#(i didn't wanted something too formal for him for once ...) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovetei · 10 months

Note

AaAaaaHHHHHH I loved your “Things that the citizens of the Devildom witnessed that will prove that this Human have the characters at their beck and call” post lol :P

Could you plssssss do it w the side characters? Especially barbatos I love him. He’s my bbg lol

Sure, I'm actually just waiting for someone to request it :P

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Things that the citizens of the Devildom witnessed that will prove that this Human have the characters at their beck and call

Versions: Demon Brothers, Side Characters

Warnings: Slight yandere themes (Barbatos, Simeon)

Links: Masterlist

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DIAVOLO

He doesn't actually like going around

Sure, it's mentioned a lot of times that he want to visit this or that

But only if you or the others are willing to come with him

Otherwise it's as boring as doing paperworks

He won't even come out to meet important personalities

They need to come to the castle themselves because there's no damn way Diavolo will actually use effort to meet people he's actually not too close to.

But when it's you?

Damn, you better bet the moment you told him "Hey, Diavolo... I'm kind of stuck in the plaza and the brothers are surely too busy to pick me up so can you send me a driver..?"

How dare you ask for a driver?

When he's literally right there?

The moment the words "I'm kind of stuck in the plaza-" He's already in his most luxurious car starting it to get his future spouse

Hell, he'll even bought a flower before getting to you

And you two will make a scene

And you two will surely make it to the news tomorrow

He'll arrive to the place in something quite formal yet still casual

With a bouquet of flowers in his hands

Like the perfect future husband he is

And open the door for you to get in

And if you're asking why Barbados didn't do anything against him...

Well, he's got a few mouse friends there for help.

Anyways, enjoy the ride

And sign the marriage papers

Please

BARBATOS

His power holds such an important role for Diavolo

He's such a powerful "demon"

It would actually be quite nice if you were just a little more closer to him

But if you are...

He's willing to use this oh so important power for you like it's just a mere toy

You fell on the stairs and someone saw it? Reversed.

You failed a test? Reversed.

You made the wrong decision? Reversed.

If Diavolo actually saw how much he's rambling the time lines just for you he'll go insane.

Hell, he'll pass out when he knows that Barbatos is letting you use his power like he's some hourglass!

But Barbatos knows you

And he likes you

He knows that someone like you won't actually take advantage of his power like that

And would always choose to do things without it

He knows that he's your last resort

And he loves it

He loves that fact that you treasure his power so much

That you treasure him so much...

His power might seem to be the most important tool for you among the other abilities the brothers and the others gave you

And so that basically puts him above the food chain

And he'll stay there

He'll make sure you will view him as important as right now

For all internity

SIMEON

He treasures himself and the people around him so much

But mostly himself

Because that's what father told them to do

He treat his body like the temple of god

He'll walk around the Devildom with pride in himself

Not too much but not too less

He knows his worth

So when he met you

Such a wonderful human

He will also teach you how to put pride in yourself

And always be proud on what you're doing

And then he'll start to get drawn to you

The body he oh so treasured now treated like a toy for you

He once valued naturality but maybe using this makeup you love so much will make him appear more attractive?

"Oh, Simeon? Did you use some foundation and mascara?! That looks so good on you!"

Yes, MC.

Just look at him

It all started with dressing up more for you

Then it escalated

The body he once didn't let anyone touch is now open for you

Just for you

Hold his hand

Grab his waist

And use his shoulders

Ha...

God won't punish him for a little touch now would he..?

SOLOMON

He's shady and he knows it

It's been so long and he's been around may too many people

He doesn't know who to trust anymore

And who to be honest with

He always have to keep himself alarmed and ready

Because that's what the past taught him to do

And that's what the present is telling him to do

Oh, another human?

How nice...

He just hope you don't end up like him

Overly conscious

You know what... He'll help you

He doesn't want a human to fall to the same hole he is right now

He thought that he'll be the one to guide you

He didn't know that you'll guide him...

And now he's willing to do anything for you

He's willing to follow you anywhere

He's willing to give you anything

He's willing to be your loyal servant

Just like Barbatos, he's willing to use everything he have just keep you by his side

Whether it be human, demon, angel connections, money or power

It can be anything and he'll give it you

To the human who showed him the light once again.

MEPHISTOPHELES

He's a private person

That's why he has a whole ass room reserved just for him in the academy

It can't help but have his blood boiling whenever one of the brothers barging into his room unannounced

The sense of nervousness won't leave him whenever Diavolo came to visit him

And the mixed feelings when the other exchange students decided to drop by

But when you enter his room

The light started to get a little darker

And the atmosphere turned into something heavier yet more comforting feeling

Have you drank anything you're not supposed to drink human?

What's this atmosphere around you human?

Did you... Cast a spell on him human?

To be honest

It'll be better for him to know that you cast a love spell on him

Than for him to consciously know that he's falling for you

Falling for the human others already love

But he can't help but say "Why don't you stay a little longer, MC?" Whenever you drop by.

"You can stay and do your assignments or whatever here. I have a vast collection of books you might need."

It might be selfish but why don't you stay a little longer?

Stay inside this private room with him

And only him.

RAPHAEL

He's known as a hitman

And his job down here is to probably spy on Simeon or Lucifer

But this weird human caught his eyes...

Maybe he should spy on you too?

Hmm... Why are you so different?

Are you the premium version of human?

But either way...

He saw how tired you were after each day ends

It looks like this place have sucked any living hope and energy out of you

So he took this as a problem and decided to come up with a solution

He decided to help you run around errands and even take some of your work loads

Gosh... You're so busy

So tiring

Sometimes you two will just find yourself in the dark and unused alley of the school

Sitting on the floor with each others head on your shoulder

You'd mutter "So tired..." And he will pat your head to help you at least have a few minutes of nap between work.

And before he knows it

It became a habit for the two of you

Instead of going to the dark alley you decided to take some nap in the cafeteria and even on empty classrooms

The Brothers will not found you two scattered all over the academy sleeping on each other

And before he even noticed

Whenever the slightest danger occurs he's already jumping in front of you and pushing you back as he shield your fragile body

THIRTEEN

She's such a trouble maker

And you're an expert in keeping trouble makers in line

And Thirteen will make sure she don't follow that line!

She keeps on pulling pranks

Traps here

Traps there

Gosh will she ever stop

Then one day you got so busy that your usual scolding for her didn't happened

Not even once

She felt empty without your nagging voice I guess?

But that doesn't matter!

At least, now, no one will stop her from doing what she loves!

No one...

Will stop her?

But who will scold her when she's about to do an extremely dangerous prank where she might get hurt?

Who will treat her wounds when she accidentally scratched her with one of her schemes?

It's been just a few days without your nagging voice and she's already at your doorstep in the middle of a night on a weekend asking

"Are you ignoring me?"

"Why aren't you talking to me anymore?"

"Are you tired of me now..?"

It feels like she'll start crying if she says anything more so you just denied everything and said that your schedule have been fully packed

Even saying that you're a new member of the council so you became more busy

She felt so embarrassed after that

But she started to treasure your relationship more

And maybe...

Waiting in the line is not that big of a deal if it's for you...

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jakedoxxenvasion · 13 days

Text

dr.lee

fellow doctor heeseung! × resident doctor y/n!

warning: MDNI!, unprotective sex (whops) kissing and more?

not in a million years you would think you will do something like this, with someone that you adore so much.. someone that you look up to as a senior to you, someone that you met everyday and formally call him by his surname instead of..

"h-heeseung!"your sinful lips moaning for his name, "sshhh, you want them to hear you?"immediately you bite your bottom lips once getting that warn from him, he peck your lips and smile. "didn't expect you to be so obedient to me, love. such a good girl."you humming to everything he said to you, trying to not moan out his name.

you know what you did is wrong because you're just a doctor resident and he's your senior doctor, it's totally wrong but you couldn't stop him. not that you can't but you don't want to, having him pounding his cock so deep into you in the small store room in the middle of your night shift, the clock strike 3 in the morning as much as you remember when he call for you to help him earlier.

it's all start with you helping him with sorting out papers, and files of patients records and ending up finding yourself here in this room with him doing things that you could ever imagine in your right mind. "just a little more, does it hurt you, hm?"you shake your head, no he doesn't hurt you but the pleasure is too much.

heeseung smile when he kiss your lips, hips still rutting into you. he could feel your wall hugging him tight at each thrust he make, sending him over the cloud but he know that he cannot be loud. "s-shit, you're so fucking tight, love."he let out a low groan, watching how you try to control your own voices and somehow he like the way you did.

liking the idea of doing this in secret, liking the idea that there's an outside world that you try so hard it keep it out, not wanting people to find out about what the two of you did in this room. "fuck- heeseung i'm close ah-"he shut you up with his lips, kissing you so deep, cock still pounding in and out of you.

your fingers tangle with his hair, he push you against the wall, "cum for me, love."he whisper those once he pull away from the kiss, like a cue you could feel the feeling at the pit of your stomach rushing down. heeseung smile, letting you rode out all your orgasm with you weakly leaning on his shoulder, doesn't have much energy left in you.

he thrust into you once.. twice then he pull out from you, only to shot his loads on your stomach. "oh fuck."you watch those thick white liquid spurting out from his cock, messily on your skin. somehow, heeseung has those proud smile after everything that he had done with you. you look at him and he smirk, he peck your lips before he slowly put you down to make you stand on the ground.

"so fucking perfect, love."he caressed your cheek softly then continue to kiss your lips again. when he pull away, he stare into your eyes, "doctor.."your soft voice call for him, which make him chuckle. "that was not what you called me earlier, ms.y/n."your cheeks immediately turn red as his remarks, he continue to caressed your cheek as he stare into your eyes.

but then heeseung take a few step back, you watch him grab a box of tissue at the top shelf behind him and he rip it open before he help you clean up and get dress again. "so.. do i pretend like nothing happen earlier or-" "unless you want more, you can always come to my office, love."he interrupt your words then wink at you, blush immediately creep up your face.

you slowly nod your head, he pat your head then he open the door after grabbing a random file on the shelf. "later, make sure you keep everything in place again, okay? ms.y/n."he said, know it very well he did that on purpose, you follow him from behind after you fix your white coat. "sure, dr."

heeseung turn to look at you just to give you a wink before he walk away.

should i write a longer version of this? cause i kind of like the plot lol

#enhypen hard hours #enhypen heeseung #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #heeseung

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patricia-taxxon · 2 months

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Attempting to extend sympathy to my younger self via self insert fiction.

"Hello there!"

I looked up from the lunchbox on my lap towards the source of the sudden loud voice, standing four or so feet away from me was a… dog? He stood on two legs, an eager look on his face. I looked around, none of the other kids were nearby.

"Hello?" I said back, a little confused.

"My name is Paul! What is your name?" The dog replied, both in an oddly formal tone of voice and… loudly, even though he was close enough to grab.

"My name's Bradley." I said, and went back to my PB&J.

"How old are you, Bradley?" asked Paul, in that same babyish but too-formal tone, almost like a robot.

"I'm eleven." I replied, without looking up.

"I'm ten!" He said back. "Nice to meet you!"

Several seconds passed, and he didn't move or look away. I realized he was waiting for me to say something.

"Nice to meet you too, Paul." His tail twitched as I said that, but he quickly moved his paw behind him to hold it in place until it settled. "Sorry," He said, before asking another question. "What do you like to do?"

His awkward storybook-speaking was offputting to me, but no one ever talked to me at recess, especially not completely out of nowhere like this. I answered his question, "I like playing Smash Bros," but I don't know why I thought of that first. I didn't really feel like finishing my lunch, I started to pack it away for later.

"What's that?" He said back. Was that a joke? He looked curious.

"Uh… it's a game, you can play as different Nintendo characters and fight each other." I waited for him to respond, but he was still listening. "You can uh… you can be Sonic."

"That's really cool!" He said. "Can I sit next to you?"

"Hm? Oh, okay, I guess." I replied. The dog's tail instantly sprung to life, and he once again moved his paw to stop it. "Sorry," he said, and moved swiftly to sit on the bench next to me, a bit closer than I thought he would. He looked up towards me like he wanted me to keep talking, or… it looked like he was looking at the top of my head, I wasn't sure.

Instead of explaining Smash Bros anymore, I asked a question myself to take the pressure off. "What do you like to play?" Paul blinked and his ears perked up. "I like Marble Blast Gold!" He almost yelped out, before drawing back. "But… shhh, don't tell anyone. I'm not supposed to talk about it."

That didn't make any sense. "Huh? What does that mean?" I asked.

"It's the best game ever, you like… you roll, and you have to… like, you have to get to the end. Uh." He stammered. "But I'm not… I'm not allowed to play it anymore, my teachers said I'm too obsessed."

"That's bullshit." I spat.

"Yeah!!" He yelled, leaping up onto his haunches, tail wagging up a storm, until he noticed again, and pressed his paw to stop it. "Sorry." he said.

"Why are you doing that?" I asked.

"Doing what?"

"Stopping your tail." I pointed to his butt. "Aren't you like… a dog, or something?"

Paul cocked his head like I asked him a really stupid question. "Yeah? Why." He said, carefully.

We stared at each other for another couple of seconds. I didn't know how to word my questions without sounding awkward. "I've met a lot of… dogs, and wagging tails is pretty normal." I felt insane saying it out loud.

"Well I'm special!" Paul beamed. "I can talk, I can stand on two legs!" He got up and stood upon the bench, barely reaching eye level with me. "I'm in a class for special dogs only." He bumped a fist on his chest.

"Oh… okay." I said, not really understanding. I guess the rules were different for dogs that talk. It felt weird watching him do that though, and saying sorry for it too. "Are special dogs… not supposed to wag?" I asked.

"Yeah. No wagging." He replied. "'Cus humans don't wag."

"But humans don't have tails in the first place." I looked behind myself to check. "So you don't actually know if humans would wag or not, right?" I was getting seriously weirded out by this conversation, but I just kinda kept going. "How'd you learn to talk, anyways?" I asked, Paul looked like he was processing what I said very slowly.

"Like I said, I'm special." Paul repeated. "I'm learning how to make it disappear, like everyone else. First I gotta learn how to keep it still, though, so the magic works."

"Magic?" I said back to him. I mean, it wasn't all that weird compared to meeting a talking dog, but the word still threw me off.

"Yeah, lookit!" The dog hopped off the bench, hunched over with his back facing me, and started screaming like he was about to go super saiyan. I didn't know what I was supposed to be looking at, I was too startled. I might have been imagining things, but I think I saw his tail slowly retracting into his body like a lazy snake.

"Paul! What the fuck are you doing??" I shouted, but instead of responding, Paul just… went silent and flopped onto his side. I quickly rushed over, yelling "Are you okay? What just happened?" I looked over his body, flat on the asphalt. His tail had grown all the way back and… his body shrunk. His head was halfway tucked into his shirt like a turtle. His paws barely poked out of his sleeves, pointing directly forward from his body. He didn't look like a kid anymore, he looked like a dog that someone stuffed into some kid's clothes.

After a second, I thought it wouldn't hurt to poke him. "Paul? Recess is almost over." I poked at his chest, and he rolled onto his back limply. I suddenly felt silly trying to talk to him, like I was trying to reason with a pet. I tried a different approach, I clapped my hands and rapped on my knees. "Hey! Up! Food!"

Paul's eyes shot open, and he sneezed, before wiggling his legs to right himself. He took an instant and a half to realize where he was, and he suddenly cowered, looking straight at me, shivering. "Hey, what's wrong?" I whispered. He looked side to side, back at his own doggish body, and back to me. He blinked, looking like he was about to run away.

"No, no, it's okay." I tried to be reassuring, I'd never had a dog before so I didn't really know what I was doing. I almost forgot that I'd just been talking about Smash Bros with him. "Uh… do you like granola bars?" His ears perked up, and his tail swayed, his new… anatomy making it hard to reach back and stop it this time. I grabbed my backpack from behind me and rummaged through it for leftovers, I got the other of the two bars inside the wrapper, the one I didn't eat, and held it out in front of me. Paul approached me slowly, his nose twitching. "Can you… eat this, even?" I asked, as he sniffed the crumbly rectangle. He licked it soon after, and started nibbling and snarfing after that. I watched carefully, scared to make any sudden moves.

Paul looked up at me again, and I noticed his eyes were a little different. More definition, like I could tell a little more what he was feeling. His new eyes looked concerned, like he was waiting for me to do something bad. He reached up with a paw, it was looking a bit more like a hand now. I let go, and he held the bar himself as he munched away, sitting plainly on his knees.

"What was that all about?" I asked.

"Maghic." The dog said through a full mouth.

"That was magic?" I replied. "I saw your tail shrink, I'm pretty sure."

Paul swallowed. "How much?"

I thought back, the image was still clear in my head. "Like… barely at all. A couple inches?"

"Aw…" He looked disappointed in himself.

We sat in silence for a bit, but there was a question I wanted to ask. "Why do you want to get rid of your tail? Like… that looked painful."

"Mrs. Millie said I can go to the regular class if I can turn human," the talking dog said, proudly.

"You're pretty bad at that." I chuckled, reaching out to ruffle his ears without thinking. Paul looked like he was about to take it personally, but suddenly lost his train of thought as my hand touched his head. "Bwuhhf…" He woofed under his breath, his tail twitched and his paws lost their thumbs again. I quickly pulled my hand back, "Sorry! I didn't…" Paul's eyes took a second to form together again, and he looked right at me, "That wasn't fair." he whined, but his tail was still wagging.

"You really are a dog!" I said, glancing sneakily behind him. Paul followed my gaze to his own tail, yelped, and quickly pressed it down with both paws.

"Oh, come on, stop it." I joked. "It's psyching me out, it looks like it hurts when you hold your tail in place like that."

Paul turned his head back at me. "It doesn't… hurt," he said, slowly and surely.

"Hm. Whatever you say." I got up and went back on the bench. After I turned around to sit down, Paul was already running towards me. I didn't have any time to think before he bounded into my lap and butted his head into my chest while his tail went crazy. The impact knocked the wind out of me, but he was pretty small, I got it back in just a second. Paul yipped and barked, maybe there were some normal words in there too, but I couldn't understand it. This is where I realized he wasn't a very special dog after all, I think he was just normal.

I scratched behind his head and stroked his back through those baggy clothes, and this time he didn't mind. He might have been crying, it was hard to tell, I didn't really know what dog crying looked like. Eventually, he settled down. I couldn't feel his shoulders anymore, he seemed in danger of falling out of his shorts if he wasn't careful. I had a dog in my lap, an extremely normal dog. He stretched his body up and rested his head on my shoulder. "I like you, Bradley." He said, a little too slowly, and a little too loudly. I didn't know what to say to that, he barely knew me. This was all very weird. "You're a good dog." I said back, just because it felt right.

I could feel Paul's body shaping up into a more human posture again as he regained composure. He let go, turned to the side, and sat down on the bench next to me again, staring at his paws in his lap. I leaned over, "You okay?" I asked. He didn't answer, he just put his paw on my wrist and started twirling the hair under my sleeve.

I quickly jerked my hand away and covered the hairy skin. "Don't look at that!" I snapped.

"You have fur too!" Paul yelled.

"No, no, that's hair. I'm just…" I didn't want to explain, it was too embarrassing. I looked like I had my dad's arms, I hoped that no one would see. "It's a condition."

"Oh. Okay." Paul stared into the distance again. We sat in silence for another couple awkward seconds before the bell rang.

"Bye, Bradley." the dog said, scampering off.

"Bye, Paul." I waved after him, being sure to hold my sleeve up with my other hand.

#writing #autism #species euphoria #cilantromixture #ughhh my child narration isnt convincing at all

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arminsumi · 8 months

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growing up with gojo satoru.

NOTE: it's a trash draft abt growing up with gojo and he had a crush on u since ever or smth idk i think it's a potential backstory for a fic?? 👍🗑️

you and satoru have known each other since you were toddlers because the gojo family and your family are very close. he was born just two years after you.

growing up, he was the richest and snobbiest and snottiest. but he could be charming if he needed to be. formal when he needed to be. just not to you, his closest friend. his only friend growing up.

satoru greatly enjoyed picking on you. he annoyed you to death. chasing you down the halls while your parents had tea together. tripping you. ruffling your hair. stealing your sweets and putting them above his head once he had hit that big growth spurt and you could no longer reach them. "accidentally" spilling tea all over your new kimonos. bringing bugs to you just to freak you out.

but that was just all the annoying childhood memories that you dwelled on. if you asked your parents, you'd hear stories of how you and satoru were inseparable; jointed at the hip, the one never strayed too far from where the other was. where you went, he followed without missing a step and vice versa. often you'd be holding hands without realizing. you remember your grandparents laughing and teasing the two of you about that many times, and then you and satoru would throw each other disgusted looks and let go of each other's hands — only to resume that fingerlocking a few minutes later. it was subconscious for him to stick so close to you.

dwelling on the bad memories detracted you from remembering all the good memories.

the times satoru comfortingly slept at your side when you stayed the night during a thunderstorm at his house. all the times he stood up for you and faced off with that brat sukuna. how suguru would console and hug you while satoru threw fists with the other boy; always, always emerging victorious and bearing a triumphant, almost cocky smirk at you. albeit with blood dribbling out of his nose. you remember sukuna always picking on you, but not in the way satoru did; he had a malicious way about it, but satoru's teasing was playful and even cute. he was tasteful with his jokes, never falling victim to crudeness or vulgarity, never genuinely offending you.

and satoru's mother really liked to bring up that satoru had a "boyish crush" on you around the ages 10 - 14. she mentioned it at dinner all the time, when he was reaching the ages of 16 - 18 it really annoyed him.

"i did not have a crush on bugface." he would always deny it. ah, that ancient nickname, the one that still got on your nerves. and it came to be all because a bug landed on your cheek one day at the riverbank and you didn't notice until satoru pointed it out and burst with laughter.

satoru was gifted. you know, a child prodigy. he was the strongest. and growing up with him, he always used his gifts and strength to protect and care for you, whether it was physically or mentally. throwing fists with people who picked on you, acting like your bodyguard at times even if a boy simply wanted to ask you out on a date. studying with you until you aced your papers so that the both of you could go to the same high prestigious high schools.

albeit he was a bit enigmatic with how he showed his care. it was in the little things. helping you out the river when you fell in when you were twelve, confronting sukuna while you cried in suguru's arms about what he had said about your family, or picking blossoms out your hair.

that last one was something he continued to do through his whole life. whenever a blossom or leaf tangled into your hair, or got caught on your clothes, satoru would very gently pluck it off. he did it so smoothly that you never noticed he was doing it. though sometimes, you'd look at him suspiciously and ask why he was standing so close to you. he'd flick his brows up and hum "nothing."

#🗑️ — trash #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru

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jueyvns · 3 months

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synopsis. jealous satoru, that's it.

contents. all fluff, just satoru being satoru

it was past midnight. you and satoru had changed from your formal attire into a much more comfortable clothing. just a few days ago, satoru asked you to come with him to dinner with other sorcerers. being a good girlfriend you are, of course you obliged.

however, it was strange. he hasn't spoken a single word to you since both of you were on your way home. that's very unlike him. even as you climb your way to bed, he has his back facing you instead of his face. you frown.

"satoru?" you try to nudge him.

he hums, not moving a single inch of his body. you sit next to him, staring at his body that's facing the opposite of you.

"did i do something? talk to me, please?"

finally he turns to you. looking up at you, he says, "no.." it was barely a reply because of how quiet it is. you don't say anything, moving your arm to caress his face.

"are you sure?"

he groans, "i didn't like how you were interacting with that zenin bastard."

"who? naoya?" you try to hold in your giggle. he only pouts and hugs you closer. lying his head on your chest, "you were all giggly with him and you didn't even speak with me all night, not even once. that was supposed to be me."

seeing him like this makes you want to laugh and kiss him to shut him up. you brush his forehead, pushing his bangs back. "i'm sorry, satoru. didn't mean to ignore you." he nuzzles his head to your neck, leaving soft kisses. your heart beats faster, "i'm here now, and all yours."

"you looked so beautiful, too. he was basically all over you, i hated that," he said softly in between your skin. you chuckled.

"you're so cute when you're jealous."

"don't leave me like that again, please."

"i won't, i love you 'toru," you kiss his forehead in which he hums in approval. he kisses your cheek, "i love you too."

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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flametrashiraarchive · 9 months

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Possessive Giyuu who can't stand the fact Tengen keeps flirting with you, his favourite kakushi / nurse.

Possessive Giyuu who is a lil bit yandere and a lil bit delusional and fuck you hard, to remind you who you belong to.

Possessive Giyuu who makes sure you can't walk the next day and your whole body is full of hickeys.

You're his, and you would do damn well to remember it.

- Beer anon 🍻

I think about a quarter of my asks are for Giyuu lol. Yandere is not my thing so it may be a bit more toned down than you wanted but I hope it's still okay.

Enjoy!!

Mine- Giyuu x fem!reader

Giyuu couldn't stand it.

The way you laughed at Tengen's childish humor as he sat in the infirmary bed made the water hashira's mood even more sour than usual. He and the sound hashira had both been injured on their latest mission– which he had initially thought of as something of a blessing because it meant he got to see you again. But he was hating every second of it.

"I'm just saying," Tengen smirked as you handed him his medication. "These bitter pills go down easier with a little bit of sweetness, and you're about as sweet as they come. I'll be back to my full strength in no time"

You laughed adorably and shook your head. "You're too kind, Lord Tengen."

Giyuu's hands gripped the bedsheets.

He couldn't even blame Tengen. He wasn't even sure that the sound hashira was actually trying to make a move on you. The man was happily married to three women he adored. Tengen was just a naturally charismatic and flirtatious guy, and you… well, he couldn't blame you for blushing. It's not like you were doing it on purpose.

And it wasn't as though Giyuu could legitimately claim you as his either. You'd kissed a few times and he'd used his fingers to make you cum once in the medical supplies closet, but that had all been over the space of a year and neither of you had ever discussed making it an official thing.

Still though…

His eyes were as still and serene as the deepest lagoon, but inside he was raging. It shouldn't matter, but it did. It mattered a great deal. You were one of the only good parts of his life, one of the only people he didn't feel like he had to be so closed off from. And tucked away safely in the infirmary instead of out there with the demons, you were safe enough for him to trust that you weren't about to die on him.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself.

"Tomioka-sama. Your medication…"

Tomioka… sama? So damn formal. So detached. He took the medication from your hand and swallowed it without a word, turning away from you.

Did you have to have such pretty damn eyes?

Later that afternoon, the sound hashira was napping, but Giyuu simply couldn't. Your footsteps padded softly through the infirmary, making his heart beat faster when it sounded as though you were coming close, only to fill him with disappointment when they faded.

No, he couldn’t stand this a minute longer.

He was injured but not so badly that he couldn’t walk. With a pained grunt he got out of bed and began his search for you. It only took him a couple of minutes.

“Giyuu,” you hissed, a look of surprise and annoyance on your face. “What are you doing out of bed?”

He grabbed your hand and pulled you into the storage closet, kicking the door shut behind him as he pinned your arms to the wall above your head and pressed a heated, claiming kiss to your lips.

The way your eyebrows shot up and then slowly relaxed as he kissed you, the way you were immediately silenced by his lips and your body went from startled stiffness to relaxed compliance. Oh yes…this is what he needed.

This was much better.

He pressed his body against yours, loving the way you moaned against his lips. His heart fluttered as you kissed him back; so soft and deep, your tongue caressing his as you sighed longingly. Releasing his grip on your wrists, his hands followed the curves of your body, clumsy in their desperation to feel every perfect inch of you.

Finally he pulled back and gazed into your eyes.“Do you want me to make you cum?”

You nodded and he could see the desperation in your face. “Yes.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” His kisses trailed down to your neck, his mouth hot and wet against your skin.

He worked open the buttons on your uniform as he began to suck your neck, harder and harder, intent on leaving a mark. He wanted every damn person who saw you know that you were his.

You moaned as he pinned your hips with his, his body heavy and warm against yours. “Giyuu…”

A low hum of approval emerged from him as his rough, battle-worn hands caressed your skin. "So soft. I could do this every day and never get tired of it." He kissed you fiercely, as his hands moved downward, slipping under your skirt.

His fingers circled your clit, and the corner of his mouth tilted into a smirk. You were so wet already, you wanted him just as badly as he wanted you, and knowing this made his dick painfully hard. Every little moan you made, every gasp or sigh of pleasure made him ache.

The way you gasped his name made him feral. He pulled his pants down to the tops of his thighs and took your hand, bringing it to his cock. The sight of your hand wrapped around it made his balls tighten.

"Stroke it for me," he whispered, tugging your earlobe with his teeth as he continued stroking your clit.

The moment you started to pump his cock in your soft hands, a shiver ran through his body. He was so damn needy for you, groaning as he rutted against your palm, baring his teeth as you swiped your thumb over his tip and coated it in his precum.

“You’re getting me so hard.” He couldn't stand it a moment longer. "I need to fuck you," he growled through gritted teeth.

"Mm…Yes."

"Yeah? You want me to fuck this pretty pussy and make you mine?"

"Gods, yes, Giyuu…" Your breath was hot and hard against his lips as he hoisted you into his arms and set your ass down on a table stacked with supplies.

He pressed his cock to your entrance, sliding it up through your folds and coating it in your wetness. “I want you to watch. I want you to see me take you.”

You did as he asked, your breaths coming in shallow pants as he pushed into you. The sight of his cock disappearing inside you made you both choke out wanton groans.

“So wet for me,” he grunted as he began to thrust into you. He pressed his teeth to his lower lip as his brow furrowed. He fucked you hard and fast, making damn sure you felt every inch of him pounding into you. You weren't about to forget him. You were going to remember this fuck for the rest of your life.

The table squeaked with every thrust, supplies falling off and rolling across the floor. He'd deal with that later. All that mattered now was that you were his.

The wet slap of skin on skin filled the supply closet. The sound of your wet pussy taking him was so beautifully vulgar it made his back arch.

You put your head back. "Oh Gods..."

"Yeah, I'm fucking you good, huh?"

"S-so good."

“Tell me you're mine. Tell me this pussy is mine.”

“Giyuu, please… I’m so close.”

He stopped thrusting, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as your muscles clenched around him. “No, that’s not what I said. Tell me you’re mine… say I'm yours. Those words, or you don’t get to cum.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, out of your mind with desire. “I’m yours.”

“Good… now, the next time someone is flirting with you, I want you to tell them that, okay? I want you to tell them you belong to me.”

You nodded, desperation cracking your voice. "Yes."

He leaned down, cupping your face in his hands as he kissed you. "Who do you belong to?"

"You."

"Who fucks your pussy better than anyone else ever could?"

"You do, Giyuu."

He smirked, thrusting hard into you and pulling a cry from your lips. His fingers gripped your hips, pulling you onto him with all his hashira strength. "Good. Fucking. Girl."

Your muscles pulsed around his cock as you came apart, your hands grasping at him as he kept on fucking you throughout your orgasm. He wasn't much further behind you, pulling out and shooting hot ropes of cum all over your thighs and your belly, staggering as he rode the waves of his release.

As he came back down to earth he pulled you upright, his lips crashing against yours as he gripped the back of your neck. "I'm gonna remind you who you belong to tomorrow," he whispered. "And then every day after, okay?"

"Okay," you whispered, leaning your forehead against his. "I might have forgotten by this afternoon though. You might have to drill it into me."

Giyuu laughed, cupping your face in his hands. "Deal."

Yes... this was much better.

#giyuu tomioka #giyuu smut #giyuu x y/n #giyuu x reader #giyuu x you #tomioka x y/n #tomioka x you #tomioka x reader #demon slayer giyuu #demon slayer tomioka #giyu x reader #giyu smut #tomioka smut #giyu x you #giyu x y/n #giyu tomioka

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runnning-outof-time · 10 months

Text

My Favorite Story | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by @peakyswritings

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: Tommy finds himself spending time in his office for other reasons once he finds out (Y/N)'s interest in the room.

Warnings: smoking

Word Count: 4024

A/N: sorry if this one got a little corny at the end…thanks Reb, for allowing me to put my love of books into a story. Enjoy! :)

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories similar to this one!

"Come out, come out wherever you are, Charlie!" (Y/N) called as she wandered the halls of Arrow House, looking for the small boy whom she was a nanny to. They were currently playing hide-and-seek, and it was the four year old's turn to hide.

She went from room to room, giving each only a quick glance because her opponent was only four after all...he wasn't going to be hiding in any advanced places. She continued on, checking each of the rooms on the first floor (because that's where their playing field was) until she got to the only hallway left. This one held a more formal sitting room, and her employer, Thomas Shelby's, office. She had hoped that Charlie wouldn't have gone down this hall because she knew that her boss was particular about the people he let into his personal office. But with all of the other rooms and hallways checked, she was quickly running out of options.

She checked in the sitting room and found it empty, which left her with one final choice of where to look. The door was also cracked, so there was a good chance that he was hiding in there. Out of all of the rooms in the house...you just want me to get into trouble, don't you? she thought to herself as she approached the door. "Charlie?!" she called out while slowly opening the door, treating it like there was tripwire on the other side and it would set off if she moved too quickly.

Giggles sounded out the second she stepped into the room. They were, of course, coming from the far corner, where the floor-to-ceiling windows were. She took a moment to take in her surroundings. This clearly wasn't one of the rooms she'd been in very much, so it all seemed foreign to her.

Something that jumped out right away was the expansive book collection that lined the walls of the room. Not a single shelf seemed to be empty, and all of the books were organized into neat rows; their spines just begging for her to run her fingers across. She would have thought that she'd died and gone to heaven if she didn't know any better. But she did...and right now she needed to find the child she'd been searching for and get out before it became a personal hell.

"Where are you, Charlie?" she called out as she walked even further into the room. She wanted to smile at his adorable giggles, but the worry of getting caught, and reprimanded kept her strict to her mission of ‘find the kid and get out’.

"You can't see me, Miss (Y/N)," he said in between his giggles, which she now realized were coming from behind the curtains.

"I think I'm getting closer," she told him, only a few steps from his hiding spot now, "hmm...why could there be shoes coming out from under the curtains?" she wondered aloud as she reached out to take hold of the curtains. The giggles quieted down as the child prepared to be found. "There you are!" (Y/N) exclaimed as she pulled the curtain slightly to the side, coming face to face with the beaming boy.

"You found me!" Charlie exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"You had a good hiding spot," (Y/N) told him, a smile on her face, "although you should know better than to hide in your father's office," she added, her voice holding a more stern tone.

"It's your turn!" he cheered, unphased by her statement.

The sound of the front door closing rang out through the halls before anything else could be said. (Y/N) stiffened in her spot, knowing that that sound could only mean one thing...

"Daddy!" Charlie yelled as loud as he could before he took off running out of the room.

(Y/N) was still frozen. She wanted to run like hell out of the room and try to make it seem as though she wasn't just in a room that was supposed to be off-limits, but instead her feet stayed glued to the hardwood. The voice of Tommy Shelby came clearly from the foyer, greeting his son and asking him what he'd been doing while he was away.

Hearing him speak made her kick into gear, and she was able to walk the length of the room and reach the door just as she heard footsteps starting to come her way.

"I was playing hide-and-seek with Miss (Y/N)!" Charlie excitedly told his father as he led him down the hall he'd left his nanny in, "and I had a really good spot."

"Did you?" Tommy asked, intrigue present in his voice as he wondered where his son was taking him. When he looked up, he noticed (Y/N) in the process of shutting the door to his office. His eyebrows furrowed at this, trying to remember if he'd locked the door or not when he was leaving this morning.

His office was the one room in the house that he didn't want Charlie roaming about freely in. There were too many bad things held in there for a child to be going through it unattended.

"Where was this hiding spot, eh?" Tommy asked his son when they stopped a few steps away from where (Y/N) was standing.

"I hid behind the curtains!" the boy wasted no time in exclaiming, not seeing any problem in where he'd chosen to hide. (Y/N), on the other hand, felt like she was about to faint as she waited on baited breath for Tommy's reaction to Charlie's answer.

Instead of quickly deciding (Y/N)'s fate, Tommy did one of the things he does best: look to each of the people standing in front of him as he dragged his statement out until it felt like (Y/N) was going to explode from the tension.

"He was...we were in your office, Mr. Shelby, I'm so sorry," she admitted, the words rushing out of her mouth before she had much time to process them. She hoped they made sense.

Tommy stayed quiet for a few more moments after she spoke, blinking a few times as he thought her words over. He couldn't help but feel a tinge of anger as he thought of the rule that had been broken. Of all people, (Y/N) should have known that Charlie wasn't allowed in his office unattended.

"I've already told him that he shouldn't be going into your personal rooms, but he..."

"Stop," his voice finally broke through her second round of explanations. She closed her mouth as soon as she heard him, holding her breath as she hoped that she'd still have a job after this conversation was over. "There's no need to explain yourself any further," he told her, his voice flat, giving her no indication of what he was thinking.

(Y/N) continued to hold her breath as she watched Tommy turn to look at Charlie. "You should know better than to go into my office when I'm not home, Charles. Next time you listen to what (Y/N) is telling you, alright?" he asked with raised eyebrows, his voice stern.

"Yes, sir," Charlie answered like he knew he was supposed to, nodding his head once.

"Good lad. Go on now...go play in your room," Tommy instructed him once he deemed the boy to have understood the message he was trying to get across.

Charlie turned to (Y/N) before going anywhere. (Y/N) immediately knew that he was waiting for her to join him, but a quick glance at Tommy to see his eyes trained on her made her realize that maybe she should stick around for a few moments longer. "I'll be up shortly, Charlie," she told the boy, who nodded before running past his father to go to his room.

(Y/N) swallowed thickly as she focused on Tommy again, waiting to see if he'd be the first to say something. The anticipation was, once again, killing her.

"He didn't touch anything, did he?" Tommy finally asked; his question being one of the last that (Y/N) expected to come out of his mouth.

"No, Mr. Shelby. Everything was in its rightful place when I entered the room," she assured him.

"Good," he nodded, happy with her answer. "You're able to go with him," he said to her then, stepping out of the way so that she'd have room to pass him.

"That's all?" she asked, the words coming out before she could stop them.

Tommy's brows furrowed in confusion upon hearing her statement. "What do you mean?"

"You're not angry at me? I'm not in trouble for entering your office?" she rattled off some of the questions that were circling through her brain.

"I'm not, no," he shook his head, "let's not make a habit of it though, eh?"

"Of course, Mr. Shelby," she nodded, still surprised by how the situation had gone. She was still expecting him to blow his lid on her...it wouldn't be the first time he'd done it to one of his employees. She wasn't about to give him a reason to do so though. "Thank you," she said then, ducking her head before she walked past him so that she could go and be with Charlie again.

Tommy took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly as he moved to open his office door. He knew for certain that he would have just had a completely different conversation if (Y/N) hadn't been the one who was closing the door. He'd felt something different towards her from the moment she was hired on as Charlie's live-in nanny a little over a year ago. His son adored her, and he was happy that Charlie would grow up with someone who genuinely cared for him, and who would be able to be with him when his father was away. (Y/N) provided a much needed sense of security for a boy who'd been through so much in his short life so far.

(Y/N) brought something into the house that had been missing. Tommy often wondered if he'd grown a soft spot for her because of how she was with Charlie, or if there was maybe a little more behind the reason.

He sunk into his office chair with a sigh, looking at the picture of his late wife and son as they stared back at him. If only it had been that easy, he thought to himself before grabbing the cigarette tin so that he could take one out and roll it along his lips, but things happen for a reason, right?.

——

(Y/N) knocked on the door to her employer's office, waiting to hear if he was in before entering. His muffled voice calling for her to 'come' came through the mahogany moments later, making her turn the knob and open the door. "Good afternoon, Mr. Shelby," she greeted him as she found him sitting behind his desk.

"Hello, Miss (Y/L/N)," he returned the greeting, "is there something I can do for you?"

"I have Charlie's quarterly report. I figured you'd want it as soon as I was finished with it," she told him, holding the papers up into view.

Tommy nodded at her words. "Let's have a look then," he said, beckoning her over to his desk with a wave of his hand. (Y/N) nodded and walked across the room, stopping in front of his desk so that she could hand him the papers. He sat his glasses on the bridge of his nose before he began looking through them, reading the detailed report of how his son was progressing. "You think he'll be ready to start schooling?" he asked her after a few, quiet moments had passed, glancing up at her.

"I think so, sir. He's a very bright boy," she answered with a nod and a slight smile.

"And everything else seems to be in order...as far as developments go?" he asked another question.

"Yes," she nodded again, "there's even some things he's excelling at," she added, a proud smile forming on her face. Even though she knew she shouldn't, she'd come to love Charlie like he was her own. Spending nearly every day with him had created such a beautiful relationship between the two. She wouldn't know what she'd do without him.

"That's good to hear," Tommy nodded, continuing to look through the papers.

"He should be ready to start school in the fall," she shared the information that had been weighing on her mind, her smile faltering slightly, "and I'll promptly begin work on finding another placement for myself. I'll place adds in the papers, I'll..."

"No," Tommy cut her off abruptly with a wave of his hand and a shake of his head, "I want you to stay here with Charlie."

"He won't need me anymore, Mr. Shelby," she told him, a bit surprised by his interjection.

"Yes he will," he nodded, his eyes locked onto hers, "he's quite fond of you, (Y/N), and I don't want to separate that." We're all quite fond of you, he thought to himself as he studied her face. "I'll continue to pay you, and you'll continue to live here."

"You're serious?" (Y/N) checked, a slight gasp leaving her lips as a smile played on them.

"I am," he nodded again, clasping his hands together as he rested his elbows on the desk.

"That's so very kind of you...I will tell Charlie of this as soon as he is back from his riding lesson. He will be so thrilled. Thank you, Mr. Shelby," she expressed her gratitude, allowing the smile to take over her features.

"Thank you, Miss (Y/L/N)," he returned the sentiment, "you're free to go," he said then, signaling the end of the conversation.

(Y/N) nodded and turned to exit the room. She walked a few steps before stopping, the shelves of books catching her eye again. She folded her hands together in front of her skirt as she glanced around the room.

"Is there something else you need?" Tommy's voice broke the silence in the room, making her snap from her trance to turn and face him again.

"No, Mr. Shelby, I..." she trailed off, feeling slightly bashful for being caught admiring the books, "I'm just amazed by the amount of books that you have in here," she decided to tell him why she'd stuck around, a soft smile forming on her face after the admission.

"You read?" he asked her, his eyebrows raised in intrigue.

"I do," she nodded, "I'm slowly running out of material though, and the workers' library that you've so graciously given us only has so many books, so to see these books in here made me..." she trailed off as she realized she was sharing too much information, her face heating up as she looked down at the ground.

Tommy let the silence hang in the air for a few moments as he thought about what she'd said. "Would you want to read in here?" he asked her then, his question making her eyes shoot up to his.

"You'd let me?" she asked, her words coming out in a surprised gasp.

"Yeah," he nodded, his simple response making excitement bubble up inside of (Y/N).

"I'd really like that, thank you, Mr. Shelby," she said to him, expressing her gratitude once more. She swore that she saw the ghost of a smile flash across his lips as he nodded his head again. "I'm going to go be with Charlie now, sir...he should be returning from his lesson any moment." Tommy nodded again at her words, and she finally exited the room, her excitement boiling over as a giddy smile spread across her face. There was nothing she loved more than books.

——

It became a routine for (Y/N) to go into Tommy's study so that she could read every day after that. Tommy would be in the room sometimes, working on whatever it was that he needed to get done. She quickly came to love the peaceful silence that filled the room as they cohabitated in it. Being with him felt comfortable to her...almost as comfortable as it felt when she was spending time with Charlie.

"Do you have a favorite book?" Tommy asked out of the blue one day, his words making (Y/N) look up from the page she was reading.

"I do, yes," she responded, a smile quickly forming on her face at the thought of discussing something she liked, "it's called Walden and it's by an American author named Henry David Thoreau. He writes about being alone and immersed in the wilderness in it...it's always such a mind clearing read," she informed him of her favorite book and explained why it held that title.

"Do I have it?" he asked her, his brows furrowed in curiosity.

"I've not found it on the shelves...it's been a while since I've read it, actually," she answered, remembering clearly one of her first days spent in the room. She was rather bummed when she came up empty in her search.

"Noted," he nodded, picking up his pen and focusing his attention back on the paper in front of him. (Y/N) furrowed her eyebrows at the conversation she'd just had, confused as to why he'd just asked her that out of nowhere. Silence persisted in the room again, so she went back to reading.

——

"You're late today," Tommy commented as he watched (Y/N) enter the room.

"Charles wouldn't settle," she answered him, a slight smile on her face as she tried to push her feelings of nervousness down. She knew it wasn't the case, but she couldn't help but feel like a child who had just been called into the headmaster's office.

"Is he fine now?" he asked her, watching as she skimmed the shelves, looking for the book she'd indulge in that evening.

"He is...he had a burst of energy before bed," she answered, her eyes still focused on the books. Nothing was jumping out at her. She'd just finished a book and was now in that weird in between where she couldn't get interested in something else.

After searching for a few more minutes, (Y/N) gave up with a sigh. She moved over to the couch and sat down, resting her head back against the cushion. "All these books and yet there's nothing to read," she mumbled to herself, staring at the fire.

"Something wrong?" Tommy questioned as he watched her carefully.

"I've got nothing to read," she answered, fully aware of how dramatic she sounded, but yet not caring.

Tommy chuckled at her statement before he stood from his chair. (Y/N) turned her head and watched him as he opened one of the desk's drawers and took something from it before he made his way over to where she was sitting. Her brows furrowed together when she noticed that what he had in his hand looked like a book. Without a word, he sat down next to her and extended his arm with the book in her direction.

"What's this?" she questioned, accepting the book from his hand.

"It came in yesterday...I figured you might want to read it," he answered, giving no explicit clues to her.

(Y/N) sent him a look of confusion, to which he responded with a slight nod, silently telling her to open the book. She listened, and she just about gasped when she opened the cover and read the title page. "You found me Walden?" she asked him, surprise was present in her features when she looked up at him once more.

"I did," he nodded, the corner of his lips tugging upwards as he noticed how happy this gesture had made her.

"Thank you so much, Mr. Shelby!" she couldn't hold her excitement back, a wide smile breaking onto her face as she clutched the book close to her.

"You're welcome, (Y/N)," he said, happy that he'd made her happy. "You can call me Tommy when we're in here...you're not working," he told her then and she nodded, feeling the butterflies react to the advancement.

She eagerly opened the book then, more than ready to dive into Thoreau's words and experience his adventures again. Tommy stayed sitting on the couch, fishing the tin of cigarettes out of his pocket so that he could stick one between his lips and strike it with a lighter. He rested his head back against the couch and watched (Y/N) as she quickly became immersed in the world her book's pages held. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt as content as he did now; the last time he rather sit and do nothing instead of continuing on with his work.

"Do you have a favorite story?" (Y/N)'s question broke him from his thoughts, and when he glanced in her direction, he saw that she'd lowered her book and was looking at him.

"My favorite story?" he replied with a question. (Y/N) nodded. Tommy paused for a moment, looking at the fire as he thought it over. He then chuckled slightly before responding, "perhaps it's one that hasn't been written yet."

(Y/N) couldn't believe his reply. She bit on her lip to try and contain the smile that was threatening to form the second after she heard it as Tommy watched her intently for her reaction to his words.

"That sounded a bit soppy, didn't it?" he questioned her after a few moments had passed, taking one last drag from his cigarette before he stamped it out in the ashtray on the coffee table.

"Not at all," she answered, biting on the knuckle of her index finger to stifle the giggles that were threatening to escape as she spoke.

Tommy looked at her once he was sitting properly again, admiring her face as she did the same with him. Nothing was said as he then reached over and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. (Y/N) froze slightly at the action, her eyes locked onto his as he gently ran the back of his hand down the line from her cheek to her jaw. His touch made her skin feel like it had been set alight.

"I'm sorry my hair isn't properly done up," she apologized, her voice much softer now.

"Don't apologize," he brushed her off, his voice's tone matching hers. He kept his hand resting on her jaw, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb as he savored the feeling of her soft skin.

(Y/N) hoped she looked calm on the outside, because all of her systems were firing in her brain. She'd be lying if she said that she didn't want something like this to occur between her and Tommy. Her feelings for him seemed to grow with each hour she spent in his study; reading books while he worked. In a way she felt like she had already been with him; like they were a couple who had already settled into a peaceful married life and liked to come together in the evenings and just spent time in the other's presence. She had to keep reminding herself that she was only Charlie's nanny.

But with the way he was acting, she may not only be that for long...

"Would you come to dinner with me?" he asked her after some time had passed.

"You'd want me to?" she shyly asked him, her eyes slightly widening at his offer.

"I would," he nodded, "maybe then I could tell you a bit more about an idea for my favorite story."

"I'd like that," (Y/N) nodded, a smile forming on her face as her butterflies went swarming again, "I'd like to hear more about your favorite story."

Little did she know that his favorite story was the one they were about to write.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @december16-1991 @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife

MASTERLIST

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelby fanfic #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #peaky blinders x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders one shot #peaky blinders oneshot #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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ghcstao3 · 5 months

Text

Retirement is supposed to be peaceful—at least, that's what Price had told Ghost. He'd said that, while the quiet is unnerving at first, you settle into it relatively easily until it's something in which you find solace. You learn to relax your shoulders if only a little bit, and you rediscover small joys you had completely forgotten about when your entire life was routine, routine, routine.

And now Ghost is starting to believe that the old bastard had been lying to him if only to talk him down from a ledge.

Because retirement is anything but peaceful. Sure, it's nice to be able to cook his own meals and have more downtime for his reading, and sure, it's nice to not have to be so hyper-vigilant in his own space for once—but God knows he knows nothing of the experience of silence when his neighbour is so goddamn loud.

Maybe it's Ghost's fault for choosing to live in a flat—he could find himself a home in the countryside without issue, he's sure of it, if only it didn't require so much effort and paperwork—but at the same time, he feels totally blameless. Because he is.

His neighbour, however, is not.

Now, Ghost has never encountered this person before. Never ended up stepping out as the same time as them, never bothered to introduce himself when he moved in. All he knows is that the person directly across the hall from him has no concept of respecting one's neighbours in terms of volume.

Be it making a racket in the wee hours when, presumably, making breakfast, or be it playing music or movies far too loud, or hell, be it talking to themselves about something Ghost needn't know the gist of, whoever it is knows no quiet. And it's getting on Ghost's last nerve.

He doesn't feel it quite warrants a formal noise complaint, but he does think it needs an intervention. If Ghost had to be forced out of the military due to injury, he's very well going to make the most out of his retirement.

Which involves silence.

Ghost waits until he knows his neighbour is home, if evidenced by the loud clashing of pots and pans in their kitchen, to go over and knock to finally, hopefully talk something out, but he too soon discovers that the plan is entirely useless.

Because as Ghost knocks and knocks, it's as if his neighbour doesn't hear him. Even in the lulls of little to no noise, there's absolutely no response. It's unbelievable.

He knows confrontation isn't everybody's thing—it's barely his own—but Christ. At least he'd answer the door.

Ghost leaves a note instead. Slips it beneath the door and retires to his own flat, hoping that his neighbour could at least bother to read.

And they must. Because Ghost realizes, over the course of the next few days, he can finally hear his own thoughts again.

A week goes by, and it's blissfully quiet. Maybe Price hadn't been such a liar after all.

Two weeks go by, and... Ghost realizes that no, Price is still a liar. The complete silence isn't peaceful at all, not when he'd grown so accustomed to noise.

Maybe Ghost had overreacted.

He's on his feet and across the hall before he has time to think about it, fist hovering over the door, unsure if he should knock. It didn't work last time, but he feels an apology should be spoken, not written, so certainly it's worth—

The lock on the other side clicks, and suddenly Ghost has no choice. The door swings open to finally reveal his mystery neighbour, and... oh.

Oh.

"Well, hello. Can I help you wi' somethin'?"

Ghost tries not to wince at the man's volume, though he doesn't think he's all that successful. Years of wearing a mask had not done well for him and keeping his expressions schooled.

But loudness aside... the lilt of his neighbour's Scottish accent is otherwise... pleasant. Rough in a way Ghost finds far too enticing, and brimming with life in a way his own deadpan never has been.

He tries not to linger on that thought.

"I'm..." Ghost wets his lips, feeling strangely nervous. "I wanted to apologize for my note. It wasn't very... it was rude. So I'm... sorry."

Since when is talking to new people nerve-wracking for him? Ghost must be going soft.

The man tilts his head. There's a slight furrow in his brow, and Ghost assumes it's because he's recalling the note to put a face to its scribbled words.

Ghost assumes wrong.

"Sorry, could you... repeat that for me?"

Ghost frowns. That was... not at all what he was expecting. So much for apologizing for his own note when his neighbour is going to be a prick anyway.

He opens his mouth to bite back a response, but not before his neighbour's eyes are widening and he's frantically gesturing in surrender.

"I don't mean to... I'm only asking because I'm deaf," the man hurriedly explains. "I don't... I've never been good at readin' lips."

And, well. If that doesn't answer every one of Ghost's questions.

His first thought is that he'd been stupid for not thinking of the possibility. His second is thank God for Roach.

Tentatively, Ghost raises his hands, a little out of practice but familiar nonetheless with sign language. Now he just feels even more like an arse.

"Want to apologize," Ghost repeats. "For the note."

A grin slowly appears on his neighbour's face at the use of sign, responding with enthusiasm despite the rocky start and the reason for Ghost's being there.

"My fault," the man says, shaking his head. "Never realize how loud I'm being."

"Still sorry." Ghost offers out one of his hands, finger-spelling with the other, "Simon."

"John," the man replies aloud, his smile warm as he shakes Ghost's hand. There's an awkward moment after their hands fall back to their sides, and for a second Ghost considers just turning and leaving, but thankfully John saves him from that.

"Well, I have to get to the shops," John says, and right, he'd just been leaving, "but I'll see you around?"

Ghost nods, and that seems to be enough for John to brush past, closing his door behind him.

That was certainly... something. At the very least, a better outcome than Ghost had been anticipating.

He should call Price. Tell the man that his idea of retirement is entirely twisted—because clearly he doesn't have a neighbour like John, who Ghost fears just might find a way to worm himself into Ghost's post-military life one way or another.

Maybe he shouldn't have left that note after all.

#plot point not included: soap is also a veteran and completely losing his hearing is what did him in #anyways not sure what this is or where it came from but. Here #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing

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worksby-d · 5 months

Text

They Can't Take What's Ours

Pairing: Andy Barber x fem!Reader

Summary: You overhear some people talking about your and Andy’s relationship and you don't want Andy seeing that it bothered you, but he's too attentive.

Warnings: Age gap, established relationship, terrible coworkers, hurt/comfort-type vibes, sooo soft.

Word count: ~2,200

a/n: A lovely anon asked if I could write something inspired by Ours - Taylor Swift so this is my take on that <3

Divider by @.saradika

Your hurried steps come to a pause right outside the door to Andy’s office. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath in, but can’t get yourself to let out more than a few shallow ones.

Normally you’d be elated to have an excuse to see him for a few seconds in the middle of the day, but you know as soon as you walk in his face will drop. You can only conceal so much from him. He knows you too well and will see your bad day written all over your face, even if you are somehow able to muster a fake smile real quick.

Walk in, grab what you need, and walk out, you tell yourself.

Someone turning the corner into the hallway you’re stalling in is your final push to finally walk in so no one else passes you and wonders what you’re doing outside his office.

Your eyes are on the ground, but you hear his voice, telling you he’s on the phone. You’re able to let out a discreet breath of relief as you reach for the file you came for and quickly turn to walk back out.

The doorway is within reach when you hear him tell whoever’s on the other end of the call that he needs to put them on hold for just a moment.

“Y/N?”

It’s not like you to be in such a hurry with him. He caught a glimpse of your face and just needs to know you're okay.

Overly conscious of the fact anyone could be in earshot, you answer with, “Yeah, Mr. Barber?”

He knows for certain now that something's off since you didn't just use his first name. There’s zero reason for the formality right now.

You avoid turning back to him, but he’s a step ahead of you, making his way across the room to gently grab you before you can walk out. He swiftly closes the door so there's no chance of anyone seeing you guys.

“Stay, please,” he asks, letting go of you for just a second so he can step back to his desk to pick the phone back up and let them know he has to call them back.

He waves his hand for you to follow him into the meeting room connected to his office for a better sense of privacy.

“What's wrong?”

The concern lacing his voice makes you feel bad, and you know he'll stand here with you all day if he has to to get something out of you.

“I'm fine,” is the best you can offer.

You haven't allowed your eyes to meet his once though. He brings a hand up, using his fingers to gently move your head so you're finally looking at him. Your eyes look puffy and your makeup looks different than it did this morning, like some has been rubbed off.

“Have you been crying?”

“Can we talk about it later, please?”

He pauses. He doesn't want to wait until later. He wants to help make you feel better now.

“I promise I'm fine, I just need to get back to work.”

A small defeated frown tugs at his lips.

“Okay… Later,” he says softly, but it's stern too. He’ll hold you to that.

He leans to give you a quick kiss before walking you out, but you turn your face so his lips land on your cheek.

He holds back from pressing it any longer though, following as you walk out so he can open his door for you.

“Meet me back here later so we can decide where to have dinner tonight?”

“Sure,” you nod, forcing a small smile before leaving.

He’s never ready to leave on time, so you walk into his office quietly when you come back at the end of the day, not wanting to interrupt anything.

“Hey…” You speak softly to get his attention.

He looks up right away, greeting you with a smile. “Hey, sweetheart.”

His glance lingers, taking in the sight of you looking better than when he last saw you. Your eyes aren’t swollen anymore and you’re not so tensed up.

“I knew you wouldn’t be ready to go yet,” you laugh a little, closing the door behind you before making your way across the room to sit on his lap.

“You know me so well,” he teases. “I’m almost done, I promise.”

Truthfully, he’s not getting any closer to being done, only pretending to finish up while he waits for you to address the elephant in the room.

When you don’t say anything, he breaks the silence for you.

“It’s later… You wanna talk about it?”

You shake your head, letting out a short laugh. “Not really.”

He has a hand resting on your thigh, holding you in place. He strokes his thumb gently telling you he’s ready to listen.

“I overheard some people talking about us today when I walked by one of the breakrooms,” you start.

Finally looking into his eyes, you expect him to start asking questions, but his brows just knit together, waiting for you to go on.

“About how they don’t get us, assuming I’m somehow using you,” you recall. You wish you would have just walked away, but you couldn’t. “And something about you not being able to date anyone closer to your age because no one older than me would put up with your baggage, or whatever.”

“Who?” He asks quietly, but he sounds serious. “I’ll take care of it–”

“No, please,” you beg softly. “That’ll make it worse.”

“I don’t want anyone around here making you cry.”

“I know,” you chuckle, sniffling a little. “But you doing anything would just give them more to talk about.”

The look on his face softens, and he brings a hand up to wipe a few tears that escaped off your cheeks.

“It’s not like we’re all over each other. It just caught me off guard to hear anyone talking about us, I guess. I don’t know why they would be…”

You’re both conscious about keeping your relationship private at work. You’re aware that most people probably know you’re together since you come in together and show up to events together. But most days you go without seeing each other at all until you meet like this to go back home at the end of the day.

“Sounds like they need more work to do if standing around talking about other people in the building fits into their schedules…”

“Andy,” you laugh a little, shaking your head at him. “It’s okay. I don’t know why it bothered me so much.”

He lets it go, pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead.

“I know what it’s like to hear people talking behind your back…” He says softly.

Of course he does. Anything you heard is minuscule compared to what he’s probably dealt with before.

He kisses the sympathetic look off your face. “I know what’ll make you feel better though.”

His hand leaves your leg so he can reach into one of his pockets, pulling out your engagement ring. He only proposed a couple days ago and you haven’t worn your ring at work yet, but you ask him to hold onto it for you so it’s not laying at home.

“Can I give this back to you?”

“Yes please,” you giggle, holding out your hand for it.

But he insists on putting it on your finger for you. “Let me.”

You smile at the diamonds glistening back at you, but it quickly fades as you look back up at him.

“I’m sorry I don’t wear it here yet,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to,” he shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

He knows it’s not insecurity about your relationship. Your yes when he asked you to marry him a few days ago came out faster than he could have ever hoped for. It doesn’t cross his mind to question you over leaving it off just these few hours each day. He knows you like to keep things private, that you’ve never been one to overshare at work. It’s a wonder how he somehow broke through your guarded exterior all those months ago and became such a big part of your life.

“I love you.” You kiss his cheek and move to get up. “I’ll let you finish up.”

“No, this can wait,” he says, quickly tidying up his desk, and gets up behind you. “Let’s get out of here.”

Your hand instinctively finds his, intertwining your fingers as you walk out together. You freeze for a split second though. “Oh– We didn’t decide on dinner…”

“I got it figured out,” he assures, giving your hand a squeeze to keep you walking.

The car is quiet as he drives, your exhaustion from the day setting in now that you've gotten away from work. You let your heavy eyelids fall closed, only as a means of resting your eyes, but the way you jump when you feel Andy’s hand on your shoulder, you figure you did accidentally fall into a light sleep.

“We’re here.” He gently shakes your shoulder before getting out of the car so he can walk around to open your door for you.

You kind of knew where he was taking you based on the direction he headed when you left work.

Luckily, he and you share a favorite restaurant. You frequent it as often as you can, the staff always joking that you're keeping them in business each time you walk in the door.

You know something is up when the hostess at the front doesn't walk you to a table though.

“I know where we're going,” Andy winks at her and she just smiles, laughing at the questioning look you flash at each of them.

He swaps which hand he's using to hold yours so his other can rest on your lower back as he guides you to one of the secluded corners. None of the tables are being used except one that’s set nicely with some candles and already has glasses of water and appetizers on it.

“Is this for us?”

Andy laughs at how you do that thing again where you stop in your tracks and he gets tugged back too because he's holding your hand.

“How did you do this?”

“I asked them very nicely and promised a lot of big tips for everyone who helped set it up,” he explains, pulling you closer to wrap his arms around you. “I called shortly after you were in my office earlier. I just wanted a nice evening alone with you.”

“You're crazy,” you whisper against his chest, letting out a small laugh.

“Maybe,” he teases, dropping his hands from your back to grab yours again to bring you to the table.

You pull him into the same side of the booth with you before he can pretend he doesn't want to.

As soon as you're settled, a waiter is greeting you guys, helping move the plate and set of silverware on the other side of the table to the side you're both on.

“Can I get either of you something else to drink?”

“Uh, yes,” you chuckle, definitely in need of alcohol after the day you had.

Andy orders a drink too and expects the waiter to walk away right away, but he looks back to you.

“Could I see your I.D. quick, miss?”

“Oh! Yeah–” You have to dig through your bag to find it.

“You don't wanna see mine?” Andy scoffs, joking with him. “What are you saying, man?”

“I mean, if you wanna show me yours too…” He laughs, holding up his hands as if to say by all means. “But I believe you.”

“Unbelievable–”

You playfully swat at Andy. “Leave him alone.”

Reaching across with your card, you tell the guy to ignore the pity party he's throwing.

He likes to joke about these things, but you can tell he goes through small bouts of seriously realizing he's getting older.

“Don't pout,” you tease, bringing a hand up to his face to physically turn his frown upside down.

“I'm not,” he grumbles quietly.

He pulls you closer and you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling completely relaxed for the first time today.

“You know what bothers me the most, right?” You break the moment of silence by reflecting on why you were so upset today. “I thought about it on the way here.”

“What is it?”

“It's not about people talking about our relationship,” you shake your head. “I know what we have and it's nobody else’s business. But I hate hearing anyone’s negative thoughts like that about you. You're the nicest, kindest guy and it hurts to hear anyone doubt that or doubt that I'm the luckiest person in the world for being with you.”

“I do have baggage though…” He tries to joke.

“But that doesn't matter,” you chuckle. “Everyone does.”

“Don't you worry your pretty little mind about me,” he whispers, turning enough to urge you to lift your head off of him. “I don't care what they say.”

“I love you,” you smile, leaning to give him a kiss.

“I love you, too.”

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#andy barber #andy barber x reader #andy barber fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #andy barber fanfic #andy barber imagine #requested

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lorelune · 6 months

Text

hell is a hound without a chain

|| blade x gn!reader || M || yandere wolf hybrid blade || wc: 3.8k || ao3 ||

A bite is quite a burden.

minors, antis, and ageless blogs dni

a/n: folds hands man ... hybrid blade is sure something. i chewed on this au for a minute because truly hybrid blade is such a flavor. a toothy one. enjoy loves!!

CW: dark content, hybrid AU, wolf hybrid blade, yandere blade, reader is not a hybrid, biting, claiming bites, caretaking, victim blaming, injured reader, references to reader drinking casually

You ache.

Your neck hurts.

It’s hurt for the past few days, and you imagine it will continue to hurt for the next several weeks, considering that Blade is not allowing you to heal in any meaningful capacity.

You sit on the bathroom counter, a bit teary-eyed, with Blade standing between your legs. A scented candle sputters on a small shift. Blade’s tail swishes. Annoyed. Ears twitching and jaw locked. There’s a first aid kit open beside you and it's running low on gauze and antibiotic ointment.

You sniffle as Blade pats at the wound on your neck. He’s being… gentle. For him anyway. The contact and disinfectant still sting and you hiss at the sensation and jerk away.

Blade stills.

"I’ll bind you again." His hand cups your jaw— too tightly. "Would you like to force my hand?"

"No, n-not really.” You sound pathetic. You want to cry. You probably will. "It hurts. I'm sorry."

Blade sighs but doesn't press you. He trades the disinfectant for a slather of ointment and prepares a gauze pad. The piece he cuts is larger than normal. It’s the size of his palm. You suppress the urge to feel for the wound on your neck and check its size and depth. You haven't gotten a good look at it yet. Judging by the red stain soaking down the front of your shirt, it’s a worse wound than normal.

Blade has made it a routine to freshen the bite mark on your neck at least once a week. He always sinks his teeth into the same spot while other, less severe marks decorate your throat and shoulders (and chest and stomach and thighs, but those are easier to dismiss.) The mark he worries the most, the one that you know he associates with some animalistic claim, is on your side, broken flesh splitting where your neck meets your shoulder.

...

You first... 'earned' it after leaving Blade to his own devices for a weekend.

It was just a beach trip with a few friends. Kafka encouraged it— you needed to stretch your legs. ‘Bladie’ as she so affectionately referred to your hybrid, was more than capable of taking care of himself. He was doing so long before you came into the picture and formally offered your home up to him. Besides, he’d had several months to settle into your home, hadn’t he? Kafka goaded you into accepting a “well-deserved” break. Himeko seemed... hesitant about the arrangement at the time. She warned that hybrids can get a bit prickly about being left alone, even if they are independent.

("They tend to hold grudges.")

The trip was a mistake.

It had been a lovely weekend. Kafka had thrown her card down for a beachside cabana at a resort. Drinking sweet fruity cocktails, lounging in the sun, and generally relaxing. It was... nice to be out and not worried about Blade. He knew where you were. He had a phone with an internet connection that he knew he could use, and he didn't bother to contact you. You figured he was enjoying the break from his typical vigilance. Perhaps he was enjoying not having an owner to stalk around and guard.

You were wrong. Wildly.

The moment you arrived home (you hadn't even set your bags down—), Blade was on you. Pressed into your own door, he growled and spat that you smelled “wrong”. You asked him what he meant— you nervously joked you could take a quick shower and make dinner. Whatever he wanted. Your voice had trembled, and your breath had started coming too quickly.

His gaze pierced you a moment later, a growl ripping from his mouth, lips curling back.

Nothing could have prepared you for the way he grabbed your jaw, jerked your head to the side, and buried his teeth in your neck. He covered your mouth with his palm when you screamed. Muffled any shout or cry for help. You knew Blade was strong, but you hadn't ever realized how strong. You were immobilized between him and his teeth and the door.

By the time he withdrew and lapped at the wound he'd made, you were sobbing, scrambling to get away, run, shut yourself in your room, and try to figure out how the fuck to handle this situation— but Blade hadn't let you far. He cleaned the wound first with his tongue, then a damp rag, then dressed it properly as has become routine. He carried you to bed and curled around you. Arms locked around your waist, legs tangled. It would’ve been sweet if he was your lover.

(But, he is not. He is a wolf you foolishly allowed into your home.)

The reality of your situation began to sink in then. Slowly. Bit by bit.

Blade freshens the bite about once a week, give or take. If he's feeling antsy, it's less. If you're more compliant, more tethered to home, or dare to take him in public with you, he leaves it alone. Allows it to almost heal before digging his canines into the rapidly thickening layers of scar tissue.

It's awful of him, but you don’t think he'll ever stop now that he's intent on marking you. You had been stupid to think of yourself as anything other than a claim to him, hadn't you?

A few tears drip down your cheeks as Blade secures the dressings. He dabs them away with the side of his finger, careful not to scratch you with his blackened claws. He brackets you in on your sides. He tips his forehead against yours and deflates.

"Bed," he says. It's something akin to a request. He'll take you there, anyway, but being given a warning feels like a luxury.

"Okay." Your voice is quiet. Scratchy from shrieking against his palm less than an hour before.

Blade scoops you up and ferries you to bed. He pauses to throw an extra blanket onto his... nest (even if it's on your bed). It’s a quilt he favors, worn through but soft. His preference for it would be endearing under different circumstances.

He runs a hand through your hair, trailing his touch down to the wet collar of your shirt, “You need to change. You’re dirty.”

As is routine, he pulls your shirt off as you squirm. You lightly shove at his chest, if only to make yourself feel better. Resist a little for your own pride, despite knowing it’s useless. Your modesty doesn’t matter to Blade (not if it’s just him and you in the room. He’s permitted himself to your skin in the most non-traditional ways.) Regardless, you aren’t bare for long. He replaces your shirt with his own. It’s warm and too big. His frame is almost inhuman, and it gapes around your shoulders.

Blade cajoles you to the headboard and lets you fuss a bit along the way. He sits behind

you and settles you between his thighs. The knit blanket is pulled over your lap and his arms wind around your waist, unyielding. Locking you there. Blade tucks his face into your neck on the... less injured side. He scents you there with a half-there growl.

You rub at your puffy eyes. Your chest hurts.

"You need to rest." Blade tells you. He tells you this often. He's more in tune with your physical state than you are these days, so you appreciate the reminders. You feel half out of your body.

"... Oh yeah?" you laugh, voice wobbly. "I should, huh? Don't I need to make dinner?"

"Unnecessary." Blade replies. He squeezes you. "You need to rest, first. I will prepare a meal."

"... Sure." Blade doesn’t do particularly well in the kitchen. "I can rest, then cook, okay? If you can wait that long? Otherwise, I can cook then rest later too—"

Then Blade really growls. It’s the kind that you feel between your ribs and makes you go stiff. His mouth opens, too hot against the fragile skin near your neck, and the points of his canines rest. Idle. You start to shake.

"You will rest." Blade tells you. "I... went too harshly on you. You are weak. You need to rest. I will cook so you do not need to. I cannot guarantee that it will be any good, but you should not be on your feet."

You laugh. something rotten curls in your belly.

There’s care in the way that Blade speaks about you. He rarely speaks in such a forward way— it’s hard for him. You can hear how he struggles between certain words. How the sentences are harder for him to construct. The sentiment of care is not easy for him. This makes sense— as he is a wolf that has you in his jaws. There is not care in slaughter. An animal’s claim is just that. A claim. Baseless. Primal. A twitch that follows an instinct, maybe.

Hearing him say things that could be kind makes you want to vomit.

You dig your nails into Blade's forearms. His hold constricts.

"Why would you care?" You snap. "Don't act like you give a shit about my wellbeing, as if you didn't just take a fucking chunk out of me."

It's the wrong thing to say. You know this. It’s better to not anger him. But it's hard to care when you’re this tired and worn down. Self-preservation is an afterthought. You feel spiteful, terrified tears burn your eyes. You wait for a wolf’s violence as Blade tenses and goes still behind you.

Preparing for the kill, you presume.

Instead, however, his mouth closes, and soft lips press into your throat. No teeth. No apparent ire. No mouthy attitude. And he stays quiet. Somehow drags you closer into the solid, warm line of his front. He is solid, maybe a little softer than when he first moved in with you.

"My mark on you is protection, even if you do not realize it." Blade tells you. You figured as much, but it doesn't justify it. "Anyone who smells or sees you knows that you are claimed."

"Yeah, so everyone knows I've got some bully of a wolf at home, ready to tear my throat out?"

(You've read his file, you know he's capable of it.)

"I wouldn't." Blade's voice grates, low and angry. “I... I wouldn't. Not to you."

"If you say so."

"I mean it." He punctuates it with a kiss. He's half-hard against your lower back and you swallow. "I... I do not know how else to convey to you that you are cared for. That you are mine."

(You’re not sure you believe him. There are other, crueler ways he could. On your more anxiety-ridden nights, you’re grateful that Blade’s touch hasn’t strayed there. Never. He hasn’t ever touched you like that, with that part of him. Anything below your neckline is all teeth and tongue. Violence is his language of physicality, you've found. Pleasure he seems foreign to.)

"I'm yours?" You dig your nails in and his tail slaps the bed. good. You'll bear the consequences later. Best to get it all out of your system. "When did I agree to this?"

Blade thinks, for a moment. You doubt he'll be able to find when you did agree because you haven't.

"You allowed me into your home. Bed. I wear a collar with your name on it when I must leave this place." Blade tells you. His hand cups your chin, turning your face toward his, and his nails tease over your cheeks. "What did you think all of that meant?"

Your stomach drops.

"... A kindness?"

“An offering." He corrects. He noses into your jaw, scenting again. His touch drifts under your soft shirt, resting over your tummy. "One that was accepted."

"Oh."

It hits you. All of it. Awareness is like being dunked in ice water, suffocating on it, and throwing it back up. Kafka had once warned you that hybrids think so differently from humans. You figured the differences would be... obvious. Easy to sort through.

You were, once again, so wrong.

You want to tell Blade that that's not what you meant. That you opened your home and heart because he was a beaten down stray who clearly needed a home— one where he was the only one of his kind. Where he had the attention he needed to thrive, and the space to do so too. That you signed your name on the necessary paperwork not as a proposition but as a gesture of care.

In the same moment, you realize that even if you do tell all of this to Blade, it wouldn’t matter. This misunderstanding has been steeping for months beyond your control. You feel stupid. Foolish. So naive it hurts. There’s a bite mark dug into the flesh of your neck that will never really scar. If Blade can help it, it will never fully heal. You’ll bear it bloody... forever.

“You smell wrong.” Blade huffs against your neck. He squeezes over your hips, rubbing little circles into the soft flesh.

Can he smell when you’re upset?

Probably. Blade always got particularly cagey when you would return home from the rare trip into the office. You were always exhausted, on edge, and overstimulated from a full day of endless everything. Blade would follow you around on those days, never letting you out of his sight. He’d wrap you up in blankets from his bed. Shove you in his clothes. Hand-fed you in his lap despite the fact his hands were too big and arthritic.

Was that care?

(So, so clearly.)

You don't realize you're on the verge of tears until you open your mouth to speak and nothing comes out but a wounded, awful cry. Like you're the pained animal and not Blade.

"Hush." Blade tells you. He smooths your shirt— his shirt over your front, over your chest in a way that makes your breath hitch and squirm uncomfortably. He’s burning hot against your back. "You are safe. You can rest now."

Is that care?

Tears slip from the corners of your eyes. They’re angry, tired, and sad all at once. You try to suck them down the best you can.

Blade pulls you at you, sinking you into the sheets. He spoons you, flush against your back, hot and soft in all the ways that matter. You bury your face into your pillow when he runs a soothing, clawed hand up and down the back of your neck.

For a moment, you consider your options. It’s immediately overwhelming. Defeating.

You know that there is nothing you can do about your position. You could rear up, slap Blade, and scramble for the door. There are organizations. Sections of government that handle situations like this. You might be able to get to your phone. At least text someone that things have gotten out of hand.

You also know that Blade would not allow this. He'd not allow you out of bed, let alone this room. He'd have you pinned, belly to the bed with a hand dug into your hair to brace you there. He'd let you squirm and kick and scream. He'd bruise you in return— leave his own marks. another set of molted hickeys across your shoulders.

He'd probably push at the freshly bloodied claim on your neck too. Never mind that he just patched you up.

It's hopeless, and the knowledge hits you so hard that you feel winded. You scramble against the bed to grab onto the sheets, and you cry. It’s in your chest. You sob and cry so hard it hurts. The sounds you are making are ugly and broken. The feeling between your eyes is burgeoning into an acidic headache, and your mouth is somehow dry even as you get spit on the soft sheets.

Despair is not beautiful. It’s toxic and infecting.

Despite this, Blade does not move away. He is steadfast, and curls overtop of you. He hushes you with his simple, curt words and a low rumble in his chest that's hard to identify. It soothes something in your hindbrain you wish you could kill. His lips press into your hair. His touch is solid, bruising, but not maiming

Violence... shouldn't be comforting.

And yet— yet it is. When the tears come slower, and morph into hiccups as you desperately try and catch your breath, Blade... helps, you realize. His mane of hair spills over your face, like a curtain to darken the room. His hand slips to your front, under your shirt once more so it's his palm against the clammy skin of your chest.

"Breathe." He tells you. It's a command. "Like this."

His hand strokes up and down, in time with his own slow, deep breaths. There's the terrifying edge of his claws, blackened and sharpened, but they never cut in enough to gore. Only enough to remind you that they’re sharp— to maim, to protect— (what’s the difference to a wolf like him?) You're drained, and you can only follow his lead, sucking in breaths that become more steady with each one.

There's nothing left in you by the time you settle. You're wrung out, emptied and so tired. It's clarifying, maybe. As Blade pets you into sleep, you shakily bring a hand to press over the covered, weeping wound in your neck. A full moon of teeth marks. Even the light touch aches.

Blade nips at your hand, nosing it away.

(How terrible, really. To be cared for by a beast who believes love and violence are one in the same. How terribly idiotic of you to not notice. How... cruel of Kafka for never connecting the dots for you. You’re sure she must’ve taken note, at some point, of Blade’s claim on you and its implications. She was once in your position, but knowing her own disposition, Blade never took her like he’s taken you.)

(Himeko probably noticed as well. But, she’s the type to only step in if she thinks she can make a difference. She has her own self-preservation in mind, and you can respect that. Mostly. Perhaps she saw Blade’s claim taking shape and realized that a Wolf’s bite is not something she had the claws to interfere with. She has her own hybrids to take care of. You ignored her words of caution in the beginning when she first offered them.)

(It’s hard to fault her.)

(And how can you fault Blade for his instincts? Perhaps you were too kind. You lacked caution— self-preservation— whatever you wish to call it. You put your own soft throat in the line of Blade’s bite. In retrospect, it’s frighteningly clear. It guts you. Over and over. The only thing that tethers you is Blade’s touch and breath against your neck. A reminder.)

(A reminder that you are his to tug and push and pull as he pleases. That he’ll leave bite marks where he desires, never to gore, but to show that you’re... protected.)

Isn’t there something alluring about that?

It makes you shake all over again. It makes you muffle a fresh sob into your pillow and you beat your fists against the mattress. Blade lets out a growly word or two you can’t make out as he pins your wrists to the mattress.

It makes sense, now, why Blade always wanted to accompany you out on errands, if only to growl and bark at anyone who looked at you too long. You had thought he was just poorly socialized (partially true) — but he was snapping at strangers to make sure no one even thought of looking at you for too long. Let alone touch. Pursue.

You have a hazy memory of a night at the cocktail bar. Kafka had asked you to come alone— ‘girls night’ again. Blade had given you the cold shoulder when you told him sheepishly that you’d be leaving him at home. Whatever alcohol dulls the memory, but you can recall Blade had thrown you over his shoulder the moment you had come home. You swayed and slurred your words and Blade looked ready to gut you. He threw you in bed, tore off the pretty dress that he had said was “far too revealing” and shoved you into one of his sleepshirts without listening to a single one of your protests. Your fighting and punching didn’t deter him— it didn’t make him any more aggravated.

(“You’re stupid.” Blade had told you, roughly wiping a soft cloth over your face. Makeup smears on the fabric. “Why are you out in the dark? How did you get home?”

“... You’re silly. I took a cab.” You tell him with a frown. You bat at his ears and Blade grabs your arms with such force you’re scared they’ll break.

“You’re reckless.” Blade had growled in your ear. “Do you know what you invite when you’re in this state?”

“... A hangover?”

Blade had stared at you, fuming. The next moment, his teeth were embedded in your neck and a pillow was shoved over your face as you wailed. Your vision swam as he pulled away, lips and chin smeared red.

Blood stains his teeth as he drags you up by the collar, and spits— “Do you know how many men would eat you alive like this?”)

You realize now that there was an implicit— “And I’m not there to keep it from happening.”

There’s comfort in it. You feel disgusting, but the roiling behind your eyes is cut by how warm Blade is behind you. That he’s good at patching the wound on your neck, and attentive when you let him be.

If you really can't escape Blade and your mutual incidental claim... maybe it could be okay. There’s some assurance that Blade will not gore you, only tenderly hurt for the sake of some instinct you will never feel, but are coming to understand. He is honest too. His words are solid. He is too straightforward to mince his words. They are never a riddle. There's safety in being underneath him as you are now.

There's safety in him. You almost cry again. He'll hurt you but never rend apart into pulp as you know he could. He'll sink his teeth in but as a claim. His slaughter is accompanied by care— for you. Slaughter inflicted on others is instinctual violence born from different baser needs. It hits you, like a blow to the chest, that whatever brutality he could inflict on you, is only a fraction of what he would inflict for you.

"Oh," you say, so softly, as you realize. You feel foolish all over again.

Blade makes a contented sound against your nape. Mouthing at you. His palm is settled at the base of your throat. "Your kind can be so slow. Now rest."

You laugh, blurting it out into your buttery sheets. There are specks of blood dotting the cream fabric, new and old. Fresh and faded.

You'll have to restock your first-aid kit.

#lore writes #blade x reader #blade x you #hsr x reader #blade reader insert #ANYWAYS #:3cccc #blade chomps: the fic and subsequent the emotional turmoil

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keerysfreckles · 2 months

Text

time after time — steve harrington

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve's longing glance to y/n makes him decide to stay at the hawkin's middle school snow ball.

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, steve being a goofball, STEVE FLUFF!!!!!!

a/n: thanks cindy lauper for writing time after time and for my pookie wifey @keerysbrowneyes <3

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

steve harrington had a very interesting fall of 1984. he never thought he'd fight off inter-dimentional monsters again, and especially didn't see himself becoming friends with five middle schoolers.

so he wasn't too surprised while driving dustin henderson to his eight grade winter formal.

"you're gonna go in there," steve starts a pep-talk, "looking like a million bucks."

dustin nods in agreement, before flipping the passenger side visor down, examining his hair once more.

steve grunts while flipping the visor back up. he continues his pep-talk quickly, and makes sure to remind dustin to keep the lion purr out of tonight's vocabulary.

just as steve was about to pull out of the school's parking lot, a figure caught his eye. y/n l/n's figure to be exact. her light purple dress with slightly ruffle sleeves made steve's heart swoon. of course she was wearing her very worn out chuck taylor's to chaperone the dance. steve couldn't remember the last time he saw the girl wearing heels.

he watched for another moment as y/n handed two drinks to two younger girls. steve smiled when y/n did, and he knew he had to do something about it.

the whole time as he was parking his car and walking towards the gym entrance, he made a pro and con list of the decision.

pros; y/n might actually want to see him after he ignored her for a whole week, maybe he'll get to kiss her, and he just wanted to see how pretty she looked up close.

cons; she'd punch him in the face (again), she might not be ready to be face-to-face with the brunette, or she'll simply laugh once steve walks in the double doors.

what could go wrong? he thought, just as he opened the door and walked by mr. clarke.

an upbeat song was playing over the speakers while steve walked under the blue and white arched balloons. to his left, jonathan was taking pictures. in the middle were all the students, either milling around the sides, or dancing in more crowded area. and to his right, was y/n standing at the punch table.

steve felt his heart skip a beat before his feet drug him over to the poorly decorated refreshment table.

he looked over y/n's appearance once again before he was fully in front of her. her purple dress stopped just above her knees, and her hair was pulled back out of her face with a few pieces framing her soft features.

"steve!" y/n smiles once he walks up to the table, "where have you been? i haven't heard from you in a couple of days."

steve chuckles while hiding the truth, "yeah, it's just been pretty busy with senior year."

y/n nods in agreement before steve speaks again.

"how's the drink table going? anybody try and spike the punch yet?"

y/n lets out a laugh, "it's going, and i haven't seen anyone with a hidden flask yet."

a moment of comfortable silence passes before a slower song blares over the speakers and into the gym. most students grab a partner and start slowing swaying back and forth. a lightblub appeared above steve's brown hair.

"do you want to dance?"

the question immediately caught y/n off gaurd. the steve harrington, the boy who she has liked since third grade was asking if she wanted to dance with him.

"i- uh- what about the drink station?" y/n's face grows hot as she stammers out an answer.

"nancy's got it," steve gestures his head behind y/n, making her turn to see nancy walking up behind her.

"go have fun," nancy talks softly after patting y/n away from the table and towards steve.

she lets out another laugh as steve simply holds out his hand. she gladly takes it, and her heart skips at the feeling of his skin on hers. his warm hand encasing her cold one.

steve leads y/n out to the crowd of seventh and eighth graders. she can't help but laugh at how out of place she seems in the middle school gymnasium, but she couldn't care. because she was with steve harrington.

"cmon don't go all stiff on me l/n," steve teases after putting his hands on her waist. the girl's face only grows a darker shade of red while placing her hands on his firm, broad shoulders.

at the same time, the pair subtly look over each other. steve looks over y/n's simple makeup, just blush and mascara. he didn't know how she looked even more beautiful than before. y/n chuckled slightly at his attire, consisting of a red longsleeve, jeans, and of course his red nike's.

"i'm sorry i haven't reached out this past week," steve admits.

y/n shakes her head, while the two were now slowing swaying in circles as the song continued.

"it's okay steve, really. i get it, senior year has been stressful for everyone."

steve wishes he could tell y/n the truth. but he doubts she'd believe him if he said he fought of monsters the past two years, got his ass beat by billy hargrove, and became close to dustin henderson.

steve and y/n both got lost in each other's eyes. she could look into his chocolate brown eyes for hours on end and not get bored. her eyes drifted to his other features. the small creases around his eyebrows while he seemed focused on something, she wanted to run her fingers over the skin to smooth it out. the freckles on his cheeks and moving down his neck, she needed to kiss every single one. the slight smirk he always had adorning his lips, she wished she could just kiss the smirk off his face.

y/n got lost in her daydreaming, she could've sworn steve was leaning closer to her than before.

she didn't want to believe it, but she was leaning in closer as well.

"steve," y/n's voice is quiet, she fears no sound even came out of her mouth.

steve's lips were now centimeters away from y/n's. their foreheads were almost touching, and the thought of steve kissing her only made her dizzy.

however, she knew steve would catch her, feeling as his grip hardened on her waist. he leaned even closer, touching his lips to hers.

his lips were softer than y/n ever imagined. her hands move to the back of his neck, running her fingertips over the soft curls while her thumbs were on his cheeks. steve's hands held y/n so tightly, even if she did fall, she wouldn't have noticed. he held her close, deepening the kiss slightly before pulling away.

both of their lips were a darker shade now, and both teens were slightly out of breath.

to try and seem cool about the whole ordeal, y/n leans forward to place her head on steve's chest. she could hear his heartbeat, as it seemed to pick up slightly at her action.

steve smiled to himself. he actually kissed her. y/n l/n, the girl he's adored since the fifth grade formal actually kissed him back.

steve kissed the top of y/n's head, and internally thanked his younger self for the growth spurt, now making him at least seven inches taller than the girl in his arms.

the song was coming to a close, but steve didn't want this moment to end.

"do you want to get milkshakes?"

#shelbi writes #keerysfreckles #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #steve harrington st #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things imagines #stranger things headcanons #stranger things netflix

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queers-gambit · 1 year

Text

Distraction

[ series masterlist ]

prompt: at a rare family dinner, you have news for your husband.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.9k+

note: i didn't want to like him but the pirate baby war criminal does something to me.

warnings: cursing, spoilers, Aemond being a little shit, basically the dinner scene with Aemond's wife. canon-level incest (?) and dialogue. not edited!! ❗️major season one, episode eight spoilers

"How's this?" You asked Amira, your handmaiden, showing her the sixth dress you've tried on. You observed all angles of yourself in the mirror, smoothing over the material of your dress in worry.

"I like it better," she nodded, admiring your figure. "And you can't even tell you're hiding - "

"Mira," you warned, sighing sharply.

"When are you going to tell him, my Lady?" She demanded, helping you into your shoes as you fixed jewelry around your neck, wrist, ears, and fingers. "It's killing me!" She whined lowly.

"Soon, Mira," you rolled your eyes.

"You've been saying that for a month, and now you're starting to show!" She snipped, hands on her hips. "He's not stupid - "

"He's been distracted as of late," your eyes rolled. "He is not paying attention to me right now, I've time to think."

"I beg to differ, but sure, let's be ignorant."

"Mira," you sighed, or more like whined. Your head tilted back and you sighed sadly, pinning her with an exasperated look.

"I'm being honest, Princess, and I'm telling you the Prince absolutely adores you. How he's not noticed yet is beyond me."

You sheepishly admitted, "I might've... Lied a wee bit."

"And said what?"

"I was bloated from bad fish and my cycle," you shrugged. "He doesn't know much different, and he's been coming to bed in exhaustion that he doesn't much stay awake to notice my growing figure."

"Well," she sighed, hands slapping her thighs as she shrugged with defeat, "this dress hides everything better, it fits nice. It's a winner for tonight's dinner... Just - "

"Don't eat too much," You ended for her, smirking. "I know... I know."

"You should just tell him, Princess. Rid us of this game, please."

"I will..."

"He has the right to know," she whispered.

"He will - just once I figure out what to do."

"What do you - "

"Once I figure out how to be okay with this," you sighed sadly. "Look... I just... Aemond doesn't seemed thrilled by the idea of being a father but his mother insisted on lineage. He only did his duty," you shrugged, fiddling with your fingers as emotion caught in your throat, "and I'm nervous to tell him, because... T-Then it's over."

"What's over?" Amira asked softly.

"The marriage," you sniffled, "the bliss, the partnership. I just become a cast-aside-milk-machine."

"You know the Prince would never - "

"Truthfully, Mira, we don't know," you cut her off sadly, "because nobody can predict what Aemond will say or do next."

"He wants to be a father," Mira nodded, but both of you froze when a new voice asked from the doorway,

"Who wants to be a father?"

Recognizing your husband's voice, Mira was swift to answer when you froze in fear, "My husband's brother. He's trying for a baby with his wife and I was telling the Princess how excited he is because he really wants to be a father."

"Hmm," Aemond considered a moment, stepping into the room in-full and letting the door close softly behind him. "Well, speaking of my dear wife, are you almost ready, love? We've dinner arrangements."

His eye raked over your form and when he settled on your face, he smirked with mischief. Gulping from the flush of heat his gaze brought, you glanced at Mira before affirming, "I'm ready, my Prince Ameond."

His brow furrowed as Mira showed herself out, Ameond asking, "Since when do you address me so formally, my love?"

"Oh, well, just - you know, we're going to have dinner with your whole family, Ameond, I just wanted to remember formalities and, you know, my place..."

"Your place," he reaffirmed as he reached for you, "is at my side, sweet girl. You worry for nought, my family adores you."

You sighed lightly, "As if you gave them a choice but only to accept me."

His smirked broadened, "You're right - I gave them none. Come, you're worrying yourself silly. It's nothing, my sweet girl, Father called for this dinner to celebrate us being together."

"Might you promise me something, then?"

Aemond sighed, "You know I cannot break promises to you."

"Exactly," you smirked lightly, feeling his arms tighten around your waist to keep you pressed to his front. You worried he'd feel the small curve of your belly, but distracted him by asking, "Do not antagonize anyone while your King Father is present, my love, please. He's old, he's sick, let us grant his wish of having a meal together - in harmony, in peace..."

He sighed again, letting his eye shoot over your face as you pouted lightly. "All right, my love," he agreed, "I will behave myself while Father is present."

"Thank you," you whispered, thinking that was the end of it. Your Lord husband smiled and took your hand to tangle his fingers with yours, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips.

"Shall we, my love?" He muttered softly.

"Hmm," you hummed, kissing him again. "All right, yeah, let us go. Shouldn't keep the family waiting."

He smirked, "Come."

Aemond liked keeping you close, moving from your shared rooms and down the halls to reach the private dining room the Royal Family was to take their meal in tonight. Upon entering, you discovered the fires ablaze and torches set to provide ample lighting, making you smile as the room was the perfect temperature for your pregnant, flushed-flesh.

As custom dictates, you bowed to the Queen Mother first; greeting the Hand of the King after, then with similar bows, greeted the crowned heir to the Iron Throne, your birth mother, Princess Rhaenyra. You gaze shifted to your mother's husband, the Prince Daemon, your step-father, and offered him a polite greeting. Truth of it was that you were always cautious of Daemon, and the way he looked at you was hard to decipher; never knowing if he even liked you or not. You skin was toned down from your father's, the late Lord Laenor Velaryon, but your hair was as bright as your mother and father's, and all who shared your blood.

Your marriage to Aemond was a bid for peace after your younger brother, Jace, took the young Aemond's eye about 6-7 years prior. To placate tension, your hand was offered only 2 years ago, and it turned out to be a surprising love-match. You and Aemond grew closer after the years apart, and though you tried to understand all sides of the situation, you knew the truth behind the loss of his eye, and only tried to offer comfort for your husband on day's he became overwhelmingly insecure.

You loved your family, but you loved the man you shared your life with now and did your best to keep the peace.

You greeted your brothers and cousins before looking back at your mother, who grinned in excitement.

Your mother breathed your name and stood from her seat, making you match her excitement as you let go of Aemond's hand to hug her tightly. "Mother," you gasped into the tight embrace. "Oh, how you glow! Pregnancy has always agreed with you. How are you feeling?"

"I'm well, my sweet love," Rhaenyra nodded, pulling away to gently pet a stray hair from your forehead. "Your hair's grown so much in these years."

"Do you like it?"

"You look beautiful, my love, I adore it," she promised, squeezing your hand. "How are you fairing?" She glanced over your shoulder to your husband - who was greeting his own siblings.

"I am doing well, Mother, you do not need worry," you assured. "Aemond is good and kind to me, I promise. I have known only love and warmth from him, and I feel I should both apologize to you for protesting the arrangement, and then thank you for it..." She smiled fondly, caressing your jaw and chin. "It has worked out better than I ever could imagine."

"I am delighted to hear it," your mother spoke with so much love and kindness that a light sheen of tears coated your eyes. "You look well, love," she sighed lightly, petting over your long hair. "You know I miss you daily, my sweet girl. It is not the same without you."

"I miss you, too," you swore. "More than words..."

She sighed, "Well, go on, we should find our seats..."

"We'll talk again soon," you assured softly, giving her hands another squeeze before breaking apart. You nodded to her husband, "Prince Daemon."

"Princess," he nodded back, watching you move around the table to snag Aemond's hand in yours, and together, the two of you made it to your seats at the head of the table. Aemond pulled your chair out and let you sit before taking his seat between you and his grandsire, leaving you between him and his sister, the Princess Helaena.

"Good evening," Otto muttered to you, nodding with a soft smile. "You look beautiful, Princess."

"Thank you, my Lord," you smiled. "You look well yourself. And you, Princess," you directed at Helaena, "that dress befits you."

"Thank you, my Lady," she smiled, "you're glowing... In this light," she spoke with a knowing twinkle in her eye.

"Love?" Aemond muttered, a servant holding a goblet. "Would you like wine tonight?"

"Oh, please," You accepted, Aemond taking the goblet to pass along to you. "Thank you, sweetheart."

"Hm," he acknowledged with a small smirk, raising his own to his lips as he observed the whole of the table and slowly turned in his chair to crowd into you. "Say the word, love, and we'll leave..."

"We're fine," You assured in a soft whisper, bowing your head to speak in his ear. "You are on edge, my Prince."

You could almost physically feel his nerves.

"With reason," he sighed, leaning in to press a kiss to your neck. "Aegon wants a word, my love. I'll be a moment."

"Go on," you sighed, smiling with a nod as he stood from his seat; leaving you with a parting kiss on the top of your head. The table was still being dressed for dinner and the Targaryen-Hightower families all sat around as they all waited for the King to arrive. Aemond and Aegon stood for their conversation at the corner of the table, leaving Helaena to rise to her knees in her chair; giggling with you over whatever riddles plagued her mind in that moment. Otto smiled as he watched you two for a moment.

From your place, you could feel the tension from Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra, knowing all of their feud from your limited years at court prior to tonight. When the doors opened and a procession of Kings Guard was seen, you all pushed from your wooden chairs to stand for the King's arrival; your husband reaching for your waist to stand together as a united front. Aemond always took your union very seriously as your birth appearance only left room for rumors to fester about your brother's lineage, and Aemond took immense pride in calling you wife.

You, who had the color of your father's skin, and the hair color of your mother; you, who was a highly desired prize to the courts; you, who was desired over others, and looked at only as a trophy - but being that you wed a man who had known you your whole life, he treated you as much more. You were proud of your marriage, and stood tall at his side.

The King was carried in a chair that would double as his seat for the evening meal, requiring a set of guards to carry him up to the table before being lowered.

When everyone was allowed to reclaim their seat, Aemond held a hand to the servant boy who meant to push your chair in; smirking at you as he took the liberty himself. Say what you wanted about the lad, but his mother raised him right...

Much could not be said for his brother, but Aegon was not your worry.

Aemond took his seat after, letting his hand drift to your thigh in invitation; smirking again when both your hands tangled with his. You noticed both of your brothers now sat with their betrothed, who were Daemon's daughters with your Aunt Laena - who passed seemingly only days before your father. Both tragedies left your mother, Rhaenyra, and uncle (?) Daemon available to marry, and you remember standing on your ancestral home of Dragonstone, watching the Old Valyrian customs come to life as they wed.

A beautiful ceremony in truth.

Around the table, all members of the Targaryen-Velaryon-Hightower family claimed their seats as King Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, was set down at the large gap separating your mother and step-mother...

How odd to think about the relations around this table.

As the guards retreated, Viserys croaked, "How good it is... To see you all tonight... Together."

You smiled at Aemond and let your head fall into the crook of his neck when he glanced at you; his arm readjusting to better hold your hand, both attentively listening to the King's words, but not before his chin caressed the top of your head when he returned your brief show of affection.

The tension at the table was nearly palpable, leaving Alicent to ask her husband, "Prayer before we begin?"

"Yes," Viserys agreed.

Everyone took proper prayer form, you glancing at your seemingly confused mother for a moment before to your lap as Alicent lead the prayer: "May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith men the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the Gods give him rest."

You ignored the under-breath huffy responses to Queen Alicent wishing for rest upon a man slain in court today, nodding when the prayer was over and lifting your head to reclaim your husband's hand in your own. Viserys continued, "This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our Houses." You nudged Aemond gently when you saw him staring at Jace with unnerve. "A toast to the young Princes and their betrothed!"

"Hear, hear," Daemon mocked as he took up his goblet, your husband spying your smirk of amusement.

And though he lowered his voice so his father did not hear, Aegon's words reached your own ears as he muttered to your brother, "Well done, Jace. You'll finally get to lie with a woman."

Jace let his goblet set to the table forcefully, catching your eyes as you subtly shook your head at him. He ignored Prince Aegon's antagonizing words.

"Let us toast, as well, Prince Lucerys... The future Lord of the Tides."

"Hear, hear," his future sister-cousin toasted with a soft smirk.

"You'll be great," his cousin-fiancé assured.

"Love," you reprimanded softly, catching his stare again. He only sighed at you as Aegon was turning to Jace again.

"You do know how the act is done, I assume? As least, in principle? Where to put your cock and all that?"

"Let it be, cousin."

"You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed," Jace defended, keeping his voice low so the adults would not hear him.

"Hmm," Aegon sighed, nodding once before sitting forward in his seat. You sighed to yourself, feeling Aemond's hand stroking over the meat of your inner thigh and leaning into his arm slightly.

But all came to a stand-still when Viserys grunted and stood uneasily to his feet, leaning forward on the table to hold himself up. His words were spoken between huffs of breath, "It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table." He looked around with meaning, "The faces most dear to me in all the world... Yet grown so distant from each other... In the years past."

Aemond blinked once, then twice, and lowered his gaze to the table before looking down at you. You offered a silent smile and pet over his hand. But both of your smiles dropped when you looked up again, watching Viserys reach for the latch that kept the golden facemask in place; realizing his intention. You were used to Aemond's injury and scar, but the King's was something else entirely, and with your pregnancy stomach - you were unsure how you would react seeing it.

Aemond's hand squeezed yours when the King dropped his mask and gave a front-row-viewing to his decaying face. Aegon and Helaena refused to look, their eyes set to the table as Viserys looked around; Rhaenyra seeing the extent of his illness, and how his children could not look at him for longer than a few seconds.

Viserys continued, "My own face... Is no longer a handsome one," he snorted lightly at his own joke, "if indeed it ever was. But tonight... I wish you to see me... As I am." Otto watched the King directly, boldly, and your eyes could only handle small glances, focusing on the way Aemond was distracting you with his fingers running up and down your thigh in your lap. "Not just a King," Viserys continued through haggard breathing, "But your Father!" He turned his eye to Daemon, spitting, "Your brother!" His head turned to Alicent, "Your husband." And then he looked to the middle of the table, "Your grandsire. Who may not, it seems... Walk for much longer among you." He slammed the gold mask to punctuate his point, all eyes staring at him now. "Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances." You felt emotion swell in your chest as Aemond's hand paused to squeeze your hand. "If not for the sake of the crown... Then for the sake of this old man! Who loves you all so dearly!"

He panted in exhaustion as he fell back into his seat with Alicent's aid; fixing the mask back over the decaying half of his face. Suddenly, your mother, Rhaenyra, was shooting up from her seat with her goblet in hand; making you sit up straighter almost subconsciously. Aemond fought off his knowing smirk as he watched your mother hold her goblet with intention.

After a moment, the crowned Princess spoke, "I wish to raise my cup to Her Grace, the Queen." When Alicent had helped secure the gold mask, she looked up in curiosity. "I love my father," she continued to Alicent. "But I must admit that no one has stood... More loyally by his side than his good wife." After a meaningful look, your mother spoke to the rest of the table, "She has tended to him with... Unfailing devotion, love, and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude... And my apology."

When your mother's eyes caught your own as she sat down, you nodded with your own toast, "To the Queen Mother."

The others echoed your words and took their obligatory sip of wine, watching Alicent accept your mother's words. "Your graciousness move me deeply, Princess." Daemon sat forward at the Queen's words, your mother watching her as your own husband seemingly stilled to watch the tense exchange. "We are both mothers... And we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow." Your mother accepted her words, in turn; and the Queen Alicent Hightower stood to her feet, and hoisted her cup high, "I raise my cup to you and to your House." After a moment, she ended, "You will make a fine Queen."

You smirked gently as your mother fought off her emotion, raising your cup again to call, "To Princess Rhaenyra, our future Queen!"

The rest of the table followed suit, and with King Viserys, took their gulps of wine. Aemond smirked and pecked your temple, earning your attention for you to grin at him - feeling as if this was a perfect moment to announce to your husband and family that you were pregnant. But his attention drifted when his brother drained his goblet, cleared his throat, and stood from his seat.

He sighed and kept close watch as you silently turned your attention as well. Aemond knew better than anyone how protective you were of your brothers, and though you shared different traits in appearance, they were still your blood, and you, and your gorgeous green dragon, Kasta, would defend them until your death day.

You could not make out the words Aegon was muttering to your cousin, but you knew the lad liked to instigate; his farce of pouring himself a new goblet of wine only getting him so far.

Whatever was said upset the Prince enough for his hands to bang on the table as he stood; Aegon's smirk assuring you he meant for this reaction. "Jace," you heard Rhaena try to intercede.

But as Aegon made for his seat, your husband stood to his feet, and stared Jace down as if in challenge to say anything. The table all stilled, and even Viserys, who had witnessed your husband ferocity, waited with held breath. "My love," you whispered, reaching for Aemond's sleeve to give a simple tug. "You promised," you reminded softly, begging him to sit down again. But when his fist formed, you stood from your seat to press into his side, whispering urgently, "Aemond, please, do not do this, I am begging you."

His arm slithered around you to keep you at his side as Jace only pounded his fist into Aegon's shoulder in a show of good faith; noting the way Aemond went rigid even under your soothing touch.

Jace toasted with his own goblet, "To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years," Jace glanced from Luke to you and Aemond, "but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And it is obvious the love, devotion, and respect you show my sister - and for that, I give both gratitude and thanks." He paused to look at Aegon, who looked sour at the show of responsibility and educated-tongue. "And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your families good health, dear uncles. Or, should I say, dear uncle, and brother," he smiled at you after, seeing you return it with all-teeth.

But when Aemond's hand tightened on your waist in anger, you whispered again with urgency, "Please, let it go."

Behind you, Jace had gripped Aegon's shoulder, giving a tight squeeze, before another friendly fist pound - making the Prince reply tightly, "To you as well."

"A moment," you called, making Aemond pause in his descent to his chair, and prayed you could cause reason to smile again, "because I'd like to toast my good and loving husband." He offered you a solemn smile, but cocked his head in confusion. "And... I'd like to take this moment, before our families, to share the good news..."

"Love," Aemond whispered in shock, Alicent perking up as Otto did. "You speak what I think you do?"

You nodded, glancing at the table, but telling Aemond, "I'm pregnant. We're going to have a baby, the Seven's heard us at last, my Prince."

There was a round of cheers and applause as Aemond breathed in relief and pulled you in, letting both his hands caress your cheeks as he kissed you tenderly. "Truly?" He muttered, making tears brim your waterline.

"Yes," you confirmed, feeling one of his hands drop to press against you gently swelling womb. "Just a bit over three months in."

He laughed and pulled you in for a proper hug, the table sending their congratulations to you both - and you foolishly thought you were successful in distracting Aemond enough. You took your seats again, him fully turned to keep his arms around you, as the family all muttered in good tidings.

But above them, you could hear Helaena mutter, "Beware the beast beneath the boards."

You didn't get to question it because you were leaning over to give Otto's hand a squeeze - thanking him for his good tidings. Your mother caught your eye after, giving you a bright and happy grin; silently toasting to you, making you return the motion and take a sip.

Thinking you had ended the toasts for the evening, imagine the surprise when Helaena, a usually quiet girl, stood from her seat as if it burned her. Aemond and you both paused to look up, listening as she spoke, "I would like to toast Baela and Rhaena. They'll be married soon. 'Tisn't so bad," she assured sincerely. "Mostly, he just ignores you..." Then, a thought came to her, "Except sometimes when he's drunk."

You honestly didn't mean to, but you laughed a little - eyes widening as you look at Aemond with your hand over your mouth. But he chuckled, too; and dare you say it, but you swore Otto let out a singular chuckle to his granddaughter's words. In fact, you knew he did, when Helaena found her seat again and he nodded at her, muttering, "Good."

"Let us have some music," Viserys spoke, and a moment later, the live musicians struck a tune. Curiosity burned in your gut when Jace stood from his seat, muttered to his fiancé, and then stepped around the table to approach Helaena with an offered hand.

"Jace," You warned your brother when he halted beside you; watching as Aegon could not tear his sights away from his wife as she accepted, and let the Prince lead her to a small clearing for a dance.

Aegon turned and shared a hardened look with his brother. Aemond let his chair push back some to give him a proper view of his surroundings, taking your hand, and encouraging you closer. You sighed with mild worry, muttering, "Won't you eat something, my love? Please?"

He hummed, tearing his gaze back to you. "No, sweet girl, you go on. Eating for two now, aren't you?"

You sighed lightly, "W-Was this alright?"

"What?"

"Telling you here?" You wondered, genuine fear flooding your chest.

Aemond sighed and leaned forward to crowd into you again, despite the head of the table posing with natural privacy. "My love... This is," he sighed lightly and took your hands in his, meeting your gaze, "The best news you could've given me - in any way. But in front of our families? That is special, indeed," he smirked some, leaning in to press a linger kiss to your forehead. "Worry not, sweet wife, for this is joyous news. I am just..."

"Uneasy?" You filled in with a frown. "I know this family likes to push buttons but please do not say or do anything - not with the King here, my love."

"I know," he assured softly, "I made you a promise, I will not break it."

You nodded in response, letting his lips meet yours for a slow kiss, his nose nuzzling against yours before he leaned back in his chair - nodding at your plate to silently encourage you to take another bite.

Some minutes passed and after laughing with Otto over something silly, you caught your husband's gaze again. You offered him a small look before leaning in, making him sit up and bow his head to hear your words, "You're staring again."

He chuckled, "Perhaps I am enjoying the view."

"Oh, of me eating, is it?"

"Of my beautiful wife, yes," he smirked, leaning back again, and leaving you to get sucked back into whatever was being spoken of now. You did not notice how the King gazed fondly at you all, taking note of his gathered family, until he was wincing and moaning in pain.

Slowing your chewing, you watched silently as Alicent called for the guards, and Viserys was then being pulled away, and carried away from the table. You stood with respect as he was dismissed, Aemond's hands smoothing over your waist to guide you back into your seat - a moment before he did the same.

Aemond sat at an angle, not eating, and leaving place at the table before him for the servants to raise and set a roasted pig before him. You eyed it wearily, knowing of the torment your brothers and Aegon put Aemond through for being dragonless in his youth, and tried not to think further of it. You reached to lay your hand on Aemond's knee in comfort, just placing your next bite to your mouth as Luke's snickering amusement enraged Aemond.

"Don't," you gasped after you swallowed when you noted the way his entire body turned to regard your younger brother; sighing in defeat when Aemond's fist rapidly pounded into the table's top as he climbed to his feet and swiftly picked up his goblet.

"Final tribute," Aemond proposed, ignoring the way you sighed and remained still in your seat. When the hall quieted and turned their attention to him, Aemond continued, "To the health of my nephews: Jace," he looked to the boy still-standing, "Luke," his sights turned to your brother that slashed his eye from its socket, "and Joffrey. Each of them handsome," your eyes met Alicent's, as if anticipating his words, "wise..." He paused, the tension brewing to a new height.

"Love, please," you whispered, watching him nod silently, and then finish,

"Strong."

"Aemond," his mother tried, but was ignored.

"Come!" Aemond barked as you slowly stood to your feet out of worry; his arm extending to wrap around you and settle you on his other side - as if to protect you. "With my sweet wife, let us drain our cups to these three..." Aegon rose his goblet with enthusiasm, ever the one to hide behind his brother's brute, words, and strength, "Strong boys."

"I dare you to say that again," Jace barked.

"Why?" Aemond instigated as his head snapped to look at your brother, you sharing a look of unease with Alicent. "'Twas only a compliment." He let go of you as Jace started forward, turning instantly to meet him. "Do you not think yourself Strong?"

Luke stood in anger as Aegon met him, Jace launching his fist into Aemond's jaw - making you wince slightly upon the impact, and making you call your brother's name in protest. You felt Otto raise to his feet and pull you back from the fray, as Aegon smashed Luke's head to the table. "THAT IS ENOUGH!" Alicent raged.

Seemingly unfazed by the fist to his face, Aemond smirked at Jace before pushing the younger boy back off his feet. He sprung up with a growl - making two guards lunge forward to restrain him - as your husband turned with a broad grin and his goblet, still in hand.

Jace and Luke were both restrained as you freed yourself from Otto's grasp to reach for your husband, who sat his goblet down in order to hold onto you. "What was that? Huh? You lost your mind finally?" You demanded in disappointment, hearing your brothers still growling and grunting with effort to free themselves.

Alicent descended upon you two, demanding in a lowered tone, "Why would you say such a thing before these people!?"

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother," Aemond rounded on her, one arm still tight around your waist. "Mm," he considered, raising his voice as he let go of you to turn, "though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs."

Jace broke free and charged forward as Daemon barked, "Wait, wait!" With a silent finger held, he stalked between the two Princes; easing Jace backwards without uttering a word. When the boy was back by his brother and both of their betrothed, your mother was demanding of them, "Go to your quarters. All of you go, now."

Daemon turned and settled his sights on Aemond, making the hair on your neck stand on end with worry as you held your husband's hand tightly - as if it would keep him at bay. Your step-father came to a halt and sighed, still staring at Aemond, and you knew that just because your husband was unhinged, didn't mean you were, and Daemon genuinely made you nervous. He was undefeated and rumor of his win in the Stepstones was told to you directly by your father, who bore witness to the Rogue Prince taking the entire beach by himself.

Daemon was not someone you were eager to cross, but your husband loved a good challenge - and by the look in both man's eye, you knew they had met their matches.

Aemond sized Daemon up for a moment before your hand tightened in his, begging quietly, "Can we go, please?"

He hummed in response and tightened his hand in yours, leading you past your mother and step-father, but pausing when Rhaenyra spoke your name. Your mother reached for you, smiling, "Congratulations, my sweet girl. You'll make a beautiful mother."

"Thank you," you whispered to her, leaning in to kiss her cheek, and whisper, "I'm so sorry."

She winked at you in return, letting Aemond take your hand again and lead you onward into the torch-lined hallway. You sighed when you pushed from the room, leading in the other direction of the guest rooms, meaning, you did not have to worry about running into your brothers.

"You're angry," he mentioned in observation after a few moments.

"No," you answered quietly, leading up to your chamber door. "Just uneasy."

"Over me?"

"Over all of this," you admitted softly, entering first and hearing him follow. When the door closed, you continued, "It pains me to feel and see the divide in the family. And I walk both lines of it..."

"'S not easy," he agreed.

"No, it's not," you sighed, pulling your jewelry off. "And now isn't the time for petty games, my love. We've a child on the way, the time for grudges has passed - though I will not tell you to let this go." You turned to look at him in the firelight. "I know the pain caused, and I know what was taken from you..." He lowered his gaze, making you slowly approach him and reach for either hand. "But I need my husband with me, and not lost to some vendetta. We're having a baby, Aemond, and I'd like for them to know their uncles."

He sighed, nodding as he wrapped his arms up your waist. "Aye... I'd want that, too. But they can't call me brother, please, my love - "

You chuckled, "I will make sure they understand. We do not have to see them often, but the times we do, I'd like for some semblance of peace and normalcy."

He nodded with understanding, "Aye. For you, my love, I can do that."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," He sighed.

"Then please - no more Strong comments," you begged quietly. "They're leaving soon, please, do not instigate this further. You do not have to see them again, but I'd like to see my siblings off."

He nodded, "Whatever you want, my sweet."

"Well, I want my brothers and husband to get along but that's not happening, is it?"

"Not likely," he teased. "But I will do my best to restrain myself."

"I only ask that you try," you agreed, pecking his lips. "Now, are you gonna run off anymore or do I have my husband for the night?"

He smirked, "You have me, my love. I am here with you."

"Good," you smirked, letting a hand snake along the back of his neck to pull him down; searing a heated kiss to his lips.

[ series masterlist ]

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond one eye #aemond hotd #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd imagine

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moviecritc · 6 days

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Hi! Could you do a driver!reader who is dating Max and is in ferrari and the whole Carlos thing is happening to her so in Australia she ignores team orders and goes to win the race. Charles is mad at her and in the post race interview when asked about it she is just like "Happy multi 21 day everyone" and like Max is so fucking proud his gf is in her reputation era 💅💅💅

on the edge ⋆ max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader

word count: 1.7K

warnings: charles leclerc being himself (a bitch)

a/n: this is my first request it makes me very very happy!! thanks anon for your request, i hope you like this. i love max with all my heart and i love writing about him aswell.

just wanted to tell you guys that for the requests you can ask for reader and oc, even though when it's not a request it'll probably be an oc bc i love to give names to my characters <3

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

Y/N didn't have a seat for the upcoming Formula 1 season, and that stressed her out quite a bit. She and Charles had been teammates for three years, and she really thought Ferrari would keep her on the team, but upon learning that Lewis Hamilton was leaving Mercedes, they were the first to snatch him up and turn their backs on her.

Now she had two options: give up, pray to sign with Williams or Haas, or outperform herself this season and force her way into one of the top five teams. And for now, she had chosen the second option. P3 in the first race and in the top five in the second. She was extremely motivated for Australia.

Y/N loved the view of the fireworks from the podium, the champagne, and, above all, celebrating with Max Verstappen. Because let's not lie, it was obvious that Max would be on most of the podiums.

They kept their relationship out of the media. Being coworkers, neither of them wanted their relationship to hinder their success in Formula 1, but that didn't mean they didn't support each other every time the other achieved something.

Max had been with her throughout her Formula 1 career. They were the same age, but when Max debuted in the competition, she was still in Formula 2, battling against Albon and Russell for the title. A year before his debut, Y/N got a spot at Alpha Tauri as a reserve driver. It was in that year that Max and she started a relationship, at first quite casual and sporadic until they realized they were too obsessed with each other not to formalize it. And four years later, they were still together, sharing an attic in Monaco and competing together for the championship.

"It's going to be great for both of us, I'm sure," Y/N nodded. Before each race, they had a kind of ritual where they wished each other good luck, hugged, and kissed.

"I see a Y/Nstappen 1-2," Max assured before giving her a long kiss, resting his arms on his girlfriend's waist.

"I hope so,"

"Oh, come on. You're starting fourth, it'll be bad if you don't get on the podium," Max said. He knew her situation in Formula 1 was tense and did everything he could to make her feel good and positive. Max loved racing with her, and if she ended up off the grid next season, he would probably suffer from seasonal depression.

They kissed once more and were about to hug when someone knocked on Max's door to get them to the drivers' parade. They couldn't complete their little ritual, but neither of them gave it too much importance.

They went out to the parade where she was asked about her future in Formula 1, as they had been doing since the season started. That also annoyed her, would it always be like this from now on? Would everything be oriented towards whether she was unemployed or not? She answered with the best smile she could and ended the interview as quickly as possible.

She returned to Max, who was leaning on the fence of the truck they were being taken in for the parade. She leaned on the railing, holding it with her hands. Then Max discreetly placed his hand on hers, making her smile at the contact. Max wasn't very fond of physical contact, but if he could manage to brush against her shoulder, he would, maintaining professionalism wasn't as easy as it seemed.

"How's it going, mates?" Surprisingly, Leclerc approached them to start a conversation, first fist bumping with Max and then with Y/N, pressing his lips a little.

Their relationship as teammates was quite complicated at the moment. She was killing it in the few races that had passed, while Charles was just doing okay. Plus, although when Y/N joined the team, Charles and she had gotten along very well, that year they had been growing apart for obvious reasons.

They talked for a while about the race and expectations, especially Max and Charles, while Y/N disconnected from the situation a bit. Sometimes she was surprised that Charles and Max got along so well.

"Good luck today, Y/N," Charles said before leaving with Gasly.

Y/N blinked and looked at Max, puzzled. "What did he mean by that?"

"What do you mean?" Max frowned a little.

"He wished me luck, as if he thought I needed it," she insisted, biting her cheek.

"Everyone needs some luck, Y/N," Max said, knowing how nervous she could get when something didn't fit in her head.

"He didn't say anything to you," Y/N argued, crossing her arms.

"I mean…" Max tilted his head a little, eliciting a little smile from Y/N. "Don't dwell on it too much, you'll do great."

She loved that, how Max was able to lift her spirits in any situation, getting a little smile out of her. She loved him for that.

The parade ended, and they each went to their garage, fist bumping as a farewell because anything else would cause a stir in the media. In the Ferrari garage, her engineer commented on the strategies that focused on supporting and defending Charles even if he started two positions below her.

She gave Charles a short glance before going to the cars and taking their respective positions. It’s light and away we go. Y/N was so focused on passing Lando Norris that she didn't realize her boyfriend was no longer in first place, actually, he wasn't there anymore. She asked the engineers what had happened; Max had had some problems with the brakes and had retired from the race. "Don't fuck with me," she said, not fully believing it. "Is Max okay?"

"We don't know, focus on the race," her engineer emphasized.

"When you know, tell me, please," Y/N added, without receiving a response. There had been no accident, no red flag, so he was probably fine. But if there was smoke and sparks, there was always a chance that something had happened to him in the pits.

Y/N took a couple of breaths and refocused on the race. She looked on the bright side; she was third and had a chance to win. A few laps later, she managed to overtake Lando Norris. She pitted, and in the last third of the race, she was in first place. Behind her was Charles, so she thought they would change the strategy, and he would be the one defending the position.

"Y/N, let Charles pass," her engineer said, taking her by surprise.

"What?" Y/N practically shouted. "But I'm in first,"

"They're team orders, let him pass,"

"He's slow! He's over half a second behind me, letting him pass will make me slow down!" She couldn't believe this was happening.

"Y/N."

"If he can overtake me, let him, but I'm not letting him pass. I'm winning this fucking race."

And so it was. Y/N crossed the finish line first, and when she got out of the car, Max was there to greet her with a hug. He tried to make her not notice that there were hardly any people from her team there, but Y/N realized it, and her gaze darkened a little. Still, Charles came second, and when he parked his car, several Ferrari mechanics went to congratulate him.

Max watched Y/N, worried that she would take it badly. But then he saw her exchange a triumphant

look with Charles, who, upon seeing her, turned serious. And if that wasn't enough, she blew a kiss to Charles and then went with Max, who put an arm around her shoulders.

"That was incredible," Max said.

"The race or Charles's face?" she questioned, with an ironic smile.

"Both. I thought you'd be sad because there was no one to greet you,"

"You were there,"

"From your team, I mean," Max explained.

"You and I are a team, Maxie. Have you never thought about that?" She looked at him with a smile. "You're right, we are,"

"Are you okay?" Y/N asked. "I got quite worried when you DNF’d."

"I'm okay, no serious damage,"

"And emotionally?"

"I'm fine. Proud of you, above all," Max nodded. "Now go celebrate your podium, I'll be watching you from below,"

They gave each other a brief kiss on the cheek, not caring too much about the cameras; she had just won the race, she deserved at least a kiss from her boyfriend. She received her prize with a smile and celebrated the podium with Charles and Lando, more with Lando than with Charles. The McLaren driver had congratulated her countless times that day, but Charles barely spoke to her.

"Are you okay, mate?" Y/N asked, knowing what was coming.

"You didn't follow team orders," Charles said directly.

"Oh, right. That," she shrugged, raising her eyebrows. "You came second, Charles. It's not that bad,"

"Damn, but if they tell you to let me pass, you let me pass. What does it matter to you?" he raised his voice a little.

"What does it matter to you? You have your golden seat at Ferrari. Some of us have to work really hard to have a seat, crazy, right?" Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile and turned around, leaving Charles with a word on his lips.

Y/N reached the interview area, where Lando and Oscar were doing their respective interviews.

"Y/N! You won the race by disobeying team orders, does it feel the same as winning a race fair and square?" a man asked.

"Fair and square? I was fast enough to cross the line first, the rest weren't. I think that's how a race is supposed to be won," she argued. She smiled widely; she saw Max was also around, waiting for his turn for interviews.

"Don't you have any remorse?" he questioned.

"Not one,"

She ended the interview after that; she didn't feel like explaining. As she turned around, she found Max with an almost mischievous smile. They fist bumped, and he went to do the interview. "Max, can we ask you about the win of your girlfriend?"

"About Y/N,"

"Yes, about Y/N," he nodded.

"I'm extremely proud of her, it's her second victory, and even though I had to retire, I'm glad she won this race,"

"Even given the circumstances of the victory?" the reporter questioned.

"With the circumstances of the victory," Max assured with a broad smile.

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen imagine #australian gp 2024 #charles leclerc #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv1 fic #mv1 x you #mv33 #mv33 x reader #mv33 imagine #mv33 fic #mv33 x you #max verstappen one shot #noraverse 🫧

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 7 months

Note

Hello!! I love your work so much ❤🥰. I wanted to know if I could request something with Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia? Something fluffy, loving with him?

Thank you so much ❤🥰

Dr Cupid.

Synopsis - Mickey Garcia passes out in hospitals. Luckily, this time there's a pretty nurse there to catch him.

Pairing - Mickey Garcia x Nurse!Reader

Warnings - a little cursing, a lot of tooth rotting fluff. mentions of blood and hospitals.

Age Rating - 16+

Word Count - 1.5k

Author's Note - thank you for this request!! i love mickey so much. i've been a HUGE danny ramirez fan for years, so i was so excited when he was cast in top gun, and mickey did not disappoint. an angel <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

You pull back the crinkly blue curtain with a bit too much force, startling the man sat on the edge of the bed.

"Sorry!" you apologise, closing it behind you. "These things are always lighter than I think they're going to be."

"It's alright, ma'am. No worries."

He's handsome. Really handsome. Big blue eyes, golden blonde hair, an air about him that exudes intelligence and compassion. You smile at him gently before retrieving his chart, giving it a once over quickly.

"Lieutenant Robert Floyd. United States Navy."

He introduces himself, shaking your hand formally. You tell him your name, and he repeats it carefully.

"Pretty name."

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Please, call me Bob."

"Thank you, Bob."

He smiles at you bashfully, nodding his head.

"So, Bob, what seems to be the problem today?"

"Training exercise gone wrong. I'm clumsy. You can probably tell by my medical history."

You look over the chart, and laugh softly.

"So you are. What happened this time?"

"It's just a little cut, on my shoulder. I fell onto it, onto the tarmac. I told everyone I didn't need to see a doctor, but they insisted."

"Well luckily for you, I'm a nurse," you wink, chuckling when he blushes. "Let's get this shirt off you so I can take a look. You mind if I cut it?"

"Go ahead."

You cut a line clean down the middle of his t shirt, an old, grey thing. It falls off of him, allowing you to see his shoulder wound.

Just as you're about to explain your next steps, the curtain flies open, a man in a flight suit rushing in.

"Sir, can I help you?"

"He's with me. He's in my squad," Bob reassures you. "Fanboy, you don't have to be here."

"I want to be."

"Fanboy?" you ask, confused about the unusual name.

"It's my call sign. We're pilots. US Navy."

"Why didn't I know they had pilots in the navy? I thought that was the air force."

Fanboy grins at you, all gleaming white teeth, before holding his hand out for you to shake.

"Lieutenant Mickey Garcia. Weapons Systems Officer."

You tell him your name, followed by 'nurse', which makes them both laugh.

"Well, Mickey, if you take a seat, I'll patch up Bob here and you can both get back to flying your jet planes."

Mickey steps around you, eyes darting over Bob as he goes. He catches sight of his bleeding shoulder, and all the colour drains from him.

You've seen this before.

He goes pale, and then wobbles on his feet. You stride over and wrap your arms around him, catching him as he passes out.

"Shit," Bob swears. "I'd help, ma'am, but I'm a little out of commission right now."

"It's alright," you chuckle. "This happens a lot. I'm stronger than I look."

You manage to walk Mickey backwards, sitting him in the chair that you originally sent him towards. You cradle his face in your hands, holding up his head. His eyes flutter open, straight onto you.

"Did I die? Is this heaven?" he whispers.

Both you and Bob try not to laugh as you check him over.

"I'm afraid not, Lieutenant. You're in the hospital, visiting Bob. He's hurt his shoulder. Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," he murmurs, embarrassed.

You grab him a cup of water, placing it into his hand carefully.

"You okay?"

His big brown eyes are locked on you, not leaving for a minute. He's beautiful, you realise suddenly. Yes, Bob is handsome, but Mickey is beautiful.

"I get a little weird around blood."

"You're telling me."

The smile he gives you is enough to move mountains.

"Okay, Garcia, listen up. You're gonna sit here and drink your water. Take big, slow, deep breaths. And do not, under any circumstances, look at Bob, okay? Keep your eyes on me, no matter what."

"Yes ma'am."

You leave him in his chair, returning your attention to the blonde. You take a good look at the wound, and decide it'll need a couple of stitches.

"I'm gonna clean this up for you, and sew it shut. I'm sure you'll heal fast, being a healthy pilot and all."

You glance over at Mickey, and see that he's still watching you. Gazing at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

"Bob, I won't lie to you. This is going to hurt. Feel free to hold onto me if you need to."

You numb his shoulder, before getting to work stitching it up. You flick your eyes to Mickey intermittently, smiling gently when his stare meets yours.

"Garcia, did you bring any spare clothes? I had to cut Bob's shirt off. I doubt he wants to walk out of here shirtless."

"Yeah, Phoenix has a bag in the waiting room. I'll go and grab it."

You watch him carefully as he stands, making sure he doesn't pass out again. He leaves, and Bob grins at you.

"He likes you."

"Everyone likes me, Bob. I'm a good nurse."

"No, he likes you. That's the quietest I've ever heard him sit. And he took your orders. He doesn't do that for anyone."

You shake your head, smiling as you do it.

"Are you single?"

"Very forward, Lieutenant."

"For him, not for me! You're beautiful," he justifies, "but I'm sort of dating my copilot."

"Sort of?"

"It's complicated."

"Then make it uncomplicated, Bob."

He thinks for a moment, before nodding.

"You're right. I'm going to talk to her."

Mickey comes barging back in with a t shirt in hand.

"Phoenix packed you an overnight bag, just in case. She says this is your shirt anyway."

You look at Bob and wink, chuckling when he blushes.

"Anything else, ma'am?"

"That's all. You've been a perfect patient Bob," you say, squeezing his other shoulder. "If you go to the desk, they'll give you some spare dressings for when you need to change it. Besides that, just take care of yourself, okay?"

"Okay. Understood. Thank you, for everything. I appreciate it."

The two of them leave in a flurry of thanks, Mickey casting a longing glance back at you. You can hear them bickering on the other side of the curtain.

"Fine!" you hear Mickey say, before he reappears.

"Uh... hi."

"You forget something?" you ask, looking around the bed.

"Yeah. To ask you out."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, corners of your lips twitching.

"And to apologise. For before. Passing out, and all. I, uh-"

He scratches the back of his neck nervously before perching on the edge of the bed. You move to sit next to him, leg pressing into his.

"I practically grew up in a hospital. My Dad wasn't a nice guy, so my Mom was here all the time."

You lace your fingers with his, resting them on your thigh.

"I used to try and clean up her injuries at home the best I could, but sometimes it wasn't enough. He finally left when I was thirteen, and I didn't have to play doctor anymore."

He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

"Now, as an adult, I have this crazy reaction to blood. Even just a papercut is enough to have me hyperventilating. I guess I saw so much of it when I was a kid, that I can't handle it now?"

He looks at you expectantly, unsure of what you'll say.

"It's way more common than you think, you know. I have people pass out on me all the time. You're not alone, I promise."

He smiles at you softly, and you're convinced you've never met someone more beautiful.

"I have a friend who works on the fourth floor. She's a psychiatrist - which I know people roll their eyes at, especially men - but, she's really great to talk to. About anything. She can help with phobias. I've seen her do it."

He nods almost imperceptibly.

"I mean... it can't hurt to talk to her, right? Just once?"

"Exactly. I can give you her number, you can give her a call whenever suits you."

He nudges your shoulder with his, your hands still linked.

"Thank you. Bob doesn't love hospitals either, but you really set his mind at ease today."

"Just doing my job."

"Trust me, you're doing a hell of a lot more."

You feel the heat rise up your chest, praying he can't hear how fast your heart is beating.

"I know you probably work crazy shifts here, but... would you like to go for dinner sometime? I'd love to get to know you in a less... uh... clinical setting."

You grin at him, squeezing his hand tightly.

"I'd love to. As long as you promise not to pass out," you wink.

"That is a promise I cannot make."

You laugh with him, shaking your head.

"I should get back to work. God knows this place needs me."

"Of course. Do your thing, SuperNurse."

You lean over and press a kiss to his cheek, handing him a card with your number on.

"Call me."

"What time do you get off?"

"7."

"I'll call you at 7:01."

"Deal," you laugh, pulling the curtains back.

You watch as he leaves to join Bob and a woman you assume is Phoenix in the waiting area. You wave at Mickey as you go, the other two pilots looking between you with knowing grins on their faces.

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doobea · 7 months

Text

SWEET / I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO DANCE - NAGI SEISHIRO

synopsis: Your boyfriend doesn't realize how important little things are to you until it's a bit too late.

contents: established relationship, slight hurt and comfort??, slight jealousy, sfw, nagi struggling trying to process emotional needs of others - what else is new, also nagi centric, college au, mentions of fraternity formals, gn!reader, idk i hc'd nagi to be a compsci major but up to debate ig word count: 1.6K a/n: title is based off of tyler the creators song hehe its my fav from his album and omg thank u nagi for breaking me out of this writer's block, inspired by @celestair for the idea!!

Nagi hadn't really expected you to get so excited about attending his chapter formal. Hell, he didn't even know that they were going to have one in the first place if it weren't for Reo bringing it up in a passing conversation last week in your dorm room.

"We should go!" You said, and he remembers you hopping out of your seat, abandoning your assignment, and dashing immediately towards your closet for an outfit.

"Should we?" Nagi questioned, a frown creeping its way to his lips.

Reo slumped his arm over Nagi's shoulder, tugging the male slightly into his chest. "C'mon, why are you even paying the dues if you don't attend our events?" Reo sounded annoyed.

Nagi shrugged and went back to his phone, resuming the level of whatever popular gacha game that was released for that month. "Because you said it would look good on my resume or something." He answered flatly.

Of course, Nagi knew that he couldn't say no to this. As much as he would love to, once you and Reo were both set on something it's almost impossible to try and coax you two out of it. Nagi is pretty sure that this formal is going to be the bane of his college existence and that his computer science classes are, arguably, now the easiest part.

"It's too loud in here." Nagi wanted to go home the moment he stepped out of his best friend's rented limo. He feels too stiff with the suit he's currently wearing, the cologne is starting to overwhelm his senses, and he really didn't like the fact there's already a fuckton of people inside the venue.

Everything feels too congested.

The three of you take a seat at a table shared by Nagi's other 'brothers' and their dates. He really doesn't remember anyone's faces aside from maybe one or two from his classes, so he's confused when a handful of them start greeting him with fist bumps. All of which he awkwardly returns. Something about long-living brotherhood? Nagi didn't quite catch what they said.

"Do you guys want anything to drink?" Reo shouts over the music as he starts to get up.

"A cranberry vodka would be nice." You gently tug on Nagi's sleeve, attempting to break his unyielding attention from his phone. Reo had set a rule before they left, and it's a mobile game and social media app ban at the table. So, naturally, Nagi is stuck analyzing the weather app. "Do you want anything, Sei?"

Looks like tomorrow there's going to be a slight chance of rain which is pretty awesome, he thinks.

"Hm? Oh, whatever you're having, I guess."

Nagi misses the way your smile fades. "Um, make that two cranberry vodkas?"

"Ah," Reo stumbles around with his words for a bit before nodding away. "Sure, be back in a minute."

"Sei," Your voice is closer this time, lips almost pressed up to his ears to minimize the booming music in the background. "Wanna go on the dance floor later?"

Nagi pauses his thumb, hovering over a random European map, and he's already internally shrinking from the idea. "Do I have to?"

You laugh, it sounds a little forced. "Only if you're up for it."

He shrugs and eyes the surrounding area. The dance floor looks semi-packed at the moment and everyone looks equally semi-buzzed. Sitting at the table sounds better in his head. "I think I'll stay here but you can go on ahead."

"Oh," You exhale through your nose and laugh again. "Okay, if that's what you want!"

"Mhm," He hums back and settles his head down at the table, feeling almost exhausted despite not having to do much today.

Nagi doesn't notice that he's alone at the table until the DJ starts signaling everyone in the venue to pay attention to a couple on the dance floor. He only looks up when he hears Reo's name getting called out and starts to straighten his back when he sees you dancing hand in hand with him. The sight leaves Nagi gnawing the insides of his cheeks.

"Hey," Nagi turns to see two of his fraternity brothers looking at him with a bit of concern and he's not sure why that's making him feel uneasy.

"You good there?" Isagi asks, careful to sound casual, but Nagi picks up on it.

"What?" Nagi frowns, connecting the dots together. "It's fine. I don't really care about them doing stuff together anyway." It's a vague statement. Maybe purposefully vague.

"Eh? You sure about that, Nagi?" Bachira presses.

Nagi frowns again, tips his head down, and is in deep thought. "I'm actually not sure." He finally admits. Nagi is currently fighting off a weird feeling in his stomach. Maybe it's just the drink he had earlier.

He's always been fine with Reo keeping you company whenever he isn't in the mood. Whether it be eating with you in the dining halls, attending movies together, going to the mall, and so forth. Dancing isn't off the list either. He's seen the two of you dance before but isn't sure why this is setting him off. Maybe it's the thought of you being happier without him in your life that is eating him away.

"Shit, he's walking over."

"Waah, let's go!"

It doesn't occur to Nagi that Reo's in front of him until his best friend clears his throat. Reo puts a hand on Nagi's shoulder and gives him one of those looks. A look that insinuates something big that he can't place a finger on but knows it's full of negative nuance.

"Don't be an ass right now," is all that Reo says.

"An ass?" Nagi echoes.

He allows Reo to tug him out of his seat and Nagi almost feels lethargic from how long he's been sitting down. A final push towards the edge of the dance floor is when he catches your sullen figure.

"I'm surprised that you haven't caught on," Reo continues after a while. Nagi recognizes the tone. He doesn't say anything more, and Nagi appreciates it that much, at least.

It's funny how much his mood is able to shift. First from feeling annoyed, to borderline sleepy, to determined. Nagi thinks he's finally learning how to read his relationship with you.

It's only when he's inches apart that he realizes that you're on the verge of tears. Nagi instinctively reaches out his hands and softly cups your cheeks, rubbing his thumbs across in his attempt to calm you.

What's wrong, he wants to ask but he already knows the answer to that. He feels bad for complaining all week, but he feels even worse for essentially abandoning your needs for god knows how long.

Nagi chews on his lips as a new idea starts to brew. It's an uncharacteristic idea. An idea that pushes him to become a new version of himself—the person he wants to be but struggling to understand.

"Hey," Nagi calls out your name slowly. "Can I dance with you?" You open your mouth—probably to say it's okay and you'd rather not make him uncomfortable—but Nagi continues before you can get a word in, before your tears start falling. "I'm sorry, I should've paid closer attention." He says in a whisper.

You fall silent and Nagi is wondering if he's said something he shouldn't have. He quietly peers over at Reo who's aggressively nodding his head, throwing a thumbs up across the room. You shift awkwardly in place before giving Nagi a faint smile.

"I would like that," You sound a little hesitant, but surprisingly welcoming to the suggestion. "I mean, if you're okay with it?"

"Don't worry about what I think, you've done plenty for me already." And he means it.

Nagi migrates his hands from your face to your waist as the music shifts to something slower, more tender, and sweet. It's obvious to everyone in the room that you two are a little nervous and it's almost laughable. He's been dating you just shy of a year and has never once offered to dance with you. It comes as no shock to him that you're growing shy under his touch and movements, despite being together countless times. This feels different to Nagi, and he's positive you're thinking the same thing.

It takes a while, maybe because you're both getting used to this foreign feeling, but you eventually wrap your arms around his neck and hug closer to his body. Somehow, that short circuits Nagi's brain and he freezes in place.

"Sei, is everything alright?"

There's a wave of guilt that washes over his eyes. This act is weighing Nagi down, more than he wants to admit, and he has to pull away. Eyes glued to the ground because if he looks at you he'll start to feel nervous, confused, and small.

"Sorry, I'm... trying my best."

"Sei, it's okay." It's your turn to rub your hands across his cheeks and he doesn't realize that he's flushed in the face until you comment. "You're warm."

"Sorry," He doesn't know why he's apologizing again. For being flustered? Not knowing how to dance? Or afraid of disappointing you again? He thinks it's a mixture of all three.

"Hey, as long as you're trying then I'm proud of you." You reply with ease.

You're always kind to him. Most times, you don't push him more than what he's willing to give and maybe that's why he's comfortable around you. Even if he does know you're silently judging his actions but it's okay, because it's you. But he also knows that he's been taking advantage of this trait and it sucks having to find this out tonight.

Nagi nods. You're right, he doesn't need to worry about anything else but you in this moment.

#bllk #blue lock #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #doobea writing #blue lock imagines #blue lock headcanons #nagi seishiro #nagi seishrio x reader #wow nagi debut on my blog #i hope hes not too ooc here #dating guys like nagi requires uuh a lot of communication ig #i mean look what he did to reo #blue lock scenarios #blue lock fluff

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