#but its warmth and familiarity is lost to me
Text
Touch.
Word Count: 1331
Rating: E
Character: Killer <3
Author's Notes: I don't have any excuse. This was a writing exercise to get me back into the groove of writing long form after taking an unintentional hiatus from writing because life got Very Fucking Bad and Very Fucking Chaotic for a while there. Things are calming down now. Maybe I'll finish off some longer WIPs.
Anyways enjoy the smut, I love Killer.
He wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, not really. This urging itch, the way it settled just beneath the first layer of his epidermis, as if he could dig deep enough and pull it free but it won’t fucking go. His mind feels foggy, like the early mornings in the South Blue when the fog would roll across the valleys of home, blanketing everything, making it hard to discern what was truly what and what was just his mind playing tricks on him. A frustrated sound escaped him as he tugged the helmet up and over, tossing it aside with little care of where it landed ( a lie, he did care, he aimed for his bed on purpose. ) Maybe it was the warmer weather that had him itching for something- something he couldn’t place his finger on.
Touch.
Taste.
The feeling of skin against skin. A fight? Fucking? Grinding? Grabbing? He couldn’t fucking tell what he wanted. No, that’s another lie; he knows what he wants but to do such an act felt sacrilegious, despite him leaning heavily into his roots of paganism and not the new age religions. It felt wrong; a shame that he wasn’t familiar with pooling, or perhaps its name was actually anxiety.
Killer groaned into his hands, long and low. Frustrated in more ways than one, more ways than he cared to admit as he settled down on the edge of his bed. Teeth gritting, he gave in. Cerulean gaze falling shut beneath heavy golden bangs, jaw relaxing its tight hold of tension. He shifted back on the bed, careful as he laid himself back. His hand- hands meant for fighting, for protecting his Captain and Crew, hands that dripped red with the blood of enemies slaughtered- rose to smooth along his own throat, further down over his chest, feeling the musculature that lay beneath the skin, the way it rippled beneath his own hand as it trailed south, across his stomach, across the patch of hair that settled beneath his naval, thick and blonde and soft.
Fingers teased the waistband of jeans, as if it were not his own, as if it belonged to another. ( That would make things easier, he thought to himself. ) Nimble, quick, the button was undone and fly dragged down centimeter by centimeter, the sound harsh against the lap of waves against the hull. His breaths came slightly faster, soft pants into the warmth of the bedroom. Hips canted into empty air, the hint of a moan trying to break free but settling instead within his throat. Worked up like a damn virgin who’d never felt the touch of another in his life; what had gotten him to this point, he still couldn’t tell. The adrenaline recently? The sight of skin shining under the sun, drenched in sweat or blood? The feeling of skin beneath his hands as a sparring session went too far?
Damn.
His hips rolled, jeans sliding off of strong hips, over thick thighs, kicked to the floor where they’d live for the next… However long this would take. Lavender hued lips parted in a gasp as his hand cupped himself, feeling the way his cock swelled against his fingers, filling out as his mind played with fantasies. A whine- a damned whine- pulled free, spilling into the air as he lost himself to the sensation. Phantom hands caressed; head tilting back as his free hand dragged across his stomach, blunt nails digging into sun kissed skin, raising welps in their wake that would vanish within the hour. Higher, higher, settling around his throat, squeezing, pulling out a groan, hips bucking against his own touch.
Needy thing, he was.
Away went the underwear, discarded to join its predecessor on the floor. Crudely, fingers pushed into his mouth, tongue laving at the digits in a way he know would be considered downright sinful. He didn’t care, couldn’t find it within himself to give a singular damn in the moment. Dry drag wasn’t a great feeling, he wasn’t weeping near enough to aid. His hand smoothed down, tongue lolling out as his fingers grasped his cock, feeling the way it pulsed beneath his fingers. He was wasting time, time he didn’t have to waste away like this-
The first pull had a wretched sound tearing free from his chest, a half sob, half moan that he muffled against a pillow. It was as if he’d been doused with some damn aphrodisiac, lost in lust the way he’d become. Of hands rougher than his own, of skin darker than his own, the sharp scent of rubbing alcohol that mixed with the subtle soap, dark hair, red hair; the mixture of sensations that would come. His hand moved slowly, drawing out the pleasure as much as he could, greedily drinking it down. Fingers squeezed- above and below simultaneously, constricting his airway and sending his eyes rolling back in his head as his hips stuttered. He huffed, annoyed by having to move, scooting slightly to get proper purchase on the bed, feet settled atop messy blankets.
When was the last time he’d been so worked up? He wasn’t sure. Teeth dug into his bottom lip, worrying the tissue as his hips rolled into his touch, the motion smooth, steady. Free hand reached up, tangling in wild blonde locks, tugging, the sting only adding to the pleasure that was building in his gut, tensing near the base of his spine. If he wasn’t careful, he’d end this far too soon, and that wouldn’t be any fun. He couldn’t help the chuckle that rumbled in his chest as he slowed his hand, as his mind replaced it with another’s. “Fuck,” he cursed softly, voice thick with lust, a mere growl in the heat of the room. “Tha’s good, jus’ like that…” His head tilted back, hand moving over his throat once more- threatening to squeeze before the attention turned, massaging at his chest.
The sound of footsteps had him stilling, breath halting in his chest, blue nearly swallowed by black as he stared at the door. No one entered. The steps continued by. Breath of relief escaped his lips as he shook his head. Finish it up, Killer; he worried his lip as his hand sped up twicefold, thumb swiping across the weeping head, dipping against the slit in a way that had him tensing. Fingers toyed with the sensitive glans, and before he knew it, oh, he was whining, keening, begging quietly to the phantoms of lust that kept him captive. “Close- I’m gonnae-” he tried to warn ( warn who? Who knows. ), though he cut himself off by biting onto the pillow beside his head, panting harshly through his nose as his hand pumped once, twice, three times-
It washed over him so quickly, like a damn tidal wave, crashing against him. His vision blacked out for a moment there, a shudder wracking his frame before he calmed, melting into the mattress. Releasing the pillow from betwixt teeth, he took a much-needed moment to catch his breath. Gaze turned down to his chest, to the white that had splattered there. Lip curled in mild annoyance, he pushed himself up and reached over, taking hold of a rag he’d used that morning to clean his face with. Quick swipes cleaned his chest of any evidence of what had just occurred. He tugged his shirt back down, reached over for both underwear and jeans and slid them on in quick succession, followed by shoes.
A glance in the mirror had him pausing; lip swollen from his biting, lipstick smeared in a way that screamed sin. Lips quirked up in a small smirk as he decided not to fix that. No one would be able to see it, not with the helmet- which was quickly pulled over messy blonde locks. No, no one would have any idea about what had occurred. Clearing his throat, he crossed to the door, pulling it open. The sound of muffled conversation and laughter reached him immediately, followed by Kid’s loud bark of laughter.
Back to work.
#one piece#massacre soldier killer#killer op#one piece smut#massacre soldier killer smut#killer one piece#killer one piece smut#unholy scriptures [ n s f w ]#lowkey some ships but i wont tag them. let your minds go wild.
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Something fragile - Part 3
Soldier Boy x F/Reader Y/N
Warnings: 18+, Sex, age difference ( not explicit), daddy issues, family trauma, ...
Side note: English isn’t my first language
Words: 4570
*Does not follow the boys storyline *
(I may have been a little inspired by 🥵*that one scene* 🥵in Devour... IYKYK )
--
Soldier boy just got out of Russia thanks to the boys. But his journey back to reality has been fucked up. After the explosion he ran to recover his blackout, meeting y/n a young woman on her way home from volunteering at the veteran shelter. Seeing how he looked confused, offering him help.
After helping him by allowing him to stay with her for a while she might get some help from him as well, now her past is trying to fight its way back into her life.
--
Y/N awoke to the soft light filtering through the curtains of her tiny cabin. As she stretched, she felt the warmth of Ben next to her, his presence a comforting weight against her side. Memories of the night before flooded back, reminding her of the passion they shared in the darkness, afterwards seeking unspoken solace in each other's arms.
Each day seemed to draw them closer, each night they ended up in tangled sheets, even though she had promised herself not to get involved with men anymore since Peter.
Using him purely for physical destress isn't getting involved right? He sure didn't seem to mind.
Y/N had little time to contemplate the depth of their 'relationship'. Today, she had an interview to prepare for. Thanks to her shitty ex boyfriend finding a new job seemed hard.
With a sigh, Y/N reluctantly peeled herself away from Ben's embrace, the chill of the morning air kissing her skin as she slipped out of bed. She moved with practiced grace, the soft sway of her hips accentuated by the tight pencil skirt she had chosen for the occasion. It hugged her curves in all the right places, a silent declaration of confidence and power.
As she gathered her things, Y/N heard Ben stir behind her. Turning to face him, she couldn't help but smile at the sight of him tousled hair and sleepy-eyed, a stark contrast to the rugged charm he exuded even in his most dishevelled state.
"Morning," she greeted, her voice soft yet laced with the subtle undercurrent of desire that always seemed to simmer between them.
"Morning," Ben replied, his gaze trailing over her figure appreciatively. "Where are you off to so early, it’s Thursday, you don’t volunteer today?" Y/N hesitated for a moment, "I have a job interview," she admitted finally, her words tinged with a hint of reluctance.
Ben arched an eyebrow inquisitively. "And what exactly do you do besides volunteering at the help centre?"
Y/N paused, her mind racing as she debated how much to reveal. She had always been guarded when it came to her career, her past experiences leaving her wary of letting anyone too close.
"I'm a lawyer," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.
Ben's eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of admiration and curiosity flickering behind his gaze. "A lawyer, huh?" he mused, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I should've known you had more dark secrets."
Y/N couldn't help but laugh at his teasing tone, the tension easing from her shoulders. “Well, wish me luck.” she said before rushing out the door.
--
Y/N's heart sank as she trudged down the familiar path towards the help centre, the weight of the failed interview pressing down on her shoulders like a leaden cloak. Another bureau that got a bad review from her former boss. The asshole!
She had been so sure this opportunity was the one, the chance to prove herself. But now, all she felt was the bitter sting of disappointment, the harsh reality of her situation crashing down around her.
Lost in her thoughts, Y/N barely noticed the figure waving frantically from the doorway of the help centre until she was nearly upon it. Squinting against the harsh glare of the midday sun, she recognized the familiar silhouette of her friend Tom, another volunteer at the centre.
"Y/N! Come inside, I need to talk to you!" Tom called out, his voice cutting through the haze of her thoughts like a lifeline. With a weary sigh, Y/N obediently followed Tom into the dimly lit interior, the familiar scent of stale coffee and old books wrapping around her like a comforting embrace.
She sank into a nearby chair, exhaustion seeping into her bones as she let the weight of the day wash over her.
Tom took one look at her and sighed, his normally jovial demeanour replaced by a somber seriousness that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine.
"I'm sorry to lay this on you now, Y/N, but there's something you need to know," Tom began, his voice grave. He showed her the letter that Peter gave that morning. “And I think it’s best you hear it from me.”
Y/N's heart skipped a beat, dread pooling in the pit of her stomach as she braced herself for whatever news he had to share.
"It's about your father," Tom continued, his gaze unwavering. "He's asking to reduce his sentence and to get out of jail."
Y/N's blood ran cold at the mention of her father, memories of him flooding back with painful clarity. She had thought she had finally escaped his shadow, finally found a semblance of peace in a world that had always been tainted by his presence.
"And Peter..." Tom trailed off, his expression darkening with unspoken anger. Y/N's breath caught in her throat hearing his name. "He's agreed to take on his case," Tom finished, his voice thick with emotion.
Y/N felt like the ground had been ripped out from beneath her, the world spinning wildly as she struggled to make sense of the chaos unfolding around her. “Go home, try to focus on something else. Or you know, you do you. Fight your dad’s release.”
Y/N's hands tightened around the steering wheel as she navigated the familiar twists and turns of the road leading to her cabin. The drive had always been a source of solace for her, a chance to clear her mind and escape the chaos of the world outside.
But today, with the weight of her failed interview and the looming threat of her father's release pressing down on her, even the tranquil beauty of the countryside offered little comfort.
As she pulled into the gravel driveway, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had settled in the pit of her stomach. She knew she couldn't keep running from her problems forever, couldn't keep burying her fears beneath a facade of strength and resilience. But for now, all she craved was a moment of respite, a chance to lose herself in something, anything.
Stepping out of the car, Y/N took a deep breath, the crisp air filling her lungs as she made her way towards the cabin. Y/N's pulse quickened as she stepped into the cozy warmth of her cabin, her eyes immediately drawn to the sight of Ben reclining on the couch.
“What are we eating?” He asked without look up at her. In that moment, her mind went blank, consumed by a tidal wave of raw emotion.
Without a second thought, she crossed the room in quick strides, her heart pounding in her chest as she closed the distance between them. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed her purse aside, the thud of it hitting the floor drowned out by the rush of blood in her ears.
The sound made him look up a second before she took the remote out of his hands. Straddling Ben's hips, Y/N felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins, the heat of his body searing against her skin as she hovered above him.
His confusion shown on his face, but it changed quickly into something else, a flicker of anticipation, heat. He liked this rawness of her.
Y/N lifted the hem of her skirt, the fabric sliding up her thighs as she exposed herself to him completely. And then, without a word, she crashed her lips against his, a desperate hunger driving her forward as she kissed him while lowering his sweatpants.
Ben responded eagerly, his hands finding her hips as he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss. With a low growl of desire, Ben's hands tightened on Y/N's hips and thighs as he grinds her against him, the friction igniting a firestorm of need between them.
Without hesitation, Y/N lowered herself onto him, their bodies melding together in a primal need. Their movements were urgent, raw, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through their veins. There were no words only the desperate moans filling the air.
The sound of their ragged breaths mingled with the soft creak of the couch, and then, with a final, guttural moan of ecstasy, they tumbled over the edge together.
Ben grinned at her when she climbed off his lap, loving this new Y/N. So needy and hot, he watched Y/N pull down her skirt, his eyes still dark from their quick fuck. "Bad day, huh?" he jokes only to get ignored.
Y/N offered him a small smile in response, her lips trembling with unspoken emotion. She didn't trust herself to speak, the weight of her day pressing down on her like a suffocating blanket. Instead, she simply nodded, silently grateful for the comfort of his presence.
"Got it," Ben yelled while she walked away, his tone warm as he reached for his phone to order pizza. "No cooking tonight."
With a grateful sigh, Y/N disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of running water echoing softly against the walls as she sought solace in the soothing embrace of a hot shower. As the steam enveloped her, she let herself relax for the first time that day, the tension melting away beneath the gentle caress of the water.
Minutes turned into an hour as she lost herself in the simple pleasure of being alone, the rhythmic thrum of the water a steady anchor in the storm of her emotions.
And when she finally emerged from the bathroom, the steam from her shower dissipating into the air as she took in the sight of Ben hovering near the door, a curious expression on his face.
"I was just about to knock," Ben remarked, a sheepish grin playing at the corners of his lips. "Where's the money for the delivery guy?" Y/N smiled fondly at his eagerness, reaching into her purse to retrieve her wallet.
With a thankful wink, she made her way to the door, pulling it open to reveal the pizza delivery guy waiting patiently on the other side.
"Sorry for the delay," she apologized, her voice warm as she handed him the cash. "Keep the change." The delivery guy grinned in appreciation, nodding his thanks before turning to leave. Y/N closed the door behind him.
The silence between them stretched on as they ate on the couch while watching something on the tv that Ben wanted to see, the only sound in the cabin beside the soft rustle of paper as they reached for another slice of pizza and the occasional flicker of the fire crackling in the fireplace.
Despite the warmth of their surroundings, a palpable tension hung in the air.
Ben couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, the weight of Y/N's unspoken turmoil casting a shadow over their shared meal. He watched her carefully while she ‘watched’ tv and ate.
Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, Ben cleared his throat, his voice gentle yet firm as he broached the subject that had been weighing on his mind since Y/N's arrival.
"I don't mind you coming home and immediately go for a quick fuck, Y/N," he began, his words measured. "But that isn’t you, what's wrong?"
Y/N's breath caught in her throat at his words, the lump of emotion lodged in her chest threatening to choke her. She had always prided herself on her strength and independence, on her ability to face the world.
With a deep sigh she pushed the slice of pizza on the table. "I didn't get the job," she admitted, the admission hanging heavy in the air between them like a lead weight. “So? You’ll find another one.” he said bluntly.
“That's not all." With a heavy sigh, she continued, the words tumbling from her lips in a rush of desperation and despair. "My father might get out of jail," she confessed, the admission leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "And it's all because of Peter."
Ben's brows furrowed in confusion, his mind racing to make sense of her words. "Peter? That fucking nutjob ex boyfriend?" he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief.
Y/N nodded, her gaze dropping to her lap as she struggled to contain the storm of emotions raging within her. "He's agreed to take on my father's case," she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know how, I don't know why, but somehow he's managed to convince himself that my father deserves a second chance."
Ben's jaw tightened at the mention of Peter's name, a surge of anger coursing through his veins at the thought of the man who had caused Y/N so much pain and heartache. He knew all too well the depth of their history, the wounds that still lingered beneath the surface despite the passage of time.
"I won't let him hurt you, Y/N," Ben said, his voice firm with determination. “Not Peter, not your father.” She smiled soft, knowing he meant what he said. "I'm here to help you with your demons, Ben. Not the other way around.”
“Yeah, well, I still have a whole list of people I need to get to.” Y/N knew he meant to kill. “What’s adding another head or two.” He winked before biting into his pizza slice and turning back to watch the tv.
She knew he meant it, he would do that for her, and to be honest, she thought about it for a second. Y/N's eyes lingered on Ben's face, taking in the lines of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the way the soft light from the TV danced across his features.
She couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude and longing, her heart swelling with emotions she could barely contain. Ben, sensing her gaze, smirked and glanced over at her. "Stop staring," he teased gently, his voice soft but playful. "Relax."
But instead of relaxing, Y/N felt an urgent need pulse through her veins, a longing for closeness, for reassurance. Without thinking, she scooted closer to him, her body gravitating towards his warmth. She nestled against him, her head resting on his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist.
Ben stiffened slightly at her unexpected affection, not used to seeing her in such a cuddly mood. He looked down at her, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in his eyes.
Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with vulnerability when she tried to explain herself, with her voice barely above a whisper. "Today was hard, and I... I just... I just need a... hug.” His heart melted at her words, the walls he had built around himself crumbling in the face of her honesty.
Gently, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer and pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. "Hm, fine," he murmured grumpy, not wanting to admit he liked the feeling of this.
For a moment, they simply held each other, the quiet hum of the TV the only sound breaking the stillness of the cabin. Ben's hand started to gently stroked her back, the rhythmic motion calming her racing heart.
The following weeks were a whirlwind of preparation for Y/N as she geared up to face her father in court. The news of his court date had hit her hard, but the opportunity to protest his release gave her a sense of purpose and determination she hadn't felt in a long time.
Ben, understanding the gravity of the situation, made it his mission to support her in every way he could. He knew better than to hover, so instead, he found small ways to make her life easier.
He took charge of meals, well, if ordering takeout from her favourite places is taking care of a meal. But he meant well, she stayed nourished without having to worry about cooking.
Every evening, he helped her unwind, providing a 'much-needed physical release' for her stress, something if he is honest about, they both enjoyed. Y/N appreciated Ben's silent support more than words could express.
And more often than not she ended up in a newfound comfort, his arms.
One evening, as she pored over her notes and legal documents, Y/N looked up to see Ben entering the room with a tray of sushi, her favourite. He placed it gently on the table beside her, offering a reassuring smile.
She looked confused, waiting for him to give a sneer on the fuck up raw fish trend, or something, but no he didn't.
"Thought you could use a break, this is what you like, isn't it?" he said softly. She smiled, feeling a rush of gratitude. "You're amazing, you know that?"
He smirked, “Yeah yeah, I know.” he looked at the books she had placed on the table, while he bit in his burger he ordered. "A lot of work?"
Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. "It's a lot, yeah. But I have to do this. I can't let him walk free."
The night before the court date, Y/N found herself unable to sleep, her mind racing with what-ifs and worst-case scenarios. Sensing her restlessness, Ben pulled Y/N close, his arms wrapping around her protectively.
He could feel the tension radiating from her body, the weight of the impending court date pressing down on her. "Try to get some sleep," he murmured, his voice gentle as he brushed a strand of hair away from her face.
"Do you want me there with you tomorrow?" His words surprised her. But Y/N shook her head, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and resolve. "No, Ben. You can't be seen in public. It would complicate things even more."
With a soft hum he agreed and place his head back on his pillow. "I'll be here, waiting for you when you get back.” He murmured half asleep. Y/N leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Thank you, Ben," she whispered, her voice filled with emotion.
They lay together in silence for a while, Ben's hand gently rubbing soothing circles on her back. Gradually, the tension began to ease from Y/N's body, the warmth and safety of Ben's embrace lulling her into a state of calm, her eyes drifting closed as she snuggled closer to him.
The next day
Y/N stood outside the courtroom, her heart pounding with a mix of anger, anxiety, and determination. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the confrontation ahead. The sight of Peter approaching made her blood boil, and she couldn't contain the surge of emotions that erupted within her.
Peter's eyes widened in surprise as he spotted her. "Y/N," he said, clearly taken aback. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Y/N's gaze was cold, her voice sharp. "Of course, I'm here. How could I not be when you're defending my father? The man who..." Her voice wavered, but she forced herself to continue. "The man who murdered my mother."
Peter's expression softened, but his voice remained firm. "Y/N, you need to understand. Your father is a veteran. He served this country and he came back broken. He needed help, guidance. You of all people should know how much he struggled."
"That doesn't excuse what he did," Y/N shot back, her voice rising. "He killed my mother, Peter. He tore our family apart. How can you stand there and defend him? You know how much this would hurt me."
Peter took a step closer, his eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made Y/N's skin crawl. "You know, Y/N, you hurt me too," he said, his voice low and sharp. "You left me, made look like a fool at our company. Maybe you don’t remember how humiliating that was for me, how everyone saw me as the guy you left behind."
Y/N's eyes widened, a cold shock running through her. The conversation had taken an unexpected and personal turn, and she could feel the bitterness and resentment in Peter's words. "Peter, this isn't about us," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "This is about my father and what he did."
"Oh, it’s very much about us," Peter shot back, his eyes narrowing. "You walked out on me, left me to deal with the fallout. And now here you are, trying to make me out as the bad guy because I’m defending your father? Maybe I just want to see you squirm, see you face the reality of what your life choices have brought you."
Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, anger and hurt swirling within her. "You think this is some kind of revenge?" she asked, her voice rising with emotion. "You think defending my father will somehow make me change my mind on what happened between us? That’s twisted, Peter."
Peter's expression hardened. "Twisted or not, it’s the truth. I’m tired of being the one who gets hurt while you get to play the victim. Your father deserves a second chance, and maybe, just maybe, you need to see that you’re not always right."
Before she could respond, the courtroom doors opened, signaling the start of the proceedings. Y/N took a deep breath, turning away from Peter. She walked into the courtroom, her mind a tumultuous storm of conflicting emotions. She felt the eyes of the room on her, but she squared her shoulders, determined to face what lay ahead.
As Y/N walked into the courtroom, she felt her heart pound in her chest. She took a deep breath and scanned the room, her eyes finally landing on her father. It was the first time she'd seen him in years.
He looked older, much older than she remembered. His hair was grayer, his face lined with the passage of time and the weight of his experiences. He appeared scrawny, his frame almost frail, a stark contrast to the strong man who had once been.
But what struck her most were his eyes. They were clear, free of the fog of alcohol or anger she had come to associate with him in her memories. Her father's eyes met hers, and she saw a complex mixture of emotions in them.
There was a glimmer of happiness, a fleeting joy at seeing his daughter again after so long. But there was also disappointment, a deep sadness that seemed to echo the pain and regret of the years they had lost. His gaze flickered to Peter and then back to Y/N, realization dawning on him as he understood she was there to oppose his release.
The judge called the court to order, and the proceedings began. Y/N took her place, her heart heavy but her resolve firm. She listened as the charges were read, the gravity of the situation settling over the room like a shroud.
When it was her turn to speak, Y/N stood, her voice steady but filled with emotion. She outlined her reasons for opposing her father's release, her words a testament to the pain and suffering her family had endured. She spoke of her mother, of the life that had been taken too soon, and of the scars that would never fully heal.
Throughout her testimony, her father's gaze never left her. She could see the sorrow in his eyes, the regret that seemed to weigh him down. But she also saw a flicker of understanding, a silent acknowledgment of the pain he had caused.
As she finished speaking, Y/N took her seat, her hands trembling slightly. She had done what she came to do, but the outcome was now out of her hands. The judge called a recess, and Y/N stepped outside to catch her breath. The weight of the moment was almost overwhelming, but she knew she had to stay strong.
Outside the courtroom, Peter approached her again. "You did well," he said “You should have stayed at the firm, could have a bright future.” Her eyes still filled with the storm of emotions that raged within her.
Peter lingered for a moment, then turned to re-enter the courtroom. Y/N stood there, taking a deep breath and steeling herself for what was to come.
Y/N sat in the courtroom, heart pounding as the judge announced the decision. Her father would be released next week. The words echoed in her mind, drowning out everything else.
The weight of the decision settled over her like a heavy blanket, suffocating and inescapable. She couldn't process anything beyond that single, devastating fact.
Somehow, she found herself outside the courthouse, the world around her a blur of noise and colour. She didn’t remember driving home or the journey through the familiar streets. All she knew was the numbness that had taken hold, the disbelief and fear that clouded her thoughts.
When she finally reached the cabin, she walked mechanically toward the bedroom, her mind still reeling. Ben, who had been getting ready to face the TNT twins, saw her enter. But seeing the vacant, shell-shocked look in her eyes, he realized this was more important.
"Y/N?" he called softly, watching her as she moved like a ghost through the room.
She didn’t respond, didn’t even seem to hear him. Concern etched deeply on his face, Ben quickly crossed the room to her. He gently took her by the shoulders, searching her eyes for any sign of recognition.
"Y/N, what happened?" he asked, his voice a low. Her eyes slowly focused on him, the reality of his presence breaking through her fog. "He's getting out," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Y/N clung to him, the tears she had been holding back finally spilling over. He held her as she cried, his hands gently stroking her back, his murmured words of comfort a steady presence in her storm of emotions.
They stood like that for what felt like hours, until her sobs subsided and she was left with the dull ache of exhaustion. Ben guided her to the bed, helping her lie down and covering her with the blankets. He sat beside her, his hand never leaving hers, offering silent support.
As her senses slowly started to return to her, she noticed that he was dressed differently, all geared up as if ready to go to battle. “Where are you going?” she asked, her voice shaky and filled with concern. She didn’t want to be alone, not now.
Ben knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his. He looked into her eyes, his gaze steady and reassuring. "I'm here," he whispered. "I'm not going anywhere." She searched his face, looking for any sign of deceit, but all she found was genuine care and determination.
"Then why are you dressed like this?" she asked, her voice softening but still tinged with worry. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I was ready to deal with some stuff, but that can wait."
Sitting beside her, he held her hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her skin. The warmth of his touch and the steadiness of his presence began to ease the tension that had been gripping her chest. "Try to get some rest," Ben said softly. "I'll be right here."
Y/N nodded, her eyes feeling heavy. She let out a shaky breath and closed her eyes, the events of the day finally catching up with her. Despite the turmoil in her heart, she felt a sense of peace knowing Ben was by her side.
-- --
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i hope there’s a part of me that reflects a past i never got to know. i hope that others can hear certain inflections in my voice that tell them of places i know are a part of me but find unfamiliar. i hope there’s still a part of my body that bleeds the same blood of my ancestors— ancestors that resemble wisps of smoke more than concrete figures in my mind. i hope, one day, i can connect all the threads that were cut off and abandoned
#my mother used to tell me of how worried she was that i would die young because i couldn't help but throw myself into water#my father would always have to warn me of riptides because i could not separate myself from the beach#his home used to be filled with sleeping volcanoes and pristine beaches#my grandmother's home used to be green fields and cloudy skies. rain was a common occurrance#my father's home was rampant with discourse and bloodshed#my grandmother found her home too suffocating and stagnant. her nation's freedom was so new and unstable and old prejudices were not lost#i have relatives with stories so vibrant and fascinating but are now lost because of age and distance#i feel so distanced from the pull of their tides and can't help but feel too loose on the ground#do i fly up in the clouds because i one day dream to land?#land in the home that connects me to the history i have lost?#i was pulled away from the sea because it was dangerous and no longer my home#but it still calls#it calls me to return#but its warmth and familiarity is lost to me#i can no longer grasp it tightly as it spill through my fingers
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DON’T YOU LOVE THE DEVIL?
– pairing | wanda maximoff x fem!reader
– synopsis | wanda was everything you wanted in a mom. she was kind and loving, even to those who weren’t her own children. she, however, loved you in a very different way…
– warnings | porn with plot, non con that turns kinda dub con, smut, mommy kink, spanking, thigh riding, overstimulation, aftercare, wanda is a perv lmao (18+)
[word count: 3.4k]
Summer was always your favourite time. It meant avid beach trips, ice cream dates and - most importantly - bestie sleepovers. You enjoyed staying at Natasha's house, which was much larger than yours. Wanda, her mother, was always very kind to you, even more so than your own. Because of this, throughout high school, you found yourself always at the Maximoff’s. When you were going through a difficult time, you would always turn to her for support; she was a solid shoulder to cry on as her hushed whispers soothed you.
Much like your house, Natasha’s dad was never in the picture. And because Wanda never seemed to date, it was always just them two and sometimes you. Their house was your safe haven and Wanda was your beckoning angel. Now in your last year of college, you still find yourself coming to the older woman…
Countless nights, you wished she was your mom instead.
Reaching into your pocket, you fumble around for the front key, feeling its familiar shape between your fingertips.
This was your usual routine – Natasha would text when she was nearly home from work, and you’d arrive shortly after, letting yourself in with the spare key she had given you months ago.
The door swings open with a soft creak, revealing the warmth of the home beyond. The living room is empty, just the faint hum of the TV can be heard.
As you step into the kitchen, the warm aroma of burnt vanilla envelops you. Wanda stands against the island, dressed in a large, red sweater and black skirt, with one hand scrolling through her phone as the other holds a glass of red wine. She looked radiant as ever. A grown woman confident in her own skin and her ability.
“Hey, Wanda.”
She places her phone down and greets you warmly. “Hey there, sweetheart. How are you?”
“I’m good.” You take a seat next to her and she busies herself with pouring you a glass of red. You watch her, marvelling at how effortlessly she moves around the kitchen, her movements always graceful and fluid.
"So," Wanda begins, setting the glass in front of you, "another bestie sleepover?"
“Yep! Natasha’s going to be busy with Bucky next week so we’re spending as much time together.”
Wanda scoffs at the mention of her daughter’s partner, “Yeah, she said something about going to his parent’s lake house for the week.”
You hum, reaching for a sip of the wine, awkward in the revelation of Wanda’s distaste for her daughter’s boyfriend. I mean, it’s not like you like him either. You hate him actually. He was always so weird about your friendship with the redhead, always starting arguments around how much you guys hang out together and how he thinks you have a crush on her.
Plus, Natasha was way out of his league and he sometimes treated her like shit. It was only last week when Natasha was complaining about how they had an argument during their date and Bucky left her to find her own way home…
“I really don’t know what she sees in him.”
You sigh, setting the glass back down. “Me neither. He’s an asshole.”
Lost in thought, you fail to notice Wanda’s approach until an arm laid upon your shoulder, and a hand twirled around your curls.
“You know, I always thought Natasha would end up with you.”
Shocked by her confession, you try to respond - to deny that nothing would ever happened - but your mouth is unable to move as her nails scratch against your neck.
Wanda settles down in the stool beside you, hand retreating to stroke down your arm.
"I just don't understand. He’s boring and doesn’t deserve Tasha, whereas, you’re… you’re so much better than him.” She admits softly, her gaze fixed on you.
"You’re so much more than him.”
You shrug, expelling a shaky breath as you watch her manicured nail draw patterns against your exposed skin.
Silence envelopes you both, Wanda deep in thought and you pretend to act calm about the fact that Wanda’s touch has trailed down to your hands, resting in your lap.
“You know if I were her…” Her breath flutters against your ear, “I wouldn’t even think about anyone else… when I have you.”
Your heart skips a beat at her admission.
"I..." you begin, your voice catching in your throat as you struggle to articulate the jumble of thoughts and emotions swirling within you.
It felt so wrong, and yet you didn’t want her to stop.
To keep stroking your hand,
To keep whispering in your ear.
To keep close to you.
“I think… I want to kiss you.” Wanda murmurs, her thumb gently running over your lips.
But before you could say anything, she leaned in, her lips meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss.
“So pretty.” She whispers, lips closing in once again, but the sudden closing of a door upstairs startles you both as you pull away. Eyes wide in fear that Natasha could’ve seen you kissing her mom.
Wanda leaves her seat, an unreadable expression on her face, and disappears into the living room, Natasha’s thundering footsteps break you from looking at her as she comes downstairs. Her hair is wet, her bangs clinging to her forehead. She must’ve been in the shower.
“You made it!” Natasha exclaims before briefly hugging you and dragging you with her upstairs, “Come on. Let’s watch a movie.”
…
A few hours later, and a few movies down, you end up back in the kitchen, in search of a drink. You spot Wanda in the living room watching a show, her presence both comforting and unnerving. No longer elegantly dressed, she lounges in a maroon satin night gown. The thin fabric barely covers her long legs as it glows complimentarily against her pale skin.
Summoning as much courage, you take a seat on the other end of the sofa. The drink long forgotten. She recognises your presence but you both don’t say anything, engrossed in some reality show on TV. This distraction works for a while but then, like a shadow in the morning sun, the memory of the kiss surfaces. Heat blossoms against your cheeks but you feel it weighing on your mind, a heavy burden demanding acknowledgement.
“Wanda,” your voice so quiet she almost didn’t hear it, ‘I think we should talk about earlier.”
With a delayed hum, she turns towards you, waiting patiently for you to continue. Your words stumble out clumsily, faltering as you try to convey the complexity of your emotions. You want to explain that the kiss was wrong, that she was your best friend’s mom and that nothing like that could happen again, but you don’t want to hurt her feelings in the process.
Her expression was unreadable, you could almost hear the pounding of your own heart, the uncertainty hanging thick in the air between you. And then, finally, she speaks.
“I’m sorry, darling. I thought- it was silly and inappropriate of me.” She reaches over to briefly squeeze your hand.
“Let’s forget it happened.”
You exhale with relief, “Yeah, okay. Thank you.”
Quick to change the conversation and clear the awkward tension, Wanda asks, “How come you’re down here anyways? Where’s Natasha?”
“Oh she fell asleep.” You giggle at the unattractive image of your best friend, snoring somewhat loudly and taking up your side of the bed.
“Besides, I’m not really tired, so I thought I’d come down for a drink.”
Wanda hums, a smile on her face at the sight of you giggling so cutely.
But you notice her hands run over bare arms, soothing the goosebumps and the slight shiver, “Are you cold?”
She looks at you for a moment, eyes taking in your concerned features before she nods.
“I’ll get you a blanket.” You move to stand but a grip on your wrist halts you.
“Don’t bother. Just sit here.”
She leans back against the pillows, legs parting slightly. Your brows furrow in confusion.
She tugs your wrist softly, “Don’t think, just come here.”
She pulls you to sit between her thighs, flush against her front as she winds her arms around you. It wasn’t uncommon being hugged by the older woman but it’s never been like this. But despite earlier, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of comfort wash over you. The room even felt cosier now all that tension was gone. So, you lean back into her embrace, feeling her steady heartbeat against your back and her warm thighs brush against yours.
“Hm, much better. You’ve always run hot.” Her face snuggles into your curls and you giggle.
Her large hands dip, holding softly onto your hips, pulling you even closer with a silent groan, before descending to your thighs. A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine, but you maintain composure, thinking nothing of the surely innocent touch as you focus on the TV screen in front of you.
Her touch is gentle, sending a warm current through your body with each stroke. You feel your legs widen, following in the direction of her strokes, not wanting the caress to stop. The show on the TV fades into the background as your attention becomes solely fixated on her.
She leans in closer, her breath warm against your ear as she whispers, “Pretty girl... feels good, doesn’t it?”
You nod, allowing yourself to melt further into her embrace, your head resting against her shoulder instead of watching her hands.
Wanda tuts, “No, baby, head up.”
A single hand moves from your thigh to hold the back of your head, forcing you to look down at your entwined legs. Another hand wanders higher than expected, tracing small circles into your inner thigh, jarring you out of your trance as you go to wiggle free from her grip. “Wanda… that’s-”
Your speech is cut off as fingers slip under your shorts, and you gasp, squirming with renewed vigour. But her hold refuses even the feeblest motions as she wraps an arm around your waist.
“Wanda… please!”
“Don’t think, baby.” She warns again, fingers gliding further into your shorts. “Just let yourself feel good.”
You fight harder, hips snapping away from her touch as hands pry at her wrist. “Get off me!”
“No, you’re not getting up.” You squirm again, and without warning, she digs her nails harshly into your soft skin. “I said, you’re not getting up.”
You whimper in pain and stop your movement. Instantly, her nails pull back from your skin, leaving red angry crescent marks. Those fingertips gently caress the marks to soothe them before moving up under your shirt.
“Good girl.” Those words bring an odd warmth to your body and suddenly you think that letting Wanda have her way with you couldn’t be as bad as you initially thought…
But light fingers caressing up and down your stomach, inching closer to your breasts reminded you of the position you’re in.
This was your best friend’s mom.
Natasha didn’t deserve this.
“Wanda, we can’t… it’s not right. What about Nat-?”
“It’s fine, princess.” She interrupts, placing a few chaste kisses against your neck. “She won’t find out.”
Suddenly, those hands slide up over your bare breasts and gently squeeze. You take in a deep breath and exhale slowly with a soft whimper. Pleased with the response, she begins to knead them kindly alternating between light and firm pressure.
“You like that, baby?” Wanda coos then nibbles on the side of your ear, descending your neck carefully to not leave bites and marks in place.
Your back arches slightly, pressing your breasts deeper into her adept grasp, and your defiance fades ever so quickly with each breathy moan.
“Hm, so needy, so responsive…” thumbs swipes over your perked nipples, “and all I’m doing is playing with your tits, princess.”
Your increased whines answer in reply and Wanda doesn’t bother wasting time anymore. Lifting a hand from its spot under your top, she glides down under your shorts. Her lithe fingers ghost over the soaked underwear, travelling low enough to feel the wetness seep from your slit, and she moans lowly at the sensation. “You’re so wet… fuck, is this all for me?”
Battling between not wanting this and giving in to her, you also fight the urge to thrust your hips upwards, to search for some needed friction, to end the maddening ache between your thighs.
The older woman’s light touches feel like heaven and hell as nimble fingers slide up and down the fabric that clung to you, purposely missing where you needed her most.
“That’s it, baby. Relax… let go for me.”
A strange fuzziness washes over you completely as you relax - moral sobriety long forgotten - as your legs spread apart limply for Wanda to grope in every direction.
“M’kay.” You reply, barely hearing yourself, lost in the moment.
Wanda sighs contently, forever pleased she’s put you in this headspace with such little fight.
Focusing back on your neck, she licks along the flushed skin, and as she bites against your pulse a little harder, the slight pain has you quivering.
You melt into the warm heat below you, head resting against a firm shoulder, as you let out a moan laced with pleasure and slight frustration. Hips bucking slightly back into Wanda’s hoping she’d take the hint and get on with it.
The quicker you gave her what she wanted, the quicker it would be done.
Finally, her index finger slides higher, the tip of her nail just brushing against your clit slightly. Your thighs shake at the motion, wanting to clamp shut around her but never doing so in fear she would stop. A cry falls from your mouth in surprise as her finger finally reaches, circling your swollen nerve endings in a slow yet firm motion.
Your words stumble out clumsily, unable to string a full sentence together as Wanda practically purrs against your ear.
“Oh, you’re doing so well, baby.” She coos, before pressing open-mouthed kisses against your jaw, “So well for me… come here.”
Tipping your neck up, she dips forward, pressing her hot lips against your own. A choked note of dismay comes from you as Wanda forces your mouth open and shoves her tongue inside. The older woman dominates the clashing of tongues, making sure that you know your place.
You fail to notice Wanda pull your shorts and panties down from your hips until her fingers press against you harder, and you can’t help but grind against it with such aching desperation. She marvels over how pathetic you look… one minute begging for her to stop and now humping against her like a bitch in heat, swallowing her tongue down your throat.
Such a depraved mental image and yet it only feeds into her desire for you.
To claim you as hers, no matter if you wanted it or not.
Because she didn’t care.
She could feel herself getting wetter, as she met your grinding with her own thrusts, your ass pressing flush against her soaked panties.
The kiss eventually comes to an end, a few hungry strands of saliva briefly clinging to your lips, linking you together. Wanda gazes lovingly at the sight of you, a growing smile on her lips, as you writhe in building pleasure.
“Can you look at me, princess?”
Wanda asks in a sultry tone and you struggle to open your eyes, squinting against the light as her blurry face comes into focus. Her pupils are blown out, partly consuming those emerald irises, her cheeks painted a flushed pink, and her lips part as she pants freely.
She looks so beautiful.
Her green eyes shine clouded over in a different colour than Natasha’s…
Natasha.
Dread seeps into your bones, your body ripped from its relaxed trance as you recall your best friend and how she’s sleeping upstairs as you’re fucked by her mom.
You don’t want to think about how upset she would be to find you like this.
“Baby…” She reels your mind back to focus on her, noticing you’re beginning to spiral. “You ready to come for me?”
Her fingers speed up perfectly but you shook your head in defiance, your mind no longer free to just enjoy Wanda’s touch.
“No,” she coos, “you don’t want to come for me, baby? Don’t want to come for Mommy?”
A whiny no leaves your lips, not giving in to the beautiful temptress behind you.
Annoyed, Wanda rolls her eyes, clearly upset that you wouldn’t just give in to her and that you’re not nestled in that special little headspace anymore.
Without warning, she twists your thigh over the other, ass on show as she lashes out with a sharp slap. You cry out at the unexpected blow, your hands grabbing tightly onto whatever part of the woman you can reach. You weren’t sure if you were trying to push her away or pull her close.
“I thought we were done with that, baby.” She unleashes a few more spanks, “Thought you were going to be my good girl, hm?”
You gasp for air at the same time Wanda gropes your marked flesh, pulling your cheeks apart as she rubs in soothing circles. The breath turns into a choked moan as Wanda spanks you one more time, before returning you to your original position, back to pressing firm circles against your clit.
Once again, you fight her touch. Hips wiggling in each direction until ankles wrap around your legs, locking you in place.
Tight circles turn to quick taps, the once pleasing hand now bringing pain upon your pussy in rapid succession, not allowing you to writhe in her generosity for too long before returning to cruelty.
A beautiful blend that muddled all of your defying thoughts until there was nothing left.
Your body betrayed your mind. Your legs fell completely limp, as you lay at the mercy of the older woman. Taking whatever she deemed necessary to give.
Finally, she had you.
“I don’t care if you don’t want to. You’re going to cum all over my fingers for me.” She concludes with a kiss on your cheek.
And not caring if you cry loud enough to wake up the rest of the house, her fingers speed up for the last time, sending you headfirst over the edge.
…
After what felt like hours, Wanda was done with you. You had moved into her bedroom, deciding the sofa was not adequate to continue. Now her head rests against your stomach after she had spread you open to lap up your next orgasm.
Your body spasms randomly, wave after wave of aftershock rolling over you. A warm hand cups your core firmly, and you buck away from the sensitivity, not wanting her touch anymore. But her fingers remain, gliding slowly up and down your slit, marvelling at your swollen skin, before pushing against your entrance.
You’re overwhelmed. What little fight you have left mentally can’t keep up with the fatigue of your exhausted body. If she wanted to, she could have her way with you. Again and again. Fresh tears fall from your eyes as you sob inconsolably into hands covering your face.
Wanda leaves you be, moving up your body to grab onto your wrists.
“Hey, baby… it’s okay, you’re okay…” she coos, fingertips wiping away your tears, “Mommy went too hard on you, didn’t she?”
You struggle to find the words, and Wanda shushes you, stopping you from thinking too much in such a delicate headspace.
You feel movement, feel Wanda get off you, and your eyes snap open in a slight panic but she sits beside you and swiftly draws you onto her lap.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Don’t cry.” She says gently, reeling you in with false empathy. She was glad she pushed you too hard you broke.
“Mommy couldn’t help herself.”
You scoot closer, close enough to bury your head into her neck as fingers trail up and down your back.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby. Can you forgive me?”
Her soothing words are music to your ears as you whimper softly against the woman, not willing to talk or move away. You just want her to hold you.
“Say it, princess. Say you forgive me.”
She guides you out of her neck to look at her.
“I forgive you.” You choke out, upset you’re no longer buried in her chest, as your hands run back to cover your eyes. Too ashamed to even look at her.
“Sweet girl, come here.” Wanda doesn’t wait, moving your hands to wrap around her neck as she kisses you hungrily, swallowing any little disapprovals as you push languidly against her chest, trying to force her mouth off of you.
It’s fine, it’s fine,” she ushers against your swollen lips, “I just want to make you feel better.”
You whine in disapproval but your arms wrap tighter around her.
“You love me, don’t you?” She whispers against your cheek, but doesn’t let you reply, as you choke on her tongue, stroking deep against yours.
“Say you love me, baby.” She moves to kiss your forehead, before moving down against your collarbone.
Hands groping your ass as she rocks you steady against her thigh.
“I love you,” a few tears burn down your throat as you hiccup,” I love you, I love you.”
Wanda mumbles her gratitude into your skin, fresh marks blooming against your chest as she fucks you against her.
“Keep saying you love me, baby.”
“I love you, I love you, I love you…” flies from your mouth in quick succession, your mind once again empty as the tell tale signs of another orgasm come into view.
“I love you too, princess.” She returns to your lips, tongue prodding past them as she coaxes your tongue into her mouth.
“Come on. Be good for me.”
It slams into you, body tense as you fall over the edge, pressing your face deep into her neck. She shushes you, not letting go of your body until the convulsions stop, and even then, you’re curled into her chest. Unwilling to part from her.
She allows you to sob freely, your body shaking uncontrollably as hands stroke all over until you calm down. Almost asleep in her arms.
A hand runs through your damp hair, “That’s it, baby. We’re done.”
“No more.” You mumble out, eyes already shut as exhaustion washes over.
“No more, baby. Go to sleep.” Wanda shifts you down her body, your face now against her chest, as she covers you both with her duvet.
Unable to resist any longer, you drift off in Wanda’s warm embrace.
#my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff x you#wanda maximoff x y/n#wanda maximoff smut#wanda maximoff#: @florietas
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Best friends can kiss, right? -- PART 1
3:00 AM -- Finding Hope · part 2 · fluff · wc: 792
"I'm so tired," You sigh, watching Riki search for another song on the computer that he's currently sat in front of.
The both of you had spent the last couple of hours together in his personal studio, turning the tight space into a full blown karaoke room. All that you hoped for tonight was that no one would come knocking at the door, considering that Riki already had to sneak you into the company building.
Your body falls backwards against your sofa, yes, your sofa. The tiny, barely-seats-two one that Riki had cramped into the corner of his studio, just so you'd have somewhere to sit, or sleep on, when you'd visit him. You loved that about your best friend the most, his overly thoughtful and sweet nature. To Riki, your comfort and happiness has always been at the top of his priorities list.
Your gaze stays on Riki as you watch him scroll through one of his spotify playlists, your head resting on your arms in which are slumped over an armrest. Eliciting a hum of approval, he finally decides on a song after a few moments. The slow, soft melody that engulfs the space causes your eyes to flutter closed. It was a familiar sound, one of your favorites. You hear your best friend humming along to the tune, the sound of his soft tone further pushing you into a sleepy trace. It's about time the both of you finally took a second to calm down, to breathe.
Baby, it's three AM, had you on my mind...
"Here," A deep voice cuts you out of your trance, you blink your eyes open, "Lean on me, it's comfier,"
You glance over your shoulder towards the direction where the voice was coming from, suddenly finding Riki's body sat beside yours on the little sofa. You give him a small smile as you pick yourself up and off the uncomfortable armrest, you nuzzle yourself into his side. His body's warm, the fabric of his hoodie soft against the skin on your face.
He smells good, too.
"We should probably go home soon," You murmur against him, your eyes closing shut yet again. Who knows what the time must be, though, you're too comfortable and cozy to even care about it at the moment.
"Later," The boy beside you replies, his voice barely above a whisper as his hand snakes its way around to the side of your waist. He pulls you into him.
You nestle closer into Riki, enjoying the warmth of his embrace, and the comfort of his presence. Every other irrelevant thought within your mind fades away as you focus on the soft music playing through the speakers. The feeling of contentment envelops the both of you.
Cause baby, if I find a way, I'm sure of it, this love won't stray...
"..just give me a chance to say I love you, and I need you, now are you here to stay," Riki sings along quietly, his deep voice is as soft and as smooth as a cloud.
Despite the late hour, you have nowhere else that you would rather be than right here.
Wanting you more and more, I can't help but think of what we could be...
Without a single thought behind your actions, the lyrics suddenly cause you to lift your head off him. As you meet Riki's gaze, you find yourself getting lost within his sharp eyes, seeing a reflection of the emotions swirling within your own chest. Neither of you exchange a single word, yet a silent understanding engulfs the space between the both of your bodies, a mutual recognition of something unspoken, yet deeply felt. You feel the weight of the lyrics echoe within your mind, and stomach, in the form of a hundred butterflies.
As you continue to scan your best friend's face, you see a vulnerability in his expression. It's as if he's laying bare his soul before you, offering you a glimpse into his unspoken feelings.
"This feels dangerously intimate," You murmur out of the blue, the sudden seriousness had caused you to almost start feeling awkward. You and Riki were barely ever a serious pair when together, you needed to lighten the mood somehow..
Riki can't help but shake his head over your sudden remark, he lets a chuckle escape his lips. You smile at his heartwarming reaction, yet you can't shake the feeling that had just engulfed you moments prior.
You can't help but realize that perhaps the both of you had been dancing around the edges of something more profound than mere friendship.
"Best friends can kiss, right?"
Your eyes grow wide as Riki catches you completely off guard with his sudden question, your smile drops off your face.
...
Copyright © 2024 riki-dazed. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED | Do NOT edit, copy, translate or repost any of my work without permission.
#enhypen#niki#riki#niki imagines#enhypen imagines#enhypen smut#riki-dazed#enha#enhypen scenarios#enha x reader#enha niki#riki imagines#nishimura riki
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Pinkish Clouds - Anthony Bridgerton
Word count: 1515
Summary: It is very precious to watch your husband take responsibility as a father, is it not?
As the first rays of sunlight streamed through the drapes, Y/n Bridgerton, wife of Anthony, stirred in your sumptuous bed.
The soft linens, embroidered with intricate floral patterns, caressed your skin like the gentle touch of a spring breeze. The scent of lavender filled your nostrils, a welcome aroma that signified a new beginning.
You stretched your limbs, the memory of the labor pains you endured the day before still fresh in your mind.
But as you lay there, lost in thought, you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment and accomplishment.
You opened your eyes, taking in the familiar surroundings of your chamber.
To your left, a fireplace crackled, its warmth banishing the morning chill. To your right, a large window overlooked the immaculately manicured gardens beyond.
And beside your bed, your sisters-in-law, Eloise and Daphne, sat in quiet conversation, their laughter tinkling like bells.
You felt a pang of affection for the two women who had become such an important part of your life since your marriage to Anthony.
Eloise, the youngest of the two, had always been somewhat of a sympathy to her.
With her smart mind and independent soul, she was a far cry from the demure, obedient society ladies you had grown up with.
Yet, there was no denying the deep bond that existed between them. As for Daphne, she was sweet-natured, charming, and utterly irresistible.
As you sat up in bed, your sisters-in-law turned to you, their faces alight with curiosity and excitement.
"Good morning, y/n," they chorused, beaming at you. "How do you feel?"
You smiled weakly. "A bit exhausted, to be honest. But otherwise, I'm doing well. How are you two?"
Eloise shrugged.
"We're fine. Daphne's been keeping me company while you were asleep. It's been rather dull if I'm being fair." She glanced at her sister, her expression teasing.
Daphne rolled her eyes. "Oh, hush. I've been enjoying myself. Again, we have something rather important to discuss." She leaned in conspiratorially.
"Mother has been pacing the hallway for hours. I think she's tense to see the new addition to the family. I'm sure she'll be in soon."
As if on cue, a knock was heard at the door. "That must be her now," Daphne said, her face lighting up with anticipation.
Eloise rose from her seat and crossed the room to answer the door. You, feeling slightly more awake now, sitting up straighter in bed, wondering what your mother-in-law had in store for you today.
As Eloise swung the door open, a warm, familiar figure filled the entrance.
"Mother!" Daphne cried out, leaping to her feet. "We've been waiting for you."
Violet Bridgerton, the family matriarch, surveyed the scene with a delighted smile.
"My, my," she said, her eyes twinkling. "It seems I've missed quite a bit. A new baby, I hear."
She glanced at you, her expression softening into one of motherly concern. "And how are you feeling, dear? Are you in need of anything?"
You felt a lump form in your throat as you looked at the woman who had become your second mother since marrying Anthony.
Violet was everything a lady should be, gracious, elegant, and utterly devoted to her family.
She was also fiercely protective of them, always making sure they were well cared for and safe.
As you struggled to find the words to express your gratitude, all you could do was manage a small smile. "I'm doing well, thank you. Your presence is all the comfort I need."
Her sisters-in-law exchanged knowing glances, clearly understanding the depth of emotion behind your words.
They each took turns leaning in to kiss Violet's cheek, expressing their own gratitude for her love and support.
As they did so, the room seemed to fill with a palpable sense of warmth and affection.
"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Violet said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "Now, I have a special gift for you and the baby. I've been working on it for months."
She reached into her reticule and pulled out a small, delicately wrapped package, which she placed in your lap. "It's not much, but I hope you'll like it."
Your curiosity piqued, and you gently unwrapped the package, revealing a beautiful, hand-stitched blanket adorned with intricate lacework.
"Oh, Violet, it's lovely!" you exclaimed, your voice breaking with emotion. "I will cherish it always."
Tears began to form in your eyes as you clutched the blanket to your chest. "Thank you, thank you so much."
Eloise and Daphne exchanged knowing smiles. They knew that this gift, more than anything else, symbolized Violet's acceptance of you as one of her own.
It was a symbol of the love and support that you all shared as a family.
As they continued to stand there, the room seemed to fill with a sense of peace and contentment.
Even though there was still so much that needed to be done, for this brief moment, you were all together, united in your love for one another.
"Now, girls," Violet said, her voice soft and gentle, "I've been thinking. Perhaps you would like to help y/n with something?"
Her suggestion was met with nods of agreement from Eloise and Daphne.
They had been itching to help out but had wanted to give their mother time to bond with you first.
"Would you like us to help you get out of bed?" Eloise asked, her tone reassuring. "We could help you down to the sitting room to see Anthony and the baby."
Your face lit up at the thought, and you quickly nodded your consent. The two sisters moved forward, each taking an arm to assist you as you slowly rose from the bed.
Once you were upright, they were beginning to guide you toward the sitting room.
The hallway was long and winding, the walls adorned with paintings that told the story of the family's history.
As you made your way down the hall, you could hear the faint strains of music drifting towards you.
It was the same waltz you had danced to at your wedding, the one that always made your heart skip a beat.
The closer you got, the more the music seemed to swirl around you, pulling you forward with irresistible force.
Finally, you reached the sitting room, its windows overlooking the lush gardens beyond.
The room was lit by soft candlelight, casting a warm glow over the gathered family.
Anthony was dancing slowly with your newborn baby, his eyes never leaving the child's face as he moved in perfect harmony with the music.
Eloise and Daphne guided you to a comfortable chair by the window, where you could watch the scene unfold before you.
As you all watched, you could feel a lump forming in your throat. It was so beautiful to see your husband dancing with your child, their love for each other shining through every movement.
You could see the resemblance between them, both of them with Anthony's dark hair and eyes.
The baby's tiny fingers curled around Anthony's finger as if she were already familiar with the feeling of being held so close.
Your sisters-in-law took seats on either side of you, their hands clasped together in their laps.
They smiled at you, understanding the depth of emotion that you were feeling at that moment.
It was a precious moment, one that you would all cherish for the rest of your lives.
As Anthony finished his dance with the baby, he came over to you all, his face flushed with happiness and exhaustion.
He bent down to kiss your forehead, his touch sending a wave of warmth through your body.
"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I wanted to be the first one to hold her, and I did not want to wake you."
"It's all right," you replied softly, your eyes never leaving his face. "I know you were with her." Anthony smiled at you, a tear trickling down his cheek.
He reached out and took your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"I've been thinking," he said, hesitating for a moment before continuing, "That we should have a naming ceremony for the baby. Something small and intimate, just for our closest friends and family. What do you think?"
Your heart swelled with joy at the thought. You turned to your sisters-in-law, your face alight with excitement.
"That sounds excellent," you said, your voice shaking slightly with emotion. "I would adore that."
"Then it's settled," Anthony declared, his voice strong and sure. "We'll have the ceremony next weekend. Everyone will be here to celebrate with us."
He leaned down to kiss your forehead again before returning to his daughter, who had fallen asleep in his arms.
As you all watched Anthony gently rock the child in his arms, you felt a sense of peace wash over you.
You were home, surrounded by the people she loved most in the world. And despite the challenges that lay ahead, she knew that they would face them together, as a family.
#anthony bridgerton#bridgerton x reader#anthony bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton imagines#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton netflix#colin bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x reader#bridgerton#anthony x reader#bridgerton fanfiction#benedict bridgerton#bridgerton x you#bridgerton x female reader#bridgerton x y/n#x reader#anthony bridgerton x you#colin bridgerton#eloise bridgerton
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☆ I WANNA BE YOUR MAN
“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” (1.7k)
contains: loser older brother luke castellan x fem! reader. mortal au. pt 2 of parent trap but can be read standalone ish. guest appearances! rock / metal music references.
kashaf’s note: i think i can call myself a melomaniac now
LUKE CASTELLAN HAS always occupied that in-between space, the no-man’s-land between something and nothing — his indecipherable gaze as his cold, black, and blued knuckles grazed your cheek when he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear swims around your mind endlessly. despite how each thought, each expression, each breath is as familiar to you as your own, you have never quite known where you stand with him, regardless of how quickly he seemed to inhabit a piece of your soul.
the familiar weight of the mixtape that luke made you feels unusually burdensome in your hands, mirroring the heft of the songs on it that you have painstakingly committed to memory, each sleepless night’s offerings of tossing and turning becoming a reoccurring ritual.
you had popped the tape in your walkman immediately after luke had handed it to you, incognizant of the way his eyes softened as you concentrated on the music, trying to identify the first song.
“this is that band you like — l.a. guns, right?”
“you’re a regular sherlock,” luke had said, smiling and sarcastic, twisting his silver rings.
“shut up, no i know this song,” you say, tilting your head and snapping your fingers. “its — um — i wanna be yours? nono, don’t make that face at me, asshole, hold on… i wanna be your man?”
hues of pink crept up his cheeks, and you basked in the warmth of his answering crooked grin, the feeling wrapping around you like the caress of a summer night.
you uselessly stirred the spoon in your now stone-cold cup of chai, leaning across the kitchen table with your head propped up in your other hand. the phone taunts you from its corner on the counter, sitting just by the clear jar of blue cookies, its black hue a beacon among the sea of greens (the cabinets, the tiles — you liked to tell sally that she should try her hand at interior design one of these days) — as of late, the jacksons’ kitchen has become somewhat of a refuge for you.
you set a steaming china cup down in front of him, listening to the sounds of percy, annabeth, and grover in the living room, pulling out the chair in front of him with a slight creak on the slightly worn wooden floors, and watching him as he taps his fingers along to bob marley’s soft crooning, “little darlin’, stir it up”, lost in his own world.
“luke,” you say, breaking him out of his revelry.
luke sits up straight, meeting your amused gaze, “yeah?” he asks, reaching for his chai, and mumbling a quiet thanks as he sips it.
“you look kinda stupid when you think,” you say, watching him blink before taking the bait, and hiding your smile of satisfaction behind your cup.
“y’know, this is why you have a black hole for a heart,” he says, grinning crookedly, filling you with an indescribable longing to reach out and trace his grin.
“what?” you laugh, “what does that even mean?”
“just that you’re mean,” luke says, and the afternoon sun chooses that specific moment to encompass him in its glow, like a kiss from apollo. “and that you’re emo.”
“you literally say this every time, oh my god, i’m not mean or emo.”
“because i’m literally right?”
“you like him,” annabeth says, sympathetically, standing in the doorway, arms folded across her chest, her braids resting across her shoulders, glancing from your untouched cup to your face, an expression of pity gracing her features. her presence caught you so off guard that you don’t even question where percy ran off to, who was usually attached to annabeth like a conjoined twin.
“i know,” you say, shivering slightly, the revelation feeling strangely empty, although you suppose the same part of your soul that recognized him had always known, a small inkling reappearing with every argument, and every nudge.
“he likes you,” annabeth adds matter-of-factly, interrupting your stream of consciousness.
“i know,” you repeat, picking at the lint on your sweater, and while this revelation is supposed to be shocking, it is also hollow, as you suppose your soul also knew this with every hushed conversation in the dead of night, and the slips of silence that only spoke volumes around him.
“his band is playing tonight, at seven,” annabeth reminds you, with the knowing air of someone far wiser, and far older, “you should go.” she turned and stalked back toward the living room.
you sat still for a minute or so, before sighing and putting luke’s mixtape (even in your misery, he is somehow always there) in your walkman, putting your headphones on as axl rose trilled, ‘i said, baby you been lookin' real good’ in his voice that took a while to get used to — something luke gave you a heads up on.
you sighed, conceding to annabeth’s attempts to rewrite whatever fate had pushed the two of you apart, from the hours-long phone calls that dwindled into short, clipped conversations, you can’t necessarily blame annabeth for trying to fashion a phoenix from the ashes of your friendship.
you stood up, grabbed your jacket off the back of the chair you were sitting upon, and walked into the living room, pausing for a few minutes to watch the scooby doo episode on the screen along with percy, grover, and annabeth, who were currently sprawled across the softly carpeted floor, arguing over monopoly.
“you’re literally cheating,” percy was saying.
“i’m the banker, i’m supposed to be innocent,” annabeth argued back.
“percy, i saw you steal a couple dollars behind annabeth’s back,” grover added, rolling the dice.
“guys,” you said, interrupting their three-way argument, “put on your jackets and shoes, we’re going to the fair in five minutes.”
you ignored the way the troublesome trio exchanged glances, walking through the hallway covered in framed photos of percy and sally, going to wait by the door for them.
“so,” percy says, all-too-innocently, “why the sudden change of plans?” once the four of you are a couple of blocks away from his apartment.
“no reason, just wanted to see what was so hot about the fair,” you say, digging your hands in the pockets of your jacket. once more, you ignore the glances the trio exchange.
“so it doesn’t have anything to do with a certain curly-haired individual that we’re currently seeing less and less of?”
you keep walking, trying to feign ignorance, although the question was so pointed even you were concerned with percy’s audacity, “what’re you talking about?”
“oh, nothing,” percy smiles. “just the way —”
“— the two of you —”
“— were inseparable —”
“— for a disgustingly long time —”
“— and now you’re not —”
“— but we’re going to the fair because —”
“— his band is playing —”
“— and you’re going to try and fix —”
“— your troubles in paradise.”
you blinked slowly, as the three of them did jazz hands, matching shit-eating grins on all of their faces, “how long did it take for you guys to rehearse that?”
“a week, give or take,” grover says, and annabeth shoots him a glare.
“not the point, the point is, we support you.”
“gee, thanks, all i really needed was the support of three twelve-year-olds.”
“three twelve-year-olds that know you’re stupidly in love with luke castellan,” percy points out.
“okay, y’know what…” you trail off, frowning.
annabeth nudged percy, “not the point here, again.”
“fine, fine, fine,” you huff, as the four of you approach the brightly illuminated fair, looking for the ticket-selling booth, “i’ll buy you guys tickets so you can go hang out on the rides and i’ll go to the concert.”
the three of them nodded happily, making a beeline for the cotton candy stand a few feet away. you shook your head before pushing through the bustling crowd to look for the concert stage. when you finally do find it, after three excuse me’s and four sorry’s, the concert is already in full swing, with what looks like a mini moshpit already forming somewhere near the center.
once you’ve pushed your way to the absolute front, the darkening night sky serving as a backdrop, the harsh lights illuminate all five individuals on the stage, with a gorgeous girl with shaggily-cut hair and a raspy voice singing as lead (thalia? you think you remember luke telling you on the phone late at night once). however, your gaze almost immediately fixed on luke, who was playing a riff on his electric guitar, looking as hot as ever, his crooked grin on full display.
the band is covering l.a. guns’ ‘i wanna be your man’ at the moment, and you’re suddenly very grateful to annabeth for her unsubtle nudges, because you would’ve missed out on this sight of luke castellan, the view of his muscled arms bulging out of his band tee is permanently seared into your memory.
you’re almost sad when the show is over though, finally realizing why luke liked concerts so much, from the crowd surfing to the drumstick tricks during solos (beckendorf, you think the drummer’s name was — luke had mentioned him before) to the lead’s insane vocals, to the girl with long curly hair that stood next to you for most of the concert (probably the band’s most enthusiastic fan), you savored every minute of it. however, you’re glad for the chance to corner luke afterwards, climbing onto the stage as the crowd begins to disperse in waves, and realizing the curly-haired girl was already among the band members packing up their instruments, helping the curly-haired bassist pack his things.
luke barely looks up at your sudden arrival. “what’re you doing here?” he asks, packing away his guitar.
“i’m here to see you,” you say, trying to drive the hint home.
“i told you that you didn’t have to come see the band if you were busy,” luke says, uncomprehendingly, making eye-contact with you.
“i like you,” you say insistently.
“c’mon, let’s not kid ourselves right now, you said we’re friends so you don’t have to try to make me feel better,” luke says, shrugging and looking away from your face, rubbing the back of his neck.
“i listen to your dumb mixtape every night, luke castellan. does a person who’s not into you do that?”
there is something so raw about the way he looks right now, with his expression stilling as his cheeks are colored in swathes of red.
smiling at his dumbstruck expression, you surged forward to kiss him, ignoring all the wolf whistles and “get some, castellan” enveloping the two of you, tangling your fingers into his hair, his hands coming to rest upon your hips.
© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.
#luke castellan x reader#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo x reader#luke x reader#luke castellan fluff#luke castellan imagines#luke castellan x yn#luke castellan x y/n#luke castellan x you#luke castellan x fem! reader#percy jackson imagines#luke castellan one shot#luke castellan one-shot#luke castellan oneshot#percy jackson fluff#percy jackson and the olympians#woc friendly#mortal au#percabeth#kashaf ki likhai
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his lucky charm - Lando Norris
Y/N x Lando Norris
Theme: Smutish, light touching
you're Lando's lucky charm for qualifying x
word count: 1440+
taglist: @game-set-canet
gif by me
open for requests, reader or ships welcome :)
The bustling Suzuka circuit hums with anticipation as the Japanese Grand Prix approaches its crucial phase—qualifying. Dressed in the vibrant Mclaren team shirt and cap, courtesy of Lando's team, you find yourself standing in the heart of the Mclaren garage, surrounded by the familiar hum of engines and the frentic energy of race day preparations.
Your heart races just as fast with excitement as the Mclaren standing a few feet away from you as you watch Lando prepare for qualifying, his presence commanding attention even amidst the chaos of the garage.
You approach Lando's Mclaren, tracing its cold outline with your fingers, completely lost in your thoughts, when hands run along your waistline, pulling you back into a warm embrace. Right away, the familiar scent of Lando's cologne gives him away as he rests his head on your shoulder, humming right into your ear.
Turning around, you smile at the sight of him wearing his racing gear. A surge of admiration washes over you. The sleek lines of his racing suit accentuate his athletic physique, highlighting every contour and muscle beneath the fabric. He looks every bit like the confident and skilled driver that he is.
His curls frame his face perfectly, adding a touch of youthful charm to his rugged appearance. The hint of stubble along his jawline only serves to enhance his allure, giving him an air of casual confidence that is utterly irresistible.
There is something undeniablely magnetic about seeing him in his element, his passion and determination shining through in every movement and gesture.
"How do you like my baby?" He tilts his head teasingly and lets his hand glide across the car as well, following your prior movements easily.
"Just as pretty as its driver." You smirk, a rush of warmth flooding through you as you trace your fingers lightly over his chest, feeling his firm muscles even though his suit.
Lost in the moment, you almost forget where you are, the world around you melting away as you stand in your own little bubble of intimacy. The scent of his cologne envelops you, a heady mixture of excitement and desire lingering in the air.
With a tender kiss, Lando prepares himself for the challenge ahead, donning his helmet and gloves with practiced precision.
"Good luck." You say when he approaches you one last time before jumping into the car. With an appreciative nod, he climbs into the cockpit of his Mclaren, and you can't help but feel a surge of pride swell within you.
With a headset in hand, you tune in to the team's communications, eager to follow Lando's progress. The voice of his race engineer crackles to life, providing updates and encouragement as he navigates the twists and turns of the Suzuka circuit.
With each lap, your heartbeat matches the rhythm of the roaring engines, and your breath catches in your throat as you follow Lando's progress with bated anticipation. And then, the moment of truth arrives.
"P3!" comes the triumphant cry over the radio, followed by Lando's own celebration—a moment of pure elation, a testiment to his passion and skill. The exhilaration in his voice is palpable as he giggles through the radio again; his joy infectious and uplifting. In that moment, you feel an overwhelming sense of happiness wash over you, knowing that you might have played a small part in his success.
As he emerges from the car, his face flushed with the thrill of earning part of the second row, you watch with admiration as he celebrates with his mechanics, his confidence and self-assurance radiating from every pore. And then he turned to you before taking his helmet and balaclave off, revealing a bright smile and his eyes filled with an unmistakable spark of affection.
With a swagger in his step, he approaches you, pulling you into him, relishing the warmth of his embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing your own. Adrenaline and excitement surge through your bodies, binding you together in a shared moment of triumph.
"You're my lucky charm," he whispers huskily, his words sending a shiver down your spine.
Blushing, you steady yourself against his frame while his hands are on your waist, holding you close.
You can sense a shift in his demeanor—the excitement of qualifying ignited a fire within him, and his touch feels more possessive and urgent than before. As you stroke his firm chest, you feel the tension in his muscles, his racing suit stretched taut against his body.
His breath is ragged against your ear as he whispers again, his voice even huskier and rougher with desire. "You have no idea how much I was thinking of you during the last lap. It made me so...hard."
You feel a rush of heat flow through you at his words, a delicious thrill coursing through your veins. You let your hand roam his chest once more before you let it wander down his body. When he bends his hip against the palm of your hand, his desire now firm against your touch, you let out a quick sigh, swallowing in a dry throat.
"I can't stop thinking about you," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. "Your hand on my skin, it drives me crazy."
"Lando." You growl, his words sending shivers down your spine. The intensity of his emotions radiates from his entire being; his desire is tangible in every glance, every touch.
But even amidst the intensity of your shared desire, there is a tenderness in his touch, a depth of emotion that transcends the physical.
"You're unbelievable." You stroke his chest again, and you feel the rumble of soft growls vibrating against your fingertips. You can't help but smile, delighting in the primal response elicited by your gentle touch.
His reaction, however, only serves to fuel the flames of desire burning within your belly, igniting a passionate intensity that pulses between you.
"It's true, though." He purrs happily, and you run a hand through his hair, "I felt you so close; it was amazing." Feeling the soft strands of his messy hair beneath your fingers, you can't resist running your hand through it again and again, relishing the tousles feel against your skin. His hair, disheveled from the intensity of qualifying, only adds to his irresistible charm.
"So I helped you?" You breathe as you caress his cheek, tracing the contours of his face with gentle strokes.
With a soft smile, Lando leans into your touch, his eyes reflecting the depth of his emotions. "You always do." He smiles warmly.
As your hand lingers on his chest, a mechanic's voice breaks through the moment, reminding us of Lando's obligation to attend the qualifying celebration with Max and Checo.
You feel a pang of disappointment at the interruption, wishing for just a few more minutes, but you know that duty calls him, and Lando earned the right to bask in the glory of his achievement alongside his fellow drivers.
With a reluctant sigh, you withdraw your hand, watching as Lando exchanges a quick glance with me, his eyes filled with an apology and a promise of more time together later. You nod in understanding, offering him a reassuring smile as he turns to follow the mechanic toward the others.
As you sit among the audience, watching the press conference unfold, your heart swells with pride, seeing Lando bask in the attention he so rightfully deserves. His confidence and harisma shine through as he fields questions from the media, his responses poised and articulate.
But amidst the flurry of activity, your gaze keeps returning to Lando, drawn to him like a magnet. And as your eyes meet, a silent understanding passes between you.
You can't help but smile as you notice Lando's unconscious gesture, his hand drifting to his chest in a subtle yet unmistakable motion. It is as if he is reaching out for you, seeking the comfort and warmth of your touch even in the midst of the conference.
All of him is longing for one thing: you.
Then, a question from the press jolts him back into reality. His gaze falters as he struggles to recall the question, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks.
With a playful giggle, he apologized for his momentary lapse, his charm quickly winning over the crowd once more as he answers the question with ease.
But as he glances back at you, a mischievous twinkle dances in his eyes, and he can#t help but bite his lip.
With a knowing smile, you return his gaze, your eyes filled with a mixture of love and desire., knowing that this is far from over.
#lando norris x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x you#lando norris imagine#lando norris smut#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fanfiction#lando norris one shot#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fic#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1 smut#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fic
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moon, 12:04 am [l.m.h]
pairing: Husband!Lee Minho x Fem!Reader
wc: 0.7k
cw: n/a
an: yall am i famous yet. also stream offonoff!!! cause their music is such a vibe!! i should not be awake at 2 in the morning!!!
“Min…?” You whined, rubbing your face into the crook of your arms as you heard quiet creaks across the floorboards.
It was dead silent, aside from the occasional rustling, a warm hand reaching out to run itself through your hair. His fingers scratched your scalp, and you sighed. You could hear Pickles meowing, and you could imagine him pawing at Minho right now, begging for some of his attention as well.
“What are you doing on the floor baby?”
You curled up, bringing your arms up to shield your face as you felt him lean over you, tie dangling over your cheek. Pickles was now poking you, trying to dig into your sides.
“Aww, you’re awfully tired, did all that overthinking finally tire you out?” He huffed, crouching right next to you as you watched him through glossy eyes, hands leaving your head.
“What time is it?”
“It’s four minutes after twelve, I think.”
You jolted up, adrenaline suddenly running through your body, head colliding with his outreached hand. Forcing your head to turn to the clock that hung on the wall, you blearily looked for the confirmation of what he had said. Pickles looked at the both of you, slipping onto your lap in an attempt for some form of cuddles..
You suddenly felt cold on the floor as you read the numbers the hands pointed to, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. Guilt washed over you, the realization of unfinished chores waiting to be finished hitting you.
“Oh god, Minho- I’m so sorry, i must have lost track time playing with Pickles, and you know how its been with the whole apartment as of late-”
“You’re doing it again.”
You stopped speeding through your thoughts, stomach dropping as you looked at him.
He was just as beautiful, if not a little disheveled. His coat had been long abandoned, now wearing a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. His hair stuck out in all sorts of directions, but the little glimmer in his eyes hadn’t been lost to the tiring office environment of his life.
“I’m doing what?”
“Rambling.”
The heat rose in your cheeks, and you looked down at the wooden floors, mapping out where you had previously been a couple moments.
“Y/n. Baby?”
You finally looked up, scooting closer into his vicinity.
“It’s cute when you do it,” He yawned, kneeling next to you, “act all worried. You don’t need to be apologizing because you didn't do anything wrong.” He pursed his lips, offering a hand to gently pull you closer to him.
“What do you wanna ask me baby? I can tell you have something to say,” He teased. You cleared your throat. “Why were you so late? I thought you’d be coming home early today.’
“I would’ve come home sooner, but Chan-hyung wanted me to stay back for something, then the bus got late so I had to take a taxi home.” He sighed and frowned, running his hand up and down your back as he held you close to him. Pickles climbed into his lap, purring as Minho finally pet him.
“Sounds like you had quite the day.” You whispered, muffled as you were pressed up against him, hand on his chest, “more so than me.”
"Yeah, it was a bit hectic," He admitted with a small chuckle,"but it was all worth it to come back home to you, and you too, Pickles." Pickles meowed, as if acknowledging that he had been recognized by Minho.
You leaned into his embrace, his lips pressing against your forehead as he kissed you tenderly. The familiar warmth of his lips sent shivers down your spine, bringing your arms up to wrap around his neck.
"I love you," he whispered, his voice soft as he pressed his face against the crown of your head.
“I love you more,” You whispered as he slipped his hands around you, surprising you as he lifted you off the floor. He carried you with ease, retracing old steps as he made his way down the hall, towards your bedroom.
As he push you down on the bed, he leaned down to press another kiss to your lips.
“I'll be right back in bed once I finish changing.”
“Don’t take too long,” You stared, watching him linger in the light of your bathroom door.
“Night baby,” He said softly, grinning as Pickles jumped up, curling up right next to you, “sleep well."
#skz x reader#skz#skz imagines#skz scenarios#skz x you#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#stray kids fanfic#stray kids minho#skz smut#lee minho x reader#skz minho#skz masterlist#skz au#stray kids imagine#stray kids fluff#lee minho fanfic#lee minho fluff#lee minho#lee know x reader#lee know x y/n#lee know x you#lee know smut#lee know fluff#lee know stray kids#lee know imagines#lee know#stray kids
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"Quit lookin' at me like that." He demands, accent growing thicker by the minute at his frustration.
"Like what?" You manage to gasp out, cheeks swollen and bloody at the beating you just took. Your hands are clasped together on your lap, forced to sir on your knees as you look up at him.
What stared back at you wasn't your loving Simon, no— this creature was much different. Ghost was glaring down at you, eyes cold and devoid of emotion other than pure, raw anger.
"Like a fuckin' lost puppy. Like you don't know what you did." His grip on the trigger tightens, holding the muzzle to your temple.
Please, tell me it isn't true. For the love of God, tell me it's all a lie.
"You leaked our information to fuckin' Konni?" He asks in disbelief, just wanting to confirm what he knew all along. It all connected once he found out; the late night escapades, the detached look in your eyes, how you kept missing every single celebration with the team claiming you were busy. Maybe if he noticed sooner, things would have been different.
Your silence and the way your head hangs low in shame is all the confirmation he needs. His gloved hand grips the pistol harder, the rough material almost merging with his skin.
You don't even have the courage to look at me.
"Everythin' we did together... I trusted you with my bloody life. I told you all my secrets and let you see all of me, and this is how you fuckin' pay me?" He doesn't even wait for an answer, three silenced gunshots ringing in his ears as he dumps the bullets into your chest, looking away before he hears the familiar thud of a body hitting the ground.
Goddammit. God damn it all to fucking hell.
Simon chokes on a harsh breath, the corners of his mouth twisting into a frown underneath his balaclava, jaw slackening. He doesn't dare look at you, unwilling to let his last image of you be a pool of blood with dead eyes.
He cried all his tears when he was a little kid, yet he can somehow feel the familiar sting in his eyes, causing him to sigh loudly and shake his head. His pistol goes back in its holster as he turned to leave, not sparing you a single glance.
Dying alone is a scary thought. You come to the world in a room full of people, your mother's happy face looking at her own creation, nurses and doctors smiling and celebrating you even when all your tiny body can do is to cry.
The thought of death isn't what scares you, no. Being a soldier for the special forces only ends two ways: retirement or going home in a box. That's something you came to terms with a long time ago, when your much younger hand held the pen, signing the contract that sold your soul to your comrades, a silent eternal promise of "we fight together, and we die together".
Your shaky hands grasp at the snow as you drag yourself forward, gear all of sudden heavier than ever; crushing you down like Atlas holding the sky. Your blood leaves a dirty trail on the pure, clean snow, marking you down as an easy target if Simon decides to come back for you— you know Ghost won't.
By the time someone manages to find you, your fingers are purple and your lips are painted an awful shade of blue, body adorned with burns from the cold snow digging into your bare skin. You allow yourself to rest as soon as the warmth of someone's hand makes contact with your skin, barely able to register the panicked scream and loud orders being barked.
Labeled as a hero after saving the country from Makarov's terrorist attack, Simon sported a new brand of chest candy on his uniform. Colorful ribbons adorned the right side of his blazer. His chest is still puffed out with pride as he steps into his small flat in London, all memories of you thrown away, including the ring he kept hidden in a drawer.
''Cute shoulder pads.'' Your finger hovers above the trigger, finally stepping out of the dark.
#cod mwii#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost cod#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#call of duty#simon riley x you#ghost mw2#cod mw2#mw2 fanfic#mw2 x reader#mw2 2022#mw2 ghost#call of duty modern warfare#cod mw3#modern warfare 2#cod#mw2 simon riley#ghost angst#ghost x f!reader#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#ghost x female reader#hurt/no comfort#cod angst#angst#mw2 angst#simon riley angst
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Hey sugar~
I want a full fluff no angst request of alastor in the woods finding a lost reader
Monster In The Woods
Alastor x GN!Reader
Song: Like Real People Do by Hozier
TW: Talks about Murder, flashback to Human Alastor
A/N: Hihi Love! Added a teensy bit of angst. Who doesn't love angst?
You grumbled and looked around Alastor’s familiar bayou that was in his room. Your curiosity got the best of you, it was just seemingly endless with moths and fireflies, mud that sticks to your shoes and vines that hang from the trees that look like snakes waiting for you to let your guard down. Figments of alligators hissing and watching as you struggle to make your way further into the bayou, an old house sitting and waiting..inviting you into its warmth with bright light and smoke billowing from the chimney.
A sense of dread filled your body, one that you were too familiar with and hated with a fiery passion. The same feeling that made the golden ring on your finger feel heavier than normal allowing doubt to creep into your mind and anxiety wrap around your heart. Why weren’t you running towards the house? Towards the feeling of safety wrapped in the comfort of an old home..why were you standing in the middle of an open field? You were an unsuspecting doe about to get shot down…why was this so familiar?
Hands cupped your face, warm and sticky with blood as you sobbed out, whispers of words you couldn’t hear truthfully. You watched as his face- your husband's face twisted in fear and concern but his eyes told a different story, he was angry. Not at you, never at you. His hands brought you to his chest as your senses finally caught up to you. Ringing in your ears, chest heaving from the lack of oxygen in your lungs, your leg and stomach hurt. The same substance that was coating your hands had coated your leg and stomach. You were bleeding. There was so much blood. His words had fallen on deaf ears as a man laid face first into the mud and dirt not too far away, blood mixing into the earth.
Oh right, you were running from the man and a trap snagged your leg good, ripping tendons in your leg. Then a shot rang out as you tried to get your leg out of the trap, distant slurs as the drunken man held a gun up aimed for your head. All you wanted to do was check up on your husband, you made this journey many times before why was this the outcome of it? As you began praying to a god you possibly never believed in, you never really visited the churches when you were younger. But you always did with your husband under the guise you were just going to work with him after. Yet here you were sobbing and panicking, whispering out how you wanted to absolve all your sins to God.
But it never came, the gun was dropped and subsequently caused the gun to go off. Bullet shooting out into the Louisiana swamps, the sun casting its last dying light upon your form as the moon was rising from behind the old shack. Blood spurted out from the neck of the unknown man as your husband stood behind him, clothes drenched in blood as the knife in his was dropped to the muddy ground. You sobbed out in his arms..bleeding out, was this how you were going to die?
A familiar clawed hand squeezed your shoulder as familiar static nipped at your skin, another reaching over to wipe the fresh tears from your eyes. “Come come, let’s not dwell on the past, Darling.” He whispered out as you looked up at him. His crimson eyes that were always watching and moving waiting for the wrong movement, softened as he watched tears stain your cheeks. “I’m sorry..I got curious…” You whispered out watching him wave it off as he grabbed your hand, lifting it to kiss the golden band.
Guiding you out of the bayou easily, he tapped his cane on the ground beside him, “No need to apologize, Darling. Let me go run you a warm bath, yes” He asked, watching as you nodded from the corner of his eye a soft smile graced your lips at the thought. “...Stay with me?” You asked, glancing up at your husband. He let out a soft chuckle and kissed the side of your head, arm wrapping around your waist.
“Of course, Dear.” He whispered out, finally putting those worries in your head to rest. He hated seeing that look in your eyes..the same look you gave him all those years ago in the bayou as he held you during your last moments. You looked so afraid then..but he wouldn’t make that same mistake again, he would make sure of it. Not even death could pull you both apart.
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel imagine#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor x reader#alastor x you#alastor x gn!reader#gn reader
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— " 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚��𝐥𝐲, 𝐢'𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧... "
art by @/kodokunoakashi on twitter, edited by me !!
angst. an eensey weensey redemption at the end
xiao, zhongli, wanderer, neuvillette x gn!reader
[ centuries after their lover’s passing, they finally are able to rest in your ghostly touch. ₊˚ෆ ]
Perhaps the day he had found your lifeless body, eyes long fluttered closed and splatters of red decorating your throat was the day Xiao began falling apart.
He knew it from the start, that your death would be inevitable. You weren’t like him - a weary soul who had traversed these lands for thousands of years in search of a refuge that Teyvat had never provided for him. No, you were like the evening’s first star, brilliantly shining and setting the entire night sky ablaze. A warm glow that sparked flames wherever its light reached. He was one of many fortunate enough to be caught in your spiraling trap, those cursedly charming grins and a laugh with the innocence of a child. Your sweet warmth was addicting, and once he had a taste, he couldn’t get enough of it. Was that why the adeptus found himself leaving his corner of the inn more and more often, just to trail by your side? Maybe this was the reason he had found himself expressing something on his lips that he had never before?
Fragments split your face in his memory. Years, decades, centuries had passed. To the outside eye, all that could be observed was that the yaksha was particularly more elusive than before, only having briefly appeared once or twice before mortals. With ignorant and foggy minds, they’d declare that the Conqueror of Demons must feel despair over the sudden death of Rex Lapis, and they’d just leave it like that. An open question hanging in the air with no answer to pair it with.
Xiao didn’t know if he still had tears left to weep.
His brethren that he had lost so many years ago had robbed them with their passing, and they were nothing left but an empty remnant of once had remained. A shapeless echo… yes, perhaps that was what he was now. All that knew him were certain that your passing had stolen a part of him that would never recover. The fragments of emotion that you had left with him had only dissipated with time, and he despised himself for it. Shards that danced in his vision as he hefted his spear, whirling it with precision and slaughtering all in its path. They had dared lay hands on you. They had taken whatever resolve he had left. Now, he was but a shell, hollow without your embrace.
It’s cold.
Sometimes, he heard your laugh on the wind, and he’d whip around, expecting to see you there, but only to be met with the terrible, terrible silence, and all the adeptus could do was laugh bitterly. Crystalline drops of tears would threaten to roll past the barriers of his carefully crafted facade, and he’d curse at himself, grasping at his chest with heavy breaths and blown eyes.
He didn’t deserve to cry. No, not after he had failed to protect you. Guilt, self-loathing, karma, all of it… it bound him down with red tendrils that burned against his skin. Pain bloomed throughout his body, a brilliant crimson that stained his clothing, an anguish that he ardently welcomed. His vision dimmed, and his honey eyes which had long since lost their light slowly shut, embracing the darkness that reached for him.
Darkness, so how come when he opened his drowsy lids, all he saw was light?
“Xiao?”
A familiar voice, one that had blurred with time, yet now rang clearly in his senses. Those excitement-filled eyes, that mischievous curve on your lips, and the warmth of your fingers with his. The grass prickled at his back, and the scent of blooming wildflowers filled the air with its spring sweetness.
A smile tugged at his lips. His sorrow spilled from his eyes. He almost could’ve laughed at your concerned gaze, and with a bandaged heart he pulled you closer in his arms. His wounded voice was barely a whisper. “Thank you… for waiting for me all this time, love.”
He still remembers it. It’s a sight that’s been burned into his eyes. The way his composed expression had collapsed, how his disgraced self had fallen to his raw knees. Zhongli had held you then, feeling the precious warmth leave your body, listening to the thrum of your heart slowly ebbing away.
He had been seconds too late to hear what you had spoken in that moment, and only saw the wordless utter on your moving lips, the raspy, labored breaths, until they ceased to nothing but silence. How could something void of sound be so unequivocally loud? The silence rings in his ears, like a horrible testament of his broken contract. That bright moment the two of you had shared seemed centuries ago, an abstract painting of something that couldn’t have possibly occurred. With a beaming face, you had held his larger, gloved hand with two of your smaller ones, grinning at his touch.
“Let’s always be together, okay? No one can keep us apart!” You laughed to yourself at how red the man had grown at your words, and then stared fondly at the silver band he had placed on your finger a day prior, when he had kissed your hands and uttered his words of confession. Red dusted your cheeks at the thought, and to the wide-eyed man, you looked simply ethereal, with the way your lashes fluttered with every blink and the way your cheeks were warm with a smile.
“Yes.” Zhongli had been starstruck by you, so utterly breathless at how speechless a mere mortal could make him. It was astounding, how your smile seemed to steal his words away. He wanted to do nothing but to freeze those seconds, to place them in a glass and cherish them and relive them in a loop that lasted eternity.
Oh, what’d he do to see the way your lips curved upwards into a cheeky grin that you’d display just for him, the snarky comments leaving your mouth, and the way you laughed at his subtle reactions.
It’s only been two hundred years. Should he say “already?” Time passes slow, then fast, fluctuating without any thought of the man in mind. At times, when the clock strikes midnight and moonlight spills into the courtyard like liquid silver, the seconds slow into minutes and the minutes slow into hours, and he’ll gaze out onto the grassy fields where the two of you used to stroll hand-in-hand, and he’ll allow himself a moment of reminiscence. In other times, the world speeds up around him, and the incompetent man is unable to keep up. Your funeral was one of those times. How could he simply walk away from your framed portrait and declare, “that’s that?” Liyue had suffered a terrible loss, yet only he seemed to register that. How come?
Some days, he’ll talk to himself, as if you’re beside him. His words meet empty air and he smiles vacantly, holding a hand that isn’t there and kissing the lips of someone who is long gone. Your shadow is everywhere. He can’t escape it, but that’s okay. He doesn’t want to. Zhongli allows those remnants of you to linger and dance in the wind with the reddening leaves. By the bridge, excitedly petting the stray dogs, calling each and every one of them the name that you’ve bestowed upon them. A sight Ganyu would have loved to see. Or in the branches of a particular tree, laughing down at him with a giggle like birdsong, taunting words. “Would you look at that? Up here, I’m even taller than you, Zhongli!”
And every time he hears your transparent, faded voice, he can’t help but smile, despite how hopeless he feels. You’re gone, and that’s the truth, so where’s the harm in bathing in your afterimage just a moment longer?
He knows it isn’t you. It can’t ever come close. As centuries blur and whirl past, and he finds himself departing to the more secluded spaces of Liyue’s wilderness, he decides it’s time. His nation no longer needs him. The reason he had for living is gone, and the heart that had once been so lively has dulled.
Would it be too foolish to hope that when he opens his eyes, you’ll be there, waiting for him?
“Xiansheng? Come on, come on sleepyhead, wake up already!” Pause. “Oh, will this do the trick?”
And then there’s warmth on his cheek, the feeling of your lips against his skin, and he feels alive, for the first time in those archon-forsaken years. He knows what he’ll see, when he opens his gilded eyes that are shimmering with dew. “Yes, love. I’m here.”
Betrayal. Those sickening words you had spoken to him, sweet beyond belief… Wanderer hissed through his teeth, holding his hands over his ears as his tears fell to the earth and soaked into the dark earth.
Yes, at that time he should’ve known. The truth you spoke to him was simply too good to be true - a fantasy that could never be attained. Yet he had been swayed by your smile and fell for your warmth, and since then had been willingly trapped in a void that was you, with no intention of escaping. It amazed him, almost, how he can smile in this moment, albeit however sour it is. What more proof did he need? To be unable to stay somber in the moments of your passing, did that not just prove how flawed he was? How undeserving?
He detested it. No wonder why you had left this world. It was a pain to even be by his side. Words without “love” and a chest that did not thrum with flusteredness could never convince you to stay beside him. Once again, someone he yearns for has cleverly slipped through his fingers. From the beginning, he was a sinner. A worthless puppet incapable of feeling a shred of what you held for him.
Red dripped from his fingers as they clawed at the earth, as he bends into himself with ugly wails. Could you see him now, wherever you were? Tears flowed freely from his eyes, not heeding his mutters for all of it to cease. He wanted it to end, all of it, the suffering that he felt and the emptiness he could never fully elude. The fatui, his mother, they’d all laugh at him with pointed fingers if they saw him now, wouldn’t they? His flushed cheeks are stained with salt and his throat was raw from his shouts. The blood pooling around your body has already cooled, and your fingers that were intertwined with his had already grown cold to the touch.
“Woah, Wanderer, your skin is really cold! Aren’t you hot at all? It’s summer!” You had stared at him with a childlike fascination, holding his hand in yours, poking it for extra effect, only growing more astonished.
“It’s nothing to be impressed over.” He cleared his throat into his fist, yet did not let go of your hold. “If anything…” At the time, his words had not completed themselves, yet his gaze had trailed to your own hands, and he had kissed the back of them with a cheeky half-smile. I like yours. They’re warm. There had been an inkling of naive hope, that your life could fill the void in his, and perhaps that was what allowed his plastic expression towards you to grow into true ones.
“H-Hey, c’mon…” His voice broke, unsteady like the legs of a newborn fawn. He took your blood-stained hand and pressed it to his cheek, only further wetting it with his tears. “This isn’t funny, you know, you can… you can stop now…”
Look how broken he’s become, stooping as low as to speak to a corpse.
That was only a decade ago. Every morning, the ache of its recollection brings a fresh dose of misery. Every evening he lulls himself to sleep by repeating the words you once said, imagining the stroke of your hands tangled in his hair, imagining your sunbeam-like smile as you gazed down at him fondly.
Really, what’s the point of living with you gone? Could he really call it “life?”
Those questions still remain sharp in his mind as he sputters out a cough, glancing down at the blade in his shattered chest, positioned right where his heart should have been. Cold, unforgiving steel, driving down and tearing apart. Wanderer blinks up at the cursed heavens above and heaves out blood that leaves a lingering red on his lips, and he can’t bring himself to cry anymore. He spits out a final damnation at Celestia before slipping away, eyes closing as he finally-
“Wanderer? Where’s your hat? You aren’t wearing it today?”
Your voice. It breathes life into his empty soul. Warmth. He wants to hold it, hold you, ever closer like he never had the courage to. His violet eyes spring open as he sits up with a start, his disheveled garments flinging about. “Y-You-!”
“What’s with you today? You’re acting strange, silly. Did you eat something you shouldn’t have?” You grin stupidly, an idiocy he finds all so lovable. The twinkle in your eye - you’re alive. You’re breathing and you’re existing before him. A final grace that he can’t thank whatever for enough.
There’s the sound of wind, and then you find yourself tightly wrapped in his embrace, your shoulder stained with his tears that spill despite how much he doesn’t want to show you this weakness. He buries his face into you, and you can feel the ghost of a smile against your skin. “I’ve missed you. So, so much. Please, please, don’t leave me again.”
Lifeless, your body lay, along the shores and lapped by waves stained crimson. That day, Fontaine realized what it was like to truly rain, not a few drops, or even spring showers. Water fell endlessly from the skies, a downpour that may never end, an all-swallowing sea from the heavens that swallowed all unfortunate enough to be caught in its path. Irony clouded the skies, and Neuvillette found himself broken into pieces he didn’t know how to put back together.
His efforts to understand the human population were in vain. A complete, utter failure. How could he possibly judge, knowing the world despised him? Knowing that the scales were upturned and that nothing could ever be just? Your death, it was unfair. Unfair to the world and unfair to he who held you ever so dear. But what else could he do but continue his oversight? Quitting his position wouldn’t bring you back. Nothing would. He could hear your cheery voice in his ear, and the hint of a pout, a chiding tone. “Neuvi, you can’t quit! Let’s all try our best, okay?”
The days where you were by his side were the happiest. Fontaine had become akin to Sumeru’s desert, the sun blazing overhead and the moon shining brightly at night. Yet, how come the people of Fontaine had seemed upset at the skies for his contentment? They begged for rain, begged for their dying crops, to the point where you were forced to distance yourself from the man for days at a time, just the unrelentless sun would cloud over and perhaps a drop or two of rain would be squeezed from the heavens.
If he had known you would leave so soon, he would have never permitted you to depart from his side. If he had known you would pass this world and traverse to the next, he would have held you with every ounce of his soul, he would have declared his love for you over and over, he would have placed the ring he had been saving in his pocket, the one he slipped on his finger whenever he was at a particularly difficult trial.
So many “what if’s.” None of them would materialize. Once again, his efforts would fall short. Once again, he’d lose someone.
The tea was hot. It burned his tongue, yet he couldn’t feel a thing. You, the clearest of springs and purest of waters, had set his own sea into a never-ending storm. Lightning struck and its own surface churned choppily with enough rage to devour a nation. The second tea cup that was on the other side of his office desk remained untouched, the contents slowly cooling into nothingness. A something that could never be.
“Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don’t cry~” He could hear it when he shut his eyes for what he hoped to be the final time, your voice from the mist that shrouded his mind, and he wanted nothing more than to embrace the owner of it. How could he possibly heed your words, when he felt his tears slip past his eyes, flowing as unperturbed as a river? Your back is facing him, but you know he’s there. You glance back with a fond beam, extending your arms outwards. An invitation. One that he’d readily take, any time, every time.
He would never enable you to slip from his grasp again. He allows you to engulf him in your arms, he allows you to stroke your thumb on his face and wipe away his salty tears, he allows you to brush his hair behind his ear and press butterfly kisses into his closed eyelids. Your warmth floods his body, and with a smile he takes the ring he’s saved for you out of his pocket, and fulfills his regrets as he slips it onto your finger, a final tear rolling down his cheek. “There’ll be no more reason to cry, not anymore.”
(a/n) this further proved to me that writing angst is so fucking mind destroying but at the same time provides this sort of quiet sorrow that you aren't able to attain anywhere else
and for some twisted reason this is literally one of my favorite things ive like. ever written. holy shiiiii
໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123, @scara-is-my-wife
#★ ˎˊ˗ mondaymelon#astronetwrk#favoniuslibrary#x reader#genshin fanfic#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact#genshin imagines#genshin x you#genshin x reader#genshin angst#xiao x reader#genshin xiao#xiao x you#xiao genshin x reader#zhongli x reader#zhongli genshin impact#genshin zhongli#zhongli#wanderer x reader#wanderer#scaramouche x reader#scaramouche x you#scaramouche#neuvillette#neuvillete x reader#genshin oneshots#genshin headcanons#zhongli x you#scara x reader
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A thousand times over - Lewis Hamilton
request: Hii! Omg, I just saw a comment on instagram that was so cute it made me think a Lewis fic would be so much cuter. You're my favourite writer for F1 so I know you'd eat this up. So a guy commented that when his wife takes off her wedding rings for baking/gardening/painting/etc and he finds them, he waits til she's done then gives them back to her by proposing to her again. - @happy-golden-hour
pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!
warnings: pure fluff
wordcount: +1K
a/n: The three times Lewis reasks y/n to marry him, and the one time the roles are reversed.
a/n.2: Thank you for the idea bestie, took me a while but I couldn't decide on a single scenario, so there's 3 and a surprise one. Hope you like it ❤️
As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!
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The Gardening Proposal
The morning sun made the garden golden, its rays filtering through the leaves and casting long shadows from the pine trees across the lush grass. Even though it wasn’t even 8 am yet, you were already lost in the peaceful new flower bed you had been working on for the past week. The air was crisp and fresh, a bit of fog still lurking deep in the woods that surrounded your country home, adding to the serene atmosphere.
Lewis looked over from the porch at the scene, his ever-attentive eyes lost in thought as he admired you. His fingers played with the golden band of your wedding ring he had found on the kitchen counter just minutes ago. The soft glint of the ring caught his eye, reminding him of the love and commitment you shared.
Before you could even feel his presence, he cleared his throat to catch your attention. Your vision as you turned was him, in only his basketball shorts, kneeled in the grass by the flower bed. In his hand was the band you had left in the kitchen the previous day, placed carefully so it wouldn’t get amidst the dirt.
"Love, would you marry me, again?" Lewis said softly, holding out the ring between his fingers, his gaze filled with warmth and affection. His voice was gentle, carrying a hint of playfulness that always had you melting.
Surprised but delighted by his heartfelt gesture, you accepted the ring, feeling its familiar weight as he slid it back onto your finger. The metal felt cool against your skin, a tangible reminder of the bond you shared. "Thank you," you whispered, your heart swelling with love and gratitude.
Lewis chuckled, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at you. "Well, is that a yes?" he began, his voice filled with warmth and humor. His playful tone made you laugh, easing any lingering nerves.
Tears of happiness welled in your eyes as you nodded, your voice filled with emotion. "Yes, a thousand times over" you replied, sealing your promise with a passionate kiss. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air around you, a perfect moment in your blossoming garden.
The Workout Proposal
The early night lights danced around in your bedroom windows as you read your book. You had just finished an intense workout in your home gym, the exhaustion and exhilaration leaving you feeling both drained and sleepy. So, after a shower, you had wrapped yourself in a plush robe, seeking comfort in your bed for a bit before thinking about dinner.
A while later Lewis found you, curled up in bed. A smile tugged at his lips as he admired your relaxed demeanor, his fingers playing with the ring he had found placed at tv console in the gym, now safely tucked in his pocket. Scooting closer to you on the bed, he gently pulled you into his embrace, his warmth enveloping you. His touch was gentle, and with a contented smile, you nestled closer to Lewis, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. His arms wrapping around you protectively.
In that intimate moment, Lewis gazed into your eyes softly. "I love you," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with conviction. "And I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy."
“I love you” You whispered back as you looked up at him, although not without a questioning look, as to why the sudden confession.
He let out a chuckle and reaching into his pocket, he retrieved the ring, his features full of adoration as he asked you for the thousandth time "Will you marry me, again?" his voice barely above a whisper.
Overwhelmed you took a moment to gather your words, your heart pounding just like it had when he asked for the first time. “Yeah, always”, your voice steady and certain. As he slipped the ring onto your finger, sealing your renewed commitment, your hands reached for the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to yours.
The Candles Proposal
The aroma of a Sunday roast filled the air, mingling with the comforting scent of herbs and spices. You were in the kitchen, focused on preparing a delicious meal for Lewis's family. His mother was by your side, offering her expertise and sharing cherished family recipes.
As you started making fresh pasta from scratch, you carefully removed your new wedding ring, placing it in Lewis's hand for safekeeping. He smiled, understanding the gesture, and pocketed the ring, promising to keep it safe.
The meal was a success, filled with laughter, stories, and the warmth his family always provided. As you two got back home late at night you headed for the shower, to clean up and decompress.
When you returned to the living room, you were greeted by the soft glow of candlelight. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the walls, and soft music played in the romantic and intimate background that Lewis had created.
In the center of the room, Lewis knelt on one knee, his eyes filled with love and determination. The ring you had entrusted to him earlier glinted in his hand, catching the candlelight. "Since I still don’t believe it’s true… would you marry me?” Lewis asked softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection as he held out the ring to you.
"Yes, Lew" you replied, your voice filled with love and gratitude. "I would be honored to marry you, over and over again." Surprised and touched by him, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you. The love and thoughtfulness he had put into this moment a reminder of the lengths he would go to show the love he felt.
The Surprise
As you entered the newly painted nursery, a smile spread across your face at the sight of the lovingly decorated room. Your heart swelled with anticipation at the thought of welcoming your baby into this home and to finally start your own family.
As you admired each detail, your eyes fell upon the wedding band resting on the dresser. Curiosity piqued, you picked up the ring, a tender smile playing on your lips as you realized Lewis had left it behind, probably had taken if off when he was painting.
Knowing he must be in his study, you made your way there, your heart fluttering with excitement. Entering the room, you found Lewis absorbed in his work, surrounded telemetry and car part’s designs. Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, resting your head against his shoulder.
He turned to meet your gaze, a soft smile lighting up his face as he pulled you onto his lap, his hands automatically resting on your 6 months-bump. "You know, I can't physically kneel like you always do" you teased, a playful glint in your eye, "but there's something I've been meaning to ask you."
Lewis chuckled, his arms tightening around you as he waited for you to continue. With a grin, you reached into your pocket, retrieving the wedding band. Holding it up between you, you met Lewis's gaze, your heart overflowing with love and joy.
"Would you marry me?" you asked, your voice filled with warmth and affection. Lewis's eyes shimmered with emotion. Without a moment's hesitation, he nodded, his voice filled with love. "Yes, I’ll marry you, every day if need be"
As you slipped the ring onto his finger, sealing your renewed commitment, you knew that no matter what life had in store, your love would always be the guiding light that led you through every joy and challenge.
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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour
If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.
#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton#f1 x reader#ella asks#f1 imagine#formula 1
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Boothill and his s/o BUT after Boothill d!3s and becomes a cyborg, the ones who brought him back erase his memories of his s/o and now he’s either distant or resentful of their s/o🥹
Clutches my shirt in pain
Boothill isn't sure who you are and why you keep following him. You don't seem to be dangerous, so he doesn't fight you - but the way he meets you in the same places makes him feel suspicious about you.
You, on the other hand - not only mourn the loss of your beloved once, but twice - he's lost his body, seemingly getting turned into a cyborg, but what makes your heart bleed is the lack of memories you've shared together for so long.
He doesn't remember you.
But there's something, something that he feels is attracting him to you. Boothill notices the heartbreak on your face eventually once he sets his gaze on you long enough, but avoids eye contact once you're the one looking at him.
There's something familiar about you, but he doesn't know what exactly. The longer he tries to ignore the feeling, the worse it gets - and by "worse," it means he's closer and closer to finally speaking you.
That one day he sees you at the same bar he's always gone to, drinking the exact same beverage as him, sitting on his seat—
He caves in and finally gets the conversation going. It flows so nicely, he doesn't pay attention to the time anymore; his now unrecognizable hand seems to make its way to wipe the tears that started to run down your cheeks unexpectedly, but Boothill only realizes his actions when you stare at him and freeze in place.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why I—"
"No, it's oka—"
"It's gettin' late. A pretty thing like ya shouldn't be goin' home all alone. Would ya let a cowboy like me to help out?"
Boothill extends his arm to you.
You accept his invitation, your hand still fitting perfectly in his, missing only the warmth that once used to be there.
Perhaps there's still a chance to start from the beginning again.
#honkai star rail#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#boothill#boothill hsr#boothill x reader#.anon thirst
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MDNI 18+
Imagine being woken up by Captain MacTavish's strong arms around your waist.
The sun had barely crested over the horizon. A soft bluish red glow emanated from behind the curtain, yet all you could feel was his vice like grip and the weight of his muscular leg over the flesh of your thigh.
And a very prominent, however languid jab of his hardened length against the small of your back ad he undulated his hips against your still sleeping form.
"John," you managed finally on a groggy whimper. Sleep loosening its tight hold on your psyche as the feel of him rubbing his cock against your back took hold.
"C'mon, love." His breath, hot and despondent, ran like a gentle stream against the back of your neck.
Familiar. Vulnerable. Cleansing.
And you didn't have to ask. You knew by the subtle quiver in his voice what the Captain was so desperately pining for.
"John. It's not even 6am."
"Aye. I know. Just let me stick it in for a while, yeah?"
His calloused hand traversed the flesh of your pelvis, pressing into the curve of your hip to assist in promiscuous provocation. Lifting your leg just enough as he positioned himself against your backside and leisurely slid himself into your heat.
You breathed deeply the moment you felt him stretch within your silken walls. Expelling a quiet murmur of his name, his hand splaying out over the flesh of your abdomen until he was fully seated within your tightness of your cunt.
"Tha's it, m'lass. Jus' let me sit 'ere a while."
His accent always ran thicker when he was lost in the feel of you wrapped around him.
His well maintained and muscular physique enveloping the entirety of your back. Draping over you like a weighted blanket while he inserted the essence of himself into the depths of your soul.
He inhaled the fine fragrance of your sleep cloaked scent. Night time jasmine with a hint of fresh cotton. Pulling a soft growl from his depths as you felt him pulse against the walls of your soaking core. Clenching around him. A barely audible moan rolling over your lips as he hovered his mouth over the nape of your neck.
"Don't move, lass. Cannae take it when ya clench 'round me like tha'."
You obliged, reluctantly. Easing your mind. Blanking out all thoughts and letting him bask in the warmth and silken hug that only your divine pussy could provide.
"You're gonna have to make up for waking me up, John."
"Aye? An' how would ya like me to do tha?"
You replied with a smooth buck of your hips into him. Your ass pressing into his pelvis, tugging a muffled groan thar reverberates within the confines of his throat.
"Yer a little minx, y'know tha'?"
"You're the one that started this, Captain. Are you going to finish it, or am I going to have to take command?"
His hands pressed firmly into the divots of your hips in response to your taunting quip. Burying himself deeper into your tight femininity, asserting his reprimand while the soothing baritone of his voice echoed against the shell of your ear.
"Keep it up, lass. An' I'll show you just how voracious my command can be."
I'm horny for the Captain, okay?
Captain MacTavish Masterlist
#soap squad™️#early morning delight#the brainrot of Captain MacTavish#captain mactavish x you#captain mactavish x f reader#captain mactavish smut#og soap#soap cod#cod fanfic#call of duty
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I don't k know if your busy or not but is it alright with you doing a Jiyan x injured reader? Like one day reader got hurt and decide to not tell Jiyan but he soon found out?
Thank you for your time and have a great day/noon/night
Contents: Jiyan x GN!Reader, angst, ends on a better note, hope you enjoy this anon :)
Thundering drums fill his ears with their haunting echoes as he raced through the sea of moving soldiers.
Strands of his hair were loose from its ponytail with more strands sticking to his sweaty forehead, small parts matted with mud and dust. His clothes weren't shown any more mercy, with parts cut here and there with blood speckled throughout. Yet, it wasn't his clothes and hair that were haunting, but his face. Pale and eyes wide, devoid of any emotion in particular and looking like two deep voids that threatened anyone they looked at.
Jiyan’s heart was echoing, drumming and beating, but he couldn't feel any of it with how cold his very blood felt - he could swear he was dead and this was hell.
He rushed through into the open corner of the base dedicated for treating the injured, his eyes jumping from one face to the other, searching.
His feet had a mind of their own as they walked past the injured and the unconscious, sparing them some looks and bathed words of reassurance, his tone so soft that, were he in a better mindset, he would've asked whether the other even heard him properly.
There!
His mind yells, jumping at the first sign of the familiar head of hair. It's you! His heart leaps further up until he can taste the metal wash over his tongue. Days have passed since he has seen you vanish off the battlefield and he had grown restless by the day, wishing he could deny the possibility that you could be gone forever. So when word reached him you were found injured and brought back to the medics, he was racing at first chance.
He is quick as the wind, running up to where you were laying, arms and torso all up in bandages, the smell of medicine and herbs so heavy in the air it made even his nose scrunch. “Y/n!” he calls to you when he sees your lashes fluttering, one sign you were awake, and your movement the second sign. You are alive, despite a little voice in his head telling him this is just a cruel illusion. His hand finds yours, fingers curling around it and holding it, closer to him, feeling your warmth before two fingers slide to the inside of your wrist out of pure instinct to feel your life pulse for himself.
“Ji..Jiyan?”
“It is me, (Y/n).. Are you in pain, are you alright?” His mind is reeling with questions and all the ways to scold you but he can’t bring himself to be angry, he lost the capacity to be angry at you ages ago - he just feels scared, the empty abyss within him yawning for reassurance of your state and yearning to swallow you into its void where you couldn’t come to harm.
“I..I’m alright” On cue, your cough interrupts your response, making your chest jump and your torso attempts to pull itself up. Jiyan is quick and cautious as he helps you sit upward, rubbing your back up and down as your coughing fit subsides. “Have you eaten anything?” He asks as his eyes drink in the details of your face - pale skin, half lidded eyes, cracked lips and few scrapes littered across your exposed skin. You shake your head, barely able to tell what he was doing as he moved about you like a bumblebee, hopping from here to there and bringing a flask of water up to your lips and helping you drink. The water feels heavenly as it slides down your throat, quenching the feeling of an upcoming fever.
“Tell me what happened..” His voice is softer now, quieter as he wishes to keep some sense of privacy even in this open space, but it is no less worried and pent up with tension that squeezes him. His eyes are quick to meet yours when they look up at long last, looking at him and taking in his own disheveled appearance.
Your lips open and close as you search your brain for adequate words, but it takes a moment for you to gather your thoughts. “My memory is muddy from the actual battle, but I remember you being ahead of me.. and I was dealing with a couple of TDs behind you.. I.. I bit off more than I could chew, and I led them far away from you and the others but there were... just too many.. I was surrounded- I did my best, Jiyan.. But I slipped somewhere along the way.. I don’t know what happened afterwards. I only woke up two days ago..”
“Why didn’t you send word for me?” he bites the inside of his cheek, stopping himself from sounding frustrated or accusing. Images of your retelling paint themselves vividly in his mind, and his heart aches and bleeds for you.
“I wanted to heal first..” you mutter with a small shrug, not knowing the true answer yourself, even as guilt and regret seeps into your heart. “I’m sorry..”
“It’s.. It’s alright.. you are here now” He sighs as his eyes flicker down to your wounds, and he then takes a look around. Jiyan’s heart is too weary to simply leave it at this, too frightened to just let you be after days of believing you were dead. He looks back to you, a bold hand cupping the side of your face and helping you look up at him.
“I’ll go see if there are any free rooms inside the base where I can help you change these bandages, they are in a dire need of redressing.. Then I’ll get you something to eat, alright?”
You could cry at his words, his kindness and desperation to help you not escape your fuzzy brain, so you only nod, lips pressed into a firm line. He notices your eyes become watery and shock flickers over his visage, and faster than he could know he is already cupping your face with both hands. “Hey…” he whispers, worrying, filling his golden eyes that only sought to comfort you, not sadden you. Or were you in even more pain now? He feels a rush go through him, needing to get you somewhere where he can hold you. “It’s alright.. I’m not mad at you, alright? Breathe..” he soothes your eyes that flutter shut when the pads of his thumb brushes over it. You nod again, swallowing your tears.
“I’m okay..”
“You’ll be okay, my love.. just leave it all to me..”
Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.
#-better an arrow than you#Jiyan x Reader#jiyan x you#jiyan x gn reader#jiyan x y/n#jiyan x yn#jiyan angst#jiyan imagine#jiyan drabble#wuwa jiyan#jiyan wuthering waves#wuthering waves#wuthering waves x reader#wuthering waves x you#wuthering waves imagine#wuwa x reader#wuwa imagine#wuthering waves angst#wuwa angst
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