars of people who survived, fighting for what’s right and used what they learned to the best of their ability. Nothing could change the fact that evil is about to win over good.

“Son, come.”

The whisper was soft yet demanding in the silence of the courtyard. It broke the ever lasting quiet, blasting through every ear as if they had to go through the peer pressure too.

Draco’s face was sad and lonesome, a deep frown on his lips that once held a snarl. Her empathy towards the boy was great, wanting nothing more than to stop him from going to the other side that represented darkness and evil. He wasn’t good enough for them, they didn’t deserve him. He was just a boy, just a kid that was still discovering the world day by day. His life shouldn’t have been changed this way, changed so greatly much so that his viewpoint on life’s purpose was forever impacted.

It was only then did his dear mother join in with the begging, desperately asking him to join the Dark Lord’s side.

“Draco, come here.”

Everyone was staring at him, the intense stares coming from every angle. His back, his head, the side of his face; he could feel them everywhere. The heat from their gazes set his chest on fire, craving for the normality of his peers. Why did their looks affect him so much? Why did he care? Most importantly, why was he so aware about his peers’ reaction to even notice? Shouldn’t he be focused on his parents, begging him to go to them and join their evil doings?

The Dark Lord spoke this time, breaking Draco out of the endless questions running in his mind, the evil-doer waving his hands that looked like claws at the boy as a way to call him over.

Draco looked at the students around him, silently asking them to stop staring but sadly they didn’t get the massage, their eyes still yet fixed on the side of his face for his reaction.

The Malfoy saw no point in staying with the people around him; like anyone enjoyed his presence at the school anyway. If he left they wouldn’t be surprised at his behavior, since his parents are Death Eaters mine as well make their son one too.

But that they didn’t know was that he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to join them in whatever hurtful and evil actions they were doing. They ruined his school, his home away from home (even though he would never admit it.)

Just thinking back on Bellartrix waving her wand with a wide satisfactory smile on her face, watching in admiration as the once was Great Hall destroyed into pieces. It was the place where Potter refused to shake his hand, where the leather hat barely touched his hair strands before shouting the house he destined to be in. Where the golden plates served the first feast of his Hogwarts years, one to remember for a lifetime.

But of course it was all gone, and for what. Just so the Dark side could carelessly kill students? If their purpose of arriving was to do so, why destroy the one place he called his safe haven?

Did they just want to make the situation worse? Like salt to the wound?

He couldn’t know, nor would he know. He would be once again left with the questions of his own left unanswered, still lingering in his mind for years to come. He could see it now, him as an old man staring longingly into the flames of his fireplace, empty tea cup in hand while the wonderings cycled in his brain once again, curiosity flooding his scenes, longing for the answers.

In fact, thinking about it now, he wanted that. He wanted to grow up and have a fireplace to star into at night. He wanted maybe a beautiful wife in the kitchen, humming to herself as she cleaned dishes from the previous home cooked meal they ate together. He longed for it, and the longer he stood there, staring at the ground, he only wanted it more.

But his desires weren’t going to be preformed, for the peer pressure in the back of his mind was too much, too much so that it covered his mind with persuasion, almost forcing him to follow his parents’ will. His foot stepped out, with great pain and a heavy heart he made his way to his parents, ready to do their evil doings unwillingly.

But lo and behold a soft grip stopped him, light against his fingertips as the touch silently begged him to stay. He stiffened, straightening his slumped shoulders as he dared to face the person who reset his thought process, his brain already second thinking the decision he previously made.

It was her, the girl that sat in the back of the class, softly mumbling answers that were always correct but she was too shy to actually say aloud. It was her, the one who would steal glances at him when she thought he wasn’t looking. It was her, the one who would whisper the things she was doing softly on the test so he could follow along, since she silently knew he wasn’t studying because of what he was going through. It was her, the one who was mentally there from the start.

Draco stared into the eyes of the girl who was dealing with his hard burdens, his hardships, and the rough edges of his life. She was sandpaper and he was the splintered wood, her sanding him down as she comforted him silently in the breeze. He found himself stepping back, watching as his father’s face twisted in disappointment, a snarl forming on his lips. Draco ignored it for the better, his fingers being held by his boat the kept him above the surface, preventing him from drowning.

At the end of those long years he did have that wife, watching her now as she softly swayed her hips to the quiet music playing, lips forming in a comforting smile he always liked to see as she cleaned a stain on a pan, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. He then turned back taking a sip of his peppermint tea. His eyes found the fireplace, staring into the flames of his wants, watching as a piece of paper holding his father’s writing burned into ashes, the words of disapproval and disbelief fading into nothingness.

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b4tasquad · 10 months

Text

✭ JERSEY: GAVI

Authors note: a really short one that just came to my head and i just had to write it out. also sorry because I know most of the people following me are here for the beta squad content… and it’s coming😭

Warnings: none

…

For the past 90 minutes you had been grinning as you sat in the stands of the football match. When being invited to a Barcelona match by your cousin, the last thing you expected was to catch the eye of star player- Pablo Gavi. But exactly just that, you had managed to do.

From the moment he walked onto the pitch, getting ready to start the match, he had noticed you. It first started with occasional glances thrown between you too, but during the last minutes or so, you could see him look at you after everything he did.

Almost like he wanted to… impress you?

It was fun to say the least. He was the golden boy, with dozens of titles to his names, getting girls left and right. But he had for some reason chosen to pay attention to you, for the 90 minutes he played at least. Of course you were going to entertain it.

What you hadn’t expected once the game ended was for him to walk towards where you were getting ready to pack up and leave. You and your cousin were giggling to each other about the whole ordeal when her eyes suddenly widened at a sight behind you, as you were too busy picking up your purse from the seat.

“Y/n.” She for some odd reason whispers, and you look up questioningly. When she doesn’t answer you turn to where she’s staring and words get caught in your throat.

In front of you, a half naked Pablo Gavi was grinning as he held tightly on to his jersey. The barrier stopping the stands from the pitch made it impossible for you to stand close to each other, but he could still throw over the article of clothing easily. You heart was beating like crazy as he tossed it in your direction, a smile on your face as you got ready to catch it.

It seemed as though the universe wasn’t on your side because the jersey was snatched out of your hands the second it landed in them. With the most baffled expression, you whip your head to see a girl around your age, gripping it to her chest, a teasing smile on her face.

“Hello?” Those weren’t even the words you intended to come out, but you were just so shocked at the fact that she would take it from you like that, and smile as if she accomplished anything. “I was holding that.”

“It was obvious he threw it to me. Don’t be jealous.” Her voice almost makes you want to hurl, because it’s so high pitched. The lack of empathy in her tone angers a part of you so much, but you still try to be the bigger person.

“I think he threw it to me.”

She cackles, actually opens her mouth and lets out the loudest cackle you’re sure the whole stadium can hear echo around. “Why would he throw it to you?”

The look she gives you is nothing but mocking. Asking you why he would ever give his jersey to someone like you. Well, damn. No need for that one, you thought.

“Do you have problems digesting the most simplest things? It was obvious he threw it to her, he was legit looking at her while he did it. Stop being an insecure bitch and just walk away before you end up on the news for embarrassing yourself in front of a bunch of people.”

The girl just huffs, but still holds onto the clothing. In the midst of the situation, you had completely forgotten about Gavi. Talking about him, the guy stood with his mouth slightly open in shock, as his plan had totally not gone the way he was hoping it would go.

Seeing his troubled expression, you only shake your head with a motion of your hand to let him know it was okay. As you convince your cousin to just leave, you’re finally on your way out when you hear someone calling for you.

“Wait.” Gavi screams behind you, as he jumps over the barrier, probably breaking a few rules as he does so. He walked up to the railing and you lean down to hear him. “Do you have a pen?”

“A pen?”

He nods. “Yes, a pen.”

Rummaging trough your little hand bag you actually find a discarded pen in there. Giving it to him, you eagerly wait as he just motions for your hand. You’ve lowkey figured out what he was doing by now, but you still find some entertainment in acting clueless.

When he’s done and gives your hand a quick peck, you don’t even have to question what’s written on it. His smug expression alongside his next words telling you everything you needed to know.

“Call me.”

#gavi #Pablo gavi #Barcelona #spain national team #Spain nt #pablo martín páez gavira #fiction #pablo gavi x you #gavi x reader

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doodlegirl1998 · 5 months

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The reason why I can't behind any of the characters or things they do is that they're made into hypocrites.

You got Mina and Eijirou who're against bullies yet are friends with Bakugou don't do anything when he gets onto All Might.

Hawks who had a past with an abusive father and when Endeavor is exposed as one, he doesn't react or say anything about it.

Izuku with his quirkless past yet doesn't offer any sympathy towards those like him, like how he tried to make Nighteye laugh or Aoyama.

And then there's Aizawa... the guy's a walking hypocrite so I don't feel like going into any of the things he did.

All this makes it difficult to really get behind and like these characters when they contradict their characteristics this much all to make the worse characters look good.

Hi @theloganator101 👋,

Exactly this. Hori's characters act how HE wants them to to service the plot rather than what would fit their characters. So we have situations like this where they become hypocrites and bad things are implied about them. We have talked about Aizawa before so I'll focus on Izuku, Kirishima, Mina and Hawks.

Izuku - was quirkless, was horrifically abused by Bakugou for this as well as daring to try to help him out a river once.

Also Izuku - is NOT allowed once to reflect on the similarities between Aoyama and himself. Is NOT allowed to think one bit on his quirkless past or the horrific bullying (abuse) he went through. Does not seek to change the status quo now that he is a part of it. Or think about how HE could change how quirkless are being treated. This in my most charitable interpretation could be Izuku's self hatred coming out full force, he doesn't want to think about when he was quirkless so he doesn't. But this could also be construed as arrogance, stupidity and narrow minded-ness.

Izuku - knows in graphic detail the Todofam situation, is best friends with Todoroki Shoto and confronted Endeav for being a POS when he first met him.

Also Izuku - Acts like a fanboy of Endeavor in the agency arc and defends Endeavor to Dabi's face (another of Endeavor's victims.) - This puts a sour taste in my mouth not going to lie, this reads as Izuku thinking, 'because he's nice to me and he says he's going to change all is good now!' Also (unlike defending Shoto) defending Endeav just isn't necessary here. No one is denying Endeavor's mentorship or heroism skills. Dabi is saying he is an abuser and a shit dad which - you know - he is. Izuku reads as a naive, narrow-minded teenager at best here. There are better ways Hori could have worded Izuku stepping in - this wasn't it.

Mina and Kirishima: 'We hate bullies!' 😠 Very vocally anti bully, their heroism stories each center on it.

Also Mina and Kirishima: look on as Bakugou acts like the BIGGEST bully for all of the academic year and decide to become his besties. - This can be read as them being too thick to work out Bakugou is a bully at best. At worst... They read as cowards and hypocrites. The 'It's ok as long as he's not picking on me or my friends,' type.

Hawks: has an abusive father that was taken into custody by Endeav before being taken by the HPSC and enduring more intense training (likely abuse.)

Also Hawks: Despite his past abuse as an adult licks the boots of another abusive father, Endeav (Endeav's boots must be super shiny.) - Are we still pretending Hawks is an actual character at this point? All he is now is an Endeav Simp with some 'I killed Twice' angst sprinkled in. But I will save the major pieces of salt regarding Hawks for the ask I have about him. Least charitable interpretation - Hawks has LOW empathy thanks to his abusive childhood and latches on hard to a select few (Endeav) who he will protect, screw everyone else. Hawks doesn't care about Endeav's past child abuse, spousal abuse and literal crimes just what he means to him. Most Charitable - Hawks is an abused messed up person who never grew up past his idealisation of Endeav and clung to anything that meant he could keep the 'hero Endeav' in his mind intact.

With all of these deductions in mind, characters we are meant to root for feel flat, hypocritical, OOC and just downright bizarre at times.

Why? Because Hori bends characters to his script rather than writing the script for what works for the characters.

#mha critical #Bnha critical #Anti Ashido Mina #Anti Kirishima Ejiro #Midoriya Izuku critical #Anti Hawks #Sorry but it had to be said #The writing is to blame #Anti Bakugou #Anti Bakugou Katsuki #Anti Endeavor

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antitheticallyargumentative · 9 months

Text

I’m going to attempt to explain why the ending of Ted Lasso re: Jamie and his dad, bothers me so much. I know a lot of other people have made posts about this, and excellent ones, too, but I also have a lot of thoughts. These are just my opinions. Feel free to disagree. Feel free to discuss with me why you disagree. I love respectful conversations.

This is gonna be long. sorry guys.

tw/cw- James Tartt Sr., abuse, The Amsterdam Thing

not detailed, but they are mentioned. proceed with caution and take care of yourself, please. <3

It is not the decision to have Jamie reach out to his dad that I hate. It is not even the decision to put Jamie’s dad in rehab (though I do think it was… A Choice.) To me, it’s very unsurprising that Jamie would try to reach out to his dad. Not just because of who he is as a character, but because of what this kind of lifelong abuse does to a person’s psyche. A lot of kids who come from abusive or neglectful homes have an incredibly hard time cutting off their parents. Even if they’re scared of them, even if they’re angry with them, there is still a deeply ingrained need to be loved, that maybe this time it will be different. They’ll mean it when they say they’ve changed. They’ll love me. Going no contact is fucking hard. It’s also fucking dangerous. As much as Jamie says he’s done everything he has to spite his dad, there is a part of him that deeply, desperately craves James’s approval. Of course he would visit him in rehab, because, if he’s in rehab, he’s trying, right? And maybe this time it will be different.

But it won’t be. Because James Tartt has a pattern. A pattern of playing super dad, presumably where he cleans up his act and “makes an effort” with Jamie. Does father-son things with him, talks to him outside of asking for game tickets or telling him he played like shit (I’m hypothesizing here), lulls him into a false sense of security. And then what happens? Well, things like Amsterdam happen. And I highly doubt that was the only time he pulled that act. He likely also pulled it when he first came back into Jamie’s life, and probably other times after Amsterdam, too. What he doesn’t do, ever, though, is apologize, or take accountability for his past actions. Because James is a narcissist. At least, that’s what I would say. He feeds off Jamie’s fame and success to make himself feel bigger, important, entitled. And narcissists lack empathy. They struggle to take responsibility for their actions. They’re also, commonly, very manipulative.

James is not an abusive piece of shit because he’s an alcoholic. He is both an abusive piece of shit AND an alcoholic. Not only does acting like he was horrid because he was drunk perpetuate the stigma of substance use disorders, it also completely takes away accountability. James going to rehab does not change what he did. It does not fix what he’s done. It does not mean that he is magically going to win father of the year because he got sober. More likely, he’s going to continue to the cycle. I truly do not see a way in which we get to the happy ending of the show. Which brings me to my final point.

This is not a happy ending. Jamie going to see his dad does not fix things. Jamie forgiving his dad does not take away from his trauma. Jamie should not have to forgive his dad, not for James, not for himself, not for anyone. The thing that bothers me most is that the show plays this scene like it’s closure. Like everything is OK now, and they have a good relationship, there’s no fallout, no consequences, nothing left the heal. And I’m sorry, but that’s bullshit.

The things our parents do and say to us cut deep, at least in my experience. It doesn’t matter if they apologize, it doesn’t matter if they learn and grow, it doesn’t matter if we forgive them. That hurt stays. It sticks. You remember it. You feel it. There is no way in hell that seeing his dad wouldn’t be incredibly difficult for Jamie— just judging from what we’ve seen in the show. There’s no way it wouldn’t bring up all the trauma James has put him through, even repressed. It would not be easy. It would not be happy. And I don’t think it would be healthy.

Whatever Jamie eventually decides to do regarding his relationship with his dad, whether its cutting him off or choosing to forgive him, which personally, I don’t think he should (but I also know that cutting off a parent is no easy feat), it would take time, it would take effort, it would be a struggle. It would take actually working through the years of abuse and trauma caused by his dad. And we don’t get any of that. We get “forgive <3” and problem solved! And honestly, I think that’s a dangerous message to be passing out.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. (Hehe, get it?)

#ted lasso #jamie tartt #james tartt sr #jamie's dad hate club #the forgive plotline grinds my fucking gears into oblivion and i am going to scream it from the rooftops #i love you ted but you fucked it with that one #ted lasso apple tv #yes #i will be addressingthing in a fic #maisie speaks #tw trauma #tw abuse #tw implied sex abuse

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buckyalpine · 1 year

Note

Hi sweet dolcezza (that is Italian and means sweetness so sweet sweetness :) )

Hope you are doing well, I want to thank you again for your beautiful blog and wonderful works.

I am reading the last things you posted, beautiful as always!

Since I live for the drama, the sadness, the darkness...

I was thinking about how a broken boy with traumas, Bucky 🫢, would react about his girlfriend having mental health problem.

Maybe she has been developing them...

She wasn't always like that, she lost her sparkle and he doesn't know her like this, he sees another person, another woman, another human.

He can't understand and is confused, maybe mad.

On one side I think about him being supportive, on the other I think about him being disrespectful and invalidating, like he had lived major traumas but, he says "he is not complaining so much about it or playing the victim" like her.

-I had this hint because my mental health is not good, I have severe OCD, since I was a kid basically I remember being this way since the age of five four. I am struggling with ed and borderline personality disorder.

And I had partners that, even if they lived traumas, still invalidated mine a lot and called me names, so the were basically toxic.-

And i can't picture where Bucky could fall. Toxic? Supportive?

I love him, but sometimes he acts shady and not always I can read him.

I see him dark most of the time.

But they can always repair the relationship and be together or not?

(I am problematic with toxic guys ahahahaha)

Sorry for this and my life story, noone asked about buy still. I just think you are the best person to write something as deep.

I really hope you are doing good and enjoying your day so far.

A lot of kisses and hugs and support.

🌺

18+

Babes we are one in the same with toxic men. I like to think there's the version of Bucky who has so much love and empathy for others going through mental health struggles and then there’s the Bucky who loves you but doesn’t know how to process things and acts impulsively. Here, we look at the second.

Warnings: Angst, Mental health issues, some toxic behavior, (happy ending, they learn to fix things)

Disclaimer: Some of the stuff in this fic are things I/others have gone though so please refrain from comments about why the reader stayed or what the reader should have done or how the story should have gone. Sometimes I get super sucked into the angsty parts and struggle to undo the damage so don’t read too much into it.

I imagine it starts off bad because Bucky's still learning to deal with his own mental health and there are times where he can be selfish without meaning to. He's so used to having you comfort and take care of him, he doesn't know what to do when you start to change. He’s been through so much, he can’t imagine someone else feeling his level of anguish.

You’re no longer the same person he fell in love with. Your sparkle is gone. A grey dullness encasing you. He doesn’t know when things changed or why but he just wants you back; the distance between you both gets worse with each passing day. You try your best to still be there for him because you know he needs it; you love him with all your heart even when your own feels heavy.

"Baby, are you okay?"

"I’m fine"

Bucky practically scoffs when you ask him how he’s doing because you should know he’s never fine. He’s never okay. He doesn't know why you bother asking him when its the same shit he deals with on a daily basis.

You can't bring yourself to tell him how you're feeling because you know he doesn't have the capacity to help you when he's struggling himself. He shrugs, not knowing what else to say, letting you wallow in your misery, taking his frustrations out during his workouts instead. Things continue to worsen; you fall deeper in your spiral while Bucky continues to shut you not, realizing it’s you who needs him.

“Can we talk?”

You’re desperate at this point, hoping maybe he’ll at least listen but he shakes his head instead. Bucky can’t stop the bitterness that starts to rise in his chest; he missed his ma, his sisters. His missed living in a world where he understood the things around him, where he didn’t have to feel like a lost toddler every time he stepped outside. His feelings have nothing to do with you, he really does love you but all the bitterness spills onto the one person who is always there for him.

“What’s the point y/n”

“I-I just feel...” You shrug, not knowing how to tell Bucky of all people that you felt empty.

“What do you feel. I don’t know what you even complain for”

“I feel like I have no one Bucky” You felt your stomach drop when his eyes bore into you, as if he's challenging your feelings.

“You still have your cousins, other family, friends. You complain so much but you’re so spoiled. I’m going through shit too, but you don’t see me acting like a victim”

You swallow the anger that tries to rise, trying to understand his point of view. It all comes to a boiling point because you're trying your hardest to hold it together while he doesn’t see your spiral break down. You felt your heart splinter; after every time you had held him, loved him, cared for him, he looked at you with emptiness.

“Bucky, I know you’re going through things-

“Things? You think I can just turn this fucking shit off y/n? I’m not fucking normal, and you’ll never fucking get it. Honestly, I don’t know what to tell you, I’ll stay at Steve’s tonight”

He makes his way to the door and you know you can’t be alone tonight, there’s too much going on inside.

“Please don’t” your voice is a plea, your practically begging at this point. You can feel your throat tighten because you feel selfish for struggling when he’s been through so much worse.

“Bucky please stay” you trail behind him, your knees shaking. You try to tug at his wrist but he doesn’t let you. When you finally try to cling onto his arm, his composure breaks.

“GET OFF ME” he pulls out of your grasp, sending you stumbling back. He’s usually mindful of his strength but he doesn’t think and you lose your balance, ending up on the floor. He freezes in utter disbelief with himself, he’d never in a million years even try to hurt you.

“Fuck, baby I’m so so-”

“Don’t”

Your eyes are now stone cold, your voice was low. He tries to help you up but you scramble away from him, adding distance between you both. He takes a step forward again but something isn’t right, he finally sees how broken you look.

“Y/n….”

“GET OUT”

Your voice tore through the walls and his eyes are wide with fear because he's never seen you so broken. He’s never heard you raise your voice like this; you’d always spoken to him softly. He’s scared because he didn’t mean to push you to your breaking point and he doesn’t know how to take it back.

"I-"

“GET THE FUCK OUT”

You pick yourself off the floor, your heart beating through your chest. You practically see red, after everything you had done for him, he called you selfish; you sat through every one of his panic attacks, his depressed days, his nightmares. He couldn't listen to you for one night.

"You fucking piece of shit"

You angrily tried to wipe your face, moving away from him to pack a bag, not wanting to be near him for a minute longer. You go straight to your room while he runs after you, panic rising, he wants to cry but he can’t, not right now.

“Doll I’m sorry-

“I don’t care” You rummage through some of your belongings, feeling yourself go numb. You felt like your mind didn’t even belong to you anymore, your body moving in autopilot. Bucky hates the vacant look on your face, he wants to hold you and tell you he’s sorry. He tries to wrap his arms around you, not knowing what else to do but you shove him away, shaking your head.

“Don’t-don’t touch me, don’t ever fucking touch me again”

He watches helplessly when you rip yourself away, shoving a few things into your duffle bag, not meeting his eyes.

"I-I don't fucking love you, I-I'm d-d-one with you"

“Baby please don’t go”

“Oh, so when you beg, I have to stay?” You scoff, letting out a humorless laugh “Fuck off”

He’s terrified now because while your movements are robotic, your body is shaking and you don’t even seem to notice. Bucky hates seeing you trembling; you’re about to leave the room and walk out but he stops you.

“Bucky, move” You suck in a breath, your nails digging into your hands, but he stays rooted in place.

“No bubba”

“Don’t call me that” Your voice trembles, another surge of anger flowing through you when he tries to reach out for you. “I SAID DON’T TOCUH ME”

He pulls you to his chest and you try to rip yourself free but he doesn’t let you go.

“LET GO”

Bucky shakes his head, hugging you tighter, his tears dampening your hair. The screams and wails ripping from your chest burn his insides, you desperately try to escape but he cradles you closer.

“M’sorry”

“L-let me g-o”

“M’sorry baby, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” He doesn’t care that your hitting his chest, he doesn’t care that your hands keep striking him. He can feel your body give way, your breaths uneven, months of pain spilling out all at once. He hugs you tighter like he should have done ages ago, realizing you needed him more than ever. Your body continues to fight but your angry screams turn into pained sobs.

“I’m so sorry my babygirl”

He carefully carries you to the bed where he can hold you in his lap. He tries to think of what you do for him, warming your body, rubbing his hands along your back and arms. He feels awful because you always take such good care of him and he was grasping at straws trying to do the same for you. You deserved so much more.

“Shhhh” His lips brush against your forehead, one hand gently rubbing your chest while the other continues to soothe your back so he can regulate your breathing. “Slowly baby, breathe with me, okay?”

You say nothing, but you try to follow his breaths, letting him take care of you. He continues to tell you how much he loves and cares for you, how sorry is he for hurting you. Exhaustion takes over and you allow yourself to fall asleep with him. A part of you is still angry but your too weak to move and you need to be held.

You wake up in the middle of the night feeling his chest tremble against you. His soft sniffles are muffled as he tries to keep his cries down while cuddling you close.

“Bucky?” You lift your head to see his broken expression.

“I’m s-sorry” He chokes out, breaking down. He feels selfish again because he should be the one comforting you but he was angry with himself. “I-I can’t believe I hurt you angel”

You move up so you can wipe some of his tears, his face puffy having cried for hours through the night.

“I just needed you” You gently your fingers through his hair trying to calm him down.

“I-I said shit I never should have said baby, I’m sorry. M’sorry sweet girl”

“Why did you say those things” you whisper, your voice still hoarse.

“I’m so sorry angel, I- there’s not excuse, I’m sorry I was so selfish doll”

You nod, still feeling drained though a part of you feels better. You hadn’t fully forgiven him yet but you knew he meant every word plus there was no one else in the world you loved as much as him. He thinks about the way he mistreated you, realizing he really didn’t deserve your forgiveness at all. Your words replay in his head and his breaths become shallow.

“Do-do you not love me anymore?” His voice is a broken whisper. You knew you didn’t mean it. The thought nearly kills him. He would have gone through hydra again over ever losing your love. Your thumb brushes over his lips silencing him.

“Please don’t say you don’t love me” He nuzzles himself further into your side, hugging you tightly, his voice a whimper. “Please, I’m sorry”

“I was just angry Bucky. I love you” He calms down slightly but hes still on edge with himself. He wants to do better. He wants to take care of you. You had been there through everything for him and you deserved the same love a thousand times over.

“I promise I’ll try harder angel”

He stays true to his word.

It doesn’t resolve overnight.

But he learns. And so do you.

He’s patient with you. He gives you endless love. He has his own hard days, and so do you but your by each others side through it all. He sees your sparkle return brighter than ever,

Because he really does love you.

Tags:

@glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @xnorthstar3x @kryoee7 @alina02 @gh0stgurl @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @carrotfantasimp

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kyouka-supremacy · 1 month

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Atsushi for the ask game.

ATSUSHI HERE WE GO THANK YOU FOR HEARING MY PRAYERS

Favorite thing about them: HIS SELFISHNESS. It's so so delicious to explore. Can you imagine a protagonist that saves others not out of simple good will, but because of egoistic self-preservation motives? It just feels counterintuitive for me lmao, and I found it quite messed up when I first watched the anime, but now it's so compelling to explore. His whole “everything I do is in order to gain the right to live” is crazy fashinating. Because lol, that's entirely nonsensical to me! There's no such thing as “gaining the right to live”; all humans, every person in the world is inherently deserving of life. All. No exception. So there's no level of “weak” or “worthless” that would make you lose that right. The fact that's it's a vision so distant and absurd from mine, idk, it just makes it very compelling to explore? “What if there was a little fucked up guy who believed the right to live had to be earned” just sounds like a very interesting premise.

Least favorite thing about them: When I first watched the anime, I think I found him low-key annoying? I just... Don't do very well with self-deprecating people and people who complain a lot in general, I usually suffer in silence and tend to (wrongly) assume others should do the same (this probably makes me sound pretty mean, I swear I try to be understanding irl). However, it doesn't bother me as much anymore, I simply think it's more of a distinctive trait of the character that makes him multilayered and unique. As of now, I can't think of anything I don't like about him if not the fact that I wish he'd rely on Dazai and others in general a little less. I know that has to do with his lack of self-worth, so maybe it makes sense,, but as of now he feels kind of stuck. I just wish we'd see him grow more on that front.

Favorite line:

There may be better ones, but I really like the delivery of this one.

brOTP: KYOUKA AND ATSUSHI they make me go insane. Already talked about this in the Kyouka post but just to reiterate: in my headcanon Kyouka really is the only person Atsushi feels genuine, selfless affection towards. It's very sweet. They're siblings. Kyouka's happiness is really important for Atsushi. They really do have that feeling of people who got out of an abusive environment learning what normality is supposed to be like together. I also really like how they compensate for what the other lacks, be it decisiveness and coolhead for Atsushi and empathy and positivity for Kyouka. Although plenty shipping them romantically, I really like platonic sskk and atsulucy as well.

OTP: I really like sskk eheh. I think they're neat. There's a thousand and one reasons why I find them pretty great. They're objectively the only reason why I got invested in bsd as well as the only thing that has me keep up with the franchise to this day. Right now, I feel like the one thing I really appreciate about them is how you can be the worst person in the universe and still somehow be loveable to someone. I think it's sweet. I also find it very fun and enterataining to explore their various soulmatism antics. They're both very complex and multilayered characters with something deeply wrong with how their minds work that makes them very fun to analyze both by their own and in the complexity of their relationship. Their collective story arc and canon relationship progression is extremely engaging and nice to follow, too. I love dazatsu and atsulucy as well!! Both were ships I wasn't particularly invested when I read the manga for the first time, but really grew in me in the last six months or so. I really dig akuatsulucy as well!!

nOTP: Nothing?

Random headcanon: He really likes reading. There's some real meta-analysis to be made here I actually had written this is probably not the right place to talk about, but in a work that's all about literature, he's the character who reads.

Unpopular opinion: He's the hardest character to write / characterize. That's why people should probably go easier on other fans when they mischaracterize him. He's just very multifaceted and genuinely hard to get. I keep seeing people being like “Stop babyfying Atsushi he's an independent adult!!” then turn around to say “he can't be shipped with Dazai because there's too much unbalance of power :// [somewhat implying Atsushi can't make free decisions for himself]”, or “Stop making of Atsushi a soft baby who never did wrong in his life!!!” then turn around to say “Atsushi is the happy puppy of the agency who gets treats and pats from everyone ^^ ” like. At least to me, a lot of people's arguments sound self-contradictory all the time; but that doesn't mean people should stop having fun and characterize the characters as they like! Just, let's stop being mean to each other and try to be a little more accepting towards others' takes, shall we? And yes that also includes letting people find Atsushi annoying if they find him annoying (although like, I've NEVER found anyone call Atsushi annoying ever, so really, what remote fandom spaces is everyone visiting? Why are you looking for clothes (good takes) at the soup store (Tik/tok I assume?) ).

Song i associate with them: Common World Domination by Pinocchio-P, HIBANA by DECO*27, Ghost Rule by DECO*27, so on and so forth.

Favorite picture of them:

Favourite panel from the manga:

Favourite illustration: Look, there's too many beautiful illustrations, I can't chose. Here's a very good one though.

Favourite illustration in the anime art style:

But also:

Favourite Mayoi card:

Send me a character?

#Btw I think the author does truly believe that people have to earn their own right to live and that #“people can't live unless someone tells them ‘it's okay to go on’ ”#Which is all sorts of fucked up for me and just goes to the encyclopedia titled Reasons Why I Strongly Disagree With Bsd Morals #But taking the character Atsushi on its own out of the context of which worldvies bsd does or doesn't enable.#I think it's very compelling to explore a character who thinks like that!!#Of course‚ feel free to disagree with my interpretation of the text #atsushi nakajima #bsd #mine #people asks me stuff #I feel like with this more than others I have more to say that just didn't come to me...#I have so many headcanons and opinions about Atsushi how can I only pick one!!!

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 2 years

Text

Wildest dreams, pt. 16

Summary: Meeting the imprints.

Warnings: fluff, angst

Wildest Dreams Masterlist

————————————

Sitting in the corner of what she could best describe as an all-girls sleepover, Y/N sipped on her tea trying to ignore the drying tear stains on her shirt. Her lower lip quivers each time she releases it from her teeth formed prison, the flesh bruised and swollen after her merciless, anxiety induced chewing.

Emily catches her gaze every now and then, but Y/N is quick to avert her eyes. She had been given some space to gather her thoughts, but how can she do that when her mind is far too engrossed in the very real possibility of losing Paul before she even had a chance to call him hers?

Would destiny be so cruel? After all the time she spent ripping him apart for things that happened so long ago, she would deserve this.

But he wouldn’t.

Paul wouldn’t deserve to die just to torture Y/N, or so she hopes.

“They’ll be fine”, one of the girl speaks to her. Her hair is short, down to her shoulders – black as is usual in La Push. Her face is wide, mainly in the cheeks thus making her eyes seem smaller than they are. The dark eyes reflect empathy, a kindness of spirit that allows Y/N to relax. She remembers her from high school. She was one of the few girls that hung around with the guys.

Y/N used to be so jealous of her,

At least she understands now.

“You’re Kim”, Y/N states. “Jared’s imprint.”

Nodding, Kim smiles softly. “One of the first imprints in the pack.” Reaching for Y/N’s hand, her smile widens. They’ve seen each other quite a lot, but they’ve never really spoken. When Paul was stuck to the bed, she barely paid any mind to anyone else and Kim understood that. She wouldn’t be interested in making new friends if something happened to Jared either. “I’ve done this quite a lot. It’s almost never anything more than a few scrapes and bruises.”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N frowns. “I haven’t done this a lot, but mine came back with a lot worse last time.”

“Paul is strong. One of the strongest in the pack.” Looking around carefully, she leans in and whispers. “Don’t tell Jared I said that.”

Pressing the tip of her thumb and pointer finger, she runs them over her lips and locks them before throwing away the imaginary key over her right shoulder.

“Does the worry and constant fear fade away?” Placing her hand over her heart, Y/N lets out a shuddered breath. “I don’t think I can survive many more nights like this.”

“It’s always there”, a blonde speaks up. “Just as your love for him is. It’s like a phantom limb.” Shrugging, she manages a small smile as she looks at her hands. “Ever since I met Embry, I’ve felt it. I didn’t know the truth for the first few months of dating and I still felt it.”

She’s stunning. Shaking her head, Y/N suppresses a chuckle in disbelief. All those years ago, Y/N was so certain she’d marry Embry and they’d have a perfect life…like most young girls do. It never occurred to her they’d stop being friends at sixteen, or that their lives would be so different.

This girl is the epitome of beauty – as if the sun itself kissed her hair golden and the skies reflect in her eyes. She’s all Y/N never was nor can be. It’s silly, but the teenage girl that harbored those feelings for Embry is genuinely stumped at how dumb her crush was when this is his type.

“Embry never told me he imprinted.” Y/N admits.

“I’m Daisy.” Her eyes lighten up. “I’ve heard so much about you. Feels like I know you already!” It doesn’t look like she knows Y/N’s history with Embry and Y/N has no plans on changing that. Stirring drama isn’t good for anyone involved.

“I look forward getting to know you.” Y/N offers a friendly smile and for once, she means it. She can’t help but look around the room.

Next, she met Claire – Quil’s imprint. She’s still in high school and they’re friends. She’s dating her best friend – Andrea, who is also present.

The other girls were rather young as well, imprints of those who joined the pack as mere children at a time when vampires were frequent in the area.

They told her about Leah and Owen who live in Los Angeles, and of their daughter who is starting kindergarten.

Seth is one of the rare wolves who has yet to imprint on anyone, or so they said.

“What about Jacob?” Y/N furrows her eyebrows, confused. “You said almost everyone has an imprint. Does Jacob?”

Emily clears her throat. “He does.”

“Oh”, escapes her. She didn’t know if she was more hurt about the fact he didn’t tell her himself or about the way he talked to her as if he was interested in starting a romantic relationship with her when he came back.

Sure, not all imprints are romantic, Claire and Quil aren’t, but she didn’t believe Jacob would be able to resist a connection like that. It’s cosmic, all consuming. At least it is for her. So what happened to have him acting the way he did with her?

Before she can ask for details, the door opens and in an instant the room is overcome with joy. She watched as the girls leapt from their seats and into the arms of their loved ones. Emily kissed Sam, Claire and Andrea embraced Quil, Daisy nearly knocked Embry over as she jumped from the couch and straight into his chest.

Lips parting, she grips the hem of her skirt as Paul moves past Sam and pauses in front of the coffee table. Shirtless, the muscles on his chest move up and down as his breathing quickens at the sight of his imprint.

She’s curled in a chair, her hands shaking as she grips the hem of her skirt, pulling it down to make sure she’s appropriately covered. Her eyes are glossy, tied to him as if he’s the anchor she desperately needs to hold on to. His eyes flicker to the quivering chin and it’s enough for him to smile – she cares. Moving to her side, he falls to her knees before her.

Most would assume she’s indifferent, but they’d be blind. She’s tired, fighting tears and likely can’t even feel her legs to actually stand and run to his arms and he can feel it in his heart and soul that’s what she wanted to do. He didn’t need her to do that, he didn’t even see it worthy of a second thought. All he wants is to hold her hand and remind her he’s there – that he always will be.

And that’s exactly what he does.

The moment the palm of his hand rests over her pale knuckles, her hands relax and without a moment to waste, Y/N’s arms are wrapped around him, her face hiding in the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay”, he whispers as he pulls her closer and lifts her up only to sit in her place, allowing her to remain in his lap, wrapped around him. “I’m here, dove. I’m here.”

“I hate that nickname”, she reminds him meekly and he can’t help but chuckle.

“Might grow on you”, he insists.

“You know, we are here too?! We deserve a hug, don’t we?” Embry exclaims, earning himself a middle finger from Paul.

“Oh, nice! Real mature!” Jacob remarks.

Inhaling sharply, Y/N pulls herself away just enough to rest her temple on Paul’s shoulder. “As mature as neither of you telling me you’ve imprinted”, she sasses back and Embry glances at Daisy nervously.

“We didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“I’ve already been pushed off a cliff and into the ocean of madness you’ve got going on here. Meeting your soulmates would be a vacation compared to everything else”, she deadpans. “And Daisy is pretty amazing.”

“I know, right?!” Embry smirks as he pulls Daisy into a half embrace.

Raising her brows, she looks to Jacob. “And where’s yours?”

“Probably best we leave that for later”, Paul warns her gently.

“Why? What could be worse than Quil imprinting on a little girl?”

“Hey!” Quil pipes up.

“Well, she’s right”, Claire remarks and he quiets down.

“A newborn”, Seth spills the beans instead.

Wide eyes, she looks to Jacob. “No frickin’ way.”

“Mhmm”, Jared laughs. “Bella’s one minute old vampire baby!”

Opening her mouth to speak, Y/N stares at Jacob without a single word leaving her lips.

“Oh, come on! I didn’t exactly have a choice!” He reminds everyone. “If I did, I’d have imprinted on you!” Jacob points at Y/N.

Gripping her hip tighter, Paul narrows his eyes at Jacob. “Better watch that finger as well as your mouth, Jake.”

Tapping Paul’s shoulder, Y/N pecks his cheek. “We should probably go before you decide to eat Jacob for dinner.”

“He can try”, Jacob snorts, further angering Paul.

Realizing he’s shaking, Y/N swallows thickly. Placing her hand on his cheek, she turns his head to look at her.

The anger is burning in his eyes like a bonfire, spreading through his veins like a forest fire and yet, the moment she presses her lips against his, it’s as if a wave has washed over him, putting the fire out instantly.

It doesn’t take long for him to return the kiss, pulling Y/N closer until they can hardly breathe.

“WE CAN SEE YOU”, Seth reminds them, causing Y/N to laugh and pull away sheepishly.

“Thanks a lot, Seth”, Paul grimaces.

“What? I’d rather not barf the delicious cupcake I just had!”

And though the night didn’t quite end the way Y/N planned, she enjoyed the dinner they shared as a big family. She enjoyed hearing their stories and while some scared her to the core, being with Paul helped her heartbeat calm to a reasonable pace.

“You do realize I’m wearing an extremely sexy pair of red, lacy panties and a matching bra?” She whispers in his ear as the rest of them all seemed to be lost in their own conversations.

“Heard that”, Quil whines.

Throwing her head back, Y/N groans. “Get up”, she orders Paul who chuckles and raises his hands in mock surrender.

“There is no way I’m going anywhere with you.”

With hands on her hips and raised eyebrows, she looks at Paul. “Do you prefer everyone here hearing all the dirty things I’d do to you, or would you rather have me skip theory and go straight to a practical approach?”

Paul hisses, “Temptress!”

“3”, she begins.

“What?”

“2”, she places a hand on her zipper and his eyes widen.

Jumping to his feet, he looks at the amused looks from his brothers in shock. “This is why I never wanted an imprint!”

Raising a brow, she takes a step back. “Excuse me?!”

Embry explodes with laughter, while Quil exclaims. “I GET YOUR HOUSE WHEN SHE KILLS YOU!”

“Not that I regret it”, Paul tries to coerce her to smile, but her eyes narrow at him.

“Sure”, she swallows thickly. “You’re right. Stay here.” Turning on her heel, she waves at everyone. “And I’m going home. Enjoy your night everyone.”

Watching her walk away in confusion, Paul rubs his forehead.

“What the fuck did I even do?”

“You basically told her that you didn’t want to imprint”, Daisy exclaims. “Which translates to: I didn’t want to be with you, but I am because a magic bond has made sure I can’t leave.”

Huffing, he shakes his head. “I’m an idiot.”

“You’re a bigger idiot for standing there instead of running after her.”

“I was gonna!” Paul insists. “Just needed to know what to apologize for.”

Shaking his head, Jacob grimaces. “And this is the part where you run after her!”

“RIGHT”

_______________________

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A/n - Anyone not tagged has either changed their @ or deactivated their account. If you haven’t and the tag didn’t work for you, let me know. I’d like to apologize for a relatively short chapter after waiting for a while, I’ve been having a lot of personal issues - work, health and especially the overwhelming depressing that’s been trying to win this little war we’ve been having for the past five years. So, I’ll try to be more active and write, but I really can’t make any promises.

PART 17

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote series #twilight #Twilight series #twilight fanfiction #twilight fandom #twilight saga #twilight renaissance #jacob black #embry call #sam uley #Quil Ateara #seth clearwater

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