#he apologized and it's fine it's whatever

[solarmorrigan]

Saw someone mention how Steve tends to get defensive when he's anxious and it stuck with me, so here's my take on the "Steve breaks a dish and has a panic attack about it" trope

cw: descriptions of nonstandard panic attack, implied/referenced child abuse

-

The distinct sound of shattering porcelain is followed by a vehemently hissed, “shit,” and then silence.

“Steve?” Eddie calls from the couch into the kitchen. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve calls back, but his voice sounds tight in the way it does when something definitely isn’t okay.

Eddie pushes himself up and moves to the doorway, looking in to see what the trouble is. The kitchen of the house he and Wayne had been “gifted” by the government isn’t exactly huge, and he has a straight line of sight to where Steve is standing by the sink, eyes squeezed shut as he pinches the bridge of his nose, and to the red and white shards of porcelain on the floor by his feet.

“Hey,” Eddie says, but Steve doesn’t look up; if anything, his posture only gets tenser. “You’re not cut or anything, are you?”

“No,” Steve says, and his tone is still a little off, but he doesn’t sound like he’s lying.

“What was that, anyway?” Eddie asks.

Finally, Steve takes a deep breath in and opens his eyes, looking down at the mess on the laminate. “Mug.”

As soon as he says it, Eddie recognizes the colors for what the design must have been. “Shit, the Campbell’s one?”

Steve doesn’t say a word, just gives one sharp nod.

Eddie sucks a hiss of breath in through his teeth. “Shit,” he says again. “That was Wayne’s favorite.”

“I know,” Steve says tersely. “I’m sorry.”

His tone is definitely weird. “I mean, I’m sure it was an accident, Steve–” Eddie starts.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says again, almost snapping this time. “I’ll clean it up.”

“O-kay,” Eddie says slowly, watching as Steve jerks into motion and moves over to the corner where they stash the broom and dust pan.

“I’ll apologize to Wayne when he gets home,” Steve says as he starts sweeping up, even though Eddie hasn’t said a word.

“He gets home at, like, six in the morning.”

“I’ll make sure I’m up,” Steve says shortly.

“Steve, you can just tell him what happened later, he’s not going to stand around demanding an explanation. I mean, seriously, you think Wayne is gonna be pissed if you’re not there, immediately scraping at his feet when he comes through the door?” Eddie scoffs, but Steve remains silent. Eddie watches as he finishes sweeping in short, sharp motions, brows pulling together as Steve apparently fails to pick up on the joke. “…he won’t be, y’know.”

Steve shrugs. His expression has gone eerily blank, and he takes the dustpan over to the garbage can to dump it.

“Hey, don’t–” Eddie reaches out, and Steve jerks to a stop just in time. “You don’t have to toss it, man, we might be able to glue it back together.”

Steve sends Eddie a sharp look. “I’m not gonna be able to hide that it was broken, Eddie,” he says slowly, as though this should be painfully obvious.

“I’m not suggesting we hide it, I’m just saying we might still be able to use it,” Eddie answers in the same slow manner. “It’s not junk until you’re sure you can’t fix it.”

“Right,” Steve snaps, dropping the dustpan on the counter so sharply that the shards of porcelain clink against each other. “Can’t even clean up right.”

Eddie frowns, stirrings of defensiveness rising up in his gut at Steve’s continued sour mood. “I didn’t say that. I just said we might be able to fix it.”

“Fine. We’ll try to fix it,” Steve bites out, turning away from Eddie so he can put the broom back in the corner.

Eddie shakes his head, unwilling to engage with whatever snit Steve’s got himself worked into. “What happened, anyway?” he asks instead.

Apparently, this is the wrong tactic.

“What happened is, I’m too stupid to even do the dishes right,” Steve declares as he whirls back around. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“What?” Eddie is baffled, suddenly caught in the middle of an argument he hadn’t even realized was happening. “No! Why would I want to hear that?”

Steve throws his arms up, a demonstration of giving in. “Well I already said I’m sorry, and I am, and I don’t know what else you want from me!”

The heat of Eddie’s own temper is beginning to flare, but he does his best to shake it away because he still doesn’t know what the hell is going on and he doesn’t think getting angry will help. “I don’t want anything else from you! Why are you acting like I’m yelling at you? I’m not, I’m not even upset about the stupid mug, so what the hell is your deal?”

He takes a couple of steps into the kitchen, reaching out for Steve, hoping just to touch some part of him. Physical contact has always been grounding, has always been a comfort for them both; it almost seems like they can communicate better if they can just be in contact somehow. Instead of reaching back, though, Steve tenses up; it’s not exactly a flinch, but it’s as if he’s bracing himself, as if he’s waiting for Eddie to–

Eddie takes in the painfully blank expression on Steve’s pale face, the way his chest is rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths that he can’t quite seem to control, the way he’s angled himself just slightly away from Eddie, and suddenly Eddie feels cold.

It’s as if he’s waiting for Eddie to hit him.

Eddie wonders how the hell he hadn’t realized he was walking through a minefield until he was already standing in the middle of it.

(It still takes him by surprise, sometimes, that Steve’s anxiety, his panic, tends to look more like anger. That he tends to lash out like a wounded animal when he feels backed into a corner, hurt too many times in moments of vulnerability to do otherwise.)

(It takes him by surprise, but he’s learning.)

“Steve,” Eddie says softly, dropping his hand slowly back to his side, “I’m not angry.”

Steve stares at him, almost confused, like Eddie’s not doing it right, like this isn’t what’s supposed to come next. Eddie sort of wants to break something (he thinks, briefly, that he’d like to start with the fingers on Mr. Harrington’s right hand, and then move on to his left).

“It’s just a mug, Steve, it’s okay. No one’s upset about it,” Eddie says. “I’m preemptively speaking for Wayne, because I know he’s not gonna be mad at you. Seriously, getting upset over a broken cup? Does that sound like something Wayne would do?”

Slowly, once he seems to realize that Eddie is waiting for an answer, Steve shakes his head.

“Does that sound like something I would do?” Eddie asks.

Steve shakes his head again, though he’s still watching Eddie with something approaching trepidation.

“I promise it’s fine. I’m not angry,” Eddie repeats, and chances a couple of steps closer to Steve.

Steve doesn’t react this time, no tensing, no flinching, no verbally lashing out, and so Eddie lifts a hand again, reaching slowly for Steve’s. Steve lets him.

When he gets his fingers wrapped around Steve’s own, Eddie can feel how cold they’ve gone, can feel the fine tremble of adrenaline working through them, and can’t quite choke down the noise of sympathy in his throat. He tugs on Steve’s hand.

“C’mere,” Eddie says, invites him by lifting his other arm, but leaves it up to Steve.

It only takes a moment for Steve to step in close, and when Eddie lets go of his hand to wrap his arms around Steve’s shoulders, Steve reciprocates by cinching his own arms tight around Eddie’s waist. He takes one sharp breath, and then another, and Eddie can hear the way they shake going in and out.

“There you go,” Eddie says quietly, rubbing Steve’s back.

“I just dropped it,” Steve says, his voice a little hoarse. “It was an accident.”

“I know it was,” Eddie assures him. “It’s okay.”

“It was an accident,” Steve says again, and Eddie wonders how often someone has believed him – how often he’d ever even been given a chance to explain.

“It was an accident,” Eddie agrees. “You’re okay, Steve.”

Steve lets out a little noise, like maybe he’s trying to laugh, but then he pulls in another shuddery breath and rests his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. “Okay.”

In a little bit, Eddie might lead Steve to sit down on the couch, or maybe just take them both up to bed, because fuck doing the dishes after this anyway; he’ll make sure to leave a note for Wayne about the mug (ask him not to bring it up until Steve does, to not even jokingly make a thing about it), but for now, he concentrates on holding Steve close.

He’ll stand with him as long as it takes for the shaking to stop, for his breathing to even out, for him to relax even just a little against Eddie, and he'll promise, as many times as Steve needs to hear it, that it’s okay. Things will be okay.

[Prompt: Embracing your partner]

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #eddiesteve #solar wrote #cw child abuse #referenced but does not take place in the fic #cw panic attack #even if it doesn't look like one at first #soft ending though as always I promise

[adriennebarnes]

A Cinderella Story

Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Y/N, a McLaren mechanic, dances with the prince of Ferrari, at a Rolex masquerade charity ball. Charles has no clue who he danced with and is trying to find the girl of his dreams.

Warning: bad writing I guess, spelling and grammatical errors, inaccurate events

A/N: like i said before, I’m new to F1 so I don’t really know what kind of events go on so bear with me, please. Also, thank you so much for liking my other Charles Leclerc one shots, you have no idea how much it means to me that you like them. Y/N’s relationship with the Lando and Oscar is very much like brother and sister. Y/N is younger, mainly because I’m 21, hope all of y’all are okay with that.

Y/N was talking to Lando about his car after the Monaco Free Practice 1. (As a mechanic, she has her hair up)

“I am almost finished fixing your car, I think there’s something missing but it could be that I’m overthinking. You think you can test it out before FP2? That’s allowed, right?” Y/N asked, fishing her bracelet out of her pocket and putting it back on.

“Yeah I can drive it, 10 laps should be enough, yeah?” Lando asked, putting on his race suit and helmet.

“You’re the best, Lando!” Y/N exclaimed.

“I know.” Lando teased as he got in the car.

After the 10 laps, Lando got out of the car, took his helmet off, tied the suit around his waist, and walked to Y/N.

“The car is good, you worry too much, there is a reason why Zak hired you as a mechanic. Listen, I’m going out with the guys from Quadrant, want to come? I’ll invite Oscar too.” Lando said.

“Yeah sure I’ll come, when?” Y/N asked.

“I was thinking after the second practice, we can hit the showers, change, and go straight to the club.” Lando said.

“Okay, sounds good, I’ll go ask Oscar if he wants to come.” Y/N said, she was clearing her stuff and was on her way to talk to Oscar when she bumped into someone. “Que torpe soy, I'm so sorry.” Y/N apologized without looking.

“My fault, chéri, you alright?” Charles asked, looking at Y/N for signs of discomfort.

“Nah I'm good, thank you.” Y/N said flustered, unbeknownst to her, Oscar saw the whole thing go down and he was holding in his laughter. “Don’t you dare, Australia.” Y/N warned.

“Your crush on Leclerc is so obvious, America, it hurts to watch.” Oscar said between laughs.

“Ha ha, like you weren't like this around Lily?" Y/N asked.

"Yeah, I was nervous, but I definitely wasn't as bad as you." Oscar said.

"Anyway, Lando invited us to go out after FP2 with the quadrant gang, you coming? Please say yes, Lando is probably going to spend all night talking to Max anyway, I can’t be alone.” Y/N practically begged.

“Yeah sure, I’ll go, you need a few drinks to erase what happened with Leclerc.” Oscar said.

“Awesome! So Zak sent an email saying that he has a surprise for us tomorrow, do you have any idea what that might be?" Y/N asked, showing Oscar the email on her phone, Oscar took her phone to read it better.

"I don't know what it could be about. Anything that needs to be fixed in my car or is it good?" Oscar asked.

"it should be fine, i checked everything with Henry and Bryan (other mechanics), nothings wrong. It’s ready for the second free practice." Y/N said.

“Great. You'll be watching, right?" Oscar asked.

"Of course! Need to make sure my papaya boys get fastest lap." Y/N said.

"And your monegasque too." Oscar teased.

"Don't make me hurt you, Australia." Y/N said.

"You love me too much to do that, America." Oscar said, walking.

"Whatever." Y/N replied.

Two hours later, FP2 started, Y/N was watching everything with the rest of the team, eating chips.

“Is that necessary?” Andrea asked.

“You have no idea how much.” Y/N commented.

FP2 went well, Charles Leclerc got fastest lap. Lando and Oscar took off the helmets and balaclavas, tying their suits around their waists.

“Great free practice, sorry you didn’t get fastest lap though.” Y/N said.

“No your not.” Lando commented.

“Bet you were happy when Leclerc got it.” Oscar said.

“Well I can’t say I wasn’t happy.” Y/N said.

“Alright so let’s start getting ready. Will you drive or am I driving you?” Lando asked.

“I carpooled with Henry, drive me?” Y/N asked.

“Yeah sure. Shit, i can’t, gotta pick up Max.” Lando said.

“I’ll drive you.” Oscar offered.

“Thanks, Australia.” Y/N said. “Now both of you hit the showers, y’all are sweaty.” Y/N said.

After the boys showered, they changed, Y/N changed into something more club appropriate and let her hair down.

Y/N walked to Oscar’s car.

“What took you so long?” Oscar asked.

“Im a girl, guys can wear a shirt and jeans and everyone will freak out, if I wear the same thing, I get told I look crusty.” Y/N said.

“But you just had that outfit with you?” Oscar asked.

“If I learned anything from watching Crazy Rich Asians, you should always have a clubbing outfit and a cocktail outfit with you at all time.” Y/N said, getting into the passenger seat of Oscar’s car. “Lando sent you the address right?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Oscar said. He started the car, they listened to music and talked until they got to the club. They got in, Y/N said hello to everyone with a kiss on the cheek because that’s how her mom raised her. She sat at their booth and Y/N spotted Charles at the bar.

“Bro, Charles is here.” Y/N said, patting Oscar’s arm.

“And? You gonna do something or observe from afar like you always do?” Oscar asked.

“Well…” Y/N started but she saw a woman approach Charles. “I don’t want to interrupt his scintillating conversation.”

“I Don’t understand, you talk to Lando and I just fine.” Oscar commented.

“I was nervous around you guys too, don’t lie. I just got used to y’all, but I never had a crush this huge before, I’ve never been in a relationship, had a first date, or even a first kiss, I’m very inexperienced, okay?” Y/N admitted (guilty).

“So you’re just going to be pining away for him?” Oscar asked,

“Yep.” Y/N said.

The table ordered drinks, designated drivers get 2 drinks max. The night was fun, Lando got to deejay again, Carlos was also there so he joined their group. Since they had free practice 3 tomorrow, they needed to rest up. Oscar dropped Y/N off at her apartment, she changed, washed her face, put on a silk bonnet to protect her hair, and went to sleep.

The next morning, Y/N had her hair in two French braids and wearing her favorite bracelet. She drove to the the track and walked to the Lando’s garage.

“Are you as tired as I look?” Y/N asked.

“No, I feel fine, really.” Lando said,

“Lucky, i had trouble sleeping.” Y/N said. Lando was going to say something else when Zak came into the garage.

“Alright, I have an announcement to make. As you know, F1 is partners with Rolex, so we are invited to Rolex’s masquerade charity ball. It will be on Sunday after the Grand Prix. It starts at 8, it gives you plenty of time to get ready after the race and podium interviews.” Zak said. Everyone was excited.

“Would you give me money to buy a dress? And shoes?” Y/N whispered to Lando.

“I’ll tell you what, I’ll go shopping with you.” Lando whispered back.

“This is why I love you.” Y/N teased. Zak walked towards Y/N and Lando went to talk to Oscar.

"Y/N, I need you in the McLaren Technology Centre on Monday." Zak said.

"Really? For what?" Y/N asked.

“For mechanical stuff. We’re planning on creating a new McLaren, you like the creative process, and I still need Henry and Bryan here if we have anything major to fix after the Grand Prix. I already got your ticket, first class too. Don’t miss your flight.” Zak said.

“Of course, I won’t.” Y/N said. Zak gave Y/N her ticket and she started checking the information. Her flight leaves at 3am. “Wait, isn’t this flight a little soon?”

“I know, but I need as many people working on the new McLaren as possible. You’ll only be there for 4 days, then you can relax in Monaco before we go to Canada.” Zak said and he walked away. Lands came back with Oscar and saw Y/N’s worried face.

“Whats wrong, America?” Oscar asked.

“If i go to the Rolex ball thing, I would have to leave before midnight so I have time to change and go to airport in Nice. Oh shit, I have to pack my luggage.” Y/N said.

“Can’t you just skip the ball?” Landon asked.

“Dude, when am I ever going to get invited to theses kind of events? I’m going and you’re taking me shopping.” Y/N said, pointing at Lando.

“Fine, but we’re getting food after. You think we can do it after qualifying?” Lando asked.

“I guess, but you’re calling the store, they know you.” Y/N said. “How do y’all feel about this race?” Y/N asked the boys.

“Max is definitely winning, but hopefully we’ll get on the podium.” Oscar said.

“I believe in you guys, really.” Y/N said before hugging them.

“But you also want Leclerc on the podium.” Oscar said.

“I’m just a girl, leave me alone.” Y/N said,

FP3 and Quali went by fast, no accidents. Max got pole, Charles P2, Oscar P3. During the break between FP3 and Quali, Y/N tried fixing up her Jeep Wrangler Sahara, with Zak’s okay so, of course. Lando texted Y/N the address to the shop and she drove there, parking right next to Lando.

“Alright, love, let’s get you that dress.” Lands said, guiding Y/N into the store with his hand on her lower back. “Hello, we’re looking for an evening dress for her.” Lando told the sales associate.

“Of course, all these dresses right here should be in your size, we have a selection of heels that would go well with these dresses as well.” The sales associate, Ana, said.

“Do you have any dresses in pastel blue?” Y/N asked. Ana started looking through the rack and pulled out a dress that she thought Y/N might like.

“Here you go. Because this dress has a slit, I recommend some tall high heels to elongate your legs. I prefer the platform ones like these.” Ana said, showing Y/N the heels. “Here is a dressing room, I’ll be right outside if you need help zipping it up, okay?” Ana said, handing Y/N the dress and heels.

“Thank you so much.” Y/N said, stepping into the dressing room and getting changed. She got the dress on and sat in the chair to put on the heels. After she strapped on the heels, she tries zipping up the dress, but can’t make it to the top. “Ana, I need help.” Y/N said. Ana pulled the curtain and helped Y/N zip the dress.

“You look beautiful.” Ana said. Y/N walked out of the dressing room, and she looked at Lando, who was on his phone, he looked up and his jaw dropped.

“Wow Y/N, you look great. You’ll be the most beautiful girl there.” Lando said, getting up to get a closer look. He made the motion to have Y/N twirl and she did.

“Not bad for a mechanic, right?” Y/N joked.

“Not bad at all. We’ll take it.” Lando said.

“I’ll change and we’ll be on our way.” Y/N said. Lando unzipped the dress, stopping right above her waist and Y/N unzipped the rest already in the dressing room. She changed, putting the dress on the hanger and the heels in its box, she got out and gave the things to Lando so he could pay.

After paying Lando handed Y/N her things and they walked outside to their cars.

“Thanks again for buy it.” Y/N said.

“Yeah of course. Where do you want to eat though? I’m starving.” Lands said.

“You pick.” Y/N said.

“If you say so.” Lando said. “Just follow me.” Lando got into his car, Y/N got in hers, and she followed Lando to Graziella, an Italian restaurant.

They were seated, Lando had beef tagliata with Gorgonzola sauce and French fries, Y/N had penne alla carbonara (I looked up the restaurant menu to be as accurate as possible). When they finished eating, they went to the parking lot to get their cars.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Lando said goodbye, they hugged before driving off to their apartments.

When arriving to her apartment, Y/N started playing music as she packed for a four day trip. She hung her dress right in front of her closet. She finished packing, had a late night snack, and went to bed.

Tonight’s the night, after the Grand Prix with Max P1, Charles P2, and Lando P3, Y/N was getting ready, putting on her dress, her shoes, styling her hair down, and putting on her bracelet. Everything looked good, her luggage was already in her car. She drove to the venue where the ball was taking place, gave her name to the people in charge, and Y/N was given a masquerade mask.

(Choose whichever dress you like better)

Y/N walked in and all eyes were on her. She began fiddling with her bracelet until two guys approached her.

“America, you look great.” Oscar said.

“Thanks, Australia, Lando showed you the picture he took yesterday huh?” Y/N asked.

“He did.” Oscar said.

“I had to show you off. I don’t see you with your hair down that often, you know.” Lando said.

“I’m a mechanic, can’t have my hair in my face.” Y/N commented. “I’m gonna get a drink, okay, I’ll be right back,” Y/N said, she walked to the drink table to get herself some champagne and another guy walked up to her.

“You made quite the entrance, you know. You Commanded the attention of everyone in the room.” The guy spoke, his voice seemed familiar to Y/N but almost everyone in Monaco has a similar voice.

“Why thank you, kind sir.” Y/N feigned an English accent as she curtsied.

“Do you go to these events often?” The guy asked, also sipping champagne,

“Not really, it’s technically a work thing, but this is my first time going to a charity ball.” Y/N replied to the mask stranger. His eyes a beautiful shade of blue-green, his eyes feel so familiar to her, why the hell can’t she figure out who this guy is.

“I’m here for work as well.” The guy replied. They kept talking until a slow song started playing. “Care to dance, chéri?” The guy extended his hand to Y/N

“I’d love to.” Y/N said, taking his hand to dance.

“Baby blue is actually one of my favorite colors.” The guys admitted.

“It’s mine too. I love all shades of blue, but pastel blue is just beautiful.” Y/N said. “So since you’re here for work, what do you do? I’m a mechanic.”

“You’re definitely the prettiest mechanic I ever saw. I’m a driver.” The guys replied. What’s going on in Y/N’s mind is that he’s a driver and has a French accent, it could be Pierre, but he’s with Kika. She’s hoping it’s Charles but she doesn’t want to get disappointed either.

“Thank you, that’s cool that you’re a driver.” Y/N said.

They talked and danced some more, it was all going well until the clock chimed, saying it was 11:55pm.

“Listen, Frenchy, it’s been fun, but I gotta go,” Y/N said, pulling away from him.

“I’m not French, I’m monegasque.” The guy said, the confirmed Y/N’s suspicions. He took off the mask.

“Charles.” Y/N said.

“Yes, I’m Charles Leclerc, what’s your name?” Charles asked, Y/N heard the clock chime again.

“I’m sorry, I really have to go.” Y/N said, she exits the hall and puts the mask on the table before running out the the parking lot to get into her car to drive to her apartment. Charles chased after her but she saw her car leaving. He looked on the ground and he saw the bracelet that she was wearing on the floor.

“I will find out who you are.” Charles said, placing the bracelet in his suit pocket.

Y/N made it to her apartment, parked her car, went upstairs, got changed, and went downstairs to her car but it won’t start.

“Hijo de la chingada, this can’t be happening to me.” Y/N said. She got her luggage out of her car and order an Uber to nice airport,

The car arrived and dropped her off at the airport, she was on time for her flight, everything was good, but Y/N noticed her bracelet was missing.

“Ah, for fucks sake.” Y/N exclaimed as she waited in the terminal for them to call her flight.

Meanwhile Charles got into his Ferrari and drove back to his apartment. When he was home with his dog Leo, he was looking at Instagram to see if anyone posting from the event was the girl he danced with.

"What do you think, Leo? Am i going crazy?" Charles asked the blonde dachshund on his lap. He gets no answer. "Okay, maybe a little, but I had a wonderful time with her."

Charles decided to do the reasonable thing and posted a photo of the charm bracelet he found with the caption "Does this belong to you? Found on the floor of (venue) on May 26th. Contact me if this bracelet is yours." Charles turned off his phone and decided to go to sleep.

The next day, Y/N got off the plane, she turned off the airplane mode on her phone, and that's when she started recieving calls from Lando, she answered.

"Dude, what is wrong with you? I just got off the plane, who died?" Y/N asked, confused why she had so many texts and missed calls from Lando and Oscar.

"Charles posted a photo of your charm bracelet last night. You fucking danced with Charles and you didn't tell me or Oscar? We're happy for you." Lando said. "You should tell him its yours."

"No way, I know i told him i was a mechanic last night, but he is definitely expecting someone as beautiful as Kika, he would totally be disappointed if he finds out it was me." Y/N said, getting an Uber to drive her to the hotel Zak also booked for her.

"You are beautiful, Y/N, honestly, if we weren't friends, i would have flirted with you everyday until you gave me a chance." Lando said.

"Thank you but i can't help but feel how i feel. I gott go, I'm heading to my hotel then i'll go to McLaren, talk to you later." Y/N said.

The four days Y/N was in Woking, Charles was answering DMs of women claiming it was their bracelet. He would follow up with the questions "What do you do for work?" and "What color was your dress?" No one has answered those two questions correctly. Charles was starting to think it was a lost cause and he would never find her. He decided to go out with Pierre and Kika and he brought Leo with him.

"Still haven't found her, Charlie?" Pierre asked.

"No! It has been four days, everyone in my DMs who is claiming the bracelet is not her." Charles said.

"Charles, do you even know this girl's name?" Kika asked.

"I don't, i just have her bracelet and there is no indication of a name or anything that could be useful." Charles said.

"I'm sorry, Charles." Kika said, rubbing his arm.

"I felt we had a connection, even if she did call me frenchy." Charles said.

"Well there isn't a way to shorten 'monegasque' you know." Pierre said.

"Yes, I am aware." Charles said.

It was now the Canadian Grand Prix, Y/N flew with Lando and Oscar obviously. When they landed, they went to their hotel rooms, to leave their stuff and went to the hotel restaurant to order some food. Y/N had her hair down becasue she was not risking a ponytail headache. She was sitting with Oscar while Lando was talking to Carlos. Charles came downstairs and he spotted Y/N with her hair down. It looked remarkably similar to the girl he danced with. She saw Lando with Carlos so he sat right next to Lando.

"Hey Lando, quick question, did Y/N attend the Rolex thing?" Charles asked.

"She did, yeah, why?" Lando asked the monegasque.

"Does this happen to be her bracelet?" Charles asked, pulling out the bracelet from his pants pocket.

"Okay, why are you carrying that around?" Lando asked curiously.

"Just answer the question, Lando." Charles said.

"yes, yes, thats her bracelet." Lando admitted.

It all made sense, Charles started thinking about the first time he met Y/N and she called him 'Frenchy'.

It was Y/N's first day in the paddock and she walked into Charles's garage by accident. She was looking around and she bumped into him, Charles exclaimed something in French.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry, frenchy, I'm just a little lost." Y/N said.

"First, I am not French, i am monegasque." Charles said.

"Oh my god, you're Charles Leclerc! Sorry, I'm Y/N, I'm looking for the McLaren garage." Y/N said, holding her hand out for Charles to shake, which he did.

"Its on the other side actually. So why are you here?" Charles asked.

"Oh, I am McLaren's new mechanic." Y/N said.

"Nice to meet you, I'll walk you to McLaren." Charles said.

Charles had a tiny crush on her since that day but Y/N hardly spoke to him so he thought she didn't like him. He wlaked over to the table where Y/N was with Oscar.

"Y/N, can i talk to you for a second?" Charles asked. Y/N looked at Oscar.

"I'm gonna sit with Logan." Oscar said, getting up. Charles took his seat.

"I think this is yours." Charles said, showing Y/n the bracelet.

"Are you disappointed to find out that i was the girl you danced with?" Y/N asked, too shy to look at him. Charles lift her chin with his finger so she could look in his eyes.

"Why would i be disappointed? I don't know if you noticed, amour, but I've like you since you came into my garage by accident." Charles admitted. "Were you disappointed to find out you danced with me? Is that why you rushed out so quickly?"

"No, of course not! I had to go to Woking for some McLaren business and my flight was at 3am so I had to leave to change and have time to go to the airport in Nice. I was so shocked that it was you though, like i was dancing with my celebrity crush the whole night." Y/N said.

"Good to hear I'm your celebrity crush. Let's get this bracelet on." Charles said, opening the bracelet, Y/N held out her wrist, and Charles successfully secured the bracelet on her wrist. "That's better."

"It is. Thank you for finding it, I would have died if i lost it." Y/N said.

"It's no problem. So i was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me, we could go after FP2." Charles suggests.

"I would like that a lot." Y/N said.

"Perfect. Is it alright if i kissed you? I've been imagining this moment for months." Charles said.

"Go ahead." Y/N said. Charles moved her hair behind he ear and kissed her softly. They pulled away. "That was way better than my dreams."

"You dream about kissing me, mon ange?" Charles teasingly asked.

"You imagined kissing me too." Y/N said.

"True, I'm glad i don't have to imagine it anymore though." Charles said, wrapping his arm around Y/N's shoulders as they looked over the menu.

The End

Hope y’all liked it! Was it too long? I thought it was okay

#hispanic reader #latina #hispanic #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 fanfic

[sanguineterrain]

Hey! Can I request a Clark x reader where they're dating but reader doesn't know Clark is superman. And then superman interacts with them for whatever reason and is flirty bc that's his person!!! But reader is like ☝️ hey buddy back off. I'm HAPPILY taken

this is such a cute request!!!! Argh!!!!

clark kent/superman x gn!reader. fluff, brief danger but r is okay. superman flirting with you but he's dating you? he's just a goober. i lub him <3 PLEASE feel free to imagine maws!clark. I feel like this is very himcore 🥰

****

Being a florist in Metropolis is good work. Lots of people still buy flowers, which is great. Many actually buy bouquets for Superman and leave them on display as support. Poppies, yellow tulips, and cornflowers. They're one of your favorite arrangements.

The downside to being a florist in Metropolis, however, is that on occasion, your flower display ends up the target of a killer robot.

You're not sure why that is. Mostly, you wish people would stop building killer robots.

You've gone outside to see what the commotion is about when you're grabbed by a metal claw. It squeezes hard, almost cutting off your air. You squirm in terror as the robot stomps down Main Street, crushing cars and asphalt in its wake.

"Help!" you scream when you catch your breath, and the robot squeezes you harder.

A dizzying blur of red, yellow, and blue zips past you. You think of your flowers.

The blur cuts through the metal like nothing. The robot begins to collapse, twitching and groaning. Its metal creaks, grip loosening on your body.

You hardly fall before Superman is there, cradling you to his chest.

"I've got you," he says, tucking you close.

You look up at him, and he beams at you, like saving you from a killer robot has been the best part of his day.

Come to think of it, Superman came to your aid surprisingly fast, even for him.

And he holds you... intimately. Like you've known him for years. Your heart picks up.

"Uh," he says, cheeks flushed. "Are–are you okay?"

You smile politely, arms around his neck. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Superman."

He nods, flying down the street. "Good. I'll get you back to your shop and clean up the flowers."

You tilt your head. "How do you know I'm a florist?"

Superman looks at you, blue eyes wide.

"Oh! I... uh, I've seen your arrangements all over the city. They're beautiful. I'd never forget that they belong to an equally beautiful face."

Goodness. If Superman is this forward with everyone he rescues, it's no wonder your flower arrangements are in high demand.

"I'm flattered," you begin, and Superman once again aims that grin with the power of a thousand suns at you. "But, respectfully, I'm very happily taken, so I would appreciate it if you'd keep this rescue professional."

Superman raises an eyebrow. To your surprise, he smiles wider.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't realize you were taken. My sincerest apologies. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

"No, it's alright. I'm honored, but you couldn't pull me away from my boyfriend even with your super strength."

Superman's cheeks turn pinker. He sets you down in front of your store with the utmost care, not letting go until you have your bearings. He takes a step back, rubbing his neck. The gesture makes your brain itch. You don't know why.

"Well, uh, he must've done something right if he's lucky enough to be with you."

"Luck has nothing to do with it," you say fiercely. You don't know why you're so indignant about defending Clark's reputation to Superman. It's not like Clark will ever hear about it.

"No?"

"Not at all. He's an incredible person, kind and smart and loving, and if anyone's lucky, it's me."

Superman makes an aborted gesture to take your hand, then redirects and awkwardly pats your arm instead. You squint at him. He quickly moves away.

"Ah. Sorry. Well, I doubt that. I bet you're equally spectacular."

"Oh. Thank you."

You primly take his hand and give it a good shake. Superman bows his head and laughs.

He takes a step back, eyes bright like you've just made his day.

"Well, I wish you the best with your boyfriend. I'm sorry for being so forward. I've seen your Superman bouquets; your reputation precedes you. I make it a point to know reputed people in Metropolis."

"I can't imagine I'm very high on that list," you say.

"Ah, you'd be surprised. Besides, I never forget a face."

Superman darts behind you and moves at neckbreaking speed to clean up your partially maimed flowers. In three seconds, it's returned to its former glory.

"Well, uh, I'll be seeing you," Superman says, hands clasped behind his back. "I mean, I hope not in a circumstance like this! Th-then again, when else would we see each other? Scratch that, I hope there's no reason for us to cross paths because that would mean you're in danger. Uh, but I don't mean that in a bad way! I just—"

You snort and reach over to take a yellow tulip from your display. You give it to Superman, who takes it like you've just handed him a newborn baby.

"I'm still taken," you say. "But you're very sweet, Superman. Take care, alright?"

"Yeah," he says, tucking the tulip into the strap of his cape. "Yes, you too. Goodbye!"

He soars away, the tulip like a star on his cape.

Superman is handsome and kind, no doubt. But he's certainly no Clark Kent.

#clark kent x reader #superman x reader #superman x you #clark kent x you #clark kent imagine #superman imagine #clark kent fanfiction #superman fanfiction #dc imagine #dc fanfic #dc x you #inbox #blurb

[stayyyyyyyyyyyy21]

RICH KIDS OF SK ( HYUNJIN X READER (Y/N) X BANG CHAN)

"the truth"

part one part two, part three part 5

Hyunjin's POV: she was dying inside that no one texted her after he uploaded a picture of him and Yeji, but when the notification popped up that Y/N wrote she is happy and called both Yeji and Hyunjin her best friend, he got anxious and didn't know what to do. When Hyunjin saw Y/N again, getting on first day of college, it sort of did something to his heart. He realized he missed her, and it was the first time he didn't talk to her for this long; he felt desperate. He wanted her and the group back, but Y/N was not alone; she was with a guy. And when he realized she was sitting with them, he was taken aback. Hyunjin was born into a family where traditions and reputation were above anything. Hyunjin was taught that since he was born in a rich family, his friends should always match his wealth or should be richer than him. Watching Y/N hang out with a bunch of nobodies irritated him. Later, when he saw Y/N in the pink gown at his father's art gallery event, he couldn't take his eyes off her and thought, "What is happening to me?" Hyunjin felt that this was the first time Y/N didn't come behind him or gave a damn about him, so Hyunjin started to feel attracted towards her. He was pissed when he realized Y/N skipped his party for those nobodies, and all the friend group did that too. He wanted to talk to everyone and make Yeji a part of the group again. Seeing those nobodies and the gang together made Hyunjin mad. And he texted in the group.

Hyunjin arrived at Y/N's place 15 minutes later, his hair still damp from the shower, emitting a subtle fragrance of roses that made Y/N momentarily forget her annoyance. She greeted him with a casual offer of water, but he cut straight to the chase.

"Why the cold shoulder?" Hyunjin's voice was laced with frustration, his eyes searching hers for answers.

Y/N's irritation flared up as she replied, "Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

Hyunjin's expression softened as he guessed, "Because of Yeji?"

"I don't have romantic feelings for you anymore, Hyunjin," Y/N declared, her voice firm. "You distanced yourself from the whole group and started going out with random girls. Then you didn't even come to Changbin's campaign. I thought you were in Korea for the dance academy, but when I saw your Instagram, I understood why you didn't come to the campaign. Whatever happened in school, I thought that was over. You were fine with it, but you changed after Yeji came back from America. Do you think what happened back then was my fault?"

Hyunjin's voice trembled slightly as he spoke, his gaze fixed on Y/N, searching for understanding. "I didn't date anyone," he began, his tone earnest. "When Yeji left, she tried to contact me, but I told her I didn't want to. After a year, she sent me a letter explaining her part. Even though she was wrong here, she apologized, and I spent the entire year just talking to her."

A pang of guilt flashed across Hyunjin's face, his eyes reflecting the turmoil within. "I just told you that I am dating other girls, but I was actually just talking to Yeji," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "When she came back, I realized that I like Yeji, and I distanced myself from you guys because I was guilty." Each word hung heavy in the air, laden with remorse and the weight of unspoken emotions.

Hyunjin's heart sank as he watched Y/N's numb expression, a veil of pain masking her features. He pleaded desperately, "Hey, talk to me, please. I'm sorry, Y/N. I know she did you dirty, but please, Y/N, at least talk to her once."

Y/N maintained her composure, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within. "Hyunjin, it's fine," she replied softly. "I don't think I feel like discussing this issue anymore. I need some space from you and Yeji."

Hyunjin's plea hung in the air, a desperate attempt to bridge the growing chasm between them. "Y/N, take as much time as you want, but please, do the project with me and Yeji," he implored.

Y/N's anger simmered beneath the surface, her frustration palpable. "Shut up, Hyunjin," she snapped, her tone cutting. "Are you being for real now?"

Hyunjin recoiled, his words faltering as he struggled to find the right response. "Sorry, I just... um, nevermind," he muttered, his gaze falling. hyunjin said: i miss you.

But Y/N remained resolute, her need for space unwavering. "I miss you too, Hyunjin, but I need space from all this drama. I'm done with it," she declared firmly. "I really need friends outside of our group, so please, let me have my space."

The weight of Y/N's words settled over them, a somber reminder of the rift that had formed between them. Hyunjin nodded solemnly, his heart heavy with regret. "As you wish, Y/N. I just want our old group again," he murmured.

Y/N's expression softened, a glimmer of understanding in her eyes. "Don't worry, I won't ruin our group because of Yeji," she assured him. "See you later, Hyunjin. Bye."

Wooyoung emerged from his hiding spot behind the door, a concerned expression etched across his features. "Hey, do you want to discuss?" he asked gently as Y/N returned to the living room.

Y/N shook her head, her resolve unwavering. "Nope, I just don't wanna talk about this topic. Can you tell this to Changbin and Felix too?" she requested, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

A small smile played on Wooyoung's lips as he nodded in understanding. "Okay, love," he said softly, pressing a kiss to Y/N's cheek.

taglist: @lee-knows-cats @midsoulz

#hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin fake texts #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin #hyunjin angst #hyunjin au #stray kids au #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin social media au #skz x reader #skz social media au #hyunjin smau #skz smau #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin series #hyunjin romance #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #bang chan #hwang hyunjin #stray kids smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader smut #stray kids fake texts #skz fake texts #bang chan fake texts #skz fluff

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Bastard’s Mistress ~ A Don John x Servant!Fem!Reader Fic

So I caught the don John brain rot this weekend…very contagious, 10/10 recommend. This might be @scarlettspectra ’s fault, from all her beautiful gifs she’s been posting!😆 I didn’t go full Shakespearean here but had some fun with the syntax. I apologize in advance. Reader is properly deferential for the time, but she’s got a little spunk.😬 

Warnings: the line between dubcon and noncon here is VERRRY thin. I don’t even know. So if that bothers you do NOT read this! What else. Period correct misogyny and degradation. Corruption. I’m so bad at itemizing these things. Please take care. If u have squiks i probs wouldn’t read this…

You are a chambermaid in His Excellency don Alejandro’s hacienda. It gives you a certain distance from things, as you come and go, doing your best to keep the country house clean and stay out of sight. But don Alejandro’s bastard, the fire-eyed boy with such a burning contempt for the world, has always seen you. 

When you were young children, don John would play with you all, the offspring of the servants who were too young to work. Not because he enjoyed your company, but because he delighted in ordering you all about. Luckily in those days he ignored you as often as he tormented you. 

Then there was a time, when the two of you hovered on the precipice between childhood and adult responsibilities, that you had almost been friends. Or at least, not enemies. He, the bitter outsider with the privileges of a full blooded son, but none of the standing. You, unmoored in your fatherlessness, the fever having taken your sire when you were just a babe. 

Don John goaded you into shirking your chores one day to go play in the hills. He’d only taunted you a little, as you played your silly games, which mostly consisted of him manipulating you, ordering you to do this and that, always testing just how far he could go before being met with rebellion. It was still better than working your hands raw in the laundry. “We should run away,” he’d said in that devil-may-care way brash young boys have, so sure the world is destined to fold for them. You, however, had begged to go home, for all it won you. Upon returning your mother absolutely tanned your backside, and you never associated with Don John in such a familiar way again.

You saw him around the grounds, of course, as you scurried from one backbreaking chore to the next, and as he went through the motions of learning how to become a gentleman. Amidst his riding lessons he would wink at you from astride his fine black horse, but the cruel turn of his mouth never failed to halt you in returning it, even if your heart quickened in your chest.

That did not mean you didn’t think of him later though, on your lumpy cot of straw, as urges began to awaken in your body that was well on its way to becoming a woman’s. You saw his face at night, so achingly handsome you could hardly contain your longing. It felt like madness, and so you shoved it down in the deepest dungeon of your heart, as far as it could go. 

It was not helpful, or good, the times when young don John passed you in the halls, and you felt that he would like to just eat you up. He would tug at your apron strings with a smirk before striding on to whatever lark he plotted for the day. The unholy feelings just a look from that man called up in you had you reaching for your rosary–and late at night, when all others lay asleep, between your legs.

You’d felt a certain relief when he went off to war with don Pedro. Even though your heart ached for the inevitable change, a part of you hoped he would never return.

As it turns out, your hopes were not to be realized. He has returned to his father’s country house, on the tails of some scandal in Messina. His temper is even fouler than you remember. His scowl, crueler. He has met with some disappointment, out in the world. You hope he will not take it out on you blameless servants.

Perhaps that is too much to ask of the upper caste.

You feel his eyes upon you again, as in the old days, but different. There is a weight in his gaze that makes you uncomfortable in your own skin, as though it no longer fits upon your own bones. It makes you ache for something no pious unmarried girl should yearn for, something you cannot name, only feel in the darkest hours of night when you lay awake on your mattress of straw, your sinful fingers exploring the bud of flesh between your legs.

You decide don John carries the flames of Hell in his burning dark eyes.

You dream of him, as though he has possessed your flesh in your sleeping hours.

He corners you one day, as you are changing the linens in one of the many airy rooms of the hacienda. You eye him warily, as he shuts the door, his large and forbidding form blocking your exit. His dark eyes upon you are black as night.

“What a flower you have blossomed into, y/n,” he muses, stepping slowly into the room with the measured calculation of a predator stalking prey. “No longer the knees and elbows girl I remember.”

“You…have also changed, my lord,” you offer cautiously. No longer the awkward, rail thin youth, his shoulders have the breadth of a man who rides a charger and wields a sword. You have tried not to notice.

“How so?” he fishes, canting his head with a smirk.

Your face feels as though you have caught on fire. “You are…taller,” you offer, winning a cruel little chuckle.

“Oh? I do like the sound of that. What else?” Another step closer, his booted heel clicking on the floor, and you are veritably boxed in between the walls and the oversized bed.

“My lord?” you stall, mortified.

“Did you miss me, y/n?”

This question also takes you aback, and perhaps that is why you answer honestly.

“Sometimes.”

“Well. That is more than any of my relations here will bother to claim,” he answers bitterly. In that moment you still see a boy just striving, yearning for his father’s recognition. Perhaps it was ridiculous, but you always felt bad for him, in a way.

“Did you hear the happy news? Don Pedro has taken a wife, and opts to dwell in Messina,” snarls don John with a mocking brightness.

“How…fortunate for him.”

The man before you makes a sound that suggests he barely restrained himself from spitting upon the floor in his half brother’s name.

“Indeed.” He takes one more step, and you know you are done for, your heart in your chest. There will be no escaping now. “What of you, fair y/n? Assumed the yoke of marriage yet?” The disdain in his words hangs bitter in the air.

You are tempted to lie, but know no good should come of it. “No, my lord,” you answer, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

“How fortunate for you.” 

Perhaps in your fear, you forget yourself. “John, please–”

He moves to strike, and you are but a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf, quick but not quick enough to evade him. His arm is like a band of iron about your waist, lifting you off the floor in his fury. He slams you down–albeit upon the feather mattress–a luxury you’ve never experienced for yourself, your back accustomed to scratchy tick straw.

“Insouciant wench! How familiar you are, to address me so.” He sounds so cruelly delighted by it, wedging his lean body like a knife between your legs, his narrow hips locked against yours. When you attempt to sit up he easily pins you down, his large hand spanning two of your wrists with ease, his other pressed lightly over your throat. You can hardly hear, hardly think, over the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears. He can surely feel it in your pulse, fluttering against his fingers. You are filled with fear–and the sharp ache of desire, God save you.

“Please, my lord…”

He makes a low sound in his throat, his lips tracing your jaw. “Please what, pretty maid? I have a mind to make a meal of you.”

“Please…don’t hurt me.”

“Hurt you? That is up to you, my dear. I will have you. Sweetly, or by force, tis your choice.” Your heart lodges in your throat. Your mother warned you about this, time and again. Men are dogs and gentlemen the worst of them. Never let them catch you alone.

And in your darkest heart of hearts, you know that a part of you hoped don John might do just that.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, surprisingly gently for such a villain, but you attempt to turn away. It only wins his annoyance, his large hand turning your face back to him. Before he can press his mouth to yours you say, “You merely seek to make sport of me in your boredom here. It is not right.”

He laughs at that. “Sport, I shall make,” he muses, hiking your skirts above your thighs. “Let us test the truth of your righteous outrage?” Boldly his fingers climb the trail of your leg, to the apex where he finds the damning evidence of your treacherous loins. “My lovely girl, so wet for such a reluctant quarry.” His long fingers dip inside your weeping center, and the sound you make does not resemble protest at all. He smirks down at you like the very devil. “And a virgin my little rabbit is not.”

Javi the stableboy took care of that for you, in a quick and disappointing tumble in the hay. His touch…had felt nothing like this, if truth you tell.

Ashamed, and burning, you look away. Tears trail out of your eyes, and a part of you wishes it shall just be over soon. He frowns at the shining tracks of water upon your cheeks, a menacing scowl that makes your eyes screw shut tight.

“Do not seek to engage my sympathy or my better nature, for you know I have none,” he growls above the dip of your throat, his lips searing as a brand upon your chest. 

“That wasn’t always true,” you dare, winning naught but a growl from this ravenous beast of a man above you.

“You are the only one who thinks so.” For the barest moment you see a flash of vulnerability in his eyes–the ghost of the memory of the boy he once was, there and gone like ripples in a pool. It is as though this second of softness spurs him on in his deed, as though he must shove it aside to enjoy his sordid pleasure.

Clever fingers tear at the laces of your stays; you are freed to breathe, but you are bared to his hungry gaze as he tugs down your shift for his delectation. “Such lovely fruits, just ripe for picking,” he muses, cupping your breast in his hand, suckling upon a nipple.

You never knew how such a thing could make your insides clench, your sinning cunt tightening in its aching emptiness. Your hips move against his of their own accord, your legs wrapping about him as you mindlessly seek some relief from this madness. He withdraws with a dramatic pop, laughing at your body’s treachery.

“You are a fiend.”

“Pray, tell me,” he taunts you.

“I hate you.”

“Is that any way to speak to your master?”

He is enjoying this far too much.

“You forget your place, don John, as ever.” 

That is when he slaps you. Not hard, nay, your own mother has hit you harder, but it certainly gets your attention. “I will rule here someday, y/n. Have a care with that tongue. I can think of better uses for it.” His piercing eyes fix upon your lips, a moment before he falls upon you, kissing you as though he means to devour you. You tense, thinking to bite him for being so cruel, so conniving, for just using you for no other reason other than he can.

He plays a very dirty trick on you, though.

That dexterous hand slips under your skirts again, swiping up your slick before circling that small nub of flesh that causes you such great tumult and shame. You moan into his mouth, and you feel him smile wickedly against you.

This man is the very devil, you are sure of it.

“Now who is ready to forget?” he taunts you, rubbing you in slow circles that drive you mad, make you writhe for the unbearable tightness coiling between your legs.

You can only manage a small cry, words escaping you. You’ve never felt anything like this, not at your own hands, and certainly not with Javi the stableboy.

“Please,” is all you can manage, and you’re not even entirely sure you know what you’re begging for.

“I like to hear you beg so sweetly.” He reaches to free himself from his breeches, his swollen tip hovering at your entrance. “So beg, wench, what favour is it you ask of me?”

You should entreat him to leave you be–you should beg for his mercy. But the delicious weight of him atop you, this dastardly man whose touch is such sweet sin–you are not sure you wish for him to leave you be. Your whole life has been such a march of drudgery. Even just the possibility of feeling something that is not pain or exhaustion makes you willfully forget every lesson your mother ever taught you, every fiery sermon the Padre ever flung down from his pulpit. Tis easy to renounce the Devil, until temptation has you in its clutches.

“I know not what to ask for,” you answer cautiously, and that at least is true.

Don John smirks down at you, a wicked gleam in his dark eyes. 

“Ask for my cock, you stupid girl, and if your quim pleases me perhaps I may be moved to share in the spoils.”

“Yes.” You strain your hips towards him, craving that satisfying, stretching burn of a man’s first thrust. That, atleast, you know something about.

“Yes, what?” he taunts you, delighting in your torment as he holds himself just out of reach.

“Yes, my lord,” you whimper, hating yourself as much as him in that moment. “May I have your cock?”

His smile widens in his devilish delight, almost showing teeth. “Remember that you asked for it.” But he taunts you no further, his thick head penetrating your weeping hole, the fullness of him stealing the very breath from your lungs. He groans once fully inside you, burying his face in your neck. 

“I’ve always known you would have the sweetest little cunt in the sierra,” he growls against your skin, and he begins to thrust.

If there is one thing you have always known about don John, it is that he loves to hear himself talk.

“You are mine, little maid,” he goes on, filling you so deeply you fear he must be in your belly. You are not sure you like it, and you only whimper in answer, straining for a better angle against him, seeking that certain friction that made you see stars.

“Say it,” he demands, understanding what you seek very well. You whine, turning your eyes to the ceiling. You know you are a mere peasant, and you know you do not own anything, much less yourself. Yet some small defiance rises in you, for his demanding tone.

“Perhaps I shall, if you make it so.” 

You wait for him to strike you again, but to your surprise he smirks with a sort of dark delight, only turning your gaze back to his with a rough hand upon your jaw. “There is the saucy wench I remember of our youth. Do you remember how you used to defy me?”

You don’t very much, recalling that he usually always emerged the master and victor of your games.

“No, my lord.”

“You do not recall striking me with a stick, in defense of a hapless bird?”

You blink, finding it rather unfair of this man to expect you to command the capacity to think in this situation. But then you do recall. You had all been small children. The boys sought amusement in throwing rocks at an injured sparrow. You had taken exception to it. 

Don John had sworn he would tell his father and have you executed.

You’d cried for days, but the sword never fell.

You’d nearly forgotten all about it, perhaps willfully burying the memory out of shame and fear. Mostly fear.

The bastard had deserved it.

He never forgot a slight, it seems.

“I always told myself I would have my revenge for that,” he tells you with a smirk, pressing his thumb into your mouth. You try to shrink away, but he has you like a fish on a hook. “Suck,” he commands you. You do not understand why those jetty black eyes boring into yours, paired with that unyielding tone, makes your needy cunt clench around him, only that it is extremely satisfying to see his eyes flutter closed, even if just for a moment.

You do as you’re told.

He uses your own saliva against you, reaching between your legs with that spit-wet thumb to touch you again. 

You forget everything else, but the carnal heaven that is his clever fingers with his manhood inside you. The sounds the two of you make are barely human, as you strain and writhe against each other, chasing your release from this hell. Those full lips made for sin devour you–his mouth on your breasts makes you see God, a searing pleasure crashing through you in a spine-cracking rush. How can something that feels so wonderful be so forbidden? Only then does don John truly let himself go, the sound of flesh striking flesh filling the room as he takes you with all his pent up fury. It is not long before he roars his release, filling you with ropes of his hot seed, his powerful body trembling in its tangle of limbs with yours.  

For just a moment you wished would last, his fingers lace with yours rather than pin you, his head heavy on your chest as he catches his breath. Yet when he lifts his gaze to you, his eyes gleam with their usual malevolence. 

“You will come to my chambers tonight,” he orders you. “For I am not finished with you yet by half.”

When your mouth opens–indeed to give protest–he silences you with a hard but heart-melting kiss, his long fingers tangled unforgivingly in your now loosened hair. 

“Do as I say, servant girl. Though if you don’t, I may enjoy making you.” That proud mouth ticks as he seems to imagine it, that fire igniting once more in his mesmerizing eyes. The thought simultaneously makes your blood run cold–and a thrill of desire run raucous down your spine.  

This man is the very devil. You are as sure of it now, as you know when the household goes to sleep, you will find your way back to his merciless embrace.

#don john #much ado about nothing #don john x reader #don john keanu reeves #keanu reeves #keanuverse #keanuverse fic

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

hiiiii i'm here to give you a big hug and request a 1k prompt 🙌

1. a biiiiiig hug

2. as for the (hehe smutty) prompt!

i think i would LOVE to see ed feeling vulnerable and safe enough to share with stede that a lot of things don't work for him in bed because of his knee and at first he is cautious and worries stede will get angry or frustrated with him, but of course stede showers him with love and care and thinks of a hundred ways to have sex that are not painful or uncomfortable for him 🫶

Ooh I really loved this one, thanks so much for sending it in (and sending you a hug right back)! Get absolutely adored and cherished Ed!!

Under the cut since this one's a bit nsfw! I'd put it at a strong M rating, no explicit sexual content but obviously it's about sex.

Ed had never really owned up to how fucking inconvenient the knee could make things, not before.

See, there are certain things that are mood- killers, and then there are things that are straight-up dangerous to admit, and Ed’s little problem was both. The hookups Ed was used to wouldn’t just laugh at him for being in pain during sex, they would’ve taken it as a sign of weakness. A sign that Ed was vulnerable, weak, easy to exploit and to harm. 

So, usually, he just put up with it. If it was awful, like if a guy pushed his legs back, forcing the knee to bend at a harsh angle, he might find some excuse to change it up, but usually he just closed his eyes and hoped his grunts of discomfort sounded pleasured instead of pained. He would close his eyes, after, breathing through the pain, vowing that he’d never have sex in a painful position again for the rest of his life, cautiously listening to make sure whatever guy he’d taken to bed wasn’t trying to pull any shit. Rinse and repeat a few weeks later.

Stede, though. Talk about a hell of a difference.

He’d figured out that Ed didn’t like some things, Ed thought. He never held down Ed’s bad leg, never forced the knee to bend. Rubbed the joint so tenderly after sex. And that maybe should’ve made it easier to admit to his problem, but Stede made Ed feel so good, and he wanted to return the favor, and…

“Ed, honey, you’re somewhere else tonight.”

Ed sniffed, shifted. They’d been breaking in their new bed (still called it that, even though they’d been breaking it in for a couple months now), and he was half in Stede’s lap, legs flung across Stede’s thighs. He should’ve felt perfect.

“Sorry,” he whispered, and when Stede’s light, appraising touches traveled down his leg, rubbing lightly at his knee, he hissed, the pain making him flinch involuntarily.

Stede kissed his fingertips, then touched them feather-light to Ed’s knee. “Does it hurt?”

“Just stiff,” Ed said dismissively.

Stede just hummed. Ed knew he wouldn’t force the issue.

“I, uh…” Ed cleared his throat. “What would you say if I said I didn’t think I should ride you anymore?”

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the anger on Stede’s face -

“I’d say that was fine,” Stede said easily. “Why? Does it make your knee hurt when we do that?”

“Maybe a little,” Ed admitted softly.

“Okay,” Stede said, and he positioned his hands around Ed’s knee, rubbing his thumbs gently along the sore, tender joint, working out the stiffness of exertion. Ed hissed, his face scrunching up at the sensation, and Stede just cooed soft apologies.

That was - that was it, though, wasn’t it? Ed knew he was safe to let Stede see him in pain. Stede hadn’t ever gotten angry or frustrated with him for being in pain or needing help with his knee before, why would this be any different?

“Um,” Ed started haltingly, “I actually think maybe we might need to be a little more careful. During intercourse. With my knee. If that sounds alright to you. Maybe.”

When he opened his eyes, Stede was getting that pinched line between his eyebrows.

“Ed?” Stede pulled Ed a bit more securely into his arms, and Ed sighed in satisfaction at the feeling of Stede’s arms around his waist. “Have you been hurting? While we have sex? Have I been hurting you?”

“Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, I’m just…” Stede let his breath out in a long sigh. “I don’t want to ever do anything that hurts you. Not ever. Especially not when we’re trying to do something that’ll make us both feel good. How can I help keep you comfortable?”

“Well…” Ed grimaced. “Bending my knee is what hurts the most.”

“Alright,” Stede said thoughtfully, and Ed could see the wheels turning in his head. Taking out positions that required Ed to bend his knee took so much off the table. Riding, giving blowjobs, even fucking missionary, and Ed was a bit terrified he’d just ruined their sex life.

Clearly, he’d underestimated Stede Bonnet’s creativity. 

Ed should’ve known he was in for a treat when he caught Stede woodworking in the backyard and was given a full presentation about all the features of the “blowjob stool” he was building, a seat designed to cushion and support Ed’s knee while putting him at perfect dick-sucking height. 

Stede was endlessly thoughtful when adapting positions they already liked, too. Ed liked being taken from behind; they discovered that a pillow under his hips kept him comfortable and allowed him to keep his legs straight. When Ed missed looking into Stede’s eyes during sex, they experimented with variously supporting his knee with pillows or propping his ankle on Stede’s shoulder. Spooning, bent over a desk, the good ol’ 69… not all of Stede’s ideas or little inventions worked, but the ideas he had for supports to keep Ed comfortable meant it was the best sex Ed had ever had, full stop. It was really damn nice to be able to enjoy himself without worrying about being in pain.

The best parts, though, weren’t just the sex itself.

They’d found that Ed’s knee was least painful when his muscles were relaxed and when he was feeling good, so they often had a warm bath first. It was fun foreplay, and relaxing together while Stede rubbed tiger balm into the joint in the afterglow was the perfect way to snuggle and talk about what they’d enjoyed.

“I’m glad I told you,” Ed whispered one night, tracing their initials over Stede’s heart as they cuddled, Ed’s bad leg slung over Stede’s hip to keep it propped up.

“Me, too,” Stede said, kissing Ed’s cheek.

Ed was learning, still, that he’d never have to just put up with pain again. And it was soft, soft, as smooth and sweet as honey.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd fic #my fics #always accepting prompts for 1k fics! Don't be shy!

[the-parasites-control-me]

T.W— Angst.

Knitted Shut...

"Gosh, stop fucking overreacting, it's just some overtime work." Satoru said to you, irritated and overworked. Fine, you gave up, he won, just like he does every single time you argue. You felt hurt and pained to know that your boyfriend barely has any time for you, no, for your relationship.

You slouched tired and frustrated from the fight you had with your dickhead boyfriend before you finally left to change. "Ugh, whatever, I don't even give a shit now." He said, visibly irked by your presence in the room. I mean— why would you even bother trying to convince him to not go overtime this time but he just won't listen.

And then here comes some girls who would be out there saying— "Gosh it's just overtime!" or "You're so obsessed!". No, they didn't know Satoru's relationship with you and they never will. You were going to the point of insanity by now, it was always overtime or night out with friends or family meetings! What about you? Did he even think about you during his entire life!? You were finished, this was too much negativity in your mind, all you can do now is just lay down and forget.

As you lay down on your bed overthinking about possibly everything in your love life, Satoru comes in. "Hey, doll~" he said in a 'loving' manner. "What do you want, Satoru." You replied to him, this time confused but still angry at him. "Y'know m'so so sorry about everything princess~." "I promise, I will never do it again~". Wow, apparently he's apologizing now? What a jerk he was. "Satoru, we talked about this, and before you mention it, No." You answered him sternly causing him to be angered. "What!?"

Satoru began to shout at you, his pent up frustration had erupted out of his mouth and the next thing you know he slapped you. "Satoru!" You exclaimed, the imprint of his hand on your soft cheeks burned painfully. "I'm sorry love! I didn't mean it!" "Forgive me just this once!" He tried to explain himself but you had already decided, and your decision made him mad.

"That was the FUCKING last straw Gojo!" You thought he wouldn't even have the guts to slap you like that because he loved you, but this just proved your thoughts wrong. His mind was racing with thoughts, what should he do? You weren't accepting any of his apologies and it was already clear that you were about to explode. "Fine." Satoru said.

FINE? That was all he wanted to say!? "FINE MY ASS SATORU!" "I WAS STUPID TO LOVE A SELFISH FUCKING MAN LIKE YOU!" You gasped covering your mouth. What the fuck did you just say..? Gosh, why were you so dumb? What is he gonna say now.?

BOOMBAYAH!!!! :3 YESS IM LAZY!!!

IDGAF

#gojo smut #jjk smut #jkk #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jjk fandom #jjk fanfic #jjk angst #strongest sorcerer

[wexhappyxfew]

24. whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin

For Annie and Brady please!!! I adore them and your writing!

HI ANON!!!! thank you so much for stopping by the askbox!! greatly appreciated, especially when it is annie and brady!! :) these two have my heart and deserve all the best things life has to offer. please enjoy this take on the prompt and these two just being so soft on each other (and brady well....brady being BOLD). lmao! ENJOYYYY!!! thank you for all the love on them! :D

you in my A-2

(a/n): partially inspired by the prompt, partially by an ask i got earlier. just....annie x brady getting more and more comfortable and slowly realizing things about this war that they didn't realize earlier. them. them them them. i need them to be the happiest they can be when this is all done :')

Ever since that first night in the Stalag that she'd crawled into the bunk with Brady, it had become a nightly thing that she'd evacuate by the time morning came, but yearned for with each passing day.

Where it was just the two of them, side by side, curled into one another's bodies, their eyes the only innocent thing held between one another in this horrid place.

Sometimes they'd talk, whispering quietly between another about random things, about some of the sad things of the world, about their lives back home that would be entirely different if they ever got out of here. Sometimes they'd just stare at each other, with what little light there was from the moon outside or the lights from the guard huts outside.

And by that point, Brady would usually thread his fingers into her somewhat tangled hair and she'd apologize for something she could hardly control and he'd whisper all the sweet things that it was fine, he just wanted to be there with her. And that usually lent to her fingertips brushing against his stubbled cheeks, her pointer finger tracing all those stress lines that popped out when it was just them, or she'd let her hands dip into his hair and brush it back in a calming motion that usually got him right to sleep.

And so by morning, when she was back in her bunk, curled in her blanket, looking across the way as people would start moving about, waking up, rubbing their eyes, yawning and stretching, she'd meet Brady's gaze from across the room and they'd share that silent look that meant more than whatever words either of them would manage to find.

It never went past that - the longing looks, the occasional forehead kiss. Maybe they were both scared to go over that line they'd drawn. That maybe if there was anything more, they'd lose it just as quick.

As Annie slid out of her bunk and crossed the small room towards where Brady was, she couldn't help but feel her heart bit a little faster just at the sight of him asleep there - his face scrunched up in a way that made her heart ache. The visible stress on his face even in his sleep made her want to pull him right into her arms and tell him over and over that everything would be okay, that they'd make it out, that she was okay beyond anything. Because he cared so much, that he stopped taking care of himself sometimes. And she always would pick up what pieces were lost and stitch them back together again and hold him in the darkness.

As she approached, she softly bit back her lip and reached out to prod him awake, which always made her feel guilty for doing such a thing, but he welcomed it and told her it was fine, despite her want to make sure he got a full nights sleep. Brady woke with a shake awake and turned to look towards her and smiled softly in the darkness.

"Hey," he whispered, before opening up the blanket, "hop in." Annie watched him for a moment, before her cheeks warmed - they always did when he looked at her like that - and she slid in beside him and let him engulf her in a mixture of his arms and blanket.

The second she felt her body pressed against his in the cocoon of blankets and warmth, her worries were stripped away, as they normally always were. She curled herself against the heat from his neck, her body begging for some sort of comfort in all of this, as he pressed a kiss against her temple, something he'd grown more akin to recently it seemed. It's not that they didn't want people to see them, it was more of the fact that they finally were back with each other and trying to keep things like they had been back at Thorpe Abbotts - friendly, maybe dancing the line of flirting but not nothing more. But here at the Stalag, they were anything but. And they both seemed to recognize that.

"You doing okay?" he whispered softly against her ear as she cuddled further into him the best she could and sighed, "That cold finally going away?" She nodded against him.

"Yeah," she whispered, "just a little bit of a stuffy nose, but can't complain. How about you?" She leaned back from him, from his warmth and smiled at him as she leaned a hand up against her head. Reaching forward, she ran her hands through his hair and watched a sense of calm wash over his form for a minute as she did so. And it did settle Annie's own nerves and worry for Brady that she constantly endured day in and day out. She always worried about him and seemed, but it was always mutual for the two of them.

"Okay," he said quietly, before the corner of his lip turned upward, "better now that you're here, I gotta admit." Her cheeks warmed and she shook her head before holding his gaze in her own.

"You're too sweet on me, John Brady." she whispered softly to him, cupping his cheek for a minute and brushing her thumb across his cheek as she grinned at him with her rosy cheeks. Brady watched her, that slightly far-off look in his eyes, a hint of a smile. He grinned.

"You deserve it, Annie," he whispered back to her, reaching up his own hand and brushing his fingers against her warm cheek and grinning, "that and you blush red like a tomato."

"You a fan of that?" she whispered back quickly with a laugh and she watched him bit his lip and smirk.

"I'd say I'm a big fan of that," he whispered back, "'specially when you look like this." Annie watched him - she could probably be covered in mud and he'd be staring at the way he currently was. And now, stuck in a Stalag camp, looking slightly malnourished and sickly, with slightly matted hair and sunken in eyes and he still looked at her like that and said things like that.

"I could say much of the same," she whispered back to him, turning her head slightly to nuzzle into his hand against her cheek, "you look cute when you blush." John Brady did in fact blush when she said that, even though she couldn't even really see much of his face in that darkness of the room. She grinned and then leaned forward and cuddled into his neck again, Brady chuckling the slightest bit as he curled into her as well.

"You're so warm." Annie whispered against his neck as the rumble from his throat echoed in her ear and made her grin like a loon, "You're like a personal blanket." That got him to chuckle quietly again as her lips danced near her ear and she could practically hear each and every breath that left his lips - a mixture of knowing he was alive and right there next to her - and even more so; knowing that all they were in that moment right now were two people dying for an ounce of comfort in this world.

"Consider me your personal blanket," he whispered back as his lips continued to ghost over her ears, "I was thinking….." Annie listened to him trail off and gulped for a moment as his breath trembled and his heart pounded.

"I'd give anything if it was me and you back at Thorpe Abbotts, just you in my A-2 jacket and nothing else." he whispered and her body grew hot - whether from his soft, husky voice in her ear or the way his hands had found their way underneath her clothes, fingertips grazing her bare back, traversing her battered and hot skin, her thoughts were suddenly in a blunder and all she could think about well was….that. Annie pulled back from her spot curled against his neck and met his gaze.

"Just your A-2?" she whispered softly, looking at him shyly from underneath her eyelashes, a small smile growing on her face as a look dawned on his features that almost seemed like he hadn't meant to let that slip from his lips, but it had, "What does that mean for you?" Brady watched her, the look in his eyes matching the touch of his fingertips on her skin and she suddenly couldn't focus on anything else but that gentle touch of his fingertips. He leaned closer and brushed his lips against her forehead again with that tender touch.

"You can have me anyway you want me." he whispered against her forehead and her eyes instinctively shut as he pressed up against her and she overwhelmed with him. His presence, his touch, the way he held her so gently and close to him, but with a level of protectiveness and care that made her know that this was safe, that she was safe, just like this.

Annie reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, slowly running her fingers up into his hair as his head fell to the inside of her neck and he pulled her close, like a warm, tender hug that you never wanted to pull away from. Gleefully his hands raced along her bare back as she curled against him, feeling the way his hands explored underneath her coat and wooly top, dancing across her skin and making her feel things she hadn't quite felt in some time.

"Can I tell you something?" Annie whispered softly to him, rubbing slowly again through his hair as he sighed against her.

"What is it?" Annie listened to his heartbeat for a moment before blinking.

"This is the safest I've felt in years." And to even say a statement like that, in a place like this was ironic even in it of itself. She hadn't even felt the safest at home, a place that was supposed to be safe. No, no, she felt safest in the arms and embrace of someone she had only met a couple of months ago and had proved himself to be more of a home to her beyond anything.

"With me?" Annie nodded against him.

"Right here." she whispered back to him, "You and me." His grip didn't loosen, he only held her tighter and it seemed in that moment, the realization and the weight of whatever was going on between them seemed to hit. Her truth spilling from her lips quietly into his body, his grip tightening, their bodies pressed against one another in a way that should've felt foreign. Brady seemed to want to say something, she could tell, but when he stayed quiet and instead pressed another soft kiss to her forehead, she didn't question it. Because whatever they had here was okay for right now.

"I feel safe with you too, Annie." he whispered back and Annie was convinced even she wasn't so comfy, that she wasn't sure what she would've done if they'd been looking right at each other, inches apart. For now, she cuddled closer to him, enjoying his hands on her stomach and his lips near her ear, their soft breaths, mixing into deep slumber as they laid in each other's embraces until the world went quiet.

#masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets #THEMMMM #holy heck #annie bradshaw #john brady #john brady x oc #HE IS GETTING BOLD LADIES AND GENTS #HELLA BOLD #i had this line as an idea and RAN with it #in your a-2 like damn ok brady #SCREAMMINGGGG

[tortillamastersblog]

➶A big misunderstanding | Kate Bishop➴

Pairing: Kate Bishop x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Since she joined the team, you can’t help but notice how weird Kate acts whenever you’re around…

Part 2

________________________________________________

Walking into the kitchen, I smile at the smell of pancakes that greets me.

“Good morning,” I say cheerfully as I round the corner.

I’m greeted by Sam, Bucky, Natasha and Kate. They’re all standing around the stove where Kate is flipping pancakes.

“Morning,” Bucky greets softly before turning back to the pancakes.

Sam and Nat send me smiles before also turning back to the stove. It’s like they’re dogs, drooling over a bone.

I chuckle softly and approach them, looking over Kate’s shoulder to appreciate the pancakes that are currently cooking in the pan.

“Smells great,” I compliment with an exaggerated inhale which is apparently the wrong thing to do because Kate shrieks in surprise and throws her arms up.

It results in her smacking the spatula into my face and I stumble back with a groan, covering my eye with one hand.

“Jesus!” I exclaim. I slap Sam’s shoulder to get him to stop laughing and send Nat and Bucky a glare to get them to stop smirking.

Kate spins around with wide eyes and lifts her arms as if to touch me before dropping them again. “Oh my God, Y/N! I’m s-so sorry… I didn’t mean to— I swear, I didn’t even realize you came in, I just—“

I raise a hand, effectively cutting her off mid-ramble. “It’s okay, Kate.”

I wince and lower my hand slowly, blinking to test if my eye still hurts. It does but it’s now no more than a dull ache rather than the stabbing pain it was when she actually hit me.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Kate reiterates, her face scrunched up in guilt. She eyes me a moment longer before snapping out of whatever trance she was in and pulls and bag of frozen peas out of the freezer. “Here, take this.”

I laugh softly and take it from her, pressing it against my eye. “Thank you. It wasn’t entirely necessary, but thank you.”

Kate smiles nervously and goes to say something else when Bucky suddenly yelps behind her. “The pancakes!”

I look past Kate to see smoke rising from the pan. Sam and Nat watch in amusement as Kate scrambles to salvage the goods, but in the end she hast to throw out the batch and pour new dough into the pan– Much to Bucky’s dismay.

It’s not long after that the rest of the team comes sauntering into the kitchen. The small table gets set, rather than the big one in the dining room, and everyone starts loading their plates with pancakes and fresh fruit.

“These are great, Kate,” Steve compliments after swallowing his first bite.

The rest of the team murmurs their agreement around mouthfuls of food. Kate smiles bashfully and takes a sip of orange juice.

Cute…

“Yeah, they’re great,” I add with an approving nod which makes Kate’s eyes widen. She almost chokes on her orange juice and I frown, not having anticipated such a reaction.

“You good, kid?” Tony asks, his eyes twinkling mirthfully.

Kate’s eyes dart around the table, widening when they land on me before quickly snapping back to her plate. “Fine… Totally fine,” she chokes out.

I go to say something else, apologize maybe (for what I’m not exactly sure) but then she abruptly stands up and excuses herself from the table.

When she’s gone everyone looks puzzled. Well, almost everyone. Everyone except Nat who smirks at me with a knowing glint in her eyes.

I raise my brows in question, but her smile just widens and she turns back to Bruce to continue their conversation.

The rest of the table also resumes their usual morning chatter which leaves me in stunned silence.

What was all that about?

A week after the spatula incident in the kitchen, Steve stops me in the hallway. I just got back from the gym and am all sweaty and gross, so I only reluctantly agree when he passes me a comms device and asks me to bring it to Kate.

“Hers broke on the last mission,” he explains, “and Tony wants her to have it before we move out later.”

I sigh and make my way to the archery range where I know she is with Clint this time of day. We haven’t seen much of each as of recently and I’m starting to get the feeling it’s because she’s been avoiding me.

I enter quietly and wait for Clint to finish explaining something before approaching. “Hey guys.”

Clint nods and raises a hand in greeting. Kate’s eyes find mine for a second before they drop to roam over my exposed arms and shoulders. Her jaw slackens and I scratch my neck uncomfortably, not being used to this type of scrutiny.

I should have shower and changed before coming here, I think.

Clint watches the two of us with growing amusement before clearing his throat pointedly. “Y/N, what brings you by?”

Kate snaps out of her stare and looks around for a distraction. Her eyes land on the bow rack next to the arrow stand and she moves to put her bow away.

“Steve sent me,” I explain, raising the comms device. “Bruce managed to fix it.”

Clint clicks his tongue. “Right, yes. Tony mentioned it would be ready before we move out.”

I hand him the device before lifting the bottom of my shirt to wipe some sweat off my forehead.

Christ, I’m sweating like a pig…

In that moment there’s a loud crash and my head whips around to find Kate scrambling near the wall, trying to pick up all the bows she must have just knocked over.

I rush over to help her, but she winces when I crouch down next to her. “I’ve got it,” she snaps, her eyes trained on her shaking hands.

I gulp and freeze for a second. “Kate, let me help—“

“No,” she cuts in, snatching a bow from my hands and whispering another, “No.”

I’m just trying to help. Why is she being like this? The rejection that spreads through me is like a punch to the stomach. So she has been avoiding me. Why else would she be acting like this?

Did I do something wrong? I think about all our interactions since she joined the team, but I can’t come up with even a single instance where I might have done her wrong, or pissed her off.

I watch Kate for a second longer, hastily picking up the bows, before getting up. “Fine,” I mumble dejectedly. “Good luck tonight,” I add, referring to her upcoming mission with Clint.

She doesn’t look up or reply, so I back away with a frown.

Clint’s expression mirrors my own when I turn his way and he shrugs when I send him a questioning look.

I sigh and leave with a timid wave, not sparing another glance at Kate.

“Wanda?” I knock on the redhead’s door, waiting for a response. “Can I come in?”

Red wisps appear around the doorknob and the door opens.

I step inside to find Wanda at her desk with her back turned toward me. “Just a second, Y/N,” she says softly, typing away at her computer for a moment longer before turning around with a small smile.

“What can I help you with?” she asks as I close the door behind me.

I sit at the edge of her bed and fidget with my fingers. “You’re a pretty good judge of character, right?”

“I guess so… Why?” she says slowly.

I let out a shaky breath and look up to find her watching me curiously. “Do you think I’m a bad person?” I inquire.

There’s a beat of silence before Wanda gets up and sits next to me on the bed. She’s always been like a sister to me, so I trust her when she rushes to say, “What? No, of course not!”

I chuckle sadly and bite the inside of my cheek.

“Why would you think that?” Wanda pushes, her hand landing on my shoulder.

“I—“ I pause and think of how to phrase what I’m about to say next before delving into everything that has transpired between Kate and I.

It’s a lot and by the end of it I realized how much all of it has been getting to me. I’ve always thought of myself as a forthcoming, friendly person, but Kate’s blatant rejection of my company or care has me doubting all of it.

What’s surprising is that once I’m done talking, there’s a moment of silence before Wanda starts laughing next to me.

I scoff and eye her incredulously. “Hey! What’s so funny? I pour my heart out to you and you laugh?!”

Wanda tries to stifle her laughter by pressing her hand to her lips, but it does nothing to hide the mirth in her eyes.

“Hey!” I exclaim again, getting up, but Wanda grabs my arm and pulls me back down next to her.

“Wait,” she says around a huff of amusement. “I’m not laughing about your pouring your heart out. I’m laughing because you’ve got it all wrong.”

My annoyance quickly turns into curiosity. “Huh?”

Wanda shuffles closer and fixes the rumpled collar of my shirt. She’s such a mom…

“You’re not a bad person, by any stretch, Y/N/N,” she explains, her voice soothing. “And Kate’s not avoiding you because she hates you.” She emphasizes the hate part because those are the exact words I used to describe my relationship with Kate. I open my mouth to object, but Wanda is quicker, adding, “Quite the opposite actually.”

I stare at her, not knowing what to say until a disbelieving laugh bubbles out of me. “What are you talking about, Wanda? Kate doesn’t like me!”

Wanda raises an eyebrow and watches me expectantly as I continue to laugh.

“No! She can’t— She doesn’t—!” I stop myself abruptly when it dawns on me. Maybe what Wanda is insinuating isn’t that far fetched… It would certainly explain why Kate, a usually composed and precise person, turns into a fumbling, stuttering mess every time I’m around.

It would also explain her abrupt departures every time she knocks into me, or drops something around me. She’s not avoiding me because she doesn’t like me, she’s avoiding me because she’s embarrassed.

“Oh my God, Kate likes me,” I whisper and it’s as if Wanda’s words have lifted the fog in my mind that appears every time I think of the young archer.

I can see clearly now how she wasn’t judging me for being sweaty and gross at the range earlier. She was checking me out.

And when she knocked all the bows off the bow rack… It’s because I pulled my shirt up.

I turn to see Wanda beaming at me and as if the realization of Kate’s feelings toward me wasn’t enough already, I suddenly know why it’s hurt me so much that she’s been avoiding me.

She’s funny, and kind, and can be such a dork sometimes, it’s adorable…

Oh shit!

My ears heat up and I quickly look away when Wanda raises an eyebrow. “It is adorable,” she affirms with a smirk and I nod until it registers what she just said.

I freeze, horrified, and stare at her wide-eyed. “Did y-you just read my mind?”

Wanda laughs and raises her hands defensively. “I can’t help it if your thoughts are so loud!”

I groan and jump to my feet. “Wandaaaa!”

Wanda gets up too and grimaces apologetically. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. I swear.”

I take a deep breath and rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. “Just— You can’t tell anyone about this. Not a single soul, you hear me?”

Wanda grabs my wrists and pulls my hands off my face. “I wouldn’t dare,” she says sincerely before adding, “You’d make a cute couple though.”

“Aargh!” I shove her aside and make my way to the door. I’m pretty sure by now my whole face and neck is as flushed as my ears.

Wanda cackles unapologetically and I roll my eyes, leaving her room without looking back.

Well shit, what do I do now?

________________________________________________

#marvel #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop #the avengers #fluff #kate x reader

[furuyalover]

taking care of him at a party

— ft. atsumu miya

AN: just a lil sum while i work my music event drabbles 🤍 also this was soo fun to write so pls request any other characters i should do this for !

your roommate was throwing a party in your shared house, and it was fun at first. however your social battery was running kind of low, and you felt like taking a break anyways. “hey im a little beat, but if you need anything i’ll be in my room” you tell your friend and then you make your way to your room.

you lie down on your bed, and decide to maybe take a small nap to help you feel better. but not even 15 minutes into your nap you hear a soft knock on your door. “come in” you groan, as you readjust yourself so that you can sit up and see whoever’s at your door, expecting your roommate needing assistance with something for the party. but to your surprise, your greeting by three familiar faces, one being a very drunk atsumu miya.

being practically held him by his twin brother and good friend suna, the former embarrassingly says “y/n im so sorry for barging in, but is it ok if we let atsumu take a break here? every other room was occupied and your roommate told us to try here” atsumu was smashed, you could tell that he was shitfaced and it was more like osamu & suna who needed the break.

“what? ok sure yeah whatever. just lay him down over there i guess.” too tired to really even refute their request, you instruct the two to carry their drunken friend on the side of your bed opposite of you. this is where you decide it’s probably time for you to turn in for the night.

you leave atsumu to rest on your bed, and head into your bathroom to change, shower, and what not to get ready for bed. by the time you’re done you chuckle to yourself when you see atsumu is still knocked out on your bed. admittedly, you found it kind of cute to see him like this. peacefully asleep, in his natural state, a change of pace from his usual loud and brash personality, it didn’t help that he was in your bed as well. after placing a glass of water and some tylenol and advil on the nightstand next to him, you sit on your side of your bed and start mindlessly scrolling on your phone.

you text your roommate, updating them on the wild situation you found yourself in. “y/n are u fr rn? this is like the perfect chance for u to confess to him hello??” a smile forms on your face after reading that text, “bro what hell no. that’s so awkward 😭” “ur trippin, worst case scenario u can tell him u we’re js drunk” rolling your eyes at that suggestion, you exit your texts and go back to your scrolling.

a few minutes go by and you feel atsumu shifting in your bed, followed by a slight groan. “oh god where am i” he groans as he rolls over, rubbing his eyes, to face this mysterious figure sat beside him.

“well you’re not downstairs getting shitfaced that’s for sure” you snark with a small chuckle, slightly admiring how cute he looks with his messy hair and flushed face. “oh shit! y/n! is this your room? oh my god did we..?” amused by his slight panic you reassured him that nothing happened, “no no don’t worry, you were absolutely plastered so suna and your brother dropped you off here so you could rest. there’s some tylenol next to you, you should really take some”

she’s such an angel wow, he thought to himself as he took the pain relievers you so kindly prepared for him. “god those assholes, sorry you had to deal with that” he quietly, almost embarrassingly apologizes. giggling at his annoyance you assure him it’s fine and that it’s not a big deal. but then the gears start turning in your head a bit, as you start to develop a lil plan to semi-confess to him.

“the party isn’t probably gonna end for another few hours, so if you want you can just crash here if you want. i can just sleep on the couch or something” almost immediately, a grin plasters on atsumus face, and his usually cocky self is back just like that. “i mean that’s rather rude ya know? i wouldn’t want such an angel who had to take care of a drunken asshole to sleep on the couch. you should probably just sleep in your own bed” he grins as he runs his hands through his messy blonde hair, this bitch knows exactly what he’s doing, you think to yourself.

despite a very obvious blush creeping up on your face you respond, “yeah well i’d feel bad if you had to stay on the couch” scoffing, faking offense to your comment “who said anything about me on the couch? plus i heard cuddling is good for hangovers.” OH HOW I HATE HIM. rolling your eyes you playfully act annoyed, but you couldn’t be any happier

“hm well i always wanted to cuddle with that dumbass from the volleyball team who i have a crush on” you retort with a light laugh. now it’s his turn to blush, already flushed from the alcohol he is now redder than before. “when exactly were you planning on tellling this handsome and talented dumbass?” despite the confident demeanor he was definitely screaming on the inside.

“i figured now would be a good time, but who said anything about handsome and talented.” you reply as you side eye him, but he just can’t help but smile right at you. “so we’re definitely cuddling right?” he asks with a heartful, genuine smile. not being able to deny this lover boy’s smile or even him in general, i mean you’ve liked him for months now, you roll your eyes and respond “ok fine i guess whatever, but find some clothes to change into and take a shower” you laugh as you playfully hit him on his shoulder.

“on it.” he gets up heading downstairs to see if any of his friends have extra clothes they can get him, and to of course tell them about his crush on you. “shit finally, it’s about time you told her you liked her, osamu you owe me $10 and some food” “ok fine suna whatever, but you owe me $5 since he did it while he was drunk.” yes these mfs placed bets on you guys confessing to each other.

reblogs appreciated and admired ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

#game time! #haikyuu x you #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #hq headcanons #hq imagines #hq x you #hq x reader #hq fluff #miya atsumu #atsumu miya #atsumu miya headcanons #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu miya fluff #atsumu miya x you #atsumu headcanons #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu fluff

[arabellavernierwrites]

patched up. will graham.

summary : after accidentally slicing your hand open in the kitchen , will takes care of you.

word count : 463

warnings : mention of knives , mention of blood , mention of injury (cut from knife) , brief swearing , mentions of pain

a/n : hello everyone !!! thank you so much for how kind and supportive you all are. the fact that anyone reads my writing is such an honor and i’m so appreciative of all of you. i wanted to make something a little short today , an idea that came to me this morning. i adore will graham and would love to write for him more , so if you have any requests , please send them in !!! have an amazing wonderful incredible day , love you guys !!!

dinnertime had rolled around once again.

mid-evening, the last remaining golden glow of the sun before it tucked itself in.

the beginning of the ending of another day.

you and will were in the kitchen.

a soft hum of music circled and spun its way through the air, filling the empty space between you two.

you were chopping vegetables, will was stationed at the stove, carefully stirring the stew.

it was rare for you two to be assuming these roles while cooking.

will was almost always assigned to the chopping. he wasn’t known for his cooking skills.

the vegetables on your cutting board fought against you.

your knife was dangerously dull and you knew that. you had been meaning to take them in to get them sharpened for weeks, but the shop was far and you hadn’t had the time in your schedule.

“how’s it going over here?” will asked, stepping beside you, wrapping a hand around your waist.

you looked up at his smiling face, “good”.

whatever solanaceous veggie you were cutting had slipped out of your grip. the blade of the knife fell, slicing your palm.

“shit,” you dropped it, an angry puddle of blood weeping from your slashed skin.

“here,” will grasped your wrist hurriedly, guiding your hand under the faucet as he flicked it on, “are you okay?”

you nodded, the pain was uncomfortable but the vulnerability was worse.

“i’m fine, it doesn’t even hurt,” you lied.

will studied human behavior for a living, he knew you were fibbing.

he placed a soft kiss on the side of your head, “we’ll clean this and then get you patched up, okay?”

“okay,” you tried to smile, wanting to pull away from him and handle it all yourself.

once the blood stopped spilling from your torn skin, will dried it off, pulling you into a chair at the kitchen table.

he sat beside you, pulling you closer so your knees were pressed against the inside of his thighs.

“does it still hurt?” he asked, smearing ointment across your wound.

you dropped your head, “yes”.

he set small sheets of gauze on your palm, gently pressing them down. you winced at the pressure.

“i’m sorry,” he brought your knuckles to his lips, a tender kiss deepening his apology.

his movements were thoughtful and slow, different from how he was understood to be by most people.

will wrapped the elastic roll around your hand, holding all of his work in place.

he taped it up, mindful of your pain, but keeping the cloth secure, “done”.

“thank you,” you placed your good hand on his hip, patting it lightly.

“of course,” he smiled, his big, round eyes pulling you in.

you leaned forward, a gentle, appreciative kiss for the boy you loved the most.

#hannibal #hannibal drabble #hannibal fanfic #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal lecter #will graham #will graham blurb #will graham comfort #will graham fanfic #will graham fanfiction #will graham/reader #will graham angst #will graham x reader #will graham smut #will graham reader #will graham hannibal #hannibal headcanons #hannibal nbc

[everydayyoulovemeless]

fo4 or nv companions + sole/courier faking an orgasm with them?

FNV Companions Reactions to the Courier Faking an Orgasm

➼ Word Count » 0.6k ➼ Warnings » MDNI ➼ Genre » NSFW, Romantic

Boone will notice immediately that you’ve faked it. He won’t say anything but you’ll know something’s wrong by the way he suddenly freezes up. His eyes will hold a hint of worry in them as he gazes at you, silently asking if you’re ok. He feels awful and will slowly get off of you before gently helping you to bed. He doesn't voice his thoughts, but it's obvious that he's not sure what to ask or do in this situation. He'll silently be praying that he didn't cross any boundaries with you. Boone will remain quiet until you decide to speak up and say something, otherwise, you're both just going to be lying next to one another awkwardly.

Arcade looks at you in disbelief. There’s no way you thought that’d work. He can literally see if cum is spraying out your dick or not. Obviously, he’s going to catch you in your bluff. He’ll be more embarrassed than anything. The fact that you felt you needed to fake your orgasm stings him. He knew it’d been a while since he’d last done it with another man, but he didn’t think he was that rusty. It’s definitely gonna leave a dent in his ego. He'll help you get dressed then never speak to you again, not because he's mad at you, but because he's too ashamed to face you himself. If you want to talk to him again, you're going to have to initiate it.

Raul pushes himself off of you immediately and will look down at you in concern. He’ll ask softly if you’re alright, but won’t pry any further than that. You obviously didn’t like it if you had to fake it, and he doesn’t blame you. Not many people like the feeling of a ghoul and that’s perfectly fine with him. He’s just worried that you’ll feel too awkward to be around him any longer and switch him out for another companion. He'll greet you in the morning as he would any other time, hoping to just move past this little blunder in your relationship. He got the message clearly and won't try to prompt anything more from you, too afraid that he'll make you uncomfortable again.

Cass stops what she’s doing and will confront you about it immediately. She’s slept with WAY too many people to be fooled by you pretending to cum and she’s baffled that she somehow couldn’t get you off. You don't have any other choice but to go get a drink with her because she wants to know exactly what it is she needs to work on. She's more offended than anything. This hasn't ever happened to her before and she never in her life thought that it ever would. Just explain it to her quickly and she'll leave you alone.

It takes a minute before Veronica notices, but when she does she’ll begin apologizing profusely. She knows she can get a little excited when it comes to sex, but she never imagined that it might be too much for her partner. She's so scared that she's overwhelmed you and will immediately begin offering to do aftercare for you - whatever you want - because she feels so bad about the entire incident. If you never want to talk to her again, she'd completely understand, but she also wouldn't find it all that awkward if you decided to keep traveling with her. She can fix this, and she will fix it if you'd give her the chance and tell her what it was that went wrong.

#fallout new vegas #fallout #fnv #arcade gannon #arcade fnv #craig boone #boone fnv #raul tejada #raul alfonso tejada #raul fnv #fnv companions #fnv companions reactions #veronica santangelo #veronica fnv

[fantasyandshit]

The tailor

Type: one shot

Pairing: Azriel x male reader

Based off of this request

I hope this is ok for my first male reader! I hope to do this justice and hope this lives up to your hopes @vampyama !

I sit at the table at Rita’s, talking and laughing with Mor, Cassian, Rhysand, and Feyre when I hear the door open and the heavy set footsteps I had come to recognize anywhere. My head swivels around, eyes meeting Azriel’s- cauldron his eyes are beautiful. I can’t help but let mine trail down his body, he’d changed from whatever he was wearing on his mission, into a loose fitting black shirt that showed part of husky perfect chest, and a pair of black slacks, hugging his strong, beautiful, enticing thighs oh so perfectly.

“Azriel!” I jump up and run to hug the male, my family chuckling at my antics. I nuzzle into my mates chest, a purr of sorts leaving me. I can feel Azriel pat my head softly rubbing. “I missed you my mate.” I look up slightly, my chin sitting on his chest.

“I missed you to love.”

We love to sit at the table, hands clasped together, I can hear Cassian muttered something about ‘Lover boys.’ But happily ignore him, instead snuggling into my mates shoulder as he orders us some drinks. As we sit and talk, I think back to when I met my mate.

———

I was the tailor for the high lord and his inner circle. “Yn! Alright man, I’ll be honest. I know it’s short notice but I’ll pay double for the rush. We need dresses for all the girls and suits for the three of us,” he looks to the other males with him- I stare at the one with blue gems. Beautiful, that’s the only way to describe him. “Can you make it work?”

I take a moment to think, it’s the highlord- I have to say yes and as long as I close up till starfall I should be able to make it work. “I think I can do that. I’ll just need to take you all back for measurement updates. Although I’m already going to have to close shop so you’ll have to choose from the fabrics I have with me, I can’t import anything.” I survey the group, my eyes once again catching the beautiful male- his eyes already on mine- shit. I look away quickly as the high lord speaks.

“That is perfectly fine. Thank you so much. You will be well compensated I promise.”

“It’s my pleasure, now do you want to come back to the fitting room?” He nods, and the rest of his group follow me back to a large room with a circle platform in front of a mirror and chairs around the room. “Sir wherever, whoever wants to go first may step on the plat form now.” I gather my supplies, moving forward to take Cassian- as I’d heard’s measurements. I write his name on my notepad before getting to work, once I’m done I turn to face him. “So, can I ask what you’re looking for in this?” I write everything he says down, sketching an idea before showing him.

He smiles and nods in approval. “That’s exactly what I pictured. Thanks.” I nod, slowly making my way through the whole group, allowing them to go look at fabrics.

Lastly- Azriel I had learned, the beautiful man from earlier, steps on the plat form. I get some measurements, as I move to get his wing span, I accidentally hit one of the larger membranes.

He moaned.

He fucking moaned.

I apologize over and over, Azriel shushing me, assuring me they are just sensitive. Finally, he turns around, grabbing my arms. We make eye contact and I gasp- he does too.

“Mate.” He whispers, tears spring to my eyes- what if he doesn’t want me? He’s probably disappointed. He probably wanted some beautiful woman. He’s not gay. He can’t be right? My thoughts are stopped by his lips crashing to mine. He grabs my hips, dragging them to his, the tent forming in my pants meeting his own. Neither of us make the connection that his friends are still hear.

———

“Yn? You still there love?” I shake me head, blinking. I had spaced out, Azriel’s thumb rubs my arm soothingly.

“Oh? Yeah- yeah. Sorry love, I just spaced out.” I lean up, giving him a peck on the lips. He nods, going back to his conversation as I just marvel at his beauty.

He turns back to me, eyebrows furrowing, “Are you ok love?” It’s a whisper in my ear.

“Yeah. You’re just so pretty.” I wouldn’t be surprised if there were hearts in my eyes as I respond. He chuckles before speaking again, still a whisper. “You wanna go for a walk.”

I grin, I lived walking through Velaris with my mate, showing him off like he deserved. I nod my head vigorously, practically bouncing in my seat. “Everyone, we’re gonna head out ok.”

Everyone says some variation of ok as we leave the table, as we are walking out, I hear Cassian call, “Be careful kids- wear protection.” I laugh slightly at his antics as we leave to the street.

I swing our hands, skipping and twirling with Azriels shadows down the street, him walking behind, smiling fondly. An idea coming to mind, I dash ahead, giggling as I make it to a field of flowers. I pick a few, weaving them together insanely fast thanks to the help of my mates shadows. Finally, I finish his crown, turning back to him and placing it on his head. He smiles with me, pulling me into a loving kiss. “I love you my mate.”

“I love you too.”

—————

Okkk idk if that was what you wanted- I’m praying I did ok. Again- it’s my first time doing a male reader so I hope it’s ok.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel #elain archeron #elain x reader #feyre archeron #feyre x reader #nesta archeron #nesta x reader #cassian x reader #cassian #rhysand x reader #rhysand #male reader #azriel x male reader #fluff

[elftwink]

got a text from my coworker apologizing that she accidentally outed me to another coworker and i am not sure how to respond because on the one hand theres not really a safety issue and if there is fallout im pretty sure its handlable and the most likely outcome is literally nothing happens. like one of our other coworkers is openly nonbinary so this is not a stealth-necessary work environment and i have often considered coming out to coworkers with the main reason i havent being because i dont want to put the effort in to talk to everyone LOL. and the coworker who outed me is a pretty good friend and i know it was an accident and she feels bad so like i dont really want her to beat herself up about it or for it to reflect badly on our relationship

but on the other hand im not sure how to convey that without saying something like "no worries" or "you're fine" or otherwise minimizing what she did, which i dont want to do because despite there not being a safety issue it is kind of upsetting and nerve wracking. like i just dont have control over a situation where i previously did have control & there isnt a way to put that back the way it was. and i don't know exactly what our other coworker has been told either, or how he reacted, or anything really, so i just sort of have to wait until sunday to see if he says anything or treats me differently (the latter of which i think is extremely likely; not that he'll be directly bigoted, but ive talked to this coworker about trans stuff before and the conversations have been... ill informed and very exhausting. usually i just try to end them as fast as possible because i dont get paid enough to have a difficult conversation with someone who knows nothing but thinks they are an expert, especially when i am the only one of us with any personal experience).

she already feels bad and i dont want to make her feel worse (she's my friend!), but i also don't like being put in the position where i have to comfort her about the thing that she did to me. i know this isn't what she intended like i firmly believe this is a good faith apology, i just dont know how to respond to it in a way that doesn't involve saying it's okay. and i don't want to say it's okay because it really is not okay.

(the other thing also, which just has to do with the general atmosphere of transphobia and not my coworkers apology, is i find that i am usually expected to say everythings fine when something transphobic happens to me, lest i be painted as the evil and unreasonable transgendered who isnt willing to let people make mistakes and rules my tyrannical pronoun kingdom with an iron fist. or whatever. i dont think my coworker would react this way, but years and years of people misgendering/outing/saying transphobic things and then crying to me as though they're the victim and reacting extremely negatively if i did not dry their tears and reassure them that They're A Good Person, Really... it weighs on you. there's an unspoken expectation that you will be endlessly tolerant and forgiving, and an accompanying resentment or anger if you don't fulfill that expectation. even when people aren't getting angry at you, you still flinch from the times people were, and you still try to temper your reaction based on the possibility they will react badly. difficult to have honest and genuine conversations in that environment!)

#good idea generator #transphobia / #://///// now i gotta reply to this goddamn text message i guess!

[kimjiwoong]

alexis got back with his ex

#i dont know what to say other than i literally cried when he told me #he apologized and it's fine it's whatever #he said they had history and its true #i don't think I'll talk about him again #i asked him not to take me home anymore because it's gonna be very confusing to me #i like him so much he's so cool of course I can't have him #i can't compete w a girl like that #i feel so fucking bad i wanna throw up #im never gonna be loved romantically ever #i just wish he hadn't messed with ne #me* #im so fucking fond of him hahaha i hate this so bad #we could have had something so nice #we get along so well #I feel like such a failure jsjshsjahsjahs #when is it my turn #why does she get the boy instead of me #haven't i not gotten then boy enough times #fuck character development fuck working on myself I've done my time #where is MY person #u guys don't have to want it but i do #i fucking do #i hate this #rose.txt #sorry for this

[leo-bandito]

eden

[ID: Trigun fanart lit with warm, saturated sunset tones. Vash, Wolfwood, Meryl, and Milly are together in a kitchen whic is glowing orange from the setting sun. Vash is grinning hugely at Wolfwood, who throws his head back and laughs while holding a steaming pot over the sink. Milly laughs with delight at Meryl, who's grinning with slight nervousness as she holds a tray of donuts up and away from two kids who are gleefully running past her. End ID]

ID credit to @princess-of-purple-prose !! ty :3

#giggles. #This is an apology for paradise see theyre all fine & having fun & kissing #That's my fave wolfwood ive ever drawn me thinks #he is so smiley :) #THIS IS SPECIFICALLY W 98 IN MIND BUT. WHATEVER #trigun #trigun 98 #trigun 1998 #trimax #trigun maximum #wolfwood #vash the stampede #milly thompson #meryl stryfe #nicholas d wolfwood #wolfwood trigun #vash trigun #milly trigun #Meryl trigun #kuroneko #kuroneko sama #plus two random kids. #ik in my brain who the little kid with the light hair is but thats a secret I'll never tell #ALSO fun fact. I used the same orange as rhe one I used for thw sunset in the church :3 #polyguns #trigun polycule #vashwood