#the lone corner cabinet

[puppycheesecake]

Fixing the StrangerVille Overlook, part 2~

#sims 4 #gameplay #this house has some of the worst interiors #I don't understand why they did this #what was the intent #the lonely refrigerator all by itself #the stove in the middle of the room #the lone corner cabinet #??? #and it's so EMPTY #kept the tile and wallpaper because I kind of dig the retro vibe of it #but everything else has gotta go #I'm going to make this mansion homey if it kills me #builds

[mariclerc]

Little miracle ♡ | cl16

Summary: You and Charles have been together for years and have always talked about starting a family.

Warning: none, just fluff.

a/n: It's a little long, but I hope you like it as much as I did !!

The afternoon sun streams through the living room window, casting warm light across the plush couch where you lie curled up. A magazine lays forgotten on your chest, your brow furrowed in concentration. You take a deep breath, wincing slightly. The dull ache in your lower abdomen has been there for a few days now, and you can't help but wonder...

With a sigh, you push yourself up and head to the bathroom. You open the cabinet and reach for the lone pregnancy test tucked discreetly in the back corner. It's been there for months but only in case of emergencies, a silent reminder of what could be, a possibility you both discussed but never truly dared to hope for.

Your hands tremble slightly as you follow the instructions, the silence of the apartment amplifying your racing thoughts. What if it's positive? How will Charles react? Excitement? Fear? Uncertainty? The image of his bright smile flashes in your mind, but it's quickly overshadowed by a wave of apprehension. After a couple of minutes the alarm sounds and with great care and trembling hands, you review the test...

Two pink lines: positive. A wave of different emotions takes over you, you are very afraid and at the same time hope that perhaps this has not gone as planned, but it's something incredible, a small miracle growing inside you.

After a couple of hours, the scent of Charles' cologne fills the air as he bursts through the door, his usual infectious energy bouncing off the walls. He throws his bag on a hanger, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you.

“Hey bellissima! How was your day?” He says while having a grin on his face.

You manage a small smile, forcing yourself to appear relaxed. “Good, just relaxing. You seem in a good mood today!”

“Just had a great afternoon with the team, preparing some things in the simulator... So, what's for dinner? You know I'm starving!” He said while chuckling.

You lead him to the kitchen, the aroma of your carefully prepared pasta filling the air. As you set the table, you steal glances at him, his animated chatter a stark contrast to your swirling emotions.

“Hey, is everything okay baby? You seem a bit...different.” He asks as he notices your quietness.

You hesitate, then decide to plant the first seed.

“Actually, there is something I need to tell you. But I think it's better if we wait until after dinner.”

His smile falters slightly, replaced by a furrowed brow.

“Is everything alright? Is it something serious?”

“Don't worry, it's nothing bad. Just...something we need to talk about.” You said while taking his hand.

He squeezes your hand reassuringly, the worry lingering in his eyes. Dinner passes in a blur of polite conversation and stolen glances. With dessert cleared away, you both settle onto the couch, the weight of your unspoken secret hanging heavy in the air.

”Charles, remember that talk we had a few months ago? About...you know...” You take a deep breath.

He nods slowly, his gaze intense and understanding. “Of course darling.”

“Well, there's a chance...a big possibility...that things might have changed.”

His eyes widen, a flicker of hope battling with trepidation.

“You mean...?”

“I took a test. And...it's positive.” You whisper while you show the test to him.

The silence that follows is deafening. You watch Charles' face, searching for any hint of his reaction. His initial surprise gives way to a slow smile, spreading across his features like sunrise.

“Oh my god, baby! Oh my baby...” He said with his voice thick with emotion.

He pulls you into a tight embrace, burying his face in your hair. You can feel his body trembling, his laughter mixed with choked sobs.

“This is incredible! We're going to have a baby!”

Relief washes over you, warm and sweet. The fear that had been gnawing at you melts away, replaced by a surge of joy and anticipation. You cling to him, both of you lost in the wonder of this new chapter.

As you pull back, Charles cups your face, his eyes shining with love and excitement.

“This is the best news ever! I can't wait to be a dad! We're going to be amazing parents!”

You nod, a smile blooming on your face. The future, once uncertain, now stretches before you, filled with promise and the beautiful mess of creating a family together.

As you pull away from the embrace, the weight of reality settles in. While you're both ecstatic about the news, a wave of anxieties washes over you. You take a deep breath and voice your concerns.

“Charles, I'm happy, truly. But...there's a lot to think about. Parenthood is a big change, and I can't help but worry about how it will affect everything.” You say a little shy.

He takes your hand, his gaze warm and understanding. “I know, amore. It's natural to feel nervous. But tell me, what's on your mind?”

“Well, there's my career. Taking time off for the baby, especially with your career in the spotlight, feels daunting.”

“We'll figure it out together, like we always do. You're incredibly talented, and I know you'll find a way to balance motherhood with your dreams.” He squeezes your hand.

He pulls you closer, resting his forehead against yours.

“It's not just that, you know? It's the fear of the unknown. Being a parent is a huge responsibility, and I'm scared I won't be good enough.” You sigh.

He leans back, holding you at arm's length, his eyes searching yours.

“Hey, you'll be the most amazing mother. You're kind, compassionate, and have so much love to give. You'll be incredible, just like you are with everything else you do.”

A tear escapes your eye, and he brushes it away with a gentle thumb.

“We'll learn together, step by step. And we'll have each other, always. This is a journey we're going on together, as a team.”

His words soothe your anxieties, but a flicker of worry lingers.

“What about your racing? The media, the pressure, the fans...will this change things?”

He contemplates for a moment, then smiles reassuringly. “It will change things, of course, but not in a bad way. It'll give me something even more to fight for, even more to achieve. I'll be racing for our family, for our future together.”

His confidence reignites your own. You both share a laugh, the nervous tension easing.

“Now darling imagine our little Leclerc cheering me on from the stands!” He said with a smile on his face.

The image brings a joyful warmth to your chest. You lean in, sharing a kiss filled with hope and excitement for the unknown adventure ahead.

****

ynusername

liked by carmenmmundt, f1, kellypiquet and others.

ynusername something's in the way 🫣

tagged charles_leclerc

lilymhe omg!!! Congrats babes 🥹🥹

ynusername 🥹🥹🥹🩷 thank u sm bby

user1 mY PARENTS ARE GOING TO BE PARENTS?!?!#?! OH GOD 🥺😭😭

landonorris so... That explains why you threw up the cookies I sent to you both last week...

ynusername can you get over the cookies did I threw up last week? Thanks ☺️

charles_leclerc lando those cookies were horrible, I even threw up them too. 🤷🏻‍♂️🤷🏻‍♂️

landonorris I didn't need to know that, but thanks for clarifying that my cooking skills suck.

charles_leclerc you are welcome bro 🫂

scuderiaferrari do we already have the future champion on the way? 👀❤️❤️

ynusername yup team!!

user2 oh my goodness, congrats to the best paddock couple 🤍🤍

charles_leclerc I love you my future baby mama 💗

ynusername I love you too papa to be!! 🥺🩷

user3 okay but they are using pink emojis, they defo know something WE DON'T OH GOD

Days turn into weeks, and your apartment becomes a haven of anticipation. You pick out tiny baby clothes, decorate the nursery with love, and lose yourselves in the joy of choosing names. Charles, usually focused on his racing career, surprises you with his attentiveness, researching baby gear, learning about childbirth, and excitedly planning for paternity leave.

For your part, breaking the news to your parents was not exactly what you expected or had in mind. They took the news in a very bad and ugly way, which made you feel hurt, since you thought they weren't going to take it that way. The disapproval still lingers, but it no longer holds power over you. You share your happiness with friends and Charles' family who offer genuine support and celebrate with you.

You and Charles create a photo album documenting your pregnancy journey, filled with silly selfies, ultrasound pictures, and heartfelt notes to your future child.

One evening, as you relax on the couch, Charles pulls out the photo album.

“Look at how far we've come amour!” He says, his voice filled with pride. “We may not have everyone's blessing, but we have each other, and that's all that matters.”

You nod, tears welling up in your eyes. You turn to him, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

“We do, amore. And we'll be amazing parents, together!”

He kisses you softly, the promise of a future filled with love and laughter hanging in the air. The disapproval from your parents may remain, but it fades into insignificance compared to the radiant joy you and Charles share.

****

charles_leclerc

liked by domi.nahmias, ynbff, georgerussell63 and others.

charles_leclerc baby mama is looking fine as always 😍😍 I love you so so much and our little one 💗💗

tagged ynusername

ynusername oh my babyyyyyy 🥺😭😭 I told you I looked so awful in that pic :(

charles_leclerc nonsense! You're looking gorgeous each day chérie ;)

ynusername okay!!! If u say so 🥹🥹

landonorris you're simping over a baby? Iugh 🤢

pierregasly lando stfu please 🙄🙄

ynusername thank you uncle Pierre 🙏🏻

arthur_leclerc UNCLE PIERRE? WTF ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT‼️‼️‼️

lorenzotl I hope this is a joke

charles_leclerc oh god, guys get out of my comment section please

leclerc_pascale Je vous aime tellement, je suis si heureuse pour vous mes enfants 💗💗 (I love you so much, I am so happy for you my children)

ynusername Aww, merci maman 😭🥹🩷🩷 (aww, thank you mom)

charles_leclerc Merci maman!! nous t'aimons aussi 🩷🩷 (thank you mom!! we love you too)

user4 NOT THE PINK HEARTS AGAIN, THEY KNOW SOMETHING‼️‼️‼️‼️

ynbff I want to be the cool aunt okay sir?! 🫵🏻🫵🏻

charles_leclerc noted 📝

ynusername

liked by lilymhe, ruthbuscombe, lewishamilton and others.

ynusername we can't wait to meet you little Mills 💗💗💗 your papa and I are so excited to hold in our arms and love you unconditionally 🥹🥹 📸 by the one and only charles_leclerc

tagged charles_leclerc

kellypiquet oh my god 🥺🥺🥺

georgerussell63 now we know who to spoil in the paddock

logansargeant the official F1 baby

danielricciardo the official F1 mascot

charles_leclerc I don't want my baby to wear merch from all the teams above and below.

ynusername you know that she would be sticking to Ferrari, right guys??? 👀👀

charles_leclerc our little miracle is so loved 🩷🩷🥹 I love you so much chérie, thank you for giving me the best gift of all 🩷🩷🩷

ynusername ohhh baby, you're making me cry 😭😭, I love too babe!! I promise to be the best mama and girlfriend I can be🥹 I promise!!

charles_leclerc babe, you already are the best mama and wife our little girl and I could ask for!!🩷🩷

user5 excuse me??? WIFE???!? SIR COULD YOU EXPLAIN????

user4 omg a little girlyclerc, congrats!!! 🥺🥺💗

lewishamilton congrats lovebirds!!!

ynusername thank u lew <3

charles_leclerc thank you mate ❤️

scuderiaferrari we can't wait to see her in a race car. congratulations guys ❤️❤️

oscarpiastri a new little one to spoil with papaya merch

charles_leclerc ABSOLUTELY NOT

Weeks melt into months, your belly growing bigger with each passing day. You and Charles revel in the little miracles of pregnancy: the first flutter of movement, the tiny heartbeat on the ultrasound, the shared excitement of picking out names. Your apartment transforms, adorned with tiny clothes, a miniature crib, and countless teddy bears.

One sunny afternoon, you and Charles are sprawled on the couch, giggling over a particularly stubborn hiccup emanating from your belly.

“Do you think she'll be a fast car fan?” Charles asks, tracing your swollen belly with a finger.

You laugh, “Only if she inherits your love for race cars, but if she wants to be a driver like her papa, we will always support her!”

He smiles innocently, a playful glint in his eyes. “But of course love! We will be her number one fans, her big fans.”

Suddenly, a sharp pain jolts you upright. You gasp, eyes widening. Charles is by your side instantly, his face etched with concern.

”What is it, babe? Are you okay?”

“I think... I think it's time Charles.” You manage, voice shaky with a mix of fear and excitement.

Charles throws on his coat, his movements efficient yet tinged with nervous energy, He quickly looked for a briefcase that they had prepared in recent weeks in case this moment came, which was near the door. “Let's go, amore! It's time to meet our little miracle.”

The hospital is a whirlwind of activity. Nurses bustle around you, checking vitals and offering reassurances. Charles holds your hand, his grip tight yet comforting. He whispers jokes, sings silly songs, and recounts stories about his childhood, distracting you from the growing intensity of the contractions.

Hours later, after pushing with every ounce of your strength, a tiny cry fills the room. A wave of relief washes over you, followed by an overwhelming surge of love. Charles beams, tears glistening in his eyes as he cuts the umbilical cord, welcoming their daughter into the world.

Holding your newborn child in your arms, the world melts away. You and Charles, a team united by love and parenthood, gaze in awe at the perfect little face nestled against your chest. The initial disapproval from your parents feels miles away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of joy and accomplishment.

The nurse bustles around, cleaning your newborn daughter and wrapping her in a warm blanket. You watch, exhausted yet exhilarated, as the tiny form stirs and lets out a sleepy gurgle. Your gaze flickers to Charles, his face alight with a mixture of awe and nervousness.

“Mr. Leclerc.” the nurse says, her voice gentle. “Would you like to hold your daughter first, skin-to-skin?”

Charles' eyes widen. “Me?”

“Absolutely!” the nurse smiles. “It's called kangaroo care. It helps regulate her temperature, breathing, and heart rate, and it promotes bonding between you and her.”

He hesitates briefly, then nods eagerly. ”Of course!”

The nurse carefully places your daughter on his bare chest, her tiny body nestled against his warmth. Charles' eyes well up as he looks down at her, his fingers gently brushing her soft cheek. You watch their silent communion, a wave of love and tenderness washing over you.

“There you go, little one.” Charles whispers, his voice husky with emotion. “Meet your daddy.”

Your daughter seems to respond. She quiets, her eyes fluttering open and meeting his with a gaze that seems impossibly ancient and wise. A faint coo escapes her.

Charles laughs, a joyous sound that fills the room. “You see chérie? Millie loves me already!”

You chuckle, your heart brimming with joy. The initial fear and doubt Charles harbored about fatherhood seem to melt away, replaced by a raw, instinctive protectiveness. He holds his daughter close, rocking her gently, his eyes filled with an unspoken promise to love and cherish her always.

Millie, still slightly pink and whimpering, nuzzles closer to the warmth of his skin. He cradles her awkwardly at first, then instinct seems to take over. He holds her with a tenderness that belies his usual energetic persona, stroking her tiny hand with his thumb, whispering soft reassurances in Italian.

You watch the scene unfold, your heart swelling with pride and love. This man, your partner, the one who speeds around racetracks with fearless abandon, now holds your daughter with such delicate care, such profound reverence. It's a side of him you haven't witnessed before, and it's breathtaking.

He looks up at you, his eyes shining with emotion. “Oh my, she's perfect.” he murmurs, his voice thick. “Just like her mama.”

A laugh escapes you, shaky but genuine. Tears well up again, this time tears of pure joy. You reach out, and he carefully transfers your daughter to you, placing her skin-to-skin on your chest. The warmth of her tiny body against yours is instant comfort, a connection unlike any other.

In that moment, everything else fades away. The pain, the exhaustion, the initial anxiety about how Charles would react – all vanish. All that remains is the three of you, an incredible bond forming in the quiet hospital room. This is the start of your journey, a journey filled with challenges and triumphs, but you face it together, a family united by love.

****

The weeks that follow are a whirlwind of sleepless nights, endless diaper changes, and the constant wonder of watching Millie grow and change with each passing day. Charles, true to his word, throws himself into fatherhood with the same passion he brings to racing. He learns to swaddle like a pro, sings lullabies in his surprisingly off-key voice, and develops a sixth sense for anticipating her needs.

The initial challenges you anticipated regarding his racing career never materialize. In fact, having his daughter seems to fuel him further. He dedicates his wins to her, to both of you actually, her tiny name adorning his helmet, and the fans seem to love the image of the champion racer who's also a devoted dad.

Of course, there are bumps along the road. Juggling parenthood with demanding careers takes its toll. Sleep deprivation becomes a constant companion, and arguments erupt over who gets to hold the baby during the rare moments of peace. Yet, through it all, your love for each other and Millie remains the anchor. You learn to compromise, to communicate openly, and to find humor even in the midst of exhaustion.

One evening, as you sit huddled on the couch, nursing Millie to sleep, Charles turns to you, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lamp.

“Remember when we were worried about how things would change?” he asks, a chuckle in his voice.

You smile, memories of those early anxieties flooding back. “Yeah, we were pretty naive, weren't we?”

He nods, pulling you closer. “Absolutely babe, but now looking at her, I wouldn't trade this chaos for anything in the world.”

You gaze at your daughter, her peaceful breaths filling the silence. “Me neither.” you whisper, leaning your head against his shoulder. “She's our little miracle, our perfect storm.”

He kisses your forehead, his lips warm and tender. “And we're her team, amore. We'll face whatever comes our way, together.”

The weight of his words rests upon you as you watch Millie sleep. A comfortable silence descends, punctuated only by her rhythmic breaths and the soft hum of the nightlight. You feel a surge of pride, not just in Millie, but in the family you've built together.

“Remember when her first smile was just a tiny twitch of her lip?” Charles asks, his voice hushed and reminiscent.

You laugh softly, recalling the hours spent trying to elicit a response, the sheer joy when that tiny smile finally appeared. “And how she cried for an hour straight when we tried to give her a bath for the first time?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Chaos incarnate, love.” he says, his eyes twinkling with affection. "But wouldn't have it any other way.”

You nod, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Me neither. These sleepless nights, the endless diaper changes, it all feels so insignificant when she looks at us with those big, curious eyes.”

Suddenly, Millie lets out a soft coo, her eyes fluttering open. She fixes them on you, a gummy smile spreading across her face.

“See?” Charles whispers, reaching out to touch her cheek. “Millie knows how much we love her.”

He lifts her gently, cradling her close, and you watch as their daughter nuzzles into his chest. A lump forms in your throat, a mixture of love and gratitude washing over you. You've faced challenges, navigated uncertainties, but the core of your bond has remained strong.

“We're doing alright, aren't we?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

He looks at you, his gaze tender. “More than alright, amore. We're building a life, a family. And it's beautiful.”

He leans in, his lips brushing yours in a gentle kiss. In that quiet moment, surrounded by the warmth of your love and the soft breaths of baby Millie sleeping, you know that the journey ahead, though filled with its own challenges, will be an adventure worth taking, hand in hand.

charles_leclerc

liked by ferraristyle, maxverstappen1, sebastianvettel and others.

charles_leclerc mama and little millie 🩷🩷🩷 oh ma petite fleur, you don't know how happy you have made us with your arrival, you are the prettiest and smallest thing we have ever seen!! I promise to take care and protect you both, because you deserve it 💗💗 ynusername you have made me the happiest man in the world, thank you so much my baby love 💗💗

tagged ynusername

ynusername you will definitely make me cry 😭😭🥺 Oh love, it's nothing, she has a little piece of both and that makes her perfect 💗💗💗

charles_leclerc okay now I'm the one who's going to cry 😭😭 I just love you my sweet baby

scuderiaferrari welcome to the team Millie 🩷🩷🩷 we're going to spoil you a lot!!

landonorris so... They can spoil her and not the F1 grid?

ynusername yup, it's like this 🤷🏻‍♀️

user3 not her using Charles' quote, she knows

pierregasly aww, she's so pretty 🥺🥺 congrats bro 💗💗

leclerc_pascale aww, ma petite étoile 🩷🩷 (aww, my little star)

ynusername maman!! nous t'aimons tellement, Millie veut te rencontrer 🩷🩷 (mom!! we love you a lot, Millie wants to meet you)

leclerc_pascale Je parie que tu le fais, chérie 🩷🩷 (I bet she does, honey)

user5 oh god, all of them using pink hearts, they are so so cute 🥺🥺💗💗💗

#formula one x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles x reader #charles x mom #f1 x you #dad!charles leclerc #charles leclerc

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine ever since you and Itoshi Rin broke up, one of the things he stopped doing was to look at the crowd, as well as he stopped kissing the ring on his chain necklace.

Imagine the way he no longer pay attention to the crowd. Don't get him wrong, he loves attention in one way or another or maybe not, but he loves your attention even more. So he just stops, he stops looking at the crowd before and after game knowing you won't be in the front row screaming and cheering for him. He knows. He knows because he knew your voice in the crowd. And he hates it, he hates that he yearns for your voice among the crowd of cheers he has.

Imagine the way even after your break up, he would unconsciously hold on into his now non existence necklace. The one he harshly ripped off his neck the same night the two of you broke up, the same night were things that shouldn't have said were exchange. The same night he ripped off the chain necklace that holds your couple rings and throw on somewhere in the apartment right in front of you. The same night you left with tears rolling down your face.

Imagine the way he hates it. He hates the way he would unconsciously reach out to hold on into the ring on his necklace only to find it wasn't there. That that was the same ring he had thrown out somewhere. That same ring he would kissed as a sign of dedication that the goal was for you and only you. He hates it, he regret it.

Imagine after a long day at the field, as he find himself in his lone apartment, looking anywhere and everywhere in his apartment looking for something. Looking for the damn ring he had thrown away out of anger and frustration. "Fuck." Where the hell did it go? "Fuck fuck fuck." He mumbled, throwning things here and there still looking for it. "The hell." He grit his teeth out of frustration. Then he sat down on the floor, arms on his knees as he ran his fingers through his hair out of frustration.

Imagine as he sat there, something caught his eyes. Something shining in the corner, without missing a beat, he reach out to it. Underneath the cabinet was the ring with a string of metal thin chains. As soon as he found it, he let out a sigh of relief, like a missing piece finally found again. His hand clenched around the ring, his heart painfully throbbing on his chest as he finally admitted, "I miss you." "I miss you so fucking bad."

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2023°

#dark night hero #blue lock fanfic #blue lock #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #blue lock angst #blue lock rin #blue lock itoshi rin #itoshi rin imagines #itoshi rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin x y/n

[the-offside-rule]

Max Verstappen (Red Bull Racing) - Shouldn't Have Happened

Requested: yes

Prompts: 4) "You deserve better." 15) "You're a wonderful person and don't you ever forget that." 28) "Have you been drinking?"

Warnings: drunk max

The streets of Monaco were quiet other than the distant echoes of laughing and cars fading into the night. Y/n Leclerc walked through the cobbled alleys, her steps echoing in the silence. She had chosen to bot drink too much tonight, watching over her friends who had indulged a bit too much in the celebration. As she rounded a corner, she stumbled upon an unexpected sight—a figure sprawled in a flower bed. She scoffed before she continued walking and only to see a familiar face. Max Verstappen. Concerned, Y/n approached him, gently shaking his shoulder. "Hey, are you okay?"

Max stirred, groaning slightly. "I'm fine... just needed a moment with the flowers." He slurred, sounding very....drunk.

"A flower bed in Monaco." Y/n muttered somewhat amused. "Are you hurt?" Max sat up slowly, rubbing his temple. "Just my pride, I think." Y/n noticed the faint scent of alcohol clinging to him. "And you've been drinking?" Max laughed, his gaze shifting from the starry sky to Y/n Leclerc in a red dress, holding her heels as though they were a handbag. "Yeah, too much, I guess." He replied, sitting up, denying Y/n to help him. "Why?" Y/n asked, curiosity and concern mingling in her voice. Max hesitated before confessing. "My girlfriend um- she cheated on me. My friends convinced me to go out looking for a rebound, but I ended up feeling like shit and getting sad again."

"I'm not trying to be insincere but it was very obvious she would do this." Max looked at her, his eyes turning into one of anger. "Think About it Max. She never went to your races and whenever she did, she either paraded herself around or was glued to her phone. It was so obvious she was using you and cheating." Max groaned, nearly falling back into the flower bed. "Okay, just-" Y/n hoisted Max'sarm over her shoulder and began walking up the steep hill. "Jesus, I thought you guys liked to stay light." Y/n mumbled. "Did you just call me fat?" Max blabbered. "Oh shut up. Charles is the same." Max didn't speak. He couldn't and he didn't want to. "You deserve better." Y/n said firmly, her eyes reflecting sincerity. Max down, meeting her gaze. "Do I, though?"

"You do." Y/n insisted. "You're a wonderful person, and don't you ever forget that." As she got to the top of the hill, Max reached into his pocket and pulled out a swab for the apartment complex front door. As Max struggled to get the swab to work, Y/n took it and opened it for him. "I'll come up with you just just you can open your actual door." She mumbled. "Oh, Y/n. I didn't know you cared." He teased before Y/n slapped his chest. "Shut up! Get inside!" She began giggling upon seeing Max laughing hysterically at his own joke. "I'm serious! Come on before Charles calls me to see where I am!"

Finally, Y/n opened the front door, letting Max fall in and stumble to the kitchen. Y/n looked around in awe. This looked nothing like her brothers apartment. As a matter of fact, it could possibly be much nicer. "Drink?" She turned to see Max opening up a huge liquor cabinet. "I think I should get going." Max shrugged. "If you have to. I mean, I have two glasses here and one is going to be very lonely without the other." He sang, pouring both glasses. Y/n eyed them for a moment before she gave in. "Okay, just one."

-----------------

"When did you and your girlfriend break up?" Y/n asked as Max poured another glass. "In like-" Max thought for a moment. "September? I just couldn't let loose and drink like I can now so I have been bottling everything up and now I'm here drinking with the littlest of the Leclerc's." Y/n and Max toasted before she downed the drink yet again. "You seem to need that vodka. Need something stronger?" She shook her head. "No, but maybe a red wine?" Max turned, grabbed a brand new bottle and placed it in front of Y/n. "I have and its my most expensive one." Y/n looked between Max and the bottle. "Well don't give me the expensive one." Max shook his head, opening the bottle. "No, no. Drink the good wine on a bad day because on a good day, all wine tastes good." Y/n smiled. "My mother always says that."

She poured herself a glass before taking a sip. "So, why are you so down?" Max asked. "University. Its getting to be too much and I'm honestly thinking of dropping out and becoming a hairdresser like Mama." Max sighed. "Well, I think you would be great in whatever you want to do. I actually think you'd be a really good therapist." Y/n smiled. "I'm in university to be a sport psychologist actually." Max nodded. "Very good. I'll come to you about all my problems from now on." Max chuckled. "Maybe that would stop me from thinking of looking for a rebound."

They sat in silence for a moment, simply looking between eachothers eyes and lips. "You're not the rebound type, Max. That's not who you are as a person." She whispered, her words resonating in the night air. "How do you know what kind of a person I am?" Max mumbled, sipping his whiskey. "Charles talks about you sometimes. And you forget I bumped into you I a club on my birthday last year." Max looked at her yet again. He felt safe with her. He didn't know if it was the alcohol or her aura but he felt safe. "And you figured me out that quick?" Y/n shook her head. "No, but I'd like to figure you out. You seem lovely."

As the night wore on, Max's shoulders seemed lighter, his smile more genuine. And as they walked back to Y/n's apartment, the air crackled with an unspoken tension. "Have you had a rebound? Have you had anyone since her?" Y/n asked as Max drank his wine and Y/n looked up at him intently. Max hesitated, his gaze flickering uncertainly. "No. Too busy, but Im hoping now with the off-season, I could get a chance to explore new possibilities and people." He replied. "New people. Does this mean men are included?" Max shook his head, nearly spitting out his drink. "No, Jesus. No. I like women. I'm a big fan of the breasts." As Y/n and Maxs laughing quietened down, they could feel the electricity in the air, their hearts pounding in their chests. They leaned in closer to one another, slowly. "Are you going to just stare at me or-" And then, in a moment of boldness, Max leaned in and kissed her.

Y/n's heart fluttered, her head spinning with a whirlwind of emotions. Max deepened the kiss as Y/n's hands flew up to the back of his head, pulling him as close as he could possibly go. Their pants and puffs filled the room, knocking over glasses as Max hoisted Y/n up onto the countertop. It was then Y/n pushed him away. "Wait. No. This is so, so wrong on so many levels." Y/n whispered to herself. "What do you mean?" Max asked. "I mean, I am not going to be your rebound because its just so fucking wrong. I haven't Eve done that kind of stuff before. Jesus!" Y/n hopped down off the counter, muttering to herself in French as Max grabbed her back for her. "Who said you were my rebound?" Max asked.

"Max! Regardless, I don't think I could do this. You race my brother, you just got cheated on and you've told me multiple times you just want a rebound. Well, I'm sorry, but that's not what I'm looking for." As she turned to head for the door, Max pulled her back. "Listen, I don't want you as a rebound. I'm not doing this because I'm drunk, I'm doing this because I genuinely like you and I'd like to get to know you better." Y/n's chest rose and fell quickly as she took deep breathes to try and control herself. "Then take me out for food or something first at least." She replied. "Okay." Max took out his phone and handed it to Y/n. She looked up it skeptically. "Put your number in. I'll text you in the morning and we can go for breakfast. Better yet, I'll bring you for lunch on my yacht." She scoffed. "Yachts don't impress me, Max."

"Maybe not, but it would give me a chance to actually get to know you." She typed her number in it and added a heart for good measure. "How's that?" She asked. Max smiled. "Perfect. I'll see you tomorrow."

-----------

Y/n groaned, her head pounding as she stumbled into the kitchen to the sound of her mother's concerned voice. Whilst she had done her hair up and changed into more respectable clothes than the night before, there was no denying that she probably felt like she was dying. Arthur and Charles exchanged mischievous grins, eying her with curiosity. Her mother, worried, placed a bowl of cereal in front of her. "Are you okay, dear?" Pascale asked, rubbing her daughter's head. "No." Y/n replied miserably. "There is some pills in the cabinet to help your headache. I just need to go go the bathroom and I'll get them for you." Pascale said, heading towards the bathroom.

Before Y/n could respond, Arthur and Charles jumped in with sly grins. "So, how was your night, Y/n?" Arthur asked, taking a sip of his coffee. Y/n felt her cheeks flush as she recalled the events of the evening—the chance encounter, the heartfelt conversations, the stolen kiss...and everything that happened after that. "It was great." She replied, her voice quiet and shy with a tone of embarrassment. "You definitely stayed at a guys house last night. Admit it!" Charles chuckled. "No! I'm back here, aren't I?" She defended herself. "Yes, but I heard you open the door at nearly 5 this morning." Charles and Arthur laughed. "I do have friends you know. Plus, there wasn't even a guy last night. It was just me and my friends." Y/n replied, trying to disguise the fact that she was in fact talking to a guy. "So, care to explain the mysterious hill-walking we saw on TikTok?" Charles asked, shoving his phone in her face. Sure enough, there it was; Y/n and a mysterious man walking up a steep hill as they argued.

Y/n sighed, realizing her night out had become the latest family gossip. "It's not what it looks like," she mumbled, bracing herself for the interrogation from her cheeky brothers. "I- That's not me. Im-" She paused when she heard her phone buzz. She quickly answered it and her heart skipped a beat upon seeing the message.

Max🧡

I'm in Cafe de Paris. Unless you decided you don't want to join me

She smiled to herself before she pocketed her phone and headed towards the door, now a bounce in her step. "Well, as much as I'd like to answer you and your false accusations, boys. I have a Cafe to head to and a person to meet so, au revoir, á bientot, et bisous." She smiled, closing the door behind her and leaving her brothers curious.

#f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 oneshots #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x oc #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 smut #max verstappen fic #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen smut #max verstappen x oc #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader

[bowieandqueen11]

We Need A New Lock / Sanji Imagine

Request: could you write a sanji x reader fic of them alone in reader's room? they always end up getting interrupted by someone just as they get close to kissing, and its torture for sanji because they just cant find a moment alone with each other, so he finally finds a way to be with her late one night where he can kiss her senseless uninterrupted. thank you!

First I just wanted to say, thank you so much everyone for your support as I recovered from my operation! I'm so happy to be here and writing again!

Okay but this is both super sweet and hilarious, I hope you don't mind I spread this out over the deck a bit, and changed it around a little bit for more fun ;)

Warning: slightly spicy, so 18+ please!

(I do not own One Piece or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @islandofohara.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Try One: Nami

At try one, Sanji was four seconds away from ripping his hair out.

Poor, Sanji: the sweet cook had spent all of dinner service with his hands clenched tightly in his fringe, fistfuls of hair nearly tugged out and scattered among the Matcha Tiramisu he had spent a lonely, and tired morning dragging himself away from your warm embrace to make specially for you. Toiling, rolling, dusting cream and cocoa that he had spent the last handful of his berries trading for from the speciality trader in the markets of the Canopi Islands; he had squinted underneath the honey melt of the sun as it fell from its crest over the horizon as he whisked and whizzed and splattered dessert up to his elbows in his desperation to make sure the sweet treat would be ready before Luffy caught the scent of it.

Finding it too tempting not to toy with the cook, you tried to stifle your smirk as you nonchalantly placed a fist under your chin and feigned interest in whatever Nami was animatedly trying to chew over with you. Flitting your irises over until you made direct eye contact, you dragged the flat edge of your tongue up the back of the spoon, making sure to wet the edge of your thumb along the way.

At any other time, Sanji may have been beside himself with embarrassment. It wasn't the first time a member of the crew had teased him... or snarled at him... or chided him for his obvious endearment, but the sound of Nami's voice was drowned out by the pulsing rush of blood that flooded through your boyfriend's ears. His full concentration was centred solely on the way your teeth scraped over your fork: the content hum as you licked over your fingers like a serpent and nearly sent Sanji clambering onto the floor to beg for the ecstasy of your sin.

You had tried not to chortle, you really had: hiding your face behind the ledger Nami was leaning over the table to shove into your face, her accusing pointer finger jabbing at a new entry she had triple underlined in her familiarly baleful black strokes. She hadn't even noticed that Sanji was nearly crumpled on the floor, bowl lying abandoned by the sink as his love-struck eyes struggled to stay within his skull.

'3000 berries?! Seriously?', she shot a growingly outraged frown in your direction, clattering her fork onto the table so she could use her free hand to point accusingly towards a recovering Sanji, whose fingernails were almost shedding wood shards off the cabinet drawer as he tried to pull himself back up to a presentable looking stand. 'You let curly brows over there spend three thousand of our berries on a pair of new pyjamas for you?'

You shrugged hesitantly, crossing your legs under the table. Your skirt began to rise up, bunching towards your hip as you crossed your ankles. You shot a lingering glance out of the corner of your eye towards Sanji, hoping with all your might that he'd be too bashful to meet your eye. Instead, as Nami cried out in outrage, Sanji's gleeful eyes locked onto yours, and the poor man was forced to grab the wooden edge of his spoon out of the sink and bite into it with his teeth to stop himself from squealing right there and then in the kitchen.

Nami incredulously trailed her eyes between the two of you, a long-simmering jaded scowl tempering over her face. Finally noticing how Sanji was loosening his shirt collar and using a freshly washed baking tray to fan the heat rolling in volcanic waves off his body.

The cat burglar pushed her tongue against her cheek and inhaled sharply as she turned her attention back to you. 'How is that even possible?! Luffy's meat budget for the month costs less than that!'

'They're special, my dear Nami!', Sanji finally managed to pipe in, his voice sounding strangled as he plopped the tray back down next to his damp tea towel. He turned towards the two of you with a pained smile plastered on his sickly looking face.

'They're made of Agar-Agar flakes, and of course, only the finest dehydrated avocados in all of the East Blue for the finest gem in all of the seas.' Sanji cocked his head and winked at you mischievously. 'It was worth every berry for my delectable little sweet pea.'

Nami made a gagging noise into her orange juice, but Sanji just bit his bottom lip and came sauntering over to stand by your side.

Sanji's breath drew in sharply as you absentmindedly began to brush your pointer finger up and up: first tickling over the arm that came winding around your shoulder, before leaning back to trace the edge of his jaw line, your eyes drawn away from Nami's waving hands to gawk up at the unbuttoned gap between his shirt where his Adam's apple lay tautly.

Nami was about to throw her muffin at your head when she suddenly started, bolting straight upright. Leaning forward on her elbows, she squinted her eyes suspiciously at the way you were nearly falling off the dining table's bench to lean back and caress your boyfriend's face.

'Hold on... what do you mean Agar Agar? How can they be made of food...'

'Well', you snorted, trying to hide your face by pulling one of Sanji's heavy arms up and draping his heavy bicep in front of your crinkling eyes. 'They are edible-'.

'Melt in the mouth, in fact', Sanji chimed in audaciously, bending his spine over so he could press a few butterfly kisses over the top of your scalp.

Nami nearly shoved the table straight into your stomach in her desperation to clamber up and escape the two of you. 'Nope. Nope! Absolutely not. The two of you get out of here now, before I start pitching water over your heads.'

Try Two: Usopp

At try two, Sanji was three seconds away from kicking the door of its hinges in annoyance.

It had taken nearly all night for the two of you to get even these few seconds of isolation together, and yet Sanji still felt so woefully unprepared. His fingers stumbled as he clumsily tried his best to ignore how his pounding heart was almost playing leap-frog with his ribs; the tautening of his abdomen as he tried to pull his under-shirt over his head left exultant lacerations against his muscles. He had to work up the courage to turn and kiss you now, or he was going to keel over and pass out on the floor from his heart's anguish: brought to his knees by the one thing he could never escape: his soul’s serendipity. 

Thankfully, you did the hard part for him.

He flushed at the sound of your feet pattering off your bed to echo through the shimmering walls towards him; he throat bobbed at the feel of your hand delicately winding round to finger at the Windsor knot choking his neck. He nearly cried out when you pressed your body flush against his back.

'My buttercup, if you keep pulling at that tie like that you'll have conked out before I've even got you to the bed.'

You could feel the desperation radiate off Sanji as he tilted his head back to try and watch you. Despite how tired he seemed, his dipping eyelashes roved almost hungrily over every aspect of you he could see, his hand coming up to slide over yours until you were bowered and anchored together in the storm.

'Well my honeyed heart', he almost made your breath hitch as he walked the two of you backwards, stopping only once the heavy weight of your bed swung against your knee pit. 'I suppose I'll just have to bring the bed to us.'

With a grunt that sounded suspiciously close to a puppy's whine, Sanji snapped you up within his arms and lifts you up to sit on the chained platform. Once you had regained your balance, you beckoned your pointer finger towards Sanji, and he nearly tripped over his own feet as he came stumbling towards you, dragged forwards as if yanked by an invisible leash tied around his ankles.

'God, I missed you today', your boyfriend muttered, grabbing onto your shirt and nearly crawling into your skin like a man possessed. As your head hit the linen lining of the swing, the man did his best not to collapse his full weight onto you when he came crushing down on top of your abdomen: the only thing holding him up being the point of his elbows that pin your arms in place, and the jut of his knees as they 'accidentally' fall between yours and slide them further... and further open. 'If Luffy has me make cook up one more medium-rare steak for him I'm going to throw myself headfirst into the ocean.'

You snorted, burrowing your nose into the soft mound of flesh underneath his earlobe. He shivered when you teasingly pursed your lips and blew against the shell, before latching on with your teeth and nipping at the squishy skin. 'If you do, don't worry. I'll make sure to fish you out with a frog net.'

'Frog net? Frog net!' Sanji slowly lowered his body to rest his forehead against the curve of skin just above your breasts, trying to stifle his smile. 'Oh, my wounded heart! I hope you're only saying that because you're going to give me a kiss.'

'Actually, it's because you're so slimy', you teased, poking your finger into his hip. His groan echoed into your bone as he pulled your waist tighter against him.

The starved man exhaled, his arms tightening around your waist; he was hiding himself away in your safety, trying to burrow himself underneath your skin like an ensnared goldcrest flying fruitlessly, dangerously, with harrowing hope for the propitious freedom wrought only by the sun.

Sanji made an incomprehensible gargle that sounded something vaguely along the lines of: 'Eye wansh kisch ewe so mphly.'

'What was that, buttercup?'

'I want to kiss you so badly', Sanji whimpered, his warm tears soaking through to your shoulders.

He was so soft. God always so soft, and as he lay before you now, you could almost imagine how sweet he must have been before his father cruelly tried to stifle it with cruel mockery and torturous punishments. So soft, so calm, so comforting, as he peered up at you with those wonderous eyes; his attention was always drawn back to you: so trusting, no matter what you said or did. Always. Just looking at you with this almost timeless intensity. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, to want to spend his whole life caught in the light of the most translunary being he’s ever met.

You stroked your palm through the tangling strands of hair by the nape of his neck, letting your voice fall to a whisper in order not to startle Sanji any further. 'Well, you are my sweet prince after all. You can kiss me whenever you want.'

The cook's reply was muffled by a swift knock against the doorframe.

'Hey, is everything okay? I'm hearing some weird noises coming from in here... are you guys in trouble? I know those Marines on Karushi Island were pretty annoyed when Y/n tossed them backwards over their butts-'

His perturbed question was met only by a deafening groan, followed by the pillow Sanji picked up and flung hitting the porthole window with a crashing PLASH.

Usopp flinched back, instinctively reaching towards his belt to run his fingers over the solid oak of his slingshot. 'Okay, be brave. Be brave, Captain Usopp. Your friends may be in danger! They may-'. Usopp's words quickly died on his tongue when he cautiously tip-toed open the door to the boy's quarters. In fact, his tongue nearly rolled out of his jaw as his lips slackened, blubbering like a pufferfish at the sight of Sanji almost draped across you. A half-naked Sanji.

He clapped his hands over his eyes, and nearly tossed himself over the edge of the ship with how rapidly his legs were wheeling themselves backwards. 'I'm so sorry you guys! I didn't know you were- well you were, you know- boinking in ther-.'

SLAM.

The swift silence that settled over the room should have been reassuring. Should have been. If only it hadn't been followed by the confused wails from the sharpshooter as he lolled out flat against the floor: the tip of his bandana scraping underneath the toe of Sanji's shoe where it was splayed out over the edge of the bed.

Sanji just sighed like a weary father, taking one hand off your cheek to slap it over his eyes with a curt shake.

'You snuggle up here and stay warm, sweetheart. I'll go get Chopper.'

Try Three: Luffy

At try three, Sanji was busy spending his spare two seconds trying to work up the nerve to just... leap across the room to where you were standing and kiss you silly.

'Okay', Sanji folded himself against the door and started counting distractedly on his fingers. 'I've given the Captain three plates of meat, so that should distract him for a little while: I've also hidden cookies along the deck, and stuffed a few mint infused lamb shanks in the Crow's Nest. Hopefully he'll go and bother moss head for a bit instead of annoying-'

A ringing crash made the two of you wince as your poor bedroom door got another battering; this time, the handle nearly cleft a hole clean in the wall as Luffy's leg came barging sandal first into the room.

He couldn't sleep... so your Captain had the fortuitous idea of seeking out the next best thing: hugs from you.

'Y/n, there you are! I ran out of meat, I need you to rub my tummy so I can nap! I tried asking Zoro, but he kicked me off the Crow's Nest!'

Before you could even open your mouth to protest, Luffy's stretchy arms have latched onto the edges of the door and he's flung himself into the room like a Hawaiian clad cannonball. Sadly, one that had been directly configured to launch into you: headfirst, nonetheless.

'Damn it Luffy - nO!'

A look of pure terror widened your eyes as you were skidded butt-first across the floor by a mop of curly black hair and a Cheshire grinning face. A crushing weight piled onto the side of your face, and despite how much Sanji curses and tries to detach Luffy's arm from your waist, your Captain's smushed face doesn't even lift an inch off your cheek.

'Oh, Sanji! You're here too! Even better!'

Then koala mode is activated, and Luffy's legs and arms come wrapping around you... and poor Sanji's like a cocoon. The helpless cook goes flying through the air like a contorted puppet blasted out of a wonky cannon.

Oblivious as always, your Captain settled down between the two of you for his pre-sleep nap, effectively trapping pining you and a love-struck Sanji a foot away from each other. Within a blink of an eye Luffy's head lolled onto your shoulder, and you frowned as you tried to shuffle away from the thin lines of drool that dripped out of his snoring mouth. As if he could sense you moving, Luffy's arms tightened like a vice around your waist, winding another few extra times around for good measure.

After a few minutes of wriggling, some muted swearing, and a lot of shoving the toe of his boot into the side of an unaware Luffy's shin, Sanji finally managed to wrangle his hand to snake around the rubber man's bellybutton so he could link his pinkie finger with yours.

Trying your best not to to block your nostril, you shuffled your cheek to the side until you could meet your boyfriend's sorrowful eye.

Despite your circumstance, all you did was smile.

God- that smile: bright enough to alight the dusk. As piercing and ruinous as pure golden sunlight. As devastating as the fresh warmth of a salt wind borne onto the stifling heat of a forgotten crag. And it makes everything in his life up to this moment worth something. Worth it all.

All the tortures in the world would be worth it to just link pinkies with you.

Try Four: Zoro

At try four, Sanji was one second away from hoisting his crewmates over his shoulder and flinging them overboard one by one.

There was something incredibly unsexy about banging your head against a pair of Zoro's sweaty hand weights, but as Sanji pounded you to the ground, neither of you seemed to be able to muster the nerve to care.

'Sanji', you moaned almost lewdly, tugging his back and silently willing him down to cage your body against the coarse, sweaty mat. 'More. Please. More.'

His cheeks burned an almost violent carmine, but he refused to break contact; only for one sole second did his skin leave yours, when he couldn't contain the gut-wrenching want within himself anymore and dared to brush the plush top of his lip against the side of your nose.

'I- I want-'

You pressed your cheeks firmly against his, willing Sanji to believe every sweet word that you couldn't stop from gushing out of your mouth.

You stopped, panting for breath. 'Tell me sweetie - tell me what you want. Let me hear you say it.'

His body squeezed around yours, the so usually syrupy sweet cook clenching his fingers into the meat of your spine like a savage animal shaken loose from its wrought iron chains: like an unbottled tempest with nowhere left to rage except over the bearing flames.

'Please! Please - hngg, I can't, I can't. I need you. I can't hold myself back any longer.' His words sounded so painful it sent a jolt of worry through your heart.

And yet when he pressed his nose flatly against your own, so forcefully crushing his own skin against your own it nearly left you gasping for breath, there was still such a sweetness in it. Despite it all, despite how strenuously Sanji was trying to hold back that final band of constraint from snapping, his first and foremost priority would always be your wellbeing.

'I'm sorry- I'm sorry my chérie, but I need to feel you more than I need air.'

The gasping, open mouth kiss he gave you was only repeated: crashing down again and again against your own, tongue slashing with ravenous hunger over your bottom lip and clumsily leaving wet stripes of warm saliva against your cheek as Sanji devoured you. The meek, almost pitiful whimpers as he ducked his head into the curve of your shoulder blade as he grinded himself against you, effectively trapping you between the ground and the clench of his quivering thighs marked the interludes of his feast. His lips trembled as he sighed blissfully, holding the tide back as his free hand sweetly ran its knuckles up the side of your leg, stopping only when his thumb was pressed closely enough to your inseam that he could run miniature circles underneath the growing wetness of your pants.

At the sound of your shaking moan, his front teeth dug in so tightly to his bottom lip that he drew blood.

It scared you. You wanted him to do it again.

'Sanji, I said more.'

The claw of his hand as he swiped at your shirt, not caring that he almost sent a tower of Zoro's sweaty old shirts flying in his own desperation to tug yours off was his only reply. The almost achingly gentle restrain as he placed his right hand against your hip and tried to hold you in place: tried to warn you that if he started, he wasn't sure if all his pent-up yearning would allow him to stop. The sweat nearly dripped across his furrowed eyes, caking the wispy strands of his fringe against his bucking forehead as he willed himself to calm down. His eyes stung, but despite your desperate clawing up towards his shoulders, he forced his breathing to settle.

But by all the seas... as he peeked one eyelid open and saw the line of tantalising skin grow wider down your rising breast, all semblance of self-restraint fled from the near drooling cook's brain.

The feel of Sanji's lips dragging down your neck to nip at your pulse point was interrupted by the sound of a quiet c-r-a-c-k.

You peeked your head, too far gone to swim fully out of your daze. With your arms still wrapped firmly around the wide expanse of Sanji's contracting back, you jutted your chin into the constellation line of freckles by his left shoulder blade. 'Did you hear something?'

'Just the sound of this', he smiled, smoothing his hand off your hip and sliding it underneath your buttocks. He gave you a firm squeeze that left your mouth dropping open in a shocked pant as he lifted you further up against his abdomen and pressed your breasts firmly against his pecs: he was effectively cupping you up against him like a clingy, very drenched, koala bear.

This time though, the sound of something splintering was far too egregious to ignore.

The force of the door handle slamming into the wall of the Crow's Nest nearly made the whole ship shake in revulsion; the cool air against your skin was nearly too much to bear, but the raging heat that sparked out from the looming shadow enveloping the door was enough to make your whole body break out in goose bumps.

'Can you two stop making out around the ship for two seconds.'

Sanji growled, whipping his head round to sulk at the ship's swordsman.

'Can you mind your own business for even one, Marimo?'

The former bounty hunter ostentatiously held a finger up by slowly raising it into air, and it took you a second to realise he’s pointedly showing Sanji his middle finger.

'Zoro, did you- did you just break the lock?'

'What's your problem? I left my gym towel in here.'

#one piece #one piece imagine #sanji #sanji imagine #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji imagine #vinsmoke sanji x reader #opla #opla imagine #zoro #roronoa zoro #monkey d luffy #luffy #nami #usopp

[mirage-aera]

•°. *࿐ Grilled cheese

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Cheri Cheri Lady - Modern Talking

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Synopsis: You’re craving a grilled cheese sandwich at midnight. Simon wakes up and comes to check on you.

Word count: 763

Masterlist

Mhmmm domestic Simon is my roman empire…

Small drabble while I work on a million other drafts!

It’s way past midnight. You woke up not too long ago. After scrolling endlessly on your phone for minutes, you decide to cook a quick snack. A grilled cheese sandwich sounds very good now. You glance at Simon, who’s still sleeping soundly next to you. He has turned away in his sleep, letting go of you and laying at the edge of the bed. You quietly shift and climb out of bed. You hear Simon stirring slightly. You freeze, hoping you didn’t wake him up. He’s a light sleeper and deserves the rest that he’s getting now. Once he stops and lays still again, you let out a breath of relief and walk out the door, shutting it quietly behind you.

You walk quietly to the kitchen, minimizing any sounds you’re making. You grab two slices of bread, butter, and some cheese. You cover both sides with butter and spread it around. You put a generous amount of cheese in between before setting it aside. You grab a pan from the cabinet, wincing at the clanging noises you’re making. If this didn’t wake Simon up then you’ll be very surprised. You wait a couple of seconds. And sure enough, you hear thundering footsteps go down the stairs. Simon peaks his head into the kitchen. He stares at the pan in your hand before looking you in the eyes, “oh thank god.” He says in relief. He was worried when he woke up due to loud noises from downstairs and finding you missing from the bed.

You smile sheepishly at him, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” He chuckles in amusement at the expression you’re making. He glances at the cheese sandwich waiting to be grilled. “Hungry, lovie?” You look at the lonely-looking sandwich. “A little. Would you like one too?” You offer to make one for him as well. He contemplates for a moment before smiling. “If you don’t mind.” He trails off. You shake your head, “of course, I don’t mind.” You put the pan down on the stove and quickly grab two slices of bread and spread butter across the two slices. You add cheese and close the sandwich. You turn the stove on. While you wait for the pan to get hot, you see in your peripheral vision that he’s making himself a cup of tea. A pair of arms snake around your waist and pull you to him. He leans down and rests his head on your shoulder. You chuckle while bringing a hand over his arms, “sleepy?” You gently ask. He hums, “just a little.” You turn around in his arms and give him a quick kiss. “Just a little longer and the grilled cheese sandwiches will be done, my love.” He nods and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Once the pan gets hot enough you place the two sandwiches and grill them on both sides. A few minutes later the grilled cheeses are golden brown on both sides. Simon hands you two plates and you place the grilled cheeses on them. You hand one plate to Simon, opting to eat in the kitchen. Not thinking straight, you immediately take a big bite. Regret instantly floods your body once you’ve realized you burned the roof of your mouth and your lips. Simon tried to warn you of the hot temperature but before he could utter a word you’re already taking in huge gulps of air and fanning your hand to your mouth. Trying to cool down the bite of the sandwich. He looks at you dumbfoundedly before letting out a boisterous laugh. He places the plate down before walking up to you. “Lovie. You gotta blow first, or at least let it cool down a bit.” He says in amusement. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes. You pout slightly, “but I was hungry…” He shakes his head before chuckling. “I know, but you burned your mouth now.” He snickers. You give him a playful glare, “you are so helpful, Simon Riley.” He wraps his arms around you. “Want me to kiss it better?” He smirks. You scoff and roll your eyes before smiling, “yes please.” He laughs, “unbelievable.” Nevertheless, he presses his lips onto yours. A few seconds pass and he pulls away. He strokes your bottom lip, “all better?” You smile, your eyes crinkling up in the process. “Better.” He rolls his eyes before giving you another quick peck. “Come on. They should’ve cooled down by now. Let’s hurry up and eat them, I want to go back to bed.”

#cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #ghost #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #drabble #call of duty x reader #call of duty

[roosterforme]

How You Play the Game Part 6 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You find more comfort in Bradley's home and in his arms than anywhere else. But time is ticking down, and only a win by the Angels on Saturday evening will give you more of both. Bradley tries to make a compelling argument, because he knows it's finally time to start speaking his mind.

Warnings: Swears, fluff, angst, oral and smut (18+)

Length: 7600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! How You Play the Game masterlist. Banner by @thedroneranger

You woke with a small jump as soft lips and a bristly mustache met your cheek. "Bradley?" you mumbled as his deep chuckle next to your ear made you shiver. When you started to push the covers off and open your eyes, you felt a hand on your shoulder. 

"I'm leaving for work, but you should stay in bed. You deserve a day off."

Now you were looking up at him standing next to his bed in his khaki uniform with all of his pins and his name tag. And he looked so good, you knew you were staring. It was almost startling seeing him like this when you were so used to all the Padres shirts and snug fitting jeans. Most of the people in his life were probably more used to this look. The Lieutenant Bradshaw look. But it was rendering you speechless. 

"Can I come to work with you today?" you asked him, earning another chuckle. Spending the day at his house doing your laundry, relaxing and eating everything in his refrigerator sounded actually pretty perfect, but you'd just rather be doing all of that with him here, too.

"It's not Take the sports writer you're completely infatuated with to work day."

Now you were the one laughing as you set up in bed and reached for him. "When's that day? I'll make sure I'm off."

He kissed you sweetly as his hand found your hip. "I think it's in April."

You were giggling against his smiling lips when he suddenly groaned. "I need to go. Text me if you need anything? Or if you just want to distract me?"

"I will."

"See ya, Ace."

When you heard the front door open and then close, you rolled over in his bed and buried your face in his pillow. Then you squeezed it to your body. Bradley smelled incredible, especially since you were so used to the sterile bleach scent of hotel bedding and the stale air of ballpark press boxes. You wished you could bottle this up and take it on the road with you. Take a little bit of Bradley wherever you went. 

Before that thought could take further shape, you climbed out of his bed and shivered in just his TOP GUN tee shirt. Since he told you to make yourself comfortable, you allowed yourself to root around in his dresser drawers in search of a pair of socks. Your eyes caught on the frame of his mirror hanging over the dresser, and you smiled at your reflection as you reached up and touched the ticket from game one. It was the media pass he won from the radio program, and you traced the corners of it before you sat on his bed and put on a pair of his comically large socks. 

It was early, but you were hungry, and you found a fully stocked refrigerator when you went to the kitchen. Bradley's home was a treasure trove of things that were normal for other people but not for you: bedding that smelled like heaven and a delicious assortment of fresh food. You pulled out a container of berries and then found oatmeal in his cabinets. Your stomach was growling loudly as you poured yourself some coffee from the pot he left out for you. 

You sat on his living room couch with your breakfast and looked out the window. It was probably always this sunny here, always this inviting. Bradley's cottage was easily five times the size of your apartment, which you rarely thought about beyond it being a place to hold all of your things that didn't really matter. You didn't have time for stuff; just the clothes on your back and your computer. 

When you finished the last bite of oatmeal, you felt tears in your eyes. You were so lonely. You were so tired of forcing yourself to work harder and harder to make up the deficit between yourself and your colleagues. You just wanted to hide here, in San Diego, with Bradley. You felt safe and desirable, and he wasn't yelling at you or telling you that you needed to go to Boston.

You took a deep breath as you went to the kitchen sink with your bowl and mug. There were a few other dishes there, so you washed everything for him and set them out to dry. It had been years since you hadn't done at least a little bit of work on a day off, so you went to get your computer out of his bedroom. But it smelled too good, so you carried your computer back to his bed and snuggled in where you could work on the beginning of your next article before the game tomorrow afternoon. 

Your inbox was completely filled with offers from recruiters with other newspapers and online outlets. You knew some of them would send you a job offer in an instant without even asking you to interview with them. Some of them had even managed to corner you when you were on the job; they knew your schedule as well as you did. You were always sent to the most high profile matches and events. And while some aspects of what they were offering you sounded very enticing, you were already at The New York Times. 

After you took some deep breaths, you deleted all of them and opened up a blank document and got to work. But you didn't get far before you closed your laptop, because writing baseball stats was a lot more fun when you were sitting on Bradley's lap. You decided to text him.

How's work?

Then you remembered he told you that you could check out his collection of baseball cards in the garage. You jumped out of bed and walked down the short hallway, peeking in the extra bedroom on the way. You opened one door, but it was just a linen closet which he actually had organized by color, which you found charming. The next door led you out to the small, attached garage which was also very tidy. You looked at everything on his shelves before you found some boxes that said Nick Bradshaw- Baseball Cards. The marker was very faded on the cardboard, so you slid the first one down very carefully.

When you carried it back inside to the living room, you felt your phone vibrate in your hand. Once you set the box down, you saw that you had a new message from Bradley.

Bradley Bradshaw: Work is not as fun as playing hooky with you. What are you up to, Baby?

You took a selfie with the box of baseball cards which you assumed had belonged to his father. You added the caption 'About to dig through these and swoon all over your living room.'

The collection was impressive to say the least. You didn't collect cards, because you didn't have the time or space for them, but you knew which of his were valuable when you looked through them. You thought about how much fun it would be to organize these a little better with him. Your phone was vibrating again.

Bradley Bradshaw: You look gorgeous. Send me another picture?

You sent him another selfie, and then he asked for another one. This game went on and on until lunchtime when you decided to mess with him a little bit. 

Now send me one, and you'll get something sexy in return.

He didn't respond immediately, and you figured he must be busy. You made a sandwich for lunch and ate it with some potato chips. Then you found his washer and dryer in a little closet across from the bathroom door and started a load of your dirty clothes. And then you got ready to get in the shower. 

Your phone vibrated on the sink vanity, so you grabbed it before you stepped under the spray of hot water. And you almost dropped it when you saw a set of two photos of Bradley out in the bright sunlight in his uniform. In the first one, he was wearing some aviator sunglasses and smirking. In the second one, the sunglasses were gone, and he was smiling. 

"Fuck," you moaned as you looked at the photos, making sure you didn't get your phone wet.

Bradley Bradshaw: Now where's my sexy Ace?

Before you could tell yourself what a big mistake you were making, you snapped a photo of yourself, water cascading down your breasts and a grin on your face. You sent it with the caption 'You look so good in those aviators, I'm about to start touching myself.'

You were standing there thinking about it. Your nipples were hard, and you were thinking about the scratch of Bradley's mustache on your skin. But his next message had your hand pausing before you could touch your clit.

Bradley Bradshaw: Jesus Christ, Baby. How am I supposed to focus when you send me something that good? Don't you dare touch yourself. I want you dialed up to eleven for me when I get home.

And now you were a whimpering mess as you tried to shower without letting yourself get off, wishing you had brought some sexy underwear on this trip with you.

-----------------------------

Well now Bradley was a mess, thinking about your body while he was supposed to be listening to a safety demonstration out on the tarmac. Why had he bothered to come to work today? He should have taken a second day off and spent it with you. 

But you were leaving soon, and that was why he decided to try to keep to his normal routine. And you were exhausted whether you thought so or not, so he wanted you to have time to relax and unwind. 

"Hey," Nat whispered, nudging his arm. "You okay?"

Bradley sighed and nodded, and then he held up his phone with a photo of you with the baseball cards for her to see. Nat pushed him a little further away from the group and hissed, "She's at your house? Are you insane?"

"Nat," he started, running his hand through his hair. "I know-"

"No, I don't think you do, Rooster. You're going to get your heart broken."

He nodded and looked down at their feet. "It's already unavoidable at this point. And she makes me feel so good."

His best friend sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You know you're supposed to come to the Hard Deck for Mickey's birthday tonight, right?"

His plan was to bring you along, buy you a few drinks, maybe dance to the horrible collection of songs in the jukebox with you. "Yeah," he replied. "I'll come if she wants to join me, but I don't want you giving her the stink eye all night."

She scoffed. "I'll be perfectly nice to her."

Bradley shook his head, starting to get pissed off. "Will you though? See, the thing is, I'd like to think that I'm not the only one headed for some heartbreak here, Nat. I'd like to think she feels the same way I do. Like maybe I'm too good to be true, too. And maybe spending time with me now is worth the pain later."

Her face softened immediately. "You are, Rooster. You're too good to be fucking true. I promise I'll be nice. At the Hard Deck and next week if you want to talk about it then."

After that, Bradley just left early instead of hanging out on the tarmac with the others. He skipped the showers since he'd barely even done anything today. Then he could get home sooner and see you and just shower there. When he climbed in the Bronco, he texted to let you know he was on his way. And then he sat there with his key hovering next to the ignition. 

You'd be gone by Monday morning. This was the only time he'd ever get to tell you he was on his way home to you. More than anything, he wanted to know if you were falling in love like he was. He wanted to know if there was even a tiny part of you that wanted to stay. 

Ace: Hurry! I'm making dinner. And you should keep those aviators on when you get here... I'm dialed up to eleven.

He shoved the key into the ignition. He was pretty dialed up as well, but he knew it was at least in part because his heart was invested. He lived so close to base, it only took him a few minutes to get home. When he reached to remove his sunglasses and leave them in the cup holder, he smiled. Then he dashed up the walkway to his front door with his keys in hand and his aviators perched on his nose.

You were right there when he walked inside, wearing one of his favorite tropical print shirts and a pair of his socks and a bright smile. His house seemed more inviting than it ever had before. It even smelled like you were making something delicious. And then you were in his arms, and his hands were inside the unbuttoned shirt all over your soft skin.

"I missed you. Been thinking about how good you look in this thing all day long," you moaned, running your hands up and down the front of his uniform shirt. "But the sunglasses make it magical."

"I missed you, too." Bradley kissed you as your hands made their way slowly down to his pants. "You had me dialed up all day and I wasn't even with you." He wanted to ask you so many questions right now, but you were kissing his mustache and bumping his sunglasses with your nose while you wrapped your hand around his cock and started jerking. And then he couldn't remember anything except how happy you made him.

When you sank to your knees in front of him, Bradley yanked his aviators lower on his nose. You were smiling up at him as you yanked his pants down a little lower and licked away the bead of his precum before you kissed his tip. "Why is this so hot with you in your uniform, Lieutenant?"

Bradley groaned loudly as you took a few inches of him with a smirk. "Why is this so hot with you in my shirt and socks?"

You popped him free and giggled. "All my clothes are in your washing machine. Even my underwear."

"I love that for myself," he grunted as you took him deep. With gentle fingers, he stroked your face as you gave him head in his living room. It was like some depraved housewife fantasy, the way you felt so familiar to him. The way he could smell dinner cooking. The way you bobbed your head and moaned for him.

You sucked on his balls and ran your tongue slowly back and forth as you looked up at him. You had one hand wrapped around his length, and you were touching your tits with the other. Your gaze was the neediest thing he had ever seen as he stroked your cheek. Every time you released him, he groaned for you, and then you just started sucking on him again. He could feel himself tightening up as you kissed his balls and whimpered. 

"Fuck," he growled, hauling you to your feet and getting his lips back on yours as you gasped in surprise. "I wanna fuck you."

"Please," you gasped, nodding and looking toward the couch. 

He shook his head and lifted you up with both hands on your bare ass. "In my bed, Ace." 

"That's even better," you whispered, sucking on his neck and raking your fingers through his hair. "Your bedroom smells like you. I love it in there."

"Fuck," he grunted again, his cock slapping against your ass as he carried you to his bed. And then you were on your back with your head on his pillow as he took off his aviators and tossed them down next to you. His shirt was hanging open on you, and his socks looked ridiculously adorable on your feet, and your legs were spread wide, your pussy already so wet for him. "You are the hottest thing I have ever seen," he announced before burying his face in your pussy and making you scream his name. 

"Bradley!" you screeched and gasped over and over again as he got his face all wet from you before bringing his lips up to yours for a kiss. His uniform pins were brushing against your breasts and you were grinding your pussy against his cock. 

"Shit," he gasped, pulling your lip between his teeth and releasing it. "Where are the condoms?"

"In my suitcase in the hallway," you whimpered. "Skip it if you want. I have an IUD."

And if Bradley thought he was losing his mind ten seconds ago, it was nothing compared to letting himself slip inside your warm, wet pussy with no protection at all. "Ace," he rasped, watching your face as he pushed himself deeper until your back arched off the bed. He fucked you with his hands on your hips until your legs were shaking. You had your hands all over his face, continuously pulling him in for kisses. 

"You feel so good," you gasped, running your feet along his thighs.

He pressed his lips to your ear and asked, "Are you getting close for me?"

"Yes," you moaned, reaching for his hand and drawing it up to your lips. You sucked on his fingers for a few seconds, taking him painfully close to the edge, and then you pressed his fingers to your clit. 

He worked in quick strokes, listening to the sounds you made as you got louder. When you pulled him closer for more kisses, he indulged you before he said, "I wanna watch you come for me, Baby."

And then you did. You came apart with his fingers on your body and his name on your lips. Your face was beautiful as you gasped and babbled nonsense as your pussy drained every drop of cum from him. You were perfect as you reached for him and said, "Now you better kiss me."

You and he had your lips all over each other for so long after you both caught your breath that he was surprised and delighted all over again when he started to pull out of you and remembered he came inside you.

"You're blushing," you whispered as you looked up at him on his knees between your legs.

His cum was slowly oozing out of your opening and dripping down to your ass. "Baby, if you could see what I see, you'd understand." He was transfixed. Obsessed. He leaned down to kiss your pussy and taste himself there, licking along your skin with a soft grunt. 

You propped yourself up on your elbow and tugged him by his hair, and he just knew you wanted to taste it, too. So he kissed you, letting you suck on his tongue. Then he jerked away from you and turned toward the door.

"Is something burning?"

-----------------------------

"Fuck, I'm sorry," Bradley said for the hundredth time as you sat on his couch with him eating pizza. "This isn't as good as yours would have been."

You just laughed. "Seriously, this is probably better. I'm not great at cooking. I was just trying to impress you."

Why exactly, you weren't sure. What difference did it make to Bradley if you could cook a chicken casserole that was good or not? He wasn't yours to impress. You weren't going to be here past Sunday night at the very latest, and that was only if the Angels won game six tomorrow. 

"I'm impressed," he replied, his cheeks a little pink again.

"Yeah," you said, trying to push your feelings to the back burner. "I could tell how impressed you were with me in your bedroom."

"That's not what I meant," he said, looking down at his lap with a frown that made your heart ache. You tossed your pizza crust into the box and climbed on his lap. You and he had taken a quick shower together after he called in a pizza order, and now you were both in your own clothing. 

You kissed him and tried to change the subject. "What time are we leaving for the bar?" you asked. 

When he met your eyes again, he said, "We can go whenever. And we don't have to stay long. Just long enough to say happy birthday to my friend and have a drink?"

You could hardly believe he wanted to take you with him. His friends would want details about who you were and why you were together, so you would just follow his lead. 

It was a short drive in his cool Bronco to the bar, and he sang along to the radio and held your fingers laced with his the whole way. And then he paraded you inside with him like it was the most natural thing the two of you could be doing. "That's Mickey, the birthday boy wearing the blue Captain America shirt. And that's my best friend Natasha wearing the annoyed expression because someone is talking to her."

You laughed, and he leaned down to kiss you as you walked toward the pool table. As you walked past the bar to meet everyone, you noticed the bartender's gaze following you and Bradley as you went. Her expression was one of curiosity as she mixed a drink. 

"Ace, this is Nat," Bradley was saying, and you turned in time to grasp hands with the woman that he referred to as a 'mean little spitfire'. 

"It's nice to meet you," Natasha replied. She didn't look happy exactly, but she didn't look like she was upset that you were here. "I've heard a lot about you."

You looked up at Bradley, a little surprised. "Oh. I've heard a lot about you, too. Bradley said you're smarter than all the guys."

She nodded and smiled. "Yes. Yes, I am. Thanks for acknowledging it, Rooster. You two want drinks?" she asked. 

"Go ahead," Bradley replied. "We'll get some in a minute."

"Hey, Rooster!" Mickey shouted as he waved in between taking shots. 

You laughed. "I don't know if I'd ever get used to everyone using your call sign," you told him. "It's so amusing to me."

Then Bradley wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you in closer. He kissed your forehead softly, but he looked serious. "If you stick around in San Diego, I bet you'd get used to it, Ace."

You swallowed hard as you looked up into his brown eyes. You could tell he was being sincere, which made everything hurt a little more. But you were saved by the group of guys all calling for him. Bradley sighed and kissed your forehead one more time before you and he were absorbed by the group. 

A few minutes later, your head was swirling with names and faces when Bradley asked, "Do you want me to get you a drink?"

"I'll come with you," you told him, and he nodded before taking your hand a little hesitantly. You were confused, because then he wrapped his arm around you just like he always did, and his fingers were softly stroking your side through your shirt. But then when the bartender turned your way, it clicked. She and Bradley had slept together before. You could just tell. 

"Hey, Bradley," she said, already reaching for a pint glass and pouring what must have been his usual beer. The way she looked at him and talked to him was just a tiny bit too familiar. 

"Hey," he grunted before turning your way. "What do you want to drink, Baby?"

You met the bartender's eyes and couldn't help but smile as Bradley brushed his lips along your temple. You weren't his, but he was choosing you right now. And it felt incredible. "I'll have the same thing," you told her before turning your face so he could kiss your lips. 

Bradley dug out his wallet without really looking at her, and she ran his credit card as you sipped your beer. He wasn't being a jerk, and she didn't seem overly jealous, but you just knew they had a past. 

Then the two of you threw some darts and played some pool, and Bradley was more than happy to point out that mini golf was probably your worst game. "Happy to see you can handle a pool cue better than a putter," he whispered with a grin.

"Be nice, or I'll leave my golf ball behind at your place," you replied. 

He looked a little sad as he shook his head. "I want you to keep that." You knew you would, and he knew you would. You could picture the perfect spot for it in your apartment, but you already knew it would never make it there. You'd keep packing that stupid blue golf ball from your date with him in your luggage and take it everywhere with you. 

"Can we go now?" he asked suddenly, his face a little sad. "Back to my place?"

"Yeah," you agreed, and after a round of goodbyes, he led you back past the bar with his arm around you. The bartender tracked your movements, but you didn't care. He was yours right now, the way he was touching you. 

And he was yours when you got back to his house, the way you were touching him. "Ace," he sighed as you rode him in his bed. His body was delicious, but his voice was what had you a mess. "Baby, you're so good. Can't get enough of those little noises. Keep going." The feel of him once again inside you without a condom as he verbally coaxed you to orgasm was only part of what you knew you were going to miss. 

Because the rest of it came next, when he was curled up with you in the dark, quiet room, his arm draped around you, pulling you close. The only sounds were his breath next to your ear and his deep whisper. "Night, Baby."

-----------------------

"Stay in bed," Bradley whispered again. It was Saturday. Game six was this evening, and he was trying his hardest to draw you back to him again. He had successfully made you snuggle in and fall asleep with him again after the first time you woke up.

"You'll mess up my sleep cycle for when I'm in Boston," you murmured before you snuggled against him with the covers pulled up to your chin. "But you're so warm."

Bradley indulged in a brief fantasy where you would fly out to Boston, complete your assignment, and then fly back to San Diego to be with him until you had to go somewhere else. And you'd be here when he got home from a long deployment. Ready to take him to bed and hold him just like this.

"What are you thinking about?" you asked as you ran your nails along his cheek and kissed his nose.

He couldn't tell you, no matter how much he wanted to. "Thinking about how I'm still the worst Padres fan ever. The Angels better win today. We deserve seven games, Ace."

"We do," you agreed, and Bradley was delighted that you fell asleep in his arms again. 

When you and he finally got out of bed, you went to his dresser and pulled on one of his tee shirts like this was a normal occurrence. "Will you let me make you breakfast?" you asked with a smile.

"I was going to make breakfast for you," he replied, patting your ass on his way to the bathroom. "But we could make something together."

You were already in the kitchen, kneeling on the countertop and looking in his cabinets when he came out of the bathroom. "Do you have chocolate chips?" you asked. "We can make chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, maybe some oatmeal. Sorry, I'm just so excited for something other than a free continental breakfast."

He wrapped his hands around your waist and lifted you down as you squeaked. "Not up there," he whispered, kissing your neck as he set you on the floor. "In the pantry."

You turned and scampered across the kitchen, and now Bradley was sincerely hoping he had all the ingredients you'd need for pancakes just so he could make you happy right now. "Found them!" you announced, holding up a bag with a smile that made him weak. 

"Let's get started." 

It was too much fun being with you. The pancakes you made turned out beautifully, and you and he ate on his couch again. This time he accidentally dripped maple syrup on his bare abs since he wasn't wearing a shirt. "I feel like you did that on purpose so I'd either buy you another shirt or lick it off of you."

He smirked. "I mean, I wouldn't be mad if you did."

You sighed dramatically as you set your plate on the coffee table next to the box of baseball cards. "Fine. Extra large shirt? You want the Padres this time?" Bradley laughed at your words, and then you leaned down and licked him clean as you looked up at him. Then you climbed into his lap and kissed him. 

"The Angels better win tonight," he murmured against your lips. "I need them to."

"Do you want to go back to bed?" you asked, and he carried you there, expecting maybe some more tongue exploration. But what he got was you curling up in his arms again, your lips pressed to his chest. You were quiet for a bit before you asked him softly, "What would it be like being in a relationship with you?"

This was an echo of his question from Thursday night, and now he could appreciate that he had really put you on the spot then. How could he describe something spectacular that he wasn't going to get to experience with you, in a way that would make you remember him fondly. Bradley made sure his breathing was calm and even as he said, "Probably just like this, Ace. A whole lot of this right here."

You didn't say anything for a long time, and you kept your face buried against him. But eventually you nodded and said, "I would like that."

-------------------------

When Bradley held your hand during the game at Petco Park, everything seemed a bit more somber today. The press box was quieter than usual even though the crowd was going crazy. During the seventh inning stretch, when you leaned in close and kissed his cheek, Quincy turned around and asked, "You bring him to every game now?" as he nodded at Bradley. 

"He's my intern and my sex slave, Quince. And that's strictly on the record." 

But Quincy was undeterred today even as you and Bradley laughed quietly together. "Heard Greg was thinking about pulling you out of here early to send you to the Bruins? He only pays you so much because you're useful to him. Being a woman and all."

Bradley watched your head snap to face Quincy with a look of barely concealed rage. "Try not to cry too hard over the fact that I make more money than you even though you're twice my age." 

Quincy grunted and muttered, "Same old, same old with you. Always gotta be on top. Always gotta get the last word in."

Bradley watched you press your lips together like you were trying your hardest to not have the last word right now. It was obvious that wasn't why you made it as far as you had. It was also obvious Quincy was trying to bait you. Bradley just felt a little bit bad that he could be used as ammunition against you. "You want something to drink, Ace?"

When you nodded, Bradley stood and went to get you a water bottle. "Thanks," you muttered, looking down at your keyboard as he handed it to you. 

"Hey, don't let these assholes get to you," he whispered as he slipped back down into his seat. 

He was drawing little shapes along your back with his fingers as you looked up at him in surprise. "I don't fucking care about Quincy.... the Padres are up three to zip." You laughed sardonically. "You know I'll have to leave in the morning if they win, right?" you asked him.

Bradley nodded. He couldn't even say the words out loud. So he focused on the game and held your hand tight. The Padres were using their relief pitcher a little early, and he looked fatigued. His pitches were wild, and he was walking batter after batter. Then right at the top of the eight inning, Bradley heard the crack of a perfectly hit ball. 

"That's a grand slam," you whispered before the ball was even beyond the fence. Instead of marking it down on your stat sheet, you tossed your pencil aside and kissed him. "Angels up by one run," you said against his lips. 

"They need to hold the lead," he replied, letting his forehead rest against yours. "They need to. I don't care who wins the World Series, but they need to do it in game seven, not game six."

His words made you smile so much, he wrapped his arm around you to keep you as close as he could. And when the final score was the Padres with three runs and the Angels with four, you were practically on his lap. You were even smiling when Greg called you a minute later to tell you to get to Boston first thing on Monday morning after game seven on Sunday night. 

"I'll have to book my flight," you said to Bradley as everyone started to flood out of the press box ahead of the crowd. "But we have two more nights together instead of just one."

You and he were quiet after that, your fingers laced together as you walked out to the parking lot and rode back to his house. He didn't feel like he needed to rush right now as he unlocked his front door and followed you inside. You pulled him in for a kiss that was so sweet, he was surprised. Just your arms around his neck and your lips moving gently on his. 

"We have some time before my midnight deadline. Can we get changed and snuggle in bed like earlier?" you asked him, your eyes closed as your lips hovered near his. "I want to change into your Padres jersey."

Bradley had goosebumps on his skin as he whispered, "It's your Padres jersey now." 

You looked so damn pleased with yourself as you ran toward his bedroom, shedding your clothes on the way. Bradley undressed down to his underwear while you did the same and then slipped his jersey on before heading for his dresser. "Your floor's cold," you mumbled as you grabbed a pair of his socks and put them on before jumping into his bed. "And now I look ridiculous."

Bradley shook his head as he stared at you. He'd been holding back enough, and he just didn't want to do it anymore. "Nah, Ace, you look... like everything I want." 

"Bradley," you whispered, pulling his blanket up over your face. "You can't."

He slipped in bed and burrowed under the blanket with you. Your eyes were bright as you looked at him in the dim bit of light. "I can't help it," he replied, and you eased yourself into his arms. "There's nobody like you. You're the Ace for a reason."

"God," you whimpered, kissing his lips and his cheeks, and teasing your fingers through his hair. Your palms were warm on his cheeks as you traced every single scar and the curve of his lips. You ran your nose along his mustache, and you just snuggled closer and closer to him. "I can't think straight when I'm with you. It's like, I feel like I could..."

"Like you could what, Baby?" he begged. He needed you to finish that sentence, but you didn't. You just kissed him until you were the one begging and pleading. It was so easy to give you what you wanted right now, because he wanted it, too. He yanked his underwear down and pulled yours to the side, and when he slipped inside you, he watched you pull the blankets down. And now he could see you a little better, and you really were exactly what he wanted. 

It was slow and sweet, and he knew he'd never feel this good with anyone else. He didn't want to let you go. He held your thigh on his hip and rocked into you, thrusting as he thought 'stay, stay, stay'.

"Bradley," you moaned, pushing him onto his back and riding him until you came. He was afraid he was saying exactly what he was thinking now as words like need and permanent surfaced in his mind while he babbled. You told him to cum inside you again, so he did. And when you curled up on his chest, he kissed the top of your head. 

Your lips were on his neck as you silently ran your fingers through his hair. "Ace," he whispered, but you just shook your head. So he pressed his lips together and rubbed his hands up underneath the jersey, and you shivered against him. 

A few minutes later, when he was nearly soothed to sleep with his cock still nestled inside you, Bradley felt your body jerk. "Oh no. What time is it?" you gasped. You climbed off of him abruptly, a look of panic on your face as you searched for your phone. "Fuck!" 

Bradley climbed out of bed as you fumbled your phone and ran for your computer which was charging on his chair. His cum was on his abs and your legs, but you didn't stop to get cleaned up before you ran for his kitchen table. "What can I do to help?" he asked as he followed you.

"Nothing," you snapped, booting up your computer. It was almost 11:30, and Bradley wasn't sure exactly how much you'd written before and during the game; he had been too concerned about the Angels winning tonight. 

He got you some water and whispered, "I can help you proofread it," but you didn't respond. You just typed away frantically while he hovered around the living room, glancing in your direction constantly. Your brow was creased in frustrated determination, and Bradley felt like an asshole for not suggesting that you or he set an alarm before climbing in bed. Because he could absolutely lose all track of time when he was with you, whether you and he were fucking, talking or cuddling. And he knew it.

When he looked at the clock on the microwave, he winced. It was nearly midnight, and you were still typing and looking at your stat sheet. "Anything I can do?" he asked again, but you just shook your head, so he went to the bathroom. He got himself cleaned up and then just leaned on the sink vanity with his head cradled in his hands. 

Fuck. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel any stress when you were with him. He felt like an idiot. When he finally returned to the table, the clock said 12:01 and you were still typing. He was waiting for your phone to ring. Greg would be calling you to start screaming any second now. And he had to stand there and watch it all unfold. You submitted your article at 12:07, and you looked up at him with sad yet determined eyes before you answered your ringing phone. 

"Greg," you said, your voice sounding strong and sure even though your face was defeated. And then Greg was hollering nonstop as you held the phone a few inches away from your ear. Bradley hated it so much. He leaned down to kiss your forehead and then your cheek while Greg reminded you not too kindly that you missed your deadline by seven minutes. Then Bradley cupped your face in his hands and held eye contact with you while you told Greg it wouldn't happen again before you ended the call. 

The silence was almost deafening as you held your phone and looked up at him. Bradley swallowed hard, but his voice was still a harsh whisper as he said, "I hate it when he yells at you."

You shook your head and grimaced as tears filled your eyes. "Well, I missed my deadline, so he had every right to-"

"No," Bradley said, dropping to his knees in front of you on his kitchen floor. "He doesn't, Ace. He shouldn't do that. It's just seven minutes."

"But it's a deadline for a reason," you supplied immediately, looking down into his face. "One minute is the same as seven is the same as sixty. It shouldn't happen at all."

Bradley scoffed. "So he sits up until three in the morning in New York just to call you and scream? That's fucked up."

You swiped at your eyes as you whispered, "I let myself get distracted by you. This is my fault. But when I'm with you, I can't think straight. Which is bad."

"Ace," he whispered helplessly as you cried. "But if we were together-"

"We can't be together," you told him. Your voice was soft and sorrowful, but it felt like a gunshot to Bradley. His ears were ringing from the sound of it. He could tell you were stubborn, but right now, he felt stubborn, too. It wasn't very often that he allowed himself to want something, and never on the scale of how badly he wanted you, but he thought right now it would be worth fighting for this.

"I've seen your email inbox," he whispered, and your eyes narrowed slightly. "You don't need Greg or the New York Times to be successful, Ace. You bring everything to the table, and clearly other people see that."

"Bradley," you said, shaking your head sadly. "It's the New York Times. The pinnacle. There's nowhere else for me to go that wouldn't be a step backwards in my career, and that's a fact. My job is important to me. Writing is important to me."

"But you're more than who you write for-"

You cut him off as you raised your voice. "You knew immediately who I was when you saw my name, because I work for The Times!"

Bradley buried his face against your thigh as he tried to will his heart to stop pounding so hard he could barely hear. He kissed you there before he looked up at you again in agony. "People would follow your writing anywhere, because you're that fucking good. Have you ever thought about writing for someone else?"

You swiped at your eyes as you whispered, "No." "Baby, you could make a big name for yourself on an independent platform. Your style is fun and it flows. You can find something better for yourself than the New York Times. This doesn't have to be that hard."

"It's not that easy either. I told you how it would be, Bradley," you said, your voice taking on a pleading tone. "You would hate it when I was away for long stretches. You would want someone else. Someone easy to be with. Someone who was always in San Diego."

"That's a fucking lie," he growled. "And you know it."

You were silent for a minute as your eyes settled on your lap. "New York is my home. I'm settled there. And you're settled here."

He felt sick. The words had too much finality. But you were waiting for him to confirm, and the last thing he ever wanted to do was let you down. "Yeah. I am." Then he realized he was crying as well when he reached up to cup your cheek again. You melted into his touch before you slid off the chair and onto his lap on the floor. "Ace. Look at you," he whispered, and you met his eyes as your lip quivered. "You're perfect. The perfect woman. I want to be with you. And I think you want to be with me, too."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he held you while you cried. "I'm sorry, Bradley," you murmured against his shoulder. 

He knew you were scared to even think that something might be a better fit for you, and maybe he was wrong. Maybe it would be career suicide if you left your job. He didn't know a damn thing about it really. All he knew was everyone wanted you with them. Including him. It was hard for him to breathe as he asked, "What do you have in New York that you couldn't have in San Diego? Here. With me."

But you didn't answer him. You just stayed curled up on his lap until after one in the morning with your arms wrapped around him and his securely at your back. He tried his best to memorize how good and yet terrible this felt, because in a few days, he knew he'd probably give anything to feel you in his arms. 

When you finally eased away from him and kissed his lips, you tried to smile as you said, "Let's just enjoy our last day together."

Bradley closed his eyes against the pain. "Sure, Ace."

--------------------------

All I feel right now is pain. I miss feeling joy. The final game is next. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 7

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster x reader #rooster fanfiction #rooster imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #how you play the game

[sluttywoozi]

Kinktober Day 17: Spectrophilia + Woozi

For @moonwalker-witchgrrrl and Me 💖

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~1.6k

Pairing: Jihoon x Reader | Genre: smut

Warnings: voyeurism, exhibitionism, I make the rules so ghosts are corporeal during sex, the cowboy hat stays on during sex, f. masturbation, implied consent, big dick!jihoon, temperature difference, somnophilia mention, piv sex

Reader Notes: has breasts and a vagina, a tease

There’s a fucking ghost in your apartment, you swear to god. 

Either that or you’ve become so forgetful you don’t even realize you’re forgetting things. Things like turning off faucets and closing cabinet doors and not leaving the oven on when you go to sleep. The first two, you could excuse, but you know you’re not responsible for the last one, both because you’d never do that to your electric bill and because you don’t want to die a fiery death. 

You only grow more sure when you start to notice a chill in the air too. Your thermostat says one thing but your apartment feels another, and as you sit on your bed pulling on a sweater and a pair of socks, you curse the ghost inhabiting your home.

“Fucking freezing, why can’t you just go somewhere else, ugh,” you mutter to yourself, rubbing your hands together and swearing again when you realize you didn’t bring your gloves in the move. 

“I would if I could, sweetheart.”

Letting out a bloodcurdling scream, you swivel in place, searching for the source of the sardonic voice. Your eyes land on various parts of your bedroom, finding nothing out of place or out of the ordinary, until they reach your doorway. 

There stands a man, shirtless but dressed in a black blazer and jeans, with a cowboy hat atop his messy black hair. He sends you a fake smile, tips his hat sarcastically, and disappears before you can even blink. 

Huh. 

The ghost is kinda… hot, if you’re being honest with yourself. He’s not incredibly tall but he’s broad as hell, with defined abs and big, long-fingered hands, and you’re not sure why he’s dressed like he was but it’s working for him. 

You know you should be scared, should feel like running far, far away from here, but you sort of want to put on a little show instead. He’s probably gotten plenty if he’s been here since you moved in, but this time, it’ll be with your knowledge. 

“Have you been watching me?” You ask, scooting back on the bed and laying yourself down before tugging the sweater and your shirt up to your collarbones to expose your breasts. Your nipples pebble in the cold air and you cover them with your hands, squeezing the soft flesh and sighing. 

“Not much else to do. You don’t have a TV.” 

You gasp, looking over to the corner of the room the voice came from and finding the same man leaning against the wall with half-lidded eyes and his thumbs hooked in his pockets. 

“So you’ve seen all this before?” You trail your hands down your sternum and over your stomach, pushing at your leggings and underwear and jumping when he disappears and pops back up at the end of your bed. 

“I’ve seen but I haven’t looked,” he responds, leaning down and bracing himself on your comforter to watch as you kick your way out of your leggings. 

“Wanna look now?” You flirt, smiling sweetly and batting your eyelashes while you slowly spread your legs. His mouth flattens into a thin line, his eyes growing dark and desirous when they set on the space between your thighs. 

“Why?”

“Because you’re cute and I’m lonely,” you answer honestly, not seeing any reason to lie to a ghost.

“Aren’t you scared of me?” 

“Should I be? I mean, you’re wearing a cowboy hat and no shirt.” 

Giggling softly, you drag your fingers from your entrance to your clit, smearing your wetness around to ease your movements. He contemplates for a moment, staring at you all the while, before nodding with finality and climbing on the bed, settling on his stomach between your legs. 

He’s a bit too close for comfort but you suppose he should have a front row seat for the show you’re giving him, plus it’s not like you mind having all of his focus and attention on you. 

“What’s your name?” You ask as you dip a finger inside, quickly adding another when you notice him biting his lip at the sight. 

“Jihoon,” he says distractedly, his voice muted and short. 

“Nice to meet you, Jihoon. Aren’t you going to ask my name?”

“I already know it, I read your mail.”

“Nosy Jihoon!” You tease, sucking in a breath as you curl your fingers and search for your g-spot. 

“Like I said, you don’t have a TV,” he responds in what you think might be a joke, and you would laugh but you’re too busy moaning, two fingers of one hand prodding the rough patch inside of you and two fingers of the other rubbing circles into your throbbing clit. 

“Want me to get one?” You offer once you catch your breath, watching as he pushes his hips into the bed and furrows his brows. You wonder if that feels good, if he can feel pleasure, and decide you’re going to find out one way or another. 

“Don’t need one if I can watch you like this,” he smirks as he eyes you up and down, lingering on your heaving breasts and landing between your spread legs. His tongue traces his bottom lip as he stares, making you wish you could feel them, feel his lips and tongue savoring you, marking you, learning you. 

Does Jihoon want that too? Does he wish he could touch you and taste you and feel you?

“Of course I do. How could I not? You’re too fucking tempting.”

You didn’t mean to speak out loud, but you’re glad you did. He almost sounds annoyed at the fact that he wants you, which makes you grin a satisfied little grin and fuck yourself harder, sliding a third finger inside and sighing at the stretch. 

He swears under his breath, thoughtlessly pushing himself up with a hand on your thigh and not even noticing that he actually makes contact. You notice though, feel the icy pressure of him immediately, both of your hands flying away from your pussy as you reach for him. 

You feel the silk of his suit jacket under your palms before your hands slide up to his neck, the softness of his freezing skin shocking. He realizes soon enough, his eyes growing wide and his mouth dropping open as he sinks his fingers into the meat of your thigh and takes hold of your wrist with his free hand. 

Your fingers are still wet and he furrows his brows, tugs your hand away from his face, and sucks them into his mouth, immediately groaning at the taste of you. 

This changes everything, and you both know it. 

There’s no need for discussion. You move in unison, Jihoon sitting up on his knees and heaving you into his lap as you wrap your legs around his waist, his clothes vanishing into thin air though his cowboy hat remains. You’re still stretched open from your fingers and the head of his cock slips in easily, but he’s long and thick as hell so the rest of the way is almost a struggle. 

You take it like you love it though, because you do, you love how he fills you up, how he spreads you out, how you can feel him in your throat as he roots himself deep inside. His dick is cold like the rest of him and it’s not a sensation you’re used to but it’s not one you dislike either. If anything, it makes you feel hotter, the stark difference between the wet warmth of your pussy and the icy hardness of his cock enough to steal your breath. 

You’re wet enough that he glides as he starts to fuck you, his fat dick pushing through the tightness of your walls to reach the end of your fluttering cunt. He’s making the hottest little punched out noises every time he bottoms out, his big hands tight on your hips and his eyes hooded as he stares down at you. 

You wonder how long it’s been for him, if he died recently or years ago. Either way, he’s taking you like it’s been an eternity, pumping deep inside and lingering when the head of his cock kisses your cervix as if he doesn’t want to leave. 

You don’t want him to leave either, your legs tightening around his waist as he draws his hips  back, a happy moan leaving you when he snaps them forward, stuffing you full of his dick again and again and again.

You’re not ready for this to end but you’re already nearing the edge, your heartbeat in your pussy as his cock drags in and out of your squeezing walls. Jihoon seems like he could go on forever, making you wonder if ghosts have a refractory period. If not, you plan to take full advantage as many times as Jihoon allows.

You want his cock every morning and every night, want him to fuck you more ways than you can count. You want him to take you in your sleep and in the shower and on all the surfaces in your apartment. You want to sit on his dick like it’s a chair, feel him filling you up as you eat your dinner and read your books and knit your sweaters. 

You want to have him all the time, and by the proud, lustful smirk stretching his lips, he knows it. 

Maybe you should be embarrassed, but you find you couldn’t care less. 

You’re already fucking a ghost, you might as well commit to it. 

AN: yesterday i was in the middle of writing something super angsty and sad for this when i realized i wouldn't be able to finish it in time so i wrote something fun and horny instead!! yall may still get the angsty version tho so be warned

Kinktober Masterlist

#svthub #kvanity #seventeen smut #woozi fanfic #woozi smut #woozi scenarios #woozi x reader #woozi imagines #lee jihoon smut #lee jihoon x reader #lee jihoon scenarios #lee jihoon imagines #lee jihoon fic #seventeen crack #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #kpop smut #kpop imagine #kpop oneshots #kpop scenarios #kpop fanfic #✨em's kinktober✨ #✨emily writes✨

[appleblueberry-pie]

Hello again, I hope you are having a good day. May I please request for Yandere Nanami wherein he miscalculates how long his business trip would be and he comes home to emotionally wrecked and hungry darling ( He locked them in the closest as a punishment prior) which leads to hurt comfort between the two

Nanami opened the front door and kicked off his shoes, sighing in disappointment at his timing and at how late at night he got back at. Traffic was terrible, his shoes weren't as comfortable as they were this morning, and he missed you terribly. He ran his fingers through his hair that no longer mattered now that he was indoors and put his suitcase out of sight.

He was going to call out that he was home, but reminded himself that he still had you cooped up in that shitty basement. He walked through the house and into the kitchen to finally get you a glass of water. He was only supposed to be on that business trip for around two days and be back home by the time the third day ended. The basement was very spacious, but even he had his limits in there. Which is why it was a great punishment, in his mind. He had enough of your mouth and you attempted to escape after almost sending him over the edge all in one day. But he still worried for you. There were no lights or any sense of comfort in there. At this point, he just wants you in his arms again. The thought makes his heart race in excitement. You must feel so lonely, feel so anxious, so cold, and

You freeze when you turn and see Nanami standing a few feet away from you, watching you shove your fifth slice of bread into your mouth. The two of you mirrored the same look of horror as you acknowledged one another. Nanami's face contorts into one of realization while yours continues to drop. Your stomach twists in fear at the sight of your captor finding you outside of your confinement and suddenly you feel nauseous and no longer desire any kind of elements of nutrition.

Pieces of food that weren't swallowed fall out of your mouth in fear and surprise and you scatter off to the nearest room with a lock and you slam it shut, fiddling with the lock and somehow manage to turn it with terribly shaky hands. It's hard to breath and you hyperventilate as you scoot into a corner, keeping yourself huddled.

Kento was still stuck in place, his mouth open in complete shock. You had ransacked the entire kitchen. He lets his eyes scan over everything on the ground. Almost nothing in the cabinets or fridge was left untouched, so many things left open and touched by his poor, poor girl's fingers. Juice, crackers, the bread you tore into, butter, cereal, refrigerated rice, half-eaten boxes of vegetables and fruits, uncooked noodles......it didn't end there.

The more his eyes found laying around, the heavier his heart got. This was all his fault. He didn't mean to......do this to you. Not at all. His eyes flutter shut as he rubs them, a sigh leaving his mouth. This wasn't supposed to happen. He inhaled sharply to gather more courage to step past the obvious signs of severe neglect he had done to you.

He could hear your fast-paced breathing from outside of the guest-bedroom and shakes his head in shame. He was so fucking ashamed of being so irresponsible with taking care of you. He was supposed to be your lover, your caretaker, the one you should be able to trust. But it seems like he can't even do any of those things right. He was wrong. "I'm sorry." His throat felt like it was constricting his vocals as he chokes out the apology. No kind of words or affirmations could change what he did to you and he wanted to be able to help you see that.

His face was so close to the door, as if he could speak through it into your heart. The last thing he'd do is force you into anything. He deserved to work for your trust back. "I'm so sorry, baby, please." There wasn't much he could make himself say. His ears picked up on your silent sobs and he dropped his forehead on the door, his hands on it as well. "I'm not gonna hurt you, I just wanna see you. It's been so long, hm? Since we last saw each other? I just want to hold you."

You didn't know how to feel. You just did something so very, very wrong. This is the type of behavior that gets you in the basement and a chain on your ankle for decoration. You broke out and practically flipped the kitchen upside-down. What isn't he going to do to you??? You didn't even realize yourself speaking through your tears. Constant 'leave me alone's slipped through your lips as you cried. You were so damn scared of what he'd do to you.

Outside the door, Kento shakes his head at your words and presses the side of his face to the door to hear you better. "No, no, no, no, baby. I won't hurt you, I promise. Can you please trust me just this once? I just want to make sure you're okay. You're hungry, I can tell. Just let me help you and you can get all of the food you want, okay??" Kento shakes the doorknob subconsciously, which makes you gasp in fear. Kento flinches away from it when he hears you make the sound and immediately and tells you he won't do it again.

He continues trying to verbally sooth you through the door, telling you repeatedly that it's okay. "....Everyone has limits. And I pushed you to yours." You wipe your face of your tears and push yourself to your feet.

Slowly, you hesitate, but take your quiet steps towards the door. Nanami can't hear anything on the other side. Are you okay? Why are you quiet? Are you trying to escape through the window??? It's bolted. Never mind. He's worried. "Darling?" He silently whispers. All he gets is the sound of his own breaths.

Then the loud sound of the lock clicks and he takes a step back. The door cracks open, extremely slowly. It's almost impossible to tell. You only leave enough space to look through about 1 inch to peek at him through the door. And even with that much to look at, he can tell you are so scared. He shouldn't have done this. The constant anxiety this is giving him continues to make his stomach cramp. A wobbly smile makes its way onto his face. "There she is! Can you-.....please let me take you out of that room?" He stumbles over his words, his arms awkwardly spreading out to seem as if he's friendly.

The silence you let grow only leaves room for more interpretation. You just stare at him with that stone cold eye. Almost as if you're trying to see through him. But nothing is hiding behind his face but the constant stress he's getting from stressing you out. He obviously loves you too much. He gets overprotective sometimes.

You open the door and step out and his shoulders relax as he very carefully looks over you. You used the bucket. Which was good. So, you were at least somewhat clean. You just looked.....hungry. Your face seemed slimmer, your eyes sunken in exhaustion(not that much, but he's great at details when it comes to you).

Before you could stop him, he was cleaning the kitchen and got to running you a bath and making dinner.

#yandere #yandere x reader #reader #yandere x you #yandere character #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere nanami #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #yandere nanami kento #yandere nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #yandere jjk nanami kento #yandere jjk #yandere jjk fluff

[so-that-was-okay]

Every time there's a storm, Buck's body enters a very tense state. He's not afraid of thunder, he knows what happened to him needed very specific circumstances, he knows he's safe in his kitchen cutting onions, carrots and celery while Tommy is reading the news on his phone, sitting at the kitchen island. But his body remembers, and today's storm is a nasty one.

When lightning strikes first, it's pretty far from his place but it startles him.

"Shit."

His right hand is shaking so he puts the knife down for a minute. Tommy lifts his eyes from his phone.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just... it's okay. I'm... I'm fine."

Buck collects himself, picks the knife up and continues chopping. The soffritto is slowly cooking when another flash lights up the loft. This one is closer and they can hear the air tearing. This time it's Buck's legs that give up, shaking, unable to carry his weight anymore. He can feel it and crouches immediately, his hands gripping the edge of the kitchen counter. He knows he needs to calm down, to make his body understand there's no danger.

Tommy immediately comes close to him, a warm hand on Buck's back, and turns off the stove.

"I'm- I'm fine, Tommy. I just... I just need to breathe."

"I know. But let me stay here, okay?"

Tommy sits down on the floor just next to Buck's folded body, his back against the kitchen cabinet. Their eyes meet, they share a small smile. Buck knows he's safe here, in his kitchen. He also knows he's safe with Tommy, his steady support keeps him grounded. His legs are still shaking and it's creeping up to his shoulders. Outside, the sky is raging with flashing lights and growling sounds.

"Did I tell you about my insect phase when I was a kid?" asks Tommy while staring in front of him. In the corner of his eye, he can see Buck slowly shaking his head.

"I was 5 and I was on a mission. I spent my days hunting for insects. I wanted to collect them all, I was fascinated. So many of them, everywhere! My mom... she hated them, but me? I wanted to meet them all and, I don't know, make new friends?" he scoffs. "I was lonely and it was just a way for me to fill my life with something that was only for me, maybe. My favorite ones were the dragonfly, I was already fascinated by flying, but also the water striders. I mean, walking on the water? Incredible."

They look at each other and burst out laughing.

"Yeah, well, I was an insect nerd, I guess."

Feeling less shaky in spite of the sky still growling, Bucks shifts his weight on his legs and sits down next to Tommy on the ground with a long sigh. He lets his head rest on the cabinet's door behind him, his legs stretched out in front of him, his hands flat on the floor.

Tommy gently hooks his index around Buck's pinkie like a lifeline.

"Do you want me to finish cooking while you go lie down?"

Buck shakes his head and sighs again.

"No, give me a minute and I'll be fine. I promised you lasagna. I worked hard to nail this version, you will have it for dinner."

"Okay, okay, Pasta Queen!"

Their laughter drowns out the sound of the storm now receding.

#911 #911 abc #bucktommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy ficlet #i'm not a fanfic writer but i do have tons of ideas and hcs so here's a short one #also english is not my mothertongue so yeah #i just wanted to write them being supportive #also please let buck be the pasta queen of the couple #i want them to have fun together to be best friends and not just lovers

[urhoneycombwitch]

wanna make you feel better

based on this anon 💞

cw: allusions to/discussions about bad sex, Eddie fools around with someone who’s got a sort-of partner, R experiences light post-sex dissociation, mutual pining

wc: 1.3k

 __

It takes a few minutes for your limbs to unwind, to come back into your body after sex- and in those few minutes, Adam has already hastily dressed, kissed you quick and chaste on the forehead, and left your bedroom with a casual “see ya” tossed over his retreating shoulder.

Fuzzily, from your staring-at-the-ceiling vantage point, you hear the front door of your apartment close. Then some quiet voices in the hall- first the familiar low tones of Eddie, followed by a higher-pitched lilt of… Mary? Margot?- and the front door shuts again.

You sigh, long and deep, wiggling your fingers and toes back to life. As if moving through molasses you push yourself to sit up, then to gather your clothes strewn around the floor- underwear first, one leg at a time. Secondhand t-shirt that hits your knees, the band logo nearing a total fade from all the wash cycles Eddie had put it through before it ended up in your laundry.

A knock at your door, and Eddie peeks around the frame, dark curls frizzing and cartoonishly tall in the back- “Hey. You want Oreos or Bugles this time?”

“Uhm.” You pause halfway to putting on your second sock, trying to blink through the brain fog and connect with your stomach, which quickly sours in response- “Neither, I think. Maybe some water.”

Eddie’s rings click against the wood of the doorframe as he taps in acknowledgement. When he turns to leave for the kitchen, you catch a glimpse of bare torso, grey sweatpants slung around bony, boxer-less hips.

Slut, you think, fondly, pulling on your soft sock the rest of the way and padding out into the living room.

The record player in the corner is calling your name, so you kneel to flip through the milk carton stuffed full of yours and Eddie’s combined collection.

“Nothing maudlin,” Eddie calls from the attached kitchen, cabinets banging shut in punctuation. “We have a strict No Wallowing After Bad Sex rule in this house and we’re goddamn sticking to it.”

“Apartment,” you amend, ignoring his instruction and pulling Blue from its sheath. “And wallowing can be therapeutic, y’know.”

With the drop of a needle, Joni Mitchell starts crooning about traveling a lonely road, and Eddie sighs, long and deep, a mirror of yours from earlier.

There’s a clinking of porcelain on glass, and you turn to watch as Eddie sets out bowls of snacks and tall glasses of water- one of them iced the way you like- onto the coffee table.

“Eat up. The midday meal of champs- or losers, depending on your preference.” He collapses with a dramatic huff against the couch, then leans over to dig around in the bowl of Bugles.

I wanna be strong, I wanna laugh along, I wanna belong to the living…

You crawl the short distance it takes to settle your back against the couch, side pressed into Eddie’s leg. There’s an acidic taste at the back of your throat, a mixture of Adam’s release and your own sickened stomach in a nauseating combination; you sip at the cold water, attempting to wash the taste away.

“Here. Doctor’s orders.” Eddie’s hand comes into view- each finger topped with a curved chip.

A giggle works its way out as you tilt your head to pull a Bugle off his finger with your teeth, crunching into the familiar corn flavor- it certainly works to get the lingering taste of shame out of your mouth.

“Don’t get used to seeing Margaret around, by the way- sounds like she’s gonna patch things up with her boyfriend.” Eddie’s hand draws back, a subsequent crunching noise before he speaks around a mouthful of chips- “I know you’ll miss all those scintillating hallway conversations.”

You snort, unsure if he’s referring to the fact that you’ve snooped via ear-pressed-to-door whenever they used to argue, or the handful of times that you and Margaret have politely and coolly interacted due to the one-bathroom setup.

“Well, good for her.” Unable to keep the irritation out of your voice (on Eddie’s behalf, since you’re such good friends and it’s hard to see him treated this way, not because you’re jealous), you dig into the snack bowl, fishing for an Oreo. “Hope Margaret and her weirdo on-and-off again boyfriend with that pedo mustache are very happy together.”

Eddie laughs, a melodic, genuine one that has him doubling over to bump playfully into your side. “Goddammit. That Ed Rooney-looking motherfucker…”

The bite of Oreo goes down smooth and sweet; you lick at the crumbs left behind on your thumb before saying, “And, lucky for our bathroom usage, Adam won’t be around anymore either.”

Eddie groans. “I think that guy uses more hair product than me and Harrington combined, and that’s saying something.”

He seems pleased when you chuckle, taking the warmth of his body previously pressed into your side away as he settles back into the couch. “What was wrong with this one, couldn’t get your rocks off with Ol’ Mister Hairspray?”

“Got my rocks off just fine, thank you very much,” you say, faux-primly, focusing your attention on the glass of water in front of you.

Condensation slips down the side. Your voice gains a gravelly tone that feels dangerously close to preceding tears when you say,  “I just… every time we hook up, I end up feeling lonelier than ever afterwards. And I’m kinda sick of it.”

Do you see, do you see, do you see how you hurt me, baby? So I hurt you too, then we both get so blue…

Eddie’s warm palm (not the one covered in Bugle crumbs) comes to rest on your shoulder, thumb digging gently but firm into the tense muscle at the nape of your neck. A hum purrs from your throat, eyes shutting involuntarily as he manages to zero in on the spot that needs the most care.

 “C’mere,” Eddie says, softly, hand sliding off and away as you unfold your limbs to stand. Once you’re sharing the couch cushion, he goes to pull you in closer but stops when he sees you bite back a smile- “What?”

“Your hair is… insane. In the back. If you haven’t noticed- wait!”

Eddie’s hand freezes halfway to his head with your alert, and you knock it out of the air, chastising- “Gonna have a head full of Bugle crumbs. Let me.”

“Bugle Head. New band name, I call it.” Eddie’s eyes are half-lidded, reminiscent of a cat getting groomed as you smooth down the out-of-place strands, hands cradling the back of his skull briefly before you pull away.

“Didn’t even bother looking in the mirror after going at it like rabbits with your not-girlfriend?” You accentuate your tease with a solid finger-poke to his bare ribs.

Eddie’s hands drop to your waist, pinch just-shy of mean against your hips. “Watch it, pot. And this kettle’s not fucking like a rabbit… more like a semi-interested turtle. With a semi-”

He gets shoved, for that comment, but drops down flat on the couch a bit too easily, pulling you with him.

With your ear pressed to Eddie’s chest, you can hear the whooshing of his blood, the steady thump of it against your cheek. He slips an arm around your lower back while yours encircle his torso, his sweatpantsed-legs twining with your bare ones.

“Why do we keep sleeping with such losers?” you muse aloud, breath unconsciously stalling to match Eddie’s much slower rhythm.

“Dunno.” His hand strokes down the length of your back, likely covering you in snack crumbs, but you find you don’t really mind right now. “Glad I have you to commiserate with, though. They say not all who wander are lost…”

You frown against the smooth skin below your cheek, sensing a trap. “…is that a Tolkein reference?”

“Nope. Shakespeare. Hamlet, if I recall correctly.”

He lets you laugh into his chest, squeezing gently at the soft flesh of your upper arm, like he’s trying to hold on to you and the moment at the same time.

You settle, again, breaths joining again. Joni croons on.

Wanna write you a love letter, I wanna make you feel better, I wanna make you feel free…

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #roommate!eddie munson #roommate!eddie munson x reader

[tropes-and-tales]

Five Times Vigilante Definitely Does Not Have Feelings (and the One Time He Does)

Characters:  Adrian Chase/Vigilante x f!reader

CW:  Crude language; yearning.

Word Count:  3982

Adrian Chase will tell anyone:  he doesn’t have emotions like people do.  He doesn’t feel sad or angry or embarrassed.  When Peacemaker gave him the nickname “Thimble,” he certainly didn’t cry.  When Peacemaker was sent to prison, he certainly didn’t feel lonely.  

Not having emotions is what makes him a more evolved human.

And yet, when ARGUS springs Peacemaker and sets up a black ops outfit in Evergreen, Adrian finds himself toeing the line of feelings.  He doesn’t have emotions like people do, but he comes awfully close a handful of times…until he crosses the line entirely.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Vulnerable

As the Vigilante, Adrian gets hurt all the time.  He’s become proficient at stitching up his own wounds.  His body is littered with the scars of his own handiwork.

But when Goff tortures him for information, and when the ARGUS team comes to his and Peacemaker’s rescue, he finds himself missing half of a pinkie toe.  It’s the most important toe on the human body, and he’ll probably never walk again…and no one seems to care.

Except for you.  In the van as they return to headquarters, you sit across from him, watching him as he studies his mangled foot.  You murmur something that sounds sympathetic, but he barely hears it over Peacemaker laughing at him.

At headquarters, you look at him and jerk your head in the direction of the back office.

“I can stitch you up, if you want,” you offer. 

He starts to shake his head, but the mean blonde woman—Harcourt, her name is—makes an offhand comment about your superior patch-up abilities, so he accepts your help.  He limps painfully behind you, follows you into a room that has been converted into a rough sort of exam room and budget clinic.

“Hop up on the table,” you tell him, and even though he doesn’t trust you—or any of your team—he does as you say.  It’s clumsy.  He hurts in a hundred different places:  his half-amputated toe, his electrocuted crotch, all the scrapes and bruises from the fight with Cobra Kai. 

“I won’t take off my mask,” he warns you.  “I take my secret identity very seriously.  If you saw my face, I’d have to kill you.”

“Duly noted,” you reply dryly.  “But I only need to see your foot.”

He pulls off his boot and regards his mangled half-pinkie toe sadly.  You pull on a pair of latex gloves and turn on a bright lamp, angling it at his bare foot.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” you say as you prod the wound gently.  “In fact, you really didn’t lose anything but a couple layers of skin.”

“The blade was as dull as fuck,” he replies. 

You wheel your stool over to a cabinet, then pull out some supplies:  needle and thread, disinfectant, gauze and tape.  Then you wheel back over to him and set to work.

The mean blonde woman was right—you’re quick, efficient.  He looks down at your bent head as you stitch him up, and he sees that your needlework is better than his own.  He doubts he’ll even have much of a scar once it heals.

But it’s the strange feeling that creeps over him:  makes his vision waver, makes him feel a little light-headed.  Your hands are deft but also gentle.  Adrian can’t remember ever being touched so gently.  Maybe when he was really small.  Maybe his mom was gentle like that when he was so small that he can’t remember it now.  It makes him break out in goosebumps.  He shudders at the touch of your warm hand bracing his foot, and you misunderstand the involuntary gesture.

“Almost done,” you murmur, and a moment later you tie off the last stitch and snip the thread.  You wrap his toe in gauze, pat his knee softly in a reassuring way.  Then you straighten up and ask if there’s any other injuries he needs patched up.

“Goff electrocuted me,” he blurts out.  “With a car battery.”

You look at him, level, but the corner of your mouth quirks in a near-smile.  “You want me to look at that for you?”

“Oh, no.  No.  No, I just wanted to mention it.  I’m not asking you to look at it.”  He’s grateful for the mask; he can feel his face heating up at the idea of taking off his suit in front of you, and the sudden flush confuses him.  Irritates him.  Something about the thought of being exposed makes his stomach churn in a way he doesn’t understand.

You hum thoughtfully, then turn back to the cabinet of supplies.  You rummage around, then pull out a small white tube that you hand him.

“Antibiotic gel for cuts and burns,” you say.   “You can put a cool cloth on…well, any burns you may have.  If there’s blistering, don’t pop them.”

“Okay.”

“And, you know…if you have any lingering side effects of being electrocuted, you should see a specialist.”

Vigilante reaches down and pulls his boot back on, but already his toe feels better.  “What sort of side effects?” he asks.

He looks up at you in time to see that same half-smile.  You peel off your gloves, toss them in the trash.  

“I can imagine where you were electrocuted,” you reply.  “So if those parts don’t typically work the way you’re used to, see a real doctor.”

Adrian Chase is not good at nuance or subtlety.  “Huh?”

You blink at him before you say, “if you can’t get or maintain an erection, see a urologist.”

“Oh.”  He blinks too, behind his visor.  “Okay.”

You turn to leave the room but then glance over your shoulder before you do.  “Thanks for your help tonight,” you say.  “The mission was a success because of you.”

Neither Vigilante nor Adrian Chase ever get any thanks.  He flushes even hotter under his mask, and he grumbles in reply, uncomfortable to be seen, to be recognized for the first time.

To be vulnerable.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Embarrassed

The next afternoon, he’s at Peacemaker’s trailer, helping him clean up from when the police tossed the place.  They are blasting Guns and Roses, drinking beer…it’s like the old days, almost.

A knock at the door then, and Adrian has only a second to pull on his mask before you stroll in.

“Hey, Chris.  Vigilante.”  You nod in greeting, then reach into your bag to pull out a thick manila folder.  You hand it to Peacemaker.

“Murn wanted me to bring this by.  It’s the latest intel we got from Goff’s place.”  

You stand there as Chris takes the folder and sinks down onto his couch, already paging through the information.  Vigilante stands there too, awkward, so he crosses his arms to keep from fidgeting.  There’s a long stretch of silence once the Guns and Roses record ends, and Vigilante struggles with silence.

“I got hard last night,” he tells you.  “And this morning too.”

“Dude, what the fuck?” Peacemaker sputters.  “She doesn’t want to hear that!”

“She mentioned it last night!”

Peacemaker scoffs, twists his face into an expression of disbelief.  “Yeah, I’m sure she mentioned your dick last night.  Sure.  Okay.  Fantasize much?”

“She did!”

“You seriously need to get laid, dude.  Stop making shit up.”

“He’s not lying,” you tell Peacemaker with a sheepish shrug.  “Though I mentioned it in the context of his injuries and not…some other context.”

“See?”  Vigilante says, and Peacemaker rolls his eyes, makes a jacking-off motion with his hand.

You don’t linger.  You beat a hasty retreat, waving over your shoulder as you leave the trailer, and Peacemaker gives him more hell—calls him weird, calls him annoying.

“No wonder you’ve never had a real girlfriend, dude,” he says as he turns back to his folder of intel.  “You say the creepiest shit the minute a cute girl is around.”

Vigilante doesn’t think about it much more until later.  That night, in bed, he lies awake for far longer than he usually does.  He replays that moment, tries to understand why he just blurted that out.  

He wonders if you would have stayed at the trailer longer if he hadn’t been creepy.  His face burns in the darkness of his bedroom, and his stomach twists painfully as he replays the moment over and over.  He replays his stupid blurting out about his dick, and he has no idea what it means.  He never obsesses over his stupid mouth like this.

If he had feelings like other people, he’d recognize the emotion as embarrassment.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Despondent (and Comforted)

Adrian gets himself arrested on purpose.  It’s the best way he can help Chris:  get arrested, get booked into the same prison as Chris’ racist supervillain father, then kill said racist supervillain father.

Easy enough.  It’d set Chris free and make his life so much better.  Allow him to move forward and not be bogged down, like Adebayo said.

Adrian fails.  He only manages to make things worse—clues Auggie into his plan accidentally, possibly points law enforcement in Chris’ direction.  So Adrian doesn’t just fail—he fails miserably.

He’s released that night.  He’s surprised at first, but as he changes back into his clothes and collects his personal effects from the guards, he realizes that ARGUS has its sticky fingers in all sorts of things and probably sprung him with just a few keystrokes.

When he leaves the prison, you’re sitting out front in your car.  You lower the passenger window and call out to him.

“C’mon,” you say.  “Harcourt sent me to take you home.”

He’s too upset to even feel bad about his cover being blown.  He climbs into the car.

“I think I made things worse,” he says, and he tries not to cry.  He only wanted to help his best friend (even if he’s not Peacemaker’s best friend).  Somehow he messed up, and it could ruin everything.  

“Okay,” you reply softly.  “It’s okay.”

You drive him home.  He doesn’t give you his address, but you know it—another screw-up, he thinks, getting tangled up with people who easily cracked his secret identity.  You know his name, his face, where he lives.  Some instrument of vengeance he is.  You probably even recognize him from his job at Fennel Fields.

Outside of his apartment, you park, then turn to face him.  In the half-light from the streetlamps, he can just make out your soft smile.

“This entire ops is nothing but mistakes,” you tell him.  “And yet, we’re doing okay.  We’ll figure out how to handle Auggie Smith.  Don’t worry about it.”

He nods, and something about the barest bit of comfort—paired with your smile—makes him turn to face you too.  

“I’m Adrian,” he says, even though you know his name.

Your smile broadens and you say your name, even though he knows it.  You hold out your hand and after a beat he takes it.

“Good to finally meet you, Adrian,” you reply as you shake hands.  

For whatever reason, as low as he feels, he falls asleep that night with a weird lightness in his chest—because he doesn’t dwell on his failure at the prison.  

Instead, he falls asleep with the memory of your smile, your kind words.  Your warm hand in his.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Protective

The attack on Goff’s house yielded some leads, and the team travels three hours away to take out a nest of Butterflies.  Everyone is exhausted, filthy, and bruised up.  

It’s in the van—you sitting beside Adrian—when you start to nod off.  He catches it the first few times, the way your head dips forward, the way you jerk back awake.  It’s cute, the way you fight sleep, and then it happens.

You fall asleep and you don’t wake up.  Your head drifts towards him, then settles against his shoulder.

Adrian freezes.  

He and Peacemaker—they used to go out together, looking for crimes or bitches or both.  He’s no virgin.  He fucks.  He’s no stranger to touch, and he’s certainly no stranger to women.  And yet…this feels different.  It feels new.

Peacemaker notices.  “You got a new girlfriend, dude,” he points out with a laugh.

Harcourt rolls her eyes at the teasing.  “Leave her alone.  She puts in way more hours than you, asshole.”

“I put in plenty of hours,” he replies, defensive.  “It takes a lot of time to maintain this impressive physique.  Do you know how long I work on my small muscle groups alone?”

Harcourt rolls her eyes again, then returns her attention to her phone.  Peacemaker turns back to where Adrian sits, rigid, as you sleep against him.

“If you get hard, just don’t tell her about it,” he advises the younger man.  “You’ll creep her out again.”

It’s strange, the feeling of your head against him.  It’s not sexy at all, obviously—in fact, it’s a little uncomfortable.  He doesn’t want to move you, doesn’t want to jostle you and wake you up.  Harcourt said you’re tired, and you took a hell of a beating as you fought the Butterflies.  

Adrian has always approached his work as Vigilante from a perspective of vengeance, not protection, so the feeling is strange:  how he wants to let you sleep, how he wants to protect your sleep.  How he wants to make you comfortable.

A quiet falls over the team; the swaying of the van lulls everyone into comfortable silence.  Adrian breathes in carefully through his nose, then shifts his body.  Slowly, carefully.  He leans away from you, allows you to lie against him more.  He changes the angle enough that he can get his arm out from where it’s trapped between your body and his.  He shifts again, gets his arm around you.  Gently moves you—changes it from your head awkwardly pressed against his hard molded shoulder pad to your head tucked against his chest.

You wake, a little, as he moves you.  You blink up at him sleepily, say his name—Adrian, not Vigilante or Vig or V—and your voice is husky with exhaustion.  There’s a questioning lilt to how you say his name, so he shakes his head softly.

“Go ahead and rest,” he says, quiet.  “Everything’s fine.”

You nod, then settle back against him.  It takes only a moment until he feels your breathing slow down, deepen.  He feels your body go heavy and lax against him.  Tucked against his chest, his arm holding you against him, he can smell you, feel how warm you are.  If he moves his head just a little, he can press his cheek against the top of your head.

Go ahead and rest, he thinks.  Everything’s fine.  I’ll keep you safe.

Vigilante has always been an instrument of vengeance, but this is the first time he’s felt protective of anyone.

The Time Vigilante Definitely Does Not Feel Fear

The 11th Street Kids have one chance to eradicate the Butterflies forever:  if they can kill their only food source, the so-called cow, they will eventually all die off.  When they make their final assault on the farm, the team splits up:  Adebayo and Economos stay back, while the warriors—Peacemaker, Vigilante, Harcourt, and you—charge into action.

Whether the cow is killed or not, Adrian doesn’t find out until after the battle is over.  He fights off the onslaught of Butterflies, but for the first time, his attention isn’t entirely on his own fight.

His attention is on you, now, too.  

He manages to keep you in his sightline for the beginning of the fight.  He sees you, admires the sight of you when you’re in your berserker mode:  furious and deadly, well-fitted black suit, guns flashing as you empty clip after clip into the skulls of the Butterflies.  

Then he loses sight of you. 

His chest clenches in an unfamiliar tension, and when he finally catches sight of you again, that tight-chest feeling cedes to something else, something worse:  an ice-cold shard of fear that lances through him, settles in his gut where it sits like a stone.

When he finally catches sight of you, it’s the exact moment you are shot by a Butterfly.

One shot hits your shoulder, spins you around.

Another shot hits you square in the chest, makes you stagger backwards as the force is absorbed by your vest.

The final shot hits you low in the belly, and Adrian (who has studied your gear closely) knows you have little protection there.  The icy fear blooms in him, fills up every bit of him until it feels like it’s in his veins.

He screams your name.  He barely even feels the bullet that hits him (“oh, shoot” he mutters, and tosses a knife behind him to kill his own attacker), but then he stumbles and falls, and he loses consciousness.

He wakes a moment later.  He has no idea how much time has passed, but he manages to get to his hands and knees, then to his feet.  He makes his way to where you fell and he finds you.  

It’s bad.  It’s so bad that the icy fear turns acidic in his veins, makes him burn with fear.  With terror.  You gaze up at him but you don’t seem to see him, and each breath makes a fresh pulse of blood trickle from your mouth.

Adrian has never been very good at social situations.  He never knows the right thing to say and if he does, he doesn’t know the right time to say it.  He wishes these things came more easily to him; if it were Chris here right now instead of him, Chris would know the right thing to say.  He’d know how to keep you awake, how to give you comfort.

All Adrian can offer is what you told him the night he got out of prison, when you drove him home.  Now, as you lie under the night sky, dying in front of him, as he presses one hand against the worst wound to try and staunch the bleeding, he repeats your words back to him.

“It’s okay,” he says, and he says it over and over and hopes you believe it.  “It’s okay.  It’s okay.  It’s okay.”

The Time Vigilante Definitely Feels Love

You have no memory of the fight at the farm.  The last thing you remember is the drive there, but everything after is a blank.  Adebayo stops by when you finally wake up and fills you in on the salient details.  

She tells you how Vigilante—who was also shot, who had been blown up earlier in the day—carried you to safety.  How he kept you from bleeding out, how he held your very life in his hands and kept you from dying.  How hospital security had to separate him from you, once you were laid out on the gurney and being wheeled into surgery.

How he still tried to fight to stay by your side, and how he only failed because of his own injuries and blood loss.

“That man is stupid crazy about you,” Adebayo chuckles with a shake of her head.  “I don’t even think he’s really a psychopath.”

You chuckle with her, wince when the action pulls at the thousand stitches and staples that are keeping you held together.  “He’s not bad, right?”

“We’re literally the Island of Misfit toys,” she replies.  “But yeah, he’s alright.”

-----

Adrian is hospitalized too, and once he’s healed up to a point, he starts sneaking into your room to visit.  It’s not really sneaking—every time he undoes his IV and heart monitor, it sends the nurses into a panic—but after Adebayo’s press conference revealing the existence of Task Force X, the hospital staff is pretty tolerant of his harmless shenanigans. 

He helped ward off an alien invasion, after all.  You both did.

You have to agree with Adebayo.  You’ve never quite believed that Adrian is a psychopath or a sociopath or whatever.  You certainly never believed him when he said he didn’t have feelings or emotions.  The guy is nothing but a walking ball of emotions:  obvious love for his friends, a yearning to belong, a sweet desire to be liked and included.  Sure, he kills without compunction, but he seems to love in equal measure, even if he doesn’t believe he does.

When he visits you, he doesn’t talk about feelings.  He chatters endlessly about his and Peacemaker’s exploits—criminals they’ve busted, ways they’ve destroyed old appliances in the woods behind Peacemaker’s trailer.  He talks about how it was when Peacemaker was in prison, how he kept calling and leaving voicemails to make it seem like everything was normal.  He talks about his job at Fennel Fields, all the terrible customer service stories he has.

He discharges himself against the advice of the doctors (he’s healed enough, he tells you), and you think he’ll stop visiting, but he doesn’t.  He visits every day still, and when you start physical therapy to build up the muscle tone and endurance you’ve lost, he sits in a nearby chair, watching you.  Cheering you on.

Adebayo wasn’t wrong.  You know Adrian has feelings for you.  You’re more socially adept than him, and you’ve had relationships before.  You’ve had crushes and been the object of them.  You guessed his infatuation early on, and you can guess that it’s only grown for him since then.

It probably confuses him, you guess.  You know what love feels like.  What a crush feels like.  All that feeling, in so many places:  the fluttery stomach, the pounding heart, the thoughts that just circle ‘round and ‘round about a single person.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have similar feelings for him.  He’s easy on the eyes, sure—but he’s earnest and sweet, a brutal killer with a heart of gold.

You can also guess that Adrian might never make a move.  This has to be unfamiliar territory for him.  You know he’s no virgin (he’s chattered endlessly about his and Peacemaker’s exhaustive threesomes too), but he seems to have no relationship experience.

But your entire short working relationship with him has been give and take.  You stitched him up, comforted him when he was feeling low after his failed attempt to kill Auggie Smith.  He let you rest against him, held you gently as you slept after a mission.  He saved your life, kept you from bleeding out.

Give and take.  The best kind of relationship, in your opinion.

“Hey, Adrian,” you say one afternoon after PT.  You’re exhausted and sore, but you’re quickly approaching your own discharge.  You are healing up nicely.  You have things to look forward to.

“What’s up?” he asks, and he bounces over to your bedside like a Golden Retriever puppy, eager.

“Doctor says I’m good to go in a few days.”

“That’s great!”  His face breaks open in a wide grin that transforms him from nerdy-handsome to downright gorgeous.  “That’s good news!”

You swallow, push down the nerves that flare up.  “I thought maybe we could celebrate.”

“Yeah!”  He grins at you.  “I can call Chris—”

“I thought maybe just me and you,” you cut in, clarifying.  “Just this time.  Maybe we include Chris some other time.”

“Oh.”  The smile falls from his face, and he looks at you.  His brows are knit in confusion.  

No sense in backtracking now.  “Like a date.  Would you like to go on a date with me?”

“Oh.”  A beat.  “With me?  Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

What you’re asking him finally sinks in—a beat longer than it might with someone else, but that’s just part of Adrian’s charm.  The smile returns to his face, brighter and wider than before.

“Yeah,” he replies.  “Hell yeah, dude.  I’d love that.”

#adrian chase #adrian chase imagine #adrian chase x reader #vigilante #vigilante imagine #vigilante x reader #peacemaker #tropes-and-tales

[rinbowaman]

reina, if u aren't busy can u do how heethan and y/n spend their new year🤩🤩

😏

Of course babe. ♥️

“Agora Hills”

Warnings: you already know. 😈 don’t read unless you’re comfortable with. Non-con, dub-con, implied rough smut, oral (fem receiving) etc. heethan is a menace in this one…he kinda gets excited…too excited.

“Babe, what do you want to do for New Years?”

You ask with an inquisitive look displayed on your delicate face as you raise your brows in earnest, yearning to hear Heeseung’s response. “H/n and the other girls mentioned this event and they’re all going with their boyfriends, I was wondering if you-“

“Babydoll…” he pauses after tossing the small towel he used to dry off his wet hair. A larger one is wrapped around his slim waist, the dry fabric is a stark contrast to his glistening wet skin. Like pearls, it shimmered under the glaring light above head, planted at the center of the ceiling. “I was hoping you’d be down to spend the evening with me—alone.”

Your eyes flicker downward. “I do, but can we just go and make an appearance? It’s just that—“

He cuts you off once more. “Are you getting bored, pretty girl?”

You shook your head vigorously, urgently relating that was not the case. God forbid if he ever thought you were bored with him, even if it were true, you would have to hold that piece in within yourself and avoiding the risk of receiving a punishment. “No, not bored.”

“Then what?” His deep voice quakes your legs. Quick on your feet, you quickly answer with the ball-bearing response that creases a permanent smile on his handsome face. You pleased him, so greatly.

“I just like to show you off…my man.”

‘Her man…she just used those words. Oh fuck almighty this girl…’

“You want to show me off…pretty girl?” He raises a brow, eyes wide with amusement, seemingly pleased by your affirmation. “Oh baby….”

You made him the happiest. Because of that, your wish is granted, and he took you out to said event.

‘I too, wanna show you off.’

He helped you pick out an outfit for the occasion, a white satin mini dress with a subtle flare on the hem. Skinny straps that delicately rest on the skin of your shoulders, and your hair remains down—it was the way he liked it. He loved the carefree and natural style of your beauty; little makeup and red glossy lips.

After mingling with the crowd, everyone joined inside the living room. You walked behind them but a sudden pull of your arm halts you. You turn around and see Heeseung’s dark eyes staring down at you. They looked so demeaning, you could feel the manipulation and corruption oozing from the glistening glare as he bites down in his bottom lip. He says nothing, but shifts a quick tilt to the side, hinting for you to migrate to the lone closet in the separate room. You didn’t even get to respond. The moment you tried to beg him and let you stay to participate in the countdown, he had already been snagging you, nearly flinging you across the kitchen floor. “Get over here.” He grits out through a clenched smile, eyes exuding malice and pure evil.

Dragging you away behind turned heads, nobody witnessed the explicit end to your night. “Please, Heeseung wait—“

He opens the door and tosses you in, almost as if you were a ragdoll. You find yourself in pitch black; the closet is a finite area. The light remains off as you feel his strong hands snag you by the waist. Shoving your back against the small built in cabinet that lies narrowly in a nook corner, he levitates your thighs harshly as he raises them up against the sides of his hips. “I’d love…nothing more than to show you off—“

He kisses you, violently mashing his lips against yours. “But you’re all mine. Part of me wants to show the entire world how viciously I can fuck you. But the other side of me just wants to keep the visual model of perfection that you are…all for myself.”

His hand snaps forward with viper speed as he grabs hold on your neck, giving him perfect leverage to push you down flat against the table surface of the shelf. Sighing out an ‘aww’ sound against your ear. “Oh baby…I love it when you smile…” he kisses your neck. “I love it when you frown.” He kisses your breasts as he pulls the straps of your dress down, revealing them. “I love it when you scream my name.” Another kiss finds its way on your inner thigh. Scooting your panties to the side, he dives his nose in, and exaggerating a sniff as he drags it against your clit, from top to bottom.

“But the best of all baby…” he flickers his tongue against the soft and swollen slack of skin in between the overly plush lips that cradle it. Soft kisses accompany the beating of his rhythmic tune as he swirls and twirls the tip in circles, increasing stimulation as the tightness of pressure formulates in your pelvis. “I love it when you cry…”

You gasp at the sudden force of his face jamming in between your legs. Your instinctive reaction was to close your thighs against his head, but his hands remained steady against them, pushing you apart as he continues to devour you of your senses. Pulsating, throbbing, and stinging with a pleasure so intense, it becomes painful. He gives it all to you as he wildly moves his tongue in and out of your most sensitive spot. He didn’t bother using his fingers, no. Enjoying the increase in moisture that was secreting out of you, he slurps up every drop, knowing that it was only going to add on to the state of pleasure you were riding on.

Your hips buck up as you wave them up and down, rolling onto your shoulder blades as you arch your back. Your chest protrudes towards, reaching high for the sky as you gasp out your pleading moans. Hips shaking, chest heaving, stomach churning, and legs quivering, you beg.

“Please! Heeseung please—n-not so much…I-it hurts! I can’t take it!”

The overstimulation pulls you into a state of sting pulses. They were piercing, making you squirm as he kept up with his vigor. “Mmmm” he mumbles with a mouthful of your sensitive skin.

He pulls away and licks his lips, replicating the expressive act of feasting on a meal. His lips taunting you through the display of the sweet scented shine, telling you of how much he savored the taste of you.

“Yummy.”

You shiver upon hearing him, while also watching g him unbuckle his belt in front of you, stationed between your legs as he glares his offensive look from above. “P-please…Heeseung…I-i can’t…”

You barely breathe out your words as you felt the life sucked out of you by the beast before you. “Shut up y/n. Don’t speak unless you plan on screaming out my name, deal?”

He swiped the tip of his phallic muscle up against your overstimulated clit, causing you to yelp out in pain and pleasure. He inserts himself in, but not in the traditional manner he normally displays. He was rough, demeaning, and entirely too offensive as he punched the tip in, dragging it further as he burrows deep into the depths of your cushioned gut. What in the world have you brought out of him? Did your earlier statement cause him to lose himself in the bliss happiness of your desire to show him off? Or did it excite him beyond the limits of satisfaction, causing him to yearn for you even more? So much that it hurts.

Deep into you, he buries his face into the soft spot of your neck, serenading you with soft kisses as you pinch out subtle tears from the mixture of pain and pleasure calling up in your gut. Your womanhood pulses with a beat that was much more steady than your heart. The blood rushes through your veins, heating your body temperature beyond comfort. His hands grip around your wrist as he continues to lavish your neck with his kisses. Your eyes winced shut as you overhear the crowd commit to the countdown of n the next room.

‘10…9…8…7…6…5…’

Snapping open, your eyes widen as he whispers the remaining numbers into your ear. “4…”

Oh no…

“3…”

Please God no…what is he going to do—

“2…”

when he reaches to…

“1…” he grins against your skin. “Happy New Year baby.”

Propping his palms flat by the sides of your head, he remains buried deep into you as he hovers his chest above your breasts, gently grazing against your nipples. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong but—I haven’t seen you cry since last year…think we’re overdue…don’t you?”

You shake your head. “N-no…heeseung please…not too hard…please?”

His thumb reaches up and swipes a teardrop away, gently smearing it across your cheek.

“Let’s see how many times you’ll scream out my name this year….both of them.”

Heeseung…and Ethan…

#heeseung x reader #heeseung scenarios #heeseung smut #enha x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung fanfic #enhypen hard hours #enhypen smut #enha heeseung #yandere heeseung imagines #heeseung yandere #heeseung imagines #lee heesung smut

[khuzena]

Just a coworker

Dr ratio x g/n! reader (i tried)

Part 1, Part 2

cw. angst, super slow burn, they eventually get tgt, hurf/comfort, jealousy brr, reader is unhinged, mentions of drugs, kinda cringe but who cares I've written worse, not proofread, dr ratio is a pussy

a/n: i js wanna say fck SCHOOL FOR GIVING ME 6 PROJECTS DUE TOMORROW. THIS FIC IS MEH BUT TRUST IT GETS BETTER (hopefully…)

Veritas Ratio is a lonely man. Only having his books and his sculptures as friends— regarding the rest as no use for him.

Up till now, you've been nothing more than the pest who waves hi at him every morning, bringing him coffee every now and then. You must be scheming something, there's no way someone could ever be this nice without asking for a favour.

“Dr ratio!”

The alabaster headed man stared at you, even with that stone head of his, you can clearly feel his piercing gaze.

“What is it?”

Veritas groans in annoyance, what is it again?

Lately, you've been struggling to teach this subject. As well-versed you were in topics such as literature, history and the likes, it was true that you were above average with maths.

“I've been tutoring this kid after classes and well…”

He doesn't move, just listening intently.

“He's been asking about quantum mechanics and I don't know much about the topic so…”

“so?”

so?

“I was wondering if you can teach me it.”

God damn it, he has better things to do.

“Then read a book about it”

His eyes were trained on your figure as he saw you tense, just why him of all people?

“Dr ratio, just this once. I just need to learn the basics once and I won't bother you again!”

He closed his codex and turned the other way, ready to walk away from conversation.

“I have better things to do than humouring your foolish antics—”

“Please.”

Your hands fidget nervously as he paused before looking back at you, pondering whether to do you a favour.

“I'll think about it.”

By the time you blinked, he was gone.

The next day passed, you were at his door, clutching your teaching materials as you waited for veritas’ class to end.

He scrunched nose as annoyance rose in him like a tide, he could see you waiting at the window and checking the time every now and then.

“That ends our discussion for today.”

His voice echoing on the walls as the bell rang, his students already out the door.

After a good 10 minutes, most of the students were out the door as he was left alone with himself (+ those eyes of yours that never seem to leave him alone)

“It's rude to stare.”

His comment caught you off guard, the corners of your lips twitching nervously as you hid behind the wall again— shit, he caught you staring…

Veritas let out a sigh before cleaning his desk of the sparse test papers he's collected last week.

A moment of silence passed before you mustered up the courage to enter the spacious room, it was… quiet to say the least.

“Dr. Ratio—”

“I'll tutor you but with one condition.”

Sweat trickled down your forehead as you nervously anticipated what he's about to say. (Did I mention he paused to rile you up?)

“You,”

A click on his cabinet was heard before he turned at your direction to get a better look at you.

“That I won't have to tutor you again next time, just this once”

It was odd, a teacher asking for tutoring from a fellow teacher? It wasn't uncommon but it certainly irked him of the thought. You could just read a book about it but you'd rather take his precious hours in his day for something you could do yourself.

You let out a sigh of relief.

“whew… I thought you were going to refuse.”

“Do you want me to?”

You shook your head no, gripping your satchel tightly.

“Tomorrow at the faculty room after classes—”

When you blinked, he was already behind you. Was he a magician or something?!?

“—Don't be late.”

Then, the door closed abruptly, now it was only you in the room.

…

The next day, classes already ended and you cleaned up your desk to get to the faculty room.

As you slid the door open, he was already waiting for you.

“What're you doing?”

Veritas moved another chess piece on the board, eating the white team's queen.

“What does it look like I'm doing?”

Why can't he just be nice for once?

“Whatever, so… do we start reviewing?”

You pulled the chair opposite to his and sat down. He didn't reply, only tapping his feet.

“Your turn.”

“Do I just?—”

“Just move a piece.”

Fine then. There were barely any pieces left on the board, leaving you with no other choice as you hid your king at the corner of the board.

“Checkmate.”

There was a visible annoyance on your face, making veritas chuckle.

“Seriously? When are you going to start tutoring me? I came here to learn something— not some stupid chess game”

“First of all, chess isn't stupid”

Before you knew it, veritas flicked your forehead.

“Second of all, learn patience.”

“ow!”

Veritas hid away the board and grabbed all the books needed, pulling out some notes and highlighters for you.

“Read”

The man in front of you flipped the pages and pointed at the highlighted paragraph for you. Was he making you read out loud? Were you 10 or something?

“Do I really have to?”

His fingers tapped aggressively on the board, his patience was thinning and you weren't even past the first page yet.

“Just do it.”

…

Who could've guessed two hours later you would be in tears, notes sprawled all over the table and veritas shouting at you.

“Idiot.”

He commented on your work before rewriting the entire thing for you and repeating it again.

“God dammit we're not even past the 20th page yet you're here crying like a child.”

Sniffles echoed in the room, only his lamp illuminating the room. You checked your phone and it was already 8 pm.

“Now read.”

“Q-quantum mechanics…”

He clenched his jaw, raising his voice at you before you could continue.

“You imbecile, not that— can't you read?!? Its wave function!”

“Whatever!”

Before he could react, you stood up, bag already in hand and walking away.

“We're not done yet.”

“I don’t care.”

Just like that, you were gone.

…

Despite you running off yesterday… There you were sitting on that same chair with the alabaster head man right in front of you.

“Again?”

You bit your lip nervously before tightening the grip on your pen.

“Yeah.”

Veritas nodded as he placed down his codex and walked to the sprawled shelves at his desk, his fingers tracing over the books (those books were rotting on those shelves, too dusty he had to wipe them)

“here.”

He took the book off the shelf and thrusted it into your hands.

‘The nonlinear schrodinger equation’

“Let's start with the ‘weakly nonlinear dispersion relation’ topic.”

Time flies by as he explains each term to you, giving definition after definition about each equation in front of you.

“Here, page 24.”

He pointed at the first equation but your eyes couldn't leave his stone head.

For an intimidating man, he's getting quite patient with you.

“— and let's compute the coefficients, after that,”

You couldn't stop wondering what he looked like under that stone head. It's hot out here, he must be sweating a tsunami in there. Is he handsome? or maybe he's wearing that stone head because he looks that bad?

“—the quantum mechanical pressure becomes negligible in the ‘semiclassical’ where nabla and—”

He hit your head with a codex, with no hesitation at all.

“ow!”

Oh shit— he must've noticed you staring.

“What were we reviewing?”

uh…

You gulped nervously, looking down at the page, you guys were already at page 26?!?

“0 points.”

He smacked you but with less force, though enough to leave a bruise.

“that hurt…”

“Then listen, don't waste my time.”

Under that alabaster head of his, a small smile formed from the corner of his lips due to the amusing sight before him.

“You're annoying, let's go over the fluid-dynamical form again.”

You weren't that boring after all.

…

You both were already at page 31, which was slow progress (at least to him, he can finish the book in under 3 hours.), yet still progress nonetheless.

“Do you get it now?”

It was already 9:58 pm, shit. You both got carried away…

“Yeah.”

Veritas handed the book over to you and hid away his highlighters.

“Go review at home— you better finish page 40.”

You nod, shoving the book into your satchel and your water bottle.

Today was… fun.

As you walked outside, one foot already out the door, you looked back.

“What?”

“and…”

There was a moment of silence, none of you moving before your voice shook,

“Thank you.”

He didn't say anything back, only putting back his folders in his bag as he removed his attention from you. You shook your head and just walked home.

…

It was the third day of him tutoring you, you were getting quite good.

“And how do you do the hamilton equation?”

There was a weird habit you did, you would bite your pen or sometimes click it nonstop due to stress (which you did now, don't do it too much though, you'll piss off veritas.)

You let out a soft hum before confidently writing the equation, no error in sight.

“And these quantities are called?”

“They're uh… momentas, right?”

“20 points— you're getting good at this.”

Receiving praise from others came by often, but to get one from the Dr. Veritas Ratio himself? You could wish.

Your eyes were glued at the scratch paper, unable to contain your smile; the aeons definitely smiled down on you and blessed you with his attention for today.

He takes note of this, but doesn't comment on that any further, only flipping the pages.

…

The fourth day. It was 2 pm, 3 hours earlier than the usual tutor hours. A new coffee shop opened in the food court at the university, which turned into the new buzz (the old coffee shops were shit.)

The line was long, your legs were about to give up but your students would occasionally suggest this shop, saying it's definitely better than the instant coffee at the teacher's lounge.

After 5 more minutes, it was finally your turn to order.

“Good afternoon! What can I get ya?”

The menu was definitely diverse, candy corn flavoured coffee? That's new.

“I'll take your special cappuccino”

The cheerful cashier jotted down your order, asking for your name then running to the back.

You sat down at some table and took out your laptop, fixing your schedules for this weekend.

“For ___?”

Eh? That was fast. It only took them 3 minutes to make your order despite the heavy line? Impressive.

“Thank you.”

You smiled and snatched the cup from the counter and walked back to your seat.

It tasted funny. Coffee jelly in cappuccino with sprinkles on top? At Least it tasted good.

“And here I was wondering where you are.”

“ack!”

You looked up and saw veritas in front of you, looming over you with his codex behind him after he hit you.

“that hurt…”

He sighed and sat down next to you while you rubbed the bruised area.

“Stop hitting people with your codex damn it!”

“I find it far more interesting to use my codex to get your attention.”

“Weirdo.”

He chuckled at the way scoffed, sipping your coffee and typing some requirements on an excel sheet.

“Anyways, why were you looking for me?”

He leaned back on the couch, before responding,

“Nothing, I was just wondering where the idiot was.”

“You little—”

Only a soft sigh left your lips as you continued to type, veritas beside you reading his codex and none of you saying a word.

Though this peaceful moment was short lived as the bell rang, signalling that the two of you had to go back to your respective classes.

Veritas sat up, closing his book.

“It's time for me to go.”

“Oh yeah.”

Veritas was gone in a blink of an eye, what's up with him disappearing so suddenly 24/7?!?

…

5 pm.

You were patiently waiting in the faculty room, what was taking veritas so long?

“You're late”

Veritas rolled his eyes— wait.

His stone head was… was this really the veritas ratio? He had nice purple hair, his eyes, he looked so… beautiful.

No way.

“When are you going to stop staring?”

“Oh— uh.”

You chuckled nervously before forcing a smile as he sat down in front of you.

“Let's continue where we let off.”

The sound of flipping pages reverberated across the room, your eyes locked onto his face. He would occasionally click his tongue at some parts of the book, guiding you through each equation as his face was close to yours; enough to feel his breath on your skin.

“—because its transformation φ is a symmetry and thus preserves the Lagrangian L and the action ,S=∫L”

Veritas ratio leaned closer to you, your hands touching as he got closer,

“Do you get it now?”

You didn't. You were too focused on his face, with every wrinkle of his brows, the tiniest details of his jaw and hell, even his eyes. How could you even focus? With his face inches away from yours? No way. The man right next to you stares at you, tapping his fingers on the mahogany table; he repeated himself.

“I said, do you get it now?”

Like the air was sucked out of your lungs, your last card was to lie but he was smart enough to not fall for that.

“Y-yes”

“Then what were we reviewing just now?”

He rolled his eyes hearing your mind blank out and confused ‘uhhs’ escaped your lips. You flinch from his harsh tone, as the cold stare turned into a glare.

“We should be reviewing the noether theorem, not my face.”

He made you solve equation after equation, his gaze not leaving you once as he crumpled your papers even after one minor mistake, “Idiot”, “Do it again.”, and “Are you really paying attention?” Constantly rang in your ears, you were not sure whether you asked for a tutoring session or a three hour insulting session from the revered professor.

“I'm sorry.”, He sighed at your visible frustration as you apologised through gritted teeth. He started to pity you when you struggled with just the terms at the next lesson. Was this theorem that hard? He dropped his pen and closed the book.

“Let’s end today’s session.”

A look of relief appeared on your face as he said those words, clearly, he’ll give you a break—

“Just read this book instead. It gives a more in-depth explanation”

— or not. He thrusted the book in your hands and put on his alabaster head, making you raise an eyebrow,

“What? You can’t seem to focus without this on”

You laughed an awkward chuckle while sliding the book in your satchel, a small squeak was heard when he stood up and moved his chair at his desk.

“Tomorrow again?”

“Sure.”

…

Veritas tapped his feet aggressively as time past by, you were late by 20 minutes, by now he would've left but for some reason he's feeling nice today that he'll wait for you.

The faculty room door slid open as light footsteps entered the room.

“Sorry ‘m late.”

You smelled different today. That would sound creepy to the average person but despite the tight alabaster sculpture that covers his face, he could smell your perfume and that he's gotten used to your scent by now.

“Did you wear something new?”

“Come again?”

He took one glance at you and shook his head and shifted his attention to the complex arithmetics on his codex.

“Hey, what did you mean by that?”

It was hard to ignore you as he tried to mute your voice but he let out an inaudible sigh before taking a quick glance at you.

“I meant your perfume, idiot.”

“No need to be rude.” you scoffed and placed down your bag at your desk.

He finds himself eager for a response as your right hand shuffled in your bag looking for the perfume bottle,

“I just tried something new.”

“Oh?”

He leans over the table to take a closer look at the bottle, inspecting it with a skeptical look one he's glad you cannot see through his sculpted head.

“It was a gift from one of our coworkers here”

There was a loud slamming sound that rang in the room when you dropped the materials Veritas made you read, it was a pain highlighting everything.

“From who?”

Why was he suddenly interested? He's not one to ask about anyone's affairs so suddenly, not that he'd care about something so miniscule about you like perfume yet you humour him.

“From Amir, the history prof guy?”

“I see.” For some reason, he finds himself feeling annoyed after hearing who you got it from. Why would you accept a gift from that idiot? He's a far better history professor, definitely? definitely.

Hours passed yet he couldn't concentrate. Not with that foul stench of your new perfume of yours.

Dr. Ratio scrunched his nose in disgust as he continued to guide you through each and every lesson, harsher than usual— you didn't know why.

“Wrong answer, 2 points.”

Veritas smacked your arm with his heavy codex and snatched your answer sheet, crumpling it and tossing it in the bin.

“Do it again.”

This fucker. You were starting to lose your resolve but you do not falter under his scrutinising gaze.

Again and again. Another 30 minutes yet your answers didn't seem ‘perfect’ enough.

Veritas clicked his tongue in annoyance as you failed to answer another simple question again

“Are you even paying attention?”

“If you didn't yell at me every minute I would've”

You continued to write more equations as he rolled his eyes at your reply, his eyes scanned your work and it was okay (atleast to his standards).

His eyes squinted, looking for any mistake but there was none, he gave up.

“50 points”, he spoke in a defeated tone.

“Just 50?”

“0 points then”

“Oh come on.”

It was hell getting tutored by him.

A/N: ITS TWO PARTS COS FUCK TUMBLR AND TOLD ME THERES A WORD LIMIT LOL. THE FULL FIC WAS LIKE 6.4K WORDS OR SHIT DAMN. ITS SO CRINGE ONG IMMA POST PART TWO TMRW GOD. IM LAGG>NG SO NAD RN HELP

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr fluff #dr ratio angst #dr ratio fluff #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #honkai star rail x you #veritas ratio

[spaceshipellie]

everything’s about you to me

ellie williams x reader

chapter one: things have changed

masterlist for other chapters (prologue) *✧･ﾟ: wc: 3.3k

summary: in the midst of the apocalypse, you and ellie find each other after you’ve both lost everything. what started out as a mere safety in numbers pairing, turns into something imperishable. however, after some time you get separated, leaving you both to believe the other is dead. four years later you find a commune in wyoming.

warnings: violence, mentions of guns and knives, killing infected and people, reader and ellie are both 19, 18+ mdni

author’s note: guys it’s going to get sad before it gets happy OOPS but i hope you enjoy chapter one! let me know what you think, comments & reblogs are always appreciated <3

♪ ‘cause the world could be burning, and all i’d be thinking, is “how are you doing, baby?”

˚ · • . ° .

You scraped your spoon along the bottom of the can, trying to get every last bit of food out of it. The air was cold and lonely as you sat cross-legged on the hard ground, leaves rustling each time you moved your foot trying to ease the pins and needles. The sky was dark slate and the wind whispered eerily through the treetops.

For the past month you had lucked out with living in a desolate bungalow in a rural part of Missouri. It was rundown and musty like all buildings were, with blood stains you couldn’t get out and broken windows you had to board up with wood, but it was a luxury in comparison to a lot of places. You had had a mattress to sleep on and there had been two sleeping bags stuffed down the back of the wardrobe. You imagined someone had hid them there for safe keeping but had never made it back home.

This cosy living situation was no more, however, as yesterday you had returned from a supply run to find the place ransacked. You had approached the building slowly and silently as soon as you had seen that the front door was open. You gripped your machete firmly in one hand, the other ghosting at your hip over the pistol in your holster. Judging by the open door and the knocked over cabinet in the entry way you assumed you would be dealing with people, not infected. You carefully stepped inside, keeping alert on all doors and windows around you. Your head snapped towards the sound of something falling into a bathtub.

You made your way across the room, glancing inside the open bedroom door as you passed. It was empty from what you could see but that didn’t mean you were going to let your guard down any time soon. You stood close to the wall, right outside the bathroom door, thinking the best thing to do was to wait until they came out and catch them off guard.

It had been three years since you had left the Pittsburgh QZ. You often thought about your dad and the way he sacrificed himself to let you live. In the beginning you cried a lot, the tears seemed to run without your control. Now, you didn’t necessarily feel any less sad, but you had learnt to deal with it. Your relationship with him had become strained when he started smuggling. It had turned him into something aggressive and scary. You could tell he tried not to be like that around you but when every corner of your life is threatening, it was hard not to be.

Living in a QZ didn’t eliminate you from having seen people die, tortured, hung, and beaten, but it wasn’t the same as out here. In there it was almost controlled, if you followed the rules you were fine. Here it was just a free for all. Any naivety you once had about killing infected and killing people was gone. You had always been a fast learner and now you understood why your parents had always pushed you to learn survival skills and how to fight.

You didn’t always get it then, when you were younger and had the security of the QZ, but you got it now and you could do it. Survive and fight. You had to, the only alternative was dying or losing your mind to this bloodthirsty disease.

You hated to dwell because if you did you would cry, and crying now only reminded you of how soft and gentle you still could be. It felt like there wasn't a place for that anymore, the world only demanded fear and violence. Your mom had always told you that you should never lose your heart or your head. Yes, you needed to be practical and make tough decisions but what was the point in that if you had lost hope and something to live for.

“You’ll be a shell of a person,” she would say and you would reiterate.

“That can never happen as long as i have you around to remind me.”

Then she would smile and you would feel safe, even if it was just in that moment. But as your shoulder pressed against the cracked wall, breath still and hands steady, your heart was pounding. Come on you fucker, you thought, get out.

As if by command, the doorknob slowly began to turn. You prepared yourself to grab them or swipe them with your machete when the door swung open. You jumped and you tried to swallow the scream that was coming out.

“Mom! Jesus fucking Christ, I could have killed you.”

“Shh,” she slapped a hand over your mouth and whispered, “they might still be here.”

You nodded, not daring to speak and you noticed her grip her knife. she pointed towards the open front door and you followed her lead. You could now hear distant voices but couldn’t make out what they were saying. You locked eyes with your mom before she peered around the doorway. She held up three fingers to indicate how many people she could see.

“Stay here,” she mouthed. You shook your head in confusion. She gave you a ‘promise me’ look before slipping out through the door. You held your position but prepared yourself to step in at any point. You flinched when you heard a squelch and a grunt. One down. The sputtering sound of a jugular being split open came next. That’s two.

You heard a male sounding grunt before hearing one that you knew was your mom. You poked your head round the door and saw a man with his arm wrapped tightly around her neck. Her hands scraped at his bandaged skin to try and pull him off. Your eyes immediately then darted down to her blood soaked knife on the ground and the gun the man had pointed at her head. You were automatically up on your feet, hand ripping your pistol out and firing it at the man’s head.

He went down and your mom fell to her knees, catching her breath. It didn’t take her long to recover her senses though and she grabbed her knife back and also reached for a gun, immediately firing it at a person you couldn't see as they were around the corner of the house. She kept firing and you used the corner of the wall as a shield before firing shots also. More people were encroaching and you could see they had at least one truck with them, probably full of ammo and supplies.

“There’s too many, let’s move,” your mom yelled.

You both started to sprint in the opposite direction past the front of the house, hoping that it would bide you a second of time before the group came around the corner. You didn’t even stop to fire anymore shots, you were just hellbent on getting out of there. Your heavy backpack thudded on your back as you ran, sharp corners of various items prodding you with the impact.

“Down here,” you called out and swerved around a clump of thick trees, hoping they would lose sight of you. Your legs ran you through to a wooded area and you didn’t stop until you were convinced you had lost them and felt like your body was ready to vomit up a lung. You bent over, hands resting on your knees as you tried to catch your breath.

“You okay?” your voice came out hoarse.

“Yeah, yeah,” your mom, clearly struggling to breathe also, chucked the words out as if she could barely understand what she was saying.

Your mouth was insanely dry, your tongue felt tacky as it hit the roof of your mouth. You pulled a water bottle out of your bag and took a sip before offering it to your mom, who gladly accepted.

“We’re gonna have to ration this,” she said, twisting the cap back on. You huffed in acknowledgment. You had a couple tins of food and bottles of water between you, but not much. Most of it was dead and gone back in the bungalow. Which is why you were now, the next evening, sitting on the forest floor, scraping that stupid tin of beans for everything it was worth.

“Fucking raiders,” you grumbled, throwing the can to the ground.

“We’ll find somewhere else,” your mom tried to reassure you.

You grumbled but nodded, wanting to make sure the reassurance was appreciated. The last three years had been hard. Your mind often wandered back to that night you escaped. The way your body went stone cold at the guard’s voice. The noise of the everlasting gunshots still felt like shards of glass passing through your ears. The sight of the first lot of sticky blood soaking your dad’s shirt whilst he still stood tall and ready made you feel sick. Nothing in the world can ever prepare you for losing a loved one so suddenly. Nothing else compares to that invasive reminder that your life is so fragile. How can someone be there one minute and not the next.

“It’ll be okay,” your mom must have noticed the wide spacy look in your eye as she put a hand over yours.

“Nothing ever seems okay.”

“We’re still here, aren't we?”

“Yeah but…” you then realised you were nearly in tears as you sniffled.

“Oh honey,” your mum said, moving to sit closer beside you and she pulled you in tight, rubbing your arm. You could feel her heartbeat against your cheek.

“I miss dad, I miss my room, I miss Amy, I miss everything…I’m just so tired.”

“I know, sweetheart. Me too.”

“I just–why,” you wept, “why did he have to…we could all still be together.”

She started stroking your hair, letting you continue.

“It hurts too much to think about. I wish I could forget.”

In the pause before your mom spoke you could hear how she was fighting to hold back sobs.

“Oh I’m so sorry. so so sorry.”

“What for?”

“For not protecting you like I should have.”

“Mom–”

“No, I should have tried harder to keep you safe and I’m sorry I couldn’t do that for you.”

“You’ve always protected me,” your throat hurt to speak, “I wouldn't be here if it wasn’t for you.”

Hot tears trickled down her neck and one wedged itself between where your skin pressed against her chest.

“I’ll always look after you, baby.”

You held each other for a while. The bitter air pinched your hands so you wiggled your fingers to reignite some life. Pulling away, you and your mom shared a soft smile. Even during the worst times, you were always able to put a smile on each other’s faces. If you were being completely honest, it was the main thing that had kept you going all this time. No matter how bad it got, all you had to do was look up and she was there.

“I’ll take the first watch,” you said.

“You sure?”

“Yes, get some sleep.”

“Okay,” she said softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You watched as she pushed around at her backpack, trying to make it acceptable enough to use as a pillow. You didn’t have any sleeping bags or blankets now and despite it being cold it wasn’t dangerously so. Your layers of a long sleeve top underneath a t-shirt, jeans, jacket and converses would have to do. Besides, it wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last time you’d have to sleep like this.

You leaned against a tree, knees bent, knife in hand. Your eyes travelled up to the glowing moon. When every other aspect of the world was rapid and formidable, capable of drastic change at any point, something consistent and pure like the moon was a precious thing. You couldn’t count on much, but you could count on it being there every night, shining like everything was fine.

Your mom shook you awake the next morning after she had taken the second watch. You blinked a few times and rubbed your neck which felt stiff as you sat up. considering your lack of supplies, you both agreed it was a good idea to go in search of some and keep moving, hopefully you would be able to find a safe-ish place to camp out.

You had lived in that bungalow for long enough to know the area. That did mean that you had scavenged all the nearby supplies already but at least you knew which direction to head in to get out of these woods and far away from the raiders. Your feet hurt as you trudged along.

You walked for miles before eventually finding a diner off the side of the road. You hadn’t found many supplies along the way but you had found a baseball bat covered in nails beside an already dead infected. You both approached the diner slowly, in preparation for anything you might come up against. Sure enough, you heard that familiar wail.

“Sounds like there’s infected in there,” you said quietly.

“Only sounds like one or two, we’ll be okay,” your mom assured.

You readied yourself with your weapons and moved closer to the door. It was made of glass and you could clearly see two runners in there. Studying the size of the diner you thought it would be best to open the door and draw them outside to kill them, giving yourself a wider space to move in. Perfect, you thought as you saw an abandoned coke bottle on the ground. You picked it up and eased the door open, praying it didn’t make too much noise. You then threw the bottle away from the door and ran a few steps back, listening to the screech they made as they sprung to life by the noise. The direction you had thrown the bottle in meant their backs were to you so you and your mom could sneak up behind and stealth kill them. You grabbed the bat and swung it at one of their heads meanwhile your mom took out the other.

“See? easy,” your mom laughed.

“Sure,” you laughed too.

You both made your way towards the diner and rummaged through every last crevice for signs of supplies. You managed to find some tape and a few bullets. Not much but not bad, you thought and stuffed them in your bag. The diner’s decor was mostly red and white. The red masking the smears of blood on the walls and the white highlighting it as clear as day. A crumpled, dusty menu laid on the counter and you picked it up.

“Hmm, $7 for a burger, and an extra dollar if you want cheese,” you scoffed, scanning the menu, “all the food in the world and you had to pay for it.”

“Yeah, I’d pay $20 for a cheeseburger right now,” your mom quipped, scanning the counter for anything else that might be useful.

You put the menu back and opened a cupboard that was situated above your head on the wall. A clutter of silver pots and pans fell out, your hands desperately trying to catch them but they all hit the floor with a shrill bang. a clicking noise followed.

“Oh no,” you breathed.

You barely had any time to process what was about to happen when three clickers burst through the diner door. You quickly made an attempt to distance yourself as much as possible, reaching for a gun and firing at one of them. It hit but it didn’t stop coming. You heard your mom firing her gun also but you didn’t dare take your eyes off the two coming for you. You fired again and it thrashed but still wasn't dead. Your heart was pounding and with a clammy hand you grabbed a sugar bowl and threw it at a far away wall. All three clickers snapped and huddled to the sound of smashing china. You made a run for the door grabbing your mom’s arm as you did so.

In the haste, her bag got stuck on the door. She yanked it free but the seconds lost meant that the clickers were attracted to your presence again. You both ran behind a car, hoping the extra distance would make them lose you, but it didn’t. You both fired your guns and one eventually dropped dead. You noticed your mom pick up a rock and throw it at one of them, stunning it, hopefully giving her enough time to kill it but the slight distraction meant the other had a chance to grab you.

“Fuck!” you screamed, using every piece of strength you had to hold it off, its gnawing yellow teeth only centimetres away from your face. Your back was pressing into the side of the car. You couldn’t reach for any kind of weapon because it would kill you before you managed to. Your eyes squeezed shut thinking any second now your skin would be ripped apart when suddenly the weight of it disappeared, followed by silence. You hesitantly opened your eyes, expecting to see your mom but instead you saw a girl with blood splattered across her face and a dead clicker at your feet.

“I–um, thank you,” you couldn’t string a sentence together as you took in the sight before you.

“Are you okay?” your mom rushed to you, hands cupping your face, “are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine, I think,” you mumbled in shock.

Your mom moved to your side and you looked up at the girl who was wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. She looked about your age and had a full backpack, accompanied by a bow, a shotgun, a pistol, a metal crowbar and a switchblade which seemed to be what she had just used as she was wiping it on her jeans.

“Thank you,” you said again, not sure if your words earlier had even been coherent.

“It’s,” she waved her hand in dismissal, “no big deal.”

It very much was a big deal, you thought. This stranger had just saved your life. But she didn’t seem like the type to accept too many pleasantries so you left it. There was a moment of awkward silence. What now? Do you give her your name? Do you part ways? It looked like she was on her own which made you feel sad, despite not knowing anything about her. Then your mom introduced herself.

“Ellie,” the girl said in return, eyes looking back and forth between you and your mom, who nudged your arm.

“Y/n,” you said.

“Are you by yourself?” your mom asked. Ellie paused before answering, scratching the back of her head.

“Um, yeah I am.”

Your mom looked at you but you couldn’t detect what look it was that she had on her face. You furrowed your eyebrows at her before she turned her attention back to Ellie.

“Did you want to come with us?”

Ellie looked a bit taken aback by the offer.

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere,” your mom shrugged, “anywhere we can.”

Ellie nodded to herself, clearly weighing up her options. That’s the thing about this life, you didn’t have many.

“Okay,” she finally said.

“Great,” your mom smiled warmly at her. Normally she wasn’t this trusting and you found it strange that she seemed to let her guard down around Ellie so quickly. But then Ellie had just saved her daughter’s life so your mom probably assumed she wasn’t the rampaging murderous type.

Ellie looked over at you and you realised you hadn’t said anything. you gave her a small smile and it was the first time you’d properly studied her face. Freckles fell across her cheeks like stars and the softness of it contrasted with the cut in her eyebrow and bruise on her cheek. You also couldn’t help but notice a bandage on her right forearm.

“We better move,” your mom gestured, “let’s keep going this way.”

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i’m not comfortable tagging ageless blogs incase you’re a minor so if you wanted to be tagged and weren’t, that’s why.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams #ellie williams fic #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #ellie x you #tlou2 #the last of us #tlou fic #ellie tlou #everything’s about you to me #ellie williams x female reader #spaceshipellie fics #ellie williams fics #ellie fic

[brittanymoura]

her smile

azriel x reader

summary: Y/N is having a rough time, Azriel doesn’t know how to help her... until he does (angst, friends to lovers, Archeron!reader).

word count: 3k

warnings: grief, despair

a/n: I swear I have not abandoned ‘the heir & the emissary’. I’ve been going through some personal stuff lately and haven’t had it in me to write lately until this idea sparked my inspiration. I’ll be getting back to that story soon.

————

The corners of his mouth ticked up as he looked around the room and saw nothing but smiles. It was a cold night in Velaris and the inner circle was gathered at the townhouse enjoying a relaxing night together, filled with liquor and laughter. It had become increasingly rare that everyone was able to get together like this.

“I can’t believe Y/N’s finally coming home tomorrow. Definitely wasn’t expecting her mission to keep her away for so long.” Mor stated, gaining the rooms full attention.

“It’ll be awesome to have her back, it’s been a bit lonely without my partner in crime. I’m excited.” Cassian exclaimed, “though probably not quite as excited as Az.” A smirk overtook his face as he turned toward his brother.

Azriel scoffed, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, but was ultimately unable to keep the smile from spreading across his face.

He had missed her terribly. He missed her infectious laughter, her shining eyes and the way she never failed to make him feel seen. But most of all, he missed her bright smile. The one she saved just for him. The kind of smile that lit up a room and always reached her eyes. It never failed to make his heart flutter. From the moment he met her, the eldest Archeron sister had whittled her way into his heart and had quickly become his closest confidant. The two had become inseparable and the way she so easily slipped into the empty spaces of his life, making him finally feel whole, never ceased to amaze him. Despite the trauma she had suffered, she always remained the bright sunshine capable of lighting up his dark world.

“Yes, well none of us expected the clean up efforts to go on for quite so long,” Rhys handed a freshly filled glass to Azriel as he took a seat on the couch beside him, pulling Feyre into his lap. “When I originally asked her to lend her gifts to aid those in need, I only thought she’d be gone a few weeks. Certainly not a few months.”

Before anyone else could speak on the topic, the air seemed to ripple around them and Lucien stepped out of nothingness. He wore an uncharacteristically grim expression and his hair seemed disheveled, as though he has been nervously running his fingers through it. Azriel was immediately on edge.

“I’m glad you’re all here because I need to talk to you,” he stated.

“Lucien. What brings you here tonight? I thought you were meant to be picking up Y/N?” Rhys raised one brown in question.

“That’s what I need to talk to you about. She’s-” Lucien set out a long sigh. He turned to the cabinet and pulled out a glass, quickly popping open the nearest bottle and filling the it. “She’s… well I’m not really sure how to explain it.”

“Okay, you seem stressed. Take a breath and then tell us what has you so bothered. Is Y/N okay?” Feyre sat up in Rhys’ lap, the tension of the room beginning to escalate. Her oldest sister has always been her anchor, keeping her grounded. Through thick and thin, any problem Feyre had she always knew Y/N would be there to help her through it. For as close as Nesta and Elain had been, her and Y/N had been thick as thieves.

“Physically? Yes. Mentally? Not even close.” Lucien exhaled and his shouldered sagged.

Azriel sat up straighter, his shadows beginning to move around him in an agitated fashion. His heart rate picked up and sweat started to gather on his palms. “What do you mean?” He asked, voice rougher than usual.

“I had gone there tonight with the intention of helping her gather her belongings and prepare for the trip home but I barely even made it through the door when the head healer pulled me aside. She said Y/N’s healing had some… unforeseen side effects. Essentially, from what she could gather, every time Y/N uses her energy to heal, she absorbs the energy of those around her to create a balance. In normal circumstances this would probably be fine but doing it in the healers tents of an old battle field… well she’s been surrounded by nothing by grief and death all these months. She’s been taking it all in and now…” His sentence trailed off. He ran is hands through his hair, staring down at his feet.

“And now?” Cassian asked. The room was so quiet even a human could hear a pin drop.

“She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t really do much of anything but stare off into nothing. And her eyes, Gods, her eyes. They’re so lifeless, it’s like an empty shell of who she was.” Lucien felt a shiver run through him at the thought of her eyes, the way she had looked at him when he saw her for the first time. “I’m going back tomorrow morning to pick her up, but I had to let you all know so you aren’t shocked when you see her.”

Azriel froze, back stiff and eyes wide. His shadows were moving in a frenzy around him. His grip tightened on the glass he was holding as his knuckles turned white. That couldn’t be right.

Nobody spoke, the room a silent stillness. No one knew what to say.

————

The inner circle gathered around the dining room table. A low rumble of conversation consumed them, much more tame than what would usually be expected at a family dinner. The tension could be cut with a knife. Each member sat rigidly in their seat, unsure of what to expect upon her arrival.

Suddenly the sound of the front door opening could be heard reverberating through the house and the soft sound of footsteps followed in its wake. Azriel took a deep breath as his eyes connected with Mor who sat directly across from him. She gave him a tight-lipped smile. His heart was racing and sweat was beading on the back of his neck. His shadows were restless too, swarming him in a fit of nervousness.

Lucien appeared first, a small smile gracing his lips. “Hello everyone,” he stated as he sat down in the empty seat beside Elain. As he sat down, everyone’s eyes moved the body which had been previously hidden behind him. And there she was.

Y/N’s stood in the dining room entry way, straight as a board with her hands clasped behind her back. Her frame appeared thinner than he remembered and even her hair seemed to lack its usual liveliness. But in the end, it was her eyes that caused his heart to clench. They were empty and unseeing, as though she were staring through them.

He stood from his seat, the silent tension beginning to get to him. Nobody spoke. He pulled out the empty seat next to him and the sound caused her head to turn in his direction. Their gazes met and for moment, they simply stared at each other. Then she began to move as she swiftly and silently she settled into the seat beside him. Still, no words were spoken.

“We’re so happy you’re home!” Feyre exclaimed, allowing a large smile to spread across her face. Y/N turned her head in Feyre’s direction but said nothing. No smile graced her lips, no light sparked in her eyes.

Nothing.

“Remember us? Your sisters. You’re not even going to say ‘hello’ to us?” Nesta spoke up, irritation beginning to creep up her spine.

Nothing.

“I missed you Sunshine,” Cassian tried his hand. A warm smile upon his face as he looked at her. “Turns out, these losers aren’t nearly as fun to prank without you there to assist me.”

Nothing.

Azriel simply stared at her. His eyes were locked onto the side of her head as his heart began to fill with dread. His stomach felt as though it had been filled with lead. He reach out and grabbed her hand beneath the table as it sat in her lap.

Please. He begged. Please react. Do something, anything. He prayed to any Gods that may be listening.

Still, nothing.

Cassian looked across the table to his brother and winced. Through all the trials and tribulations they had faced, he had never seen Azriel look as distressed as he did now. His body was stiff with tension and even his shadows were pulled in tight. A pained expression adorned his face and his eyes were wide with horror, tears gathering along his lower lashes. He would not take his eyes off her. Despite all attempts, Y/N remained unmoving, blankly staring at the wooden table before her. All the while, Az steadfastly refused to let go of her hand. He had no idea if she even knew he was there but he hoped that maybe, in some small way, he was providing her some comfort.

————

And that’s how the weeks carried on. No emotions, no speech. Y/N remained as she was, floating through each day like a ghost.

The inner circle got to work.

Each person took turns to dig through archives and books looking for any sign of how to fix it. Rhys reached out to Helion in the hope that maybe, somewhere among his massive library, they would find a solution.

Azriel spent every waking moment he could either sitting beside her and speaking in soft tones or scouring countless books. There had to be an answer, if only he could find it.

Come to my office. Azriel heard his brothers voice in his mind and he let out a small sigh, shutting the book before him. Another waste.

Upon entering Rhys’ office he found both his brothers already seated. They each gave him a small smile as he took a seat beside them. Rhys leaned forward with his arms on his desk and his fingers crossed before him.

“I spoke with Helion about the situation and he believes he understands what is happening. Though we have yet to find a solution.”

Azriel stared across the desk at his brother, silently prompting him to continue.

“He believes that she’s burnt out much of her ability to heal and replaced that empty well with death, despair and grief. It had become such a common occurrence for her, that her body no longer registers those things as separate emotions. Essentially her baseline has been reprogrammed to those feelings.”

“So, she’s feeling grief and despair in a never-ending loop at all moments of the day? To the extent that it’s become her new normal?” Azriel spoke in a voice softer, sadder, than either Rhys or Cassian had ever heard before.

Rhys let out a small sigh, “essentially yes. We don’t have a set solution yet but Helion believes that if we can find a way to help her expel those emotions and surround her with comfort, we may be able to reverse it.”

Azriel’s eyes clenched tightly shut and his head dropped low, supported by his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. He hunched over as his shoulders began to shake violently. Both Cassian and Rhys shot up from their seats and made their way over to their brother. They crouched down beside him on either side and brought comforting hands up to his back.

“She’s always been there for me. When I’m feeling lost and alone she’s alway been able to pull me out of that darkness. This time she needs me and I can’t even help her. I don’t know how to fix this,” Azriel sobbed. “I can feel her withering away. Help me. Please. I don’t know what to do for her.”

His brothers locked eyes over his back and they shared a sad look. They had never heard Azriel beg before, had never heard him plead for help. Not like this.

“We’ll find a way to help her. I promise you, we will not stop until we find a way to make it right,” Rhys swore to him.

————

Surrounding her with love and support was the first plan set in motion. Even still, there was no progress. Mor took her shopping, Nesta brought her to spend time with Gwyn and Emerie. Even Elain tried to get her to garden alongside her. Nothing worked. She sat in silence, eyes blank.

The whole inner circle had once again gathered at the townhouse for another night in. Y/N was settled on the couch with her back pressed against the armrest and her knees pulled up to her chest. Her head was leaning against the back of the couch as she stared silently out the front window. The others were scattered around the living room, some taking part in a rowdy card game and others chatting quietly but Azriel couldn’t focus on anything but her. His eyes never strayed from her form, hoping against all odds that somehow she would respond to anything.

Rhys was sat next to him on the couch adjacent to the one Y/N sat upon. He leaned his head closer to his brother to hear him speak.

“I’m sending Amren to Day court tomorrow in the hopes she can go through some more of the books in the library there. Hopefully we get some good news soon.” Azriel nodded slowly; he wasn’t hopeful. He took another sip of his drink, and allowed himself a moment of calm. A moment to relax. And then it happened.

His shadows exploded out of him at the first sign of his hold on them loosening. He’d been keeping them so tightly wound in an effort to not startle her that as soon as his hold on them slackened they shot out towards her. His shadows swarmed her, covering Y/N completely and sheltering her from the world. He stood up quickly, ready to pull them back into him and apologize for their behavior. Before he could make a move though, he heard a small noise. Everyone went silent.

There it was again. A small, wet noise. A sniffle. Then, a hand shot out from the thick darkness, fingers making a grabbing motion.

“Azriel?” That voice. He knew that voice. His whole body froze, shock taking over him. “Azriel, please.” He moved with swiftness, reaching into the darkness and scooping her up, sitting on the couch and pulling her into his lap. He felt her thin fingers latch onto his shirt, holding on as though he were the only thing tethering her to this world. And then she began to sob. Loud, keening wails escaped her as she buried her face into his neck.

Nobody moved for fear of ruining this moment. It was what she needed, to expel these emotions.

“I-I want to go home,” she pleaded and she had barely even finished her request when they were swallowed up by darkness and carried off into the night.

A moment of silence passed over the group before Mor spoke up. “Where is he taking her? This is her home, she lives here.”

Cassian let out a huff, a little smile resting on his lips. “They’re in his room. She always used to call it home. I’m not sure how I seem to be the only who’s ever noticed but she basically lived in there with him.”

“What? Since when?” Feyre asked.

“For a long time. She always called this the townhouse or just ‘the house’ but his room, she always referred to it as home. From almost the beginning she started staying in there. They’d stay up late into the night talking. And then, slowly, her stuff just started migrating in there. If you don’t believe me, go look in her room. It’s barren.” Cassian smiled, widely this time. It thrilled him to know he’d been the only one observant enough to pick up on this fact.

“Do you think they’re like, together? Is that why he’s been taking this so hard? I just thought they were really close friends.” Feyre asked again, brows furrowing.

“Honestly, darling… I’m pretty positive they’re mates.” Feyre gasped.

“He told you that?!”

“No, not directly… but he didn’t have too. He was upset about the situation the other night and he said he could feel her withering away. I don’t think he even realized he said it, but he told us he could feel her.” And at that, smiles spread across each of their faces. Finally, they thought, the two people who deserved that kind of never ending, all-encompassing love, more than anyone were finally receiving it.

————

Azriel and Y/N reemerged in his bedroom. Silence surrounding them and only the sound of her short gasping breaths filling the space. He kept her tucked against him as he sat back on his bed against the headrest. She sat sideways between his legs, one of his arms wrapped around her waist and the other buried in her hair. He kept her head pressed close to him, his lips against her forehead.

“I’m here, love. I’m here for you.” He murmured against her skin, his eyes falling shut as salty tears ran down his cheeks and dripped off his chin into her hair. This was how they spent the remainder of their night; wrapped up in each other. They clung to each other as though the world might tear them apart at any moment.

“Thank you for being with me. I could hear you there with me, feel you with me, everyday. Not just when you were sitting with me but all the time. I can always feel you, and it helped more than I can ever truly tell you.” She whispered to him. She pulled back from where she had been tucked into the crook of his neck to look at him and felt a hard pull in her chest. And then a resounding snap.

Azriel gasped audibly as he stared down at her, wide eyed. A grin took over his face and he tucked her gently back against him. “I’m so happy I could help you in any small way like you’ve always done for me. And I will continue to be here for you, to love and cherish you always. For however long and any way you’ll have me.” She pulled back from him once more.

And then she smiled at him. Big and bright and stunningly beautiful. She was smiling at him once again.

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acotar fanfiction