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slytherinslut0 · 2 days

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theodore nott. | you’re mine tonight

summary: theodore nott is always willing to be used by you. if you’re going to use somebody, just let it be him.

word count: 800

tags: headcanons that once again turned into this. i try to keep things short, apparently im physically incapable🥹 nothing crazy here other then implied fwb, slight angst, reader heartbreak kinda cuz cormac sux, theo being good with words as always, make out session at the end

Theodore Nott, who watches as you and your situationship, Cormac, argue every single day.

Theodore Nott who sees you cry constantly as a result of these arguments, tonight no unorthodox exception as you come storming back into the Slytherin common room with tears streaming down your cheeks, kicking off your heels and throwing yourself down next to him on a secluded corner couch.

Your eyes, brimming with anguish and pleading for solace, lock onto his, a look he knows all too damn well.

Theodore Nott, who doesn’t have to ask, doesn’t have to pry, who already knows exactly why you’re here, sitting next to him, when you could be literally anywhere else. He reads the story in your tear-streaked cheeks and your trembling hands. It’s a scene he’s witnessed so many times he’s lost count.

Theodore Nott, who merely closes his book, runs a hand through his tousled hair, and rests the other on your knee. PDA is off the table since you don’t want Cormac to find out—even though he’s been sneaking off with more girls than you have fingers on both hands—so Theo simply looks at you with those steady, knowing eyes and whispers, “your dorm or mine?”

You swallow, grateful gaze shifting toward the door. It’s always so fucking easy with Theo.

“Always yours,” you murmur, rising to your feet and picking up your discarded heels. Without waiting for his response, you start toward his dorm, certain he’s right behind you. He always is.

Theodore Nott, who shuts the door and locks it behind you as the two of you enter. The lights are dim, the shadows of the Black Lake ripple against the walls, and moonlight flickers throughout the room. Theodore Nott, who notices the look on your face well before you do, who can already sense the words that are about to slip past your teeth.

Theo knows well enough by now that you only come to him when you’re hurt, and you never feel good about it until he reassures you it’s okay. He sees it in the subtle shift of your gaze, the furrow of your brow, the tremble of your lips—a silent plea for forgiveness he’s already long granted you.

“I’m sorry, Theo…”

Theodore Nott, who understands you just need someone to hold you right now. Someone who will look at you with warmth, with desire, with need, someone who will give you all of himself in this moment. A shoulder to cry on, bedsheets to lie on.

“It’s okay, bella, don’t apologize…”

Theodore Nott who steps closer, his hands stern yet gentle as they cup your cheeks, drawing your gaze to his. Reverent blue eyes glisten like two oceans, drowning you in their warmth. Theodore Nott who brushes the damp from your cheeks with his thumbs before leaning down, grazing his lips over yours, feather-light.

“I’ve said it about a million times, you know I’ve already told you—“

Theodore Nott, who interrupts his own sentence by pressing his lips to yours, inhaling a sharp breath as your salty sweetness ignites in his mouth. Tears mingle with your cherry lip gloss, his hands sliding back into your hair, and he’s lost and then found again—as though you’re the only beacon in a world shrouded in darkness, the answer to all his unspoken questions.

Theodore Nott, who needs this, who wants this just as much, if not more, than you do.

“—if you’re gonna’ use somebody…use me…”

Theodore Nott who practically growls those words into your mouth as fervour takes over, as hunger roars harder and stronger with each passing second. One hand grips your hair, holding your lips to his while the other falls to your blouse, slender fingers undoing the buttons with a speed that leaves you breathless.

“…I’m so fucking willing to be somebody you need…”

His fingers deftly slip the last button free, his hand sliding beneath the fabric to feel the warmth of your skin. The touch sends shivers through you, your body responding to his every move. His lips trail down your jaw, pressing hot kisses along your neck, making you gasp. Theodore's grip on your hair tightens just enough to tilt your head back, exposing more of your throat to his eager mouth.

The room seems to shrink around you, the flickering moonlight casting shadows that dance across the walls, mirroring the wild rhythm of your hearts. He pulls back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze dark and intense.

"You drive me insane…how much I fucking want you drives me insane," he admits, his breath hitching. "Every time I see you with him…every time I see what he does to you…it kills me…”

Theodore Nott whose words are like gasoline to an open flame, igniting a fierce need within you, scorching while simultaneously taming the desire to be desired. Theodore Nott who groans as you clutch at his shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to close any distance between you as he shifts you around and begins backing you up toward his bed.

"Show me, Theo," you whisper. "Show me how much you want me."

With a growl, Theodore crashes his lips back to yours, the kiss searing and urgent. He moves with you effortlessly, guiding you towards the bed, never breaking the contact. As you fall back onto the soft sheets, his body follows, covering you completely. His hands roam over your skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake, each touch more intoxicating than the last.

"You're mine tonight," it’s a promise. Not a question. "No one else's. Just mine."

pretty divider made by: @saradika-graphics

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jayswhorex · 3 days

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"men suck," you say plopping down on the couch and putting your legs on jason's lap. you leaned back into the plush seating, trying to find some form of comfort in your mind. you had another bad date? that's only the 3rd one this week. this one had spent the whole evening talking about just himself, and god was he boring.

jason's eyes didn't bother looking at you and instead, he helped you peel off those wrenched heels you had worn. "we don't all suck" jason with a snicker, you could just feel the smirk on his face. he never liked any of the guys you went on dates with and he always told you, you had a better option right in front of you but he. he said placing your heels on the floor next to the couch.

"your feet are going to hurt like hell in the morning, let me help you make em less sore princess" softly he grabbed the base of your foot and gently kneaded it into your heel, massaging at the red, bruised skin. at first, you felt the need to pull away from his touch but you slowly began to relax into it.

jason's calloused hands moved from your feet up towards your ankle and then towards your lower thigh, you saw no harm in this.

"jay are you sure-"

"shhh, i've got you, sweetheart, just relax m'kay?" he was only helping you and you didn't want him to stop, at least not now. was it crime to want a bit more, to yearn for more of his touch.

you couldn't help but gasp at the warm feeling of his hands so gentle on your bare skin, under your skirt. "mmm, jay again please…" the two of you had never crossed a line like this and by now you knew you should have told him to stop but you couldn't.

not when your breaths were heavy and you couldn't help but let out estranged moans from just his touch. "fuck, more jay, more!" and with just those words your skirt was bunched up against your stomach and your panties had his full attention. you know what you wanted and he knew too.

he changed his position and began to massage your upper thighs. he leaned against his forearm beside your head while his other hand parted your thighs. he leaned and whispered into your ear, "where is it you want me to touch you, baby?"

without a second to waste you guide his hand to your panties, gently pushing them aside. "here please" you whined and he caved. he didn't hesitate to remove his pants not did he hesitate and sink his thick cock into you. "too much jay, wait wait" allowing you a moment to take in his length and near cum from just the feeling.

his thrusts were slow but we were rough and deep like he had been. waiting for this and he couldn't wait any longer. your legs folded around his waist, bringing his body even closer to yours. this was pure sex and it was exactly what you needed, jason knew that. he could tell you were pent up and tired and he didn't mind doing all the work, he just need you to let him fuck you till, he's the only man you'll ask for.

you won't spend your nights on useless dates but instead spend them on his cock, taking in every inch and piece of him possible. he couldn't help but kiss yours while his hips stuttered against yours, his thrusts becoming softer. you bit at the lip, thinking more when he tried to pull away.

your hands dug into their back, still, you managed to yearn for more. "jay, god I think i'm-" you said, digging into his back once before reaching your release and falling back into the couch. you closed your eyes and then you heard him ask, "what are you thinking about sweetheart?"

there you were on the couch, legs on jason's lap while he massaged the bottom of your foot. nothing had happened, well nothing that you wanted had happened. you could fantasize about what those hands could do for you.

"just how great a full body massage would be…"

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inblurtub · 2 days

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lovingly siesta | a smau | part 2

pairing(s): youngest sister leclerc!reader x f1 grid (platonic), youngest sister leclerc!reader x lando norris

warnings: no face claim, age gap (25-18), protective charles leclerc, super softie pie lando, ooc

need part 1? click here!

yourusername

liked by arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc and 25.485 others

yourusername while i were pluto-ing 🌌 midterms hit harder than i thought

view all 2.395 comments

user24 i have said it once and i’ll say it again, i missed her being little so much🥹 she is now a college girl with a boyfriend

user26 sis i think we go to the same uni—

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user29 listen to me, if he wasn’t lando then he couldn’t be anyone else

yourusername posted on their stories

↳ charles_leclerc ma princesse, i wish you all the best with lando, but if he ever hurt you don’t hesitate to tell your brothers. we’re gonna beat his ass real quick

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↳ landonorris WE DID IT

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↳ arthur_leclerc use protection🙂

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yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 194.326 others

yourusername my fighter🫶🏻 what a wonderful race that was, start to think that i’m your lucky charm! tagged landonorris

comments on this post have been limited

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landonorris

liked by yourusername, mclaren and 467.289 others

landonorris just helped her in a song that she wrote about her sweetheart

comments on this post have been limited

landonorris minions and none-minions people, be ready for “not-so-single era”

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yourusername nuh uh im still a ferrari girl you know

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standfucker · 2 days

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Post-Injury Hurt/Comfort Series - Monster Trio

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji

Reader: GN

Word Count: 3.3k

CW: blood, gore, graphic depictions of injury, stitches

Ao3 Link

After writing The Break, I've always wanted to do drabbles of the same scenario for other characters, so here we are. ( 0v0)/

Luffy

It happens in an instant. One moment, you’ve brought your mace down on the head of the lion Zoan, dropping him like a sack of potatoes. You collapse next to his body, exhausted from the fight.

The next moment, the lion Zoan lunges at you from the floor, one massive paw smashing into your face with all the strength of their devil fruit, sickle claws tearing your flesh open.

You go flying. You hit the ground hard, leaving a smear of blood from your body skidding. Dazed, you try and get your bearings, berating yourself for letting your guard down early, praying it didn’t cost you the fight. The lion Zoan snarls and charges you.

“Gum-Gum Whip!”

The sight of your captain intercepting your opponent brings a heavy relief–if Luffy’s finished with his own opponent, that means your part is done, too. You can finally catch your breath.

With the rest comes the dull, burning pain across your face. The enemy mostly got you in the nose and mouth, miraculously missing your eyes. Blood runs from your nose and mouth and drips from your chin, bleeding as heavily as a head wound. Still, you’re not too concerned. It’s only when the rest of the crew catches up to you and you try to talk that you realize how much damage the lion did, because not only does speaking hurt, but Nami makes a face at the sight of you.

The local anesthetic that Chopper gives you helps a little bit, but it still hurts when he realigns your nose and stitches up the gashes. Luffy holds your hand the entire time, knowing you hate needles.

“Good job, Y/n!” Luffy says after Chopper’s done. “You’re real tough!”

“Thanks, Captain.” You sigh. “I would have been fine if I hit him again, but I thought he was down. I forgot how resilient Zoans can be.”

“You didn’t want to kill him.”

“I know, I shouldn’t take these fights so lightly–”

“Y/n, that’s a good thing.” Luffy stretches an arm around your shoulder. “You’re a good person. Besides, I was able to take him out easily because of the damage you did.”

“Nami looked horrified when she saw my face,” you say. “I must look like a mess.”

“You do,” Luffy says honestly, making you smile–which pulls on your stitches.

“Owww, oh…smiling hurts.”

“Then don’t smile!”

“I can’t help it. You make me smile. You know this.”

Luffy rubs his chin, eyes rolling up as he thinks. “Then I should stay away from you.”

“Nooo, don’t do that! I need you around to cheer me up! Especially now.” You take his hand that’s hanging around your shoulder, feeling your chest lighten when he squeezes back.

“Well, in that case, I’ll just not make you smile!” he says.

“I don’t think that’s possible.” You chuckle, then look at the mirror hanging on the wall. If you need to lower your mood, there’s an easy shortcut–the combination of your inflamed, swollen skin, plus the stitches make you look nothing short of monstrous.

Luffy notices your face falling. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s going to scar. And not even in a cool way.” Living with severe facial scarring probably won’t be that bad–you are a pirate, after all–but it’ll still be new. And, to be honest, you’re not ready for your appearance to change so dramatically.

“What are you talking about? It’ll be super cool!” Luffy says earnestly. “Everyone will know what a strong pirate you are!”

He’s trying to cheer you up. You don’t want to bring him down in the dumps with you, but you can’t help but be bummed out.

“But what if I don’t want to look cool?” you say. “What if I just want to look like me? I mean, who could possibly find a face like this appealing?” You ghost your fingers over the stitches on your lips. “Who would kiss lips like mine?”

You think you’re holding it in okay, but the admission has you tearing up. You’re being ridiculous–you should be happy to be alive. But why did it have to be your face? Why…

Luffy stares at you in that way he does when he’s thinking. You can’t tell what’s going through his mind.

It happens in an instant.

One moment you’re sitting next to each other in silence. The next moment, he wraps his other arm around you, pulls you in close, and lightly presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

It hurts a little, but it also feels so good that your tears break free and sting where they roll over your cuts.

“Did that hurt? I’m sorry, Y/n,” Luffy says when he pulls away.

“No, no! It was nice! It was really nice.” You have to fight not to smile.

“Oh, good! I liked it too!” he giggles, looking overjoyed.

“When I heal up, will you do that again?”

“I can do it right now!” Luffy says eagerly, but you clear your throat and tilt your head toward the doorway.

Chopper is standing there, little hooves on his hips, thoroughly unimpressed with the both of you and your method of boosting morale.

Zoro

Zoro was always one to downplay his injuries. Next to Chopper, you gave him the most trouble for it out of anyone in the crew. He figured that so long as he got medical attention, the extent of the injuries was no big deal.

He never expected to be on the receiving end.

In the heat of battle, he’s entirely focused on his opponent. This enemy crew is tough, but not the strongest they’ve faced. Strong enough to demand his full concentration.

However, Zoro knows the unique sound of a sword cutting through flesh. When he hears the shhk! noise behind him and remembers you’re also fighting a sword user, he’s so badly distracted he almost gets hit. He has just enough presence of mind to finish off his enemy before turning around.

That’s when he sees you fire a bullet into your opponent’s leg, your free arm wrapped around your stomach. There’s blood seeping between your fingers. In the time it takes him to rush to your side, you shoot your opponent again in the other leg, making him crumple, then once in each arm, rendering him completely unable to fight back from where he lays.

“Yo,” you say casually, but you’re trembling all over. Your torn shirt is staining quickly.

“You got cut,” Zoro states. He tries to pull your arm away so he can see your wound better, but you step back.

“I’m okay,” you say. You and Zoro both look down at your abdomen as you pull your arm away just slightly, and Zoro sees the unmistakable grayish-pink of your large intestine before you quickly plug up the gash with your arm again. You look back up at him. “It’s just a scratch.”

Zoro’s about ready to stab you himself, his eyes going wide with horror and rage.

“Are you insane?!” he shouts. “A scratch?! Shit, where’s Chopper–?!”

“Ha ha–ow ow ow, hurts to laugh.” You grin, but Zoro notices you tearing up from the pain.

“Okay, just, stay still,” his hands are held up hesitantly, unsure of what to do, and he calls over his shoulder. “CHOPPER! Get over here right now!”

Once Chopper arrives, he applies an emergency field dressing and instructs Zoro on how to safely carry you back to the ship’s infirmary. You act like you’re in high spirits the entire way there, smiling up at Zoro like everything’s fucking dandy.

“This is kinda nice,” you say. “I haven’t been carried since I was little.”

“After you heal,” Zoro says, “I’ll carry you around as much as you want, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he says gently. “Does it hurt?”

“Of course not,” you say, and Zoro curses himself for having asked–he can see you wince with every harsh step he tries to avoid.

“We’re almost there. Almost there.”

“Relax, big guy. I’ve been through worse.”

You haven’t. He’s been in every major fight you’ve been through, and it’s never been this bad. Your blood is still warm on his skin, and your color’s getting paler, and it’s all because he couldn’t protect you.

The surgery takes longer than he thought. He’s pacing the hallway outside the infirmary so much that even Sanji starts to make a comment, which would have started a fight had Robin not intervened and sternly told them both that everyone was worried.

When you come to, it’s to the sight of Zoro standing over your bed. You don’t manage so much as a ‘yo’ before Zoro gets onto his hands and knees, bowing so low his head touches the floor.

“I’ll never let it happen again!” he says, minding his volume–Chopper is only allowing him to visit because Zoro promised he wouldn’t stress you out. “It’s my fault! I’m sorry–”

“Get up.”

He peers up at you. Your face is twisted up like you’re holding something back, but you force it into a sneer.

“Get up right now, or I’m going to make fun of you,” you say. He hesitates long enough for you to roll your eyes. “Don’t be a pussy.”

That brings him right back to his feet. “What’d you call me?!”

“You heard me,” you say. “I’m alive, aren’t I? So relax.”

“I can’t relax!” Zoro snaps. “You got hurt because of me! I was too weak! I couldn’t–couldn’t stop this from happening!”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever?!” He no longer minds his volume. “How can you be so–so calm about this?!”

“How can you be making this about yourself?”

That shuts him up real quick. Realizing his mistake, Zoro starts to get a sour feeling in his stomach, but you only smile.

“Now you know what it feels like,” you chuckle and wince, “ow–what it feels like to have someone be dismissive of your injuries. So the next time you get hurt, you big dumb idiot, how about you have some self awareness and let me worry?”

Zoro deflates a little. “I still can’t just forgive myself like that.”

“I’ll do it for you.” You hold out your hand until he takes it. “Roronoa Zoro, I forgive you–so long as you do one thing for me.”

He leans in. “Anything. What is it?”

“Even with the pain meds, I’m still sore. Kiss it better?” You smile the way you do when you’re joking, but it soon turns to a look of surprise when Zoro leans in even closer. He hesitates for a moment, face hovering above yours, before his free hand comes to cradle the back of your head and he presses a firm, intent kiss to your lips.

You stare at him when he pulls away, your expression slowly morphing into a smile–not a playful one, not a masking one, but a real smile.

“W-What’s with that look?” Zoro says, flustered now. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

“I meant kiss my stomach, dummy.”

Zoro’s eyes widen, but before he can remedy his mistake, you weakly pull him back in for another kiss. This time, he obliges without question.

Sanji

Sanji barely dodges a brutal strike from his opponent, then finishes them off with a flaming kick to the skull. You grin at him as you down your own opponent with a heavy strike from one of your tonfa.

“Careful there, Hotfoot! He almost got you!” you yell gleefully, only to narrowly avoid getting hit yourself.

“Worry about yourself, Sticks!” Sanji calls back, mirroring your grin.

“They’re not sticks!” you say yet again, smashing one of the tonfa into a pirate’s head and knocking them out cold. “You’re just jealous I can fight with my hands!”

“I choose not to fight with my hands!”

“Sure you do!”

You were well aware of Sanji’s commitment to only use his hands to cook, but it was still fun to pretend it was a skill issue. Sanji knew it was all teasing anyway. The two of you greatly enjoyed your banter, whether in or outside of battle. As physical fighters, your rivalry was a friendly one. After all, out of everyone in the crew, you spent the most time talking to each other.

The next wave of pirates comes, this time stronger than before–the enemy’s commanding officers. The battle becomes too serious for you to go on making comments, and your focus gets pulled toward your opponents.

It’s a hard, bloody fight. As soon as he defeats his opponent, he worries about how the others are faring. The rest of the crew is almost done with their own one-on-ones, and he finds himself rushing to find you first, his pace hurrying when he finds one of your tonfa lying off to the side.

You’re straddling your opponent on the ground. Your non-dominant hand is broken, held crookedly against your chest, and you’re bleeding from your hairline and mouth. With your good hand, you beat your tonfa into your opponent’s skull, over and over, a broken cry tumbling from your bloody lips with every strike. Your opponent is no longer moving, but you don’t stop, tears streaming from your eyes as you mash his face to a visceral pulp.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Sanji skids to a stop next to you, grabbing your wrist before you can strike again. “He’s dead! It’s over. It’s over. You won.”

You look at him with wide eyes. Your mouth is held open, and at first, Sanji doesn’t realize what’s wrong, but he can tell you only won by a hair from the way you’re trembling. He gets down and pulls you into a gentle hug. “I got you,” he says. “I got you. You’re okay now.”

He holds you at arm’s length and checks over your body for any injuries, finding none. Mouth still open, you pull away from him and start patting the grass with your good hand, searching for something.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” he says. “Please, say something.”

Sanji expects something tired and sarcastic, like ‘you don’t look much better.’ Instead, you make a strange, groaning noise as your response, and he feels a chill run through his body. You always had a quick retort for him, even when things were dire.

You seem to find what you were looking for, your hand closing around something. Sanji helps you stand up, and when you open your hand, he sees a few teeth in your palm that must have gotten knocked out.

“Your jaw’s broken,” Sanji realizes aloud, and you nod, and suddenly the way you hold your mouth open is deeply unsettling.

The silence that follows your surgery, however, puts Sanji at an even greater unease. Your jaw is wired shut to let the bone heal, and Chopper says that for the next six weeks, you won’t be able to speak at all.

You carry around a notepad with you, but for a while after you wake from the anesthesia, you don’t write anything down except to answer Chopper’s questions, opting instead to sulk.

“Come on, Sticks,” Sanji says lightly as he signs the cast on your hand. “I know you have something to say.”

You flick him off with your good hand, then seem to regret it, your face fallin along with your hand. Sighing through your nose, you grab your notepad and scribble something down, then hold it up for him to see.

‘I look like a chipmunk.’

The lower half of your face has, naturally, swollen up. Sanji shakes his head. “No, no, you look fine! You…” A pointed look from you makes him concede. “Okay, yeah. It’s swollen. What did you expect?” You look away, and he pats your shoulder. “Ah, come on, it’s not so bad. Most people find chipmunks cute, you know.”

Your eyes widen slightly and you give him a look of surprise. Sanji stiffens.

“Um, well, I mean…” he stammers. Though he doesn’t leave, for the rest of that day, you both avoid looking at each other.

From the beginning to the end of your healing process, Sanji stays by your side, always finding a way to make you feel better. He’ll hype you up by doing a drumroll while he’s waiting for you to finish writing out a thought, something which the rest of the crew picks up as well. When you’re hanging out with him in the galley, he’ll do hibachi tricks with the food he prepares to cheer you up.

The food he makes for you especially helps you get through the long weeks. You were severely bummed out at having to miss his cooking for weeks–until the first sip of the soup he cooked. You never knew a liquid diet could be so delicious. Sanji takes the time to roast and blend anything you’d wanted. Thanks to him, being unable to chew food doesn’t affect your nutrient intake at all.

He also indulges you in your favorite drink without you having asked, which is surprising. It’s not the first time he’s gone out of his way like this, but it does feel more special when you’ve been in such a vulnerable state.

‘Maybe there’s an upside to this after all.’

Sitting in the galley while Sanji cooks, you hold up your notepad for him to read.

“And what is that?” he says, walking around the prep table with a mixing bowl in his arms, looking down at what you’re writing.

‘I love y’

You pause, staring at your notepad with a weird, dumbstruck look. Sanji’s eyes widen, slowing down his mixing for a second, but you quickly recover and finish scribbling.

‘I love you treating me extra special.’ You hold up the notepad hesitantly, avoiding his eye.

Though feeling warmth rise in his chest, Sanji plays it cool. “Well, I’m glad you’re finding the positive in this,” he says. “I personally miss the sound of your voice.”

You drop your notepad and fumble to catch it with only one good hand, accidentally smacking it to the floor. Both you and Sanji crouch down to pick it up, and freeze when your hands touch.

The urge to say ‘sorry’ is strong, though you can’t speak. Face burning, all you can do is look at him apologetically and hope he understands. But when you do, he’s looking back at you with the same expression he has when he reads a brand new recipe. Like he’s figuring something out.

You go to pull your hand away, but his fingers close around yours. “I, uh… I really mean that, you know.”

Swallowing, you glance down at his hand holding yours, then back up at him, and nod.

“Y/n,” he says, letting go of your hand to instead cup your cheek tenderly. “Would you… I mean. Can I…?”

With your heart pounding, you nod again, and Sanji leans in. You close your eyes, and a moment later, his lips brush yours, feather-light. Just that barest contact makes your head spin almost as bad as it did when you got your injury in the first place.

Sanji breaks free, and you stare at each other. A slow smile spreads across your lips at the sight of his nose starting to bleed. You both stand up, and you write something down quickly.

‘I’m sorry I can’t kiss you back.’

“That’s okay,” he says, reading the note over your shoulder. He rubs the back of his neck, grinning. “I’ll gladly do all the work.”

And Sanji does, in the quiet, private moments where it’s just the two of you. And yet, when the day finally comes for Chopper to remove the wires, and the first thing you do upon leaving the exam room is call out Sanji’s name, he’s so elated that he picks you up with a spin, kissing you in front of everyone before he can help himself.

#one piece imagines #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #x reader #reader insert #zen writes

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penelopepine · 2 days

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Don't be a stranger! Pt. 7

Part 6 Part 7

Simon "Ghost" Riley x FemReader

Content: Neighbors AU, fluff, developing relationship

Simon gives a few hard knocks on your door, “Love, it’s me, Simon.”

He waited for what felt like an eternity for you to open that door. While waiting he wondered if you had finally come to your senses, and decided that you didn’t want him in your life anymore; that you would call out and tell him to leave. You didn't though; you opened the door.

That was when he saw you.

In the moment he felt like he did the first time you opened your door for him. You looked just as nervous this time as well.

The cracked door is swung open once you've confirmed that it is him standing at the door. You rush out the door and fling yourself at Simon. "I’m so upset and you have so much to explain to me, but first please tell me you're ok." Your voice is muffled as your head is pressed into his shoulder.

Immediately his own arms are wrapping around you as well. He hasn’t seen you in so long, and he needs confirmation that you're alright especially after the mess he witnessed in your flat. He doesn’t know when they showed up, but if he had waited to call you Simon doesn’t know what would have happened to you.

“I’m alright, love.” He whispers to you. “Let's go inside your room. I’ll explain as much as I can right now.”

You take a deep breath before releasing your hold on him and nodding your head. Silently the two of you walk back into the room; you both taking a seat across from another. "Am I in danger?" you finally speak after a few slow seconds.

"Maybe." There was no point in lying to you Simon reasoned with himself. Plus he didn't want you to think everything was alright only for you to get hurt because he lied to you.

You close your eyes and take a few shuddering breaths. He wished that he could comfort you right now, but he doesn't want to overstep with you right now. When you're done you make sure to look him directly in the eyes, "What happens now?"

"Now you and I are going to go back to base. A car, and my team, are waiting outside for us. You'll have to talk about your encounter with those men in great detail. It's not going to be a fun conversation. After that is entirely dependent on what is found during our investigations."

"I'm not in trouble am I?"

"You're fine, but depending on what is found you're probably going to be under protective custody until this matter is resolved." Simon knew Laswell was going to either set you up with a room on base or in a safehouse nearby. With the way you keep messing with your hands it's clear that he's not helping much with your nerves.

It only takes you a few moments to respond to him, "Will I be able to see you at least?"

"Love, I'm going to be with you every step of the way."

Your body finally seems to relax upon hearing those words. "Ok."

"Ok?"

"Ok, I'm ready to go then."

Once confirming that you're all packed up Simon doesn't even give you a chance to pick up your bag. He simply throws it over his shoulder, and leads you out the door, and it isn’t until he’s out in the parking lot does he debate leading you back inside.

Soap and Gaz are waiting outside the car; wide grins on their faces as soon as they see the two of you. He swears if either of them says anything regarding “Operation: Wingman” he might just have to kill them. Simon doesn’t want help, specifically from them, as he tries to gauge how you feel about him.

It's Gaz who is the first to approach you, "Hello, I'm Gaz and you must be the one sending those amazing treats to our Lieutenant here."

"Oh so he has been sharing then; that's good! I was worried that he's been keeping them to himself." You two give a friendly handshake, "It seems I'll be hanging around for a bit. You'll have to tell me your favorite sweets. I'll make you whatever you want!"

"I'll keep you to that!"

Coming up right behind Gaz is Soap, and based on the smile on his face it's clear that causing mischief is the only thing on his mind. "Aye, lass I will as well! Those treats were to die for. So nice of you to make those for your boyfriend." He extends his hand for a handshake as well, "I'm Soap by the way!"

"Johnny!" Simon watches as your goes immediately red, and meets his eyes for a few seconds before turning back to Soap.

"Oh! Um…we're not dating!" You stammer out now pointing avoiding his gaze.

“Really?” Johnny puts on a surprised face, “Well, let me tell you then-”

“Soap!” Price's voice suddenly calls out. He gives Soap a hard look before directing his gaze toward Simon. “Are we ready to go Ghost?”

Simon puts his hand on back and begins to push you towards the car; away from Johnny. “More than ready, let’s go.”

“Ghost?” He hears you whisper to yourself. That was another thing he was going to have to talk to you about. Before now he had kept Ghost from you, but it seems you and Ghost we’re going to be very well acquainted with you coming on base.

“That’s me, love, that’s the name you’ll need to call me from now on.”

“Got it.”

With that he puts your bag in back, and helps you get comfortable in the car. Making sure to give you the window seat; putting himself in the middle. It’ll be uncomfortable, but he’s not about to put you right next to Johnny. Who climbs in the back with them; Gaz sitting in the front with Price.

Before starting though Price turns in his seat, and extends a hand to you, “Pleasure to meet you, name’s John Price, but you can just call me Price.”

You also exchange your name with Price with a soft smile.

The rest of the car ride is fairly simple. The two sergeants keep you entertained with light conversations while Simon thinks about how he is going to keep you safe and close to him while on base.

As soon as the car is parked on base Price is giving all of them orders, “Gaz you take the cameras to Laswell. Soap, Ghost, you two are going to escort our guest,” he gestures toward you, “to the main meeting room. Gaz and I will be joining you there soon.”

The walk is silent as Simon takes charge of leading you to the room. It isn’t until you’re all in the room does Johnny speak up, “Tell me lass, how did the two of you meet?”

“Oh,” Your checks start to turn red, “I was just moving in, and I was making a lot of unnecessary noise admittedly.”

“It sounded like an elephant was walking around your place,” Simon huffs.

You grin at Johnny, “He was so nice though coming over and helping me with everything.”

“Aye that’s my Lt.; such a gentleman this one,” mischief sparkles in Johnny’s eyes, “He’d make a great partner to any lass.”

Simon was going to have to talk with Johnny if he kept this up. Before he could say anything though the door opened.

It was Price and Gaz that entered the meeting room; Price motioned his hand towards you, “Alright lass, you can come with me now. You’re going to be talking with Laswell, a friend of ours, about everything.” He then looks at the rest of them, “You lads are going to go through all these files, and start investigating what’s going on.”

Gaz then drops all the files he had been holding onto the table, “Laswell says these are the most likely groups that might be behind all this.”

Simon grabs one of the files, but watches as leave; his eyes never leave you until the door shuts. He tries to focus on actually going through the papers, but he can’t stop thinking about you. All he wants to do is chase after you right now. Simon knows he can’t think like that though, and pushes those thoughts out of his mind.

Later when Price and you return it has been decided that you would be staying on base for now. Just to lay low while things are still fresh; if nothing happens again soon there would be talks of moving you to a secure location off base.

The rest of the day goes by fairly quickly. Simon takes to showing you around base, and getting you set up in your new room. It isn’t until later in the evening when the two of you are in your room do you have time to really talk in private.

“This is not how I imagined my weekend going.” You say move around the space.

Simon feels guilty thinking about that. He had just completely uprooted you from your home; not to mention your job. He’s sure Laswell has figured that situation out with you, but there's only so much that can be done before you may have to lose your job depending on how long you have to stay here. “You’ll be able to go home before you know it.”

“I’ll have to find a new flat first; this might as well be home for me right now.” You give a deep sigh, “I suppose you’ll be flat hunting as well.”

It’s easy to see where this is going, but Simon doesn’t want to be the one to bring it up in case he’s wrong. “I never really liked the place anyway; you can definitely find a better flat in no time.”

You nervously ask your next question, “Do you want to look together? I’d love to still have you close by, or we could be roommates!”

“You’d willingly let me live with you?”

“Of course!” You're smiling now; more confident when he didn’t immediately shut the idea down, “You were practically already living me before all of this.”

“I’ll think about it; we can discuss it once everything has been settled.”

Conversations between you two continue to flow as if you hadn’t been apart for a month. It’s everything Simon has been hoping for once he saw you again. Everything must come to an end though, and the yawn you give tells him that it is once again time to say goodbye.

“Goodnight Simon!”

“Goodnight love, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Having you on base quickly becomes a new normal to Simon as the days go by. You’ve also been making the most of this situation first by becoming Price’s unofficial secretary. Helping him with his filing system, and reorganizing the storage room. It was amusing watching Price practically on the verge of tears seeing that you fixed that mess of a room. Simon may have overheard Price talking to Laswell about what he would have to do to get you a permanent position as well.

Then you had taken to cooking in the 141’s private kitchen. Gaz is the one you would normally drag into the kitchen to be your taste tester. Your reason being that he offered the best advice and wouldn’t lie about how he truly felt about a dish. It happens so often that Gaz now just goes to the kitchen early, and helps you with cooking the entire meal.

Lastly you’ve been drawing with Johnny whenever you both have time. You were in the commons room with your sketchbook when Johnny coincidentally came in with his own as well. This had been the start of you two spending more time together, and exchanging art tips and tricks with each other.

Any other time outside of this you could be found right next to Simon. Which is why when one afternoon you weren’t there he began to worry. He knew Gaz was training some of the recruits and Price was in another meeting with Laswell. So Simon knew you wouldn’t be with either of them. Which only left Soap, the problem being though is that Johnny was also nowhere to be found.

Just as he was about to check your phone location an incoming call from Soap came in. He didn’t waste any time answering.

“Johnny.”

“She’s gone.”

Note:

Sorry this took forever to get out! but on the bright side this chapter is like 2k words to make up for that. Feel free to let me know what you think about this; I love feedback whenever I write!

Taglist: @nexthyperfix @yourdaydreamerfan @tf141gloryhole @just-pure-trash @definitelynotaclown

@141tfsan @arminarlertssword @openup-yourmind @evie-119 @v1x3n

@whos-fran @trcyyyyy @azkza @kaoyamamegami @yyiikes

@leryg0 @pansexualhailstorm @trulovekay @kdidgg @ane-sthesie

@zhongtar

#x reader #call of duty #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #fem reader #ghost x reader #task force 141 #female reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #john soap mactavish

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tangent101 · 2 days

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Laudna and Apologies

It was quite telling that Laudna did not apologize during the events of the last game. But there is also a certain... how to put it? I understand the mindset of Laudna in not apologizing... and that is the mindset of the addict and on not wanting to admit fault for her actions.

However, there are two things that happened that I think are going to change things. First, Laudna got her hit. She was given the dagger and sucked it in and sated Delilah's hunger. She gave in. And now the need is... lessened. Delilah will want more, don't doubt that for one moment. She will continue to try and erode Laudna's will. (I have to wonder if the next Will save will be a 19 or 20 to resist, seeing she empowered Delilah.)

Much more importantly, Imogen confronted her. She confronted Laudna not with accusations... but with love. And the look on Imogen's face even as she told Laudna "I love you" just shocked Laudna so immensely because this isn't the first time Imogen has watched Laudna succumb to her addiction. And the first time it happened, Imogen said "You lied!" and fled from Laudna, leaving her alone on the deck of the airship.

Look at what happens in that scene. You see Laudna go from defensive and hostile to panicked and scared at Imogen's actions. She was truly scared she had just lost Imogen. (And Imogen's words... when Laudna asked, almost plaintively, "Do you still love me?" and she responds with "I'll always love you, Laudna. I just don't know what to do with it." Ouch. This was just so... tragic and beautiful and delicious.)

She tries to... downplay it a bit. She tries to... handwave things away, saying "I've always been a lot." Imogen says "Fun scary" and after a tiny bit... I think Laudna caught something in the tone. Or Imogen's facial expression. "Still more fun than scary though, right?" And Imogen's "uh huh" just... didn't quite hold true. Laudna had to ask "Yeah?" and that pause before Imogen said "Yeah." Not supportive. Not handwaving away Laudna's scarying. No. There was thought there. There was the fact Laudna scared Imogen.

That's when Laudna broke. "I didn't mean it. I didn't mean it." Imogen doesn't respond, just holding her close... one last "I didn't mean it" with Imogen finally responding "I know." The desperation. The need. I think this broke through to Laudna. This was the moment she truly realized what she has to lose.

People comment on Laudna hitting the bottom before she can start to climb out. I think she just did. I think that she's realized at this moment the complete betrayal she did. She was so angry at Ashton for what he and Fearne did. (She wanted that Shard. She needed that Shard. And she was refused it.) She felt he betrayed them all. And then what does Laudna do but steal the blade that she herself stated was Orym's to do with. She hurt him in her hunger. She acted as a thief and refused to accept responsibility, she blamed Orym for what happened rather than her own actions.

And Imogen just broke through that denial, that need. She did this with her love. She did by supporting her and in doing so reminding her what she could truly lose if she followed this path.

Something in me suspects that Laudna's going to apologize at the start of the next game. It's needed. But it's not needed for Orym. It's not even needed for the Hells. It's needed for Laudna herself. It's said that an addict cannot start to recover until they realize they have a problem. (I know this from personal experience with a spouse who was a high-functioning alcoholic.) And while an apology won't be what fixes everything, while Laudna is going to continue to struggle with Delilah... she just had a huge scare here. Imogen never threatened to leave. But Laudna was suddenly petrified that every time Imogen said "I love you" that there was a "but" attached, that Imogen was going to leave.

(Orym made a Pact with the Fatestitcher. He openly admitted to this to everyone. Might not Imogen be the next to make a Pact, to have Nana Morri replace Delilah as her Patron... but not as a selfish and greedy Patron, but one that is perhaps more... whimsical and less demanding? I was quite surprised Laura didn't approach Nana Morri or ask her what could be done. Then again, she might very well have felt Laudna could handle it.)

tl;dr - Laudna's likely going to apologize at the start of the next episode thanks to Imogen just loving her and not pushing her away while also not condoning her actions.

#critical role spoilers #critical role #southern gothic #laudna #imogen temult #delilah briarwood #orym

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slytherheign · 2 days

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AFTERGLOW | charles leclerc

PART 3/3 OF LOVER: THE TRILOGY.

PAIRING: charles leclerc x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

SUMMARY: the dark nights may have already passed but the biggest storm is just beginning. the daylight is becoming harder to be seen, and now you see yourself questioning if love will be enough to conquer all—even the afterglow.

WARNINGS: angst, hate, doubts, cursing/swearing, and arguments. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: G]

AUTHOR’S NOTE: inspired by taylor swift’s song with the same title. I CAN’T BELIEVE IT’S FINALLY HERE! this is way overdue and i apologize. i owe you guys a lot of fics for being absent for way too long. this is dedicated to ALL of you! thank you guys so much for the never-ending support.

DESTINATION: Sweet Street | GO TO TRILOGY MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

At first, it was just a few comments here and there, snide remarks about your differences—how Charles was way too good for you or how you didn't fit into society's expectations. You brushed them off, laughed them away, thinking that their words couldn't penetrate the walls you had built around the two of you.

But little did you know how wrong you were.

The online hate began to escalate, turning into a relentless storm that seemed to follow you wherever you went. Your private moments were invaded, dissected, and judged by people who had no right to pass such harsh judgment. Their words became a constant presence, infecting your mind, and sowing seeds of doubt and insecurity.

“So, she basically has nothing… and then she decides to date Charles, who obviously, has everything. I don’t know about y’all… but I feel like she’s just dating him because she knows he can provide for her.”

“She’s giving me golddigger vibes.”

“No cause fr what the hell did she do to get Charles to fall for her.”

Your eyes were glued to your phone while Charles was making dinner. No matter what application you seemed to open, you were all over social media. After Charles decided to launch your relationship to the public, both your names became trending ever since.

“Chérie, do you know where the pasta is?” he asked. He was opening the cabinets in the kitchen quite loudly but all the noises were drowned out as you scrolled further down the comments.

“Imagine this… she leaves everything, including her family and friends, just to focus on herself. What makes us think she wouldn’t do the same to Charles?”

“Selfish. That’s one word I would describe her.”

Your hands began to shake and you felt the tears pooling in your eyes.

“Nevermind. Chérie, I found it!” he cheered.

This time, you heard his voice. Yet again noticing how accomplishing little things seemed to cheer him up. God, he was such a light. His soul was so pure and innocent.

“Charles needs to leave her while it’s still early omg.”

“Give her a few months and we’ll see just how much she’d damage him.”

Now that you were thinking about it, it seemed that everyone you come across with ends up in ruins. It was always dreams before relationships for you, life before love, and self before others.

Maybe they were right. You were selfish.

“Either she leaves him or Charles leaves her first. I hope it’s the second one.”

“He needs to escape. She’ll hurt him more the longer he’s with her.”

The more you read their words, the more they were becoming true in your head.

“Charles does not deserve someone like her. I said what I said.”

You glanced at him, his back facing you as he cooked dinner. He was humming a song, a soft song he would always play on his piano for you. It was impossible to stop the tears that started falling.

You were scared.

Scared that what they said was true and that the longer you were in his life, the more you’d damage him.

You were scared for him.

And scared of you.

“Pls even her best friend, Charlotte, is better than her.”

“If I was him, I’d leave right this instant.”

You didn’t want to damage him. You didn’t want to taint someone so pure.

What you wanted to do was protect him. Protect him from harm, protect him from any damages, protect him from getting hurt…

“We need to protect Charles from her.”

But what if they were right?

They were his fans for a reason. They care for him.

Surely, they know what’s best for him…

“When is girlie going to realize that she’s the problem.”

They were right.

You were the problem.

You were the harm, the person who does the damage, the person who would hurt him.

“I hope they break up. It’s what’s best for Charles.”

Charles took the phone in your hand and threw it on the wall. You stared at him in shock. How long was he behind you? You didn’t even hear his footsteps. Did he see the comments you were reading?

“What the hell are you reading, mon amour?” he asked angrily. But when he noticed you crying, he softened his voice. “I was calling your name, asking you to taste the sauce. You weren’t answering so I decided to come here.”

You stared at your broken phone on the floor. He followed your line of sight.

“I can replace it. Don’t worry about it.”

He put his hand on your cheek, moving your face so you were facing him.

“I-I don’t know what the other comments said, I only read about the last few ones,” he wiped your tears. “And I can assure you, I won’t break up with you. I’ll never do that.”

“Maybe you should,” you replied.

“Mon amour, I understand what you’re feeling right now. You’re not used to online hate and strangers on the internet criticizing you, but I am. And the best thing we can do is ignore them. They have no idea what happens behind closed doors and cameras. They know nothing.”

“Charles, they’re your fans. They were there for you even before I came into your life.”

“That doesn’t mean they know everything about me.”

“I don’t know, Charles…” you turned your face away from him, his hands dropping from your face in the process. You slightly distanced yourself from him.

Their words were poison and they went straight to your head. It was painful to admit, but you started questioning the strength of your relationship. How could you build a future amidst the chaos and resentment? You tried not to pay them attention, to convince yourself that love could conquer all, but the weight of the hate grew heavier with each passing day.

“Do I really mean that little to you?” Charles asked suddenly.

You blew things out of proportion, and now he was blue.

You looked back at him but you kept your distance.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re just throwing everything away like the last two years didn’t exist.”

“Charles, no–that’s not—” you walked closer to him but he was the one who distanced himself this time.

“I’ve fought for this relationship, for you—time and time again. And you can’t do the same?”

You were speechless.

You put him in jail for something he didn't do.

“I told you countless times, I can protect you—I will protect you. Don’t you trust me enough?” he continued.

You pinned his hands behind his back.

“Charles, it’s not about you protecting me… because I know you will. It’s about—”

“It’s about what?” he stared at you, his eyes glistening with tears he was trying hard to keep from falling.

Thought you had reason to attack, but no.

You looked at him with tears, lips quivering as you prepared to say the words.

“It’s about what, Y/N?” Charles held your face with his hands, wiping the tears from your cheeks. “It’s about what?” his voice was shaking. “Tell me, chérie… please?”

Fighting with a true love was like boxing with no gloves.

“It’s about me protecting you, Charles,” you whimpered. “Maybe the things that they’re saying are true—maybe you need to run away from me before I leave you. Maybe I-I’m not truly what you need…”

You covered his hands with yours. “Charles… maybe we should just—”

Chemistry 'til it blew up, 'til there's no you and him anymore.

“No,” he answered.

“Charles, I think—”

“I know what you’re thinking. And no—that’s my final answer.”

He let go of you and started to pace the room.

“Charles—”

“We’ve made it this far… and you’re just going to give up now?” he stared at you, looking at your eyes for some sort of indication that everything was just a joke. All of his defenses broke and he didn’t even care if his tears started to fall.

Why'd you have to break what you loved so much?

“I hurt everyone I get close to. Charles, I’m just trying to protect you. Please–”

“I don’t need your fucking protection! You! I need you!” he screamed in frustration.

And then he did something you didn’t expect.

He kneeled in front of you, holding your hands as he begged you not to leave him.

“Mon amour, just fight for us. Please, that’s only what I ask.”

“Oh, Charles… I really don’t deserve you.”

“Please, just stay with me… I’ll do anything you want. Just don’t leave me, mon amour, just s-stay, please.”

“Charles, p-please don’t cry, I-I can’t see you cry—stand up, please,” you cried.

It was on his face, the clear image of pain, and you were the one to blame. At that moment, you thought of every possible way this argument would end. You were already hurting him right now, what more would you do if you stayed? How much pain would you cause?

Charles stood up and cupped your cheeks with his hands. “Do you think it doesn’t hurt me?” he paused, turning your face so that your eyes were looking at his. “When they say all that shit about you? When they drag your name through the mud? When they feast over you on the internet? Do you think it doesn’t hurt me?”

You didn’t know what to say.

“It hurts me too,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. “But I can’t control what they say. If I could, I would’ve done it way too long ago.”

“Charles…”

“This is the way the world works, Y/N. You have to realize that people say what they want to say and people do what they want to do. Everything is done with a choice.”

He finally opened his eyes, pulling away from you and wiping his tears. He stayed standing in front of you, but he now maintained a distance.

“Y/N…”

You couldn’t deny the pang of pain you felt when he called you by your name instead of the pet names he loved to call you.

“I can’t fight for a relationship when the other one’s already giving up,” he said.

“You deserve someone way better than me,” you cried. “Look what I’m doing, I’m already hurting you right now. I would just hurt you even more in the future.”

Instead of him getting sad, his face showed a different emotion. It was blank, it was as if the emotions that blew up moments ago exhausted him.

“If you decide to stay or not, just know that I love you.”

ONE WEEK LATER.

You fucking hated yourself.

What the fuck did you just do?

Why didn’t you stay that night and why did you have to break what you loved so much?

You tried living without his presence for a week and it was horrible. You convinced yourself that you would eventually get used to a life without the warmth of his body next to yours or the sweet messages he would send every day. It was getting hard to reassure yourself that this was the way it was meant to be—you, away from him—when the only name your heart was calling was his.

You were miserable. You were breathing but you felt like you were already dead because your life had been taken away from you.

And you only have yourself to blame.

The truth was, you were weak. Each time you experience a block in the road, you immediately turn away. And you were ashamed of yourself for that. You were scared of losing Charles so you pushed him away. You left him before he could realize he needed to leave you.

You were regretting every single thing you did.

You regretted how you lived like an island, how you punished him with silence, how you went off like sirens, but above all, you regretted how you walked away.

Now you found yourself in front of his home, shaking as you slowly raised your hand to knock on the door. You hoped he was inside.

You knocked on the door hoping it was not too late. The door opened slowly after a few minutes, and after a week of no interaction, you finally saw him.

He was in the same state as you, maybe even worse. It was evident on his face that he spent most of his time crying. His eyes which were full of life before became lifeless, and he gave you the most lethargic look.

You wanted to hurt yourself because you knew you did that to him.

“Can I come inside, please?” you pleaded.

He stepped aside from the door and walked straight to the couch, not even sparing you a single glance. You followed him, sitting beside him as silence consumed the two of you.

“Hey,” you couldn’t help but cry as you looked at him. He had his head in his hands and you knew he was stopping himself from crying. “I’m sorry,” you said. “You don’t have to talk, I just want you to listen.”

When he didn’t move, you took that as a sign to continue. Honestly, you didn’t know where to start but you just let your heart guide you on what words you needed him to hear.

“It’s all me, Charles. I’m sorry,” you stated. “It’s all me, in my head—I burned us down. I know I said a lot of stupid things but it’s not what I meant. And I—” you wiped a tear from your cheek. “I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

He stayed still, hands still covering his face. You wanted him to look at you, but you knew you were in no position to tell him what to do when you were the reason he was this way. And so, you just continued to speak, hoping that deep inside his heart, he would find it in himself to forgive you.

“At that moment, I felt like the walls were closing in on me and the world was spinning out of control. I let my emotions take over and lashed out in ways that were unreasonable and unfair. I see now that I projected my own fears onto you, and I regret it. I regret everything I said that day. I let my assumptions take control and I assumed the worst without giving you the benefit of the doubt. I realize now that I sabotaged something beautiful, something we had worked so hard to build together.

“I didn’t want to do this to you. I want you to know that I take full responsibility for my overreaction. I'm aware of the impact it had on you, and I understand that you are hurt and feeling distant. But please, Charles, give me a chance to make it right. Give me a chance to show you that I’m capable of growth and that I’m learning from my mistakes.

“I can't promise that I won't make mistakes in the future, but I can assure you that I will do everything in my power to communicate openly and honestly and I will seek to understand your perspective before jumping to conclusions.

“I don’t want to lose you, Charles. I know trust takes time to rebuild, and I’m willing to put in the effort. You’re right, you’re always right— our love is worth fighting for. Please forgive me for being too weak, for walking away instead of staying. I misplaced my hurt and anger and I hurt you. I love you, Charles, please, at least look at me?” you pleaded.

And he did. He finally looked up. His eyes were red from crying as he held your hands in his. “That’s all I ever wanted to hear from you. For you to say that you’re willing to fight for us. I needed you to realize that for us to work, we have to meet each other halfway.”

“I know, and again, I’m sorry,” you apologized.

“Thank you,” he cried, cupping your cheek with his hand.

“For what?” you asked him.

“For coming back.”

You smiled at each other, leaning in for a kiss when you both got distracted by the light that suddenly shined through his large window.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue across the sky, you both stood side by side at the window. The afterglow of the sun painted the room in warm tones, filling the space with a sense of something you haven’t felt for a long time… peace.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, your hand intertwined with his. You watched in awe as the last rays of sunlight danced across the clouds, creating breathtaking shades of colors. For a moment, you swore the sky was pink.

"It's like nature's painting," you whispered, voice filled with wonder.

Charles nodded in agreement, his gaze fixed on the ever-changing canvas before the two of you. "Yeah, it's beautiful," he replied softly.

The two of you simply stood there, lost in the beauty of the moment. Time seemed to stand still as you basked in the quiet serenity of the evening. As the sky darkened and the stars began to twinkle overhead, you both reluctantly tore your gazes away from the window. But the memory of the afterglow of the sun lingered in your hearts, a reminder of the beauty that surrounded you each day.

For the longest time, you let hate consume you. It was like this dark cloud hanging over your head. You were so focused on what they all had to say that you forgot to appreciate what was right in front of you.

But then, something shifted. Maybe it was a moment of clarity or a whisper of wisdom from somewhere deep within. Or maybe it was him, Charles, that made you realize that conforming to hate wasn't getting you anywhere. It wasn’t making you happy, it wasn't bringing you peace. All it was doing was tearing you apart, piece by piece.

And in that moment of realization, everything changed. You finally made a choice—a choice to let go of the hate and embrace love instead. You knew it wasn't going to be easy, and it wasn’t something that happens overnight, but you were determined to commit.

You were beginning to see the beauty in the world around you. The fact that it could be the laughter of real friends, the warmth of the sun on your skin, or the gentle touch of a loved one's hand—you realized that true love was everywhere, if only you were willing to open your eyes and see it.

So now, you were choosing love by choosing him. You chose to appreciate the little moments of joy, the simple pleasures of life. You chose to let go of anger and resentment, and instead, filled your heart with kindness and compassion.

You would soon forgive your family.

Because in the end, love is all that really mattered. It was what connected us, what bound us together as human beings. And when we embrace it, when we let it guide us, we would find out that life is so much sweeter, and so much more meaningful.

So here's to love—in all its forms, in all its beauty.

And here’s to Charles, your lover.

SLYTHERHEIGN TAGLIST: @writingstoraes @joshiiieeenesx @c-losur3

FORMULA ONE TAGLIST: @dreamingofautopia @lpab @matildrry @fangirl125reader @tall-tanned-tattoo @aundercover @stevesworld96 @princessria127

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queenshelby · 3 days

Text

Our Little Secret (Part 42)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap,

The following morning, at around 8 o'clock, when Cillian was still fast asleep and somewhat hung over, he heard the doorbell ring. With a pounding headache and heavy eyelids, he dragged himself out of bed and made his way down the stairs.

As he opened the door, he was surprised to find you, standing at the doorstep with the pram and two coffees.

"Hey," Cillian said , rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Hey yourself," you replied, a small smile playing on your lips as you handed him one of the coffees. "I thought you could use a little pick-me-up this morning," you told him before pressing a kiss on to his lips.

Cillian smiled nervously, trying to put on a happy face despite the emotions that were swirling within him. He couldn't shake off the guilt of what had happened the previous night with Amanda.

"Thanks," he mumbled, taking a sip of coffee.

You looked at him, your eyes studying his face. "Is everything okay?" you asked, a hint of concern in your voice.

Cillian hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say. He couldn't tell you the truth, but he also couldn't keep lying.

"Listen, if it is about last night," you then began to say before he could even say anything. "I came here to apologize. I didn't mean to hurt you when I said that I wasn't for marriage just yet," you told him , your voice soft and sincere.

Cillian looked away, avoiding your gaze as he took another sip of his coffee.

"It's not about that," he mumbled, still unable to look at you.

"Well, I think it is. Clearly, you are upset and I get that," you told him before tending to Mara who had just started crying in her pram. "Can I come inside so we can talk?" you asked, juggling the baby in your arms and trying to balance the coffee in one hand.

Cillian hesitated for a moment before nodding and stepping back to let you in. He led you and Mara into the living room and gestured for you to take a seat on the couch. He sat down next to you, feeling his heart still racing as the guilt of what he had done the night before weighed heavily on him.

"Listen," he began, his voice low and hesitant as he took Mara from you, cuddling her tightly, which is when you interrupted him again.

"No, you listen Cillian," you told him. "I love you with all my heart and the fact that I am not ready to marry you has absolutely nothing to do with my feelings for you," you said, turning to him as you tried to steady your trembling voice.

"I just need some time to figure things out, to enjoy this moment with Mara and to begin feeling comfortable again within my own skin," you explained, and Cillian looked at you, his heart swelling with love and guilt at the same time. He knew that he should tell you the truth, but the thought of losing you was too much to bear.

"I understand," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"No, I don't think you do and how could you?" you said, tears now filling your eyes. "Ever since this traumatic birth experience, I have been struggling with self-esteem. I hate myself. I hate the way I look and, god, that's the reason I don't even want to be seen with you because everyone will think that you can do so much better than me," you said, sniffing back the tears that threatened to spill over.

Cillian's heart ached as he heard the sadness in your voice, and he wished that he could make you see that you were beautiful, both inside and out, and that he wouldn't trade you for the world.

But he couldn't say any of that because the guilt of what he had done the previous night was still weighing heavily on him.

"Don't say that," Cillian said, reaching out to take your hand in his. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, and I mean that sincerely."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, feeling a mix of emotions coursing through you. "And I appreciate that Cills, but it's just something I have to work through myself you know?" you explained reluctantly. "I have been seeing a therapist for few weeks now and the therapist seems to think that I am suffering from some post-partum depression in a way," you said, wiping away a tear that had managed to slip out.

Cillian listened intently, his heart breaking as he heard the sadness in your voice. He couldn't believe that you had been feeling this way and he hadn't even noticed it.

"And I can see that now," you continued. "Seeing a therapist is the right step for me. And I don't want anything to come between us Cills, not even this," you said, finally looking up and meeting his gaze. "But I do need you to be patient with me. I am sorry. It's just need to take baby steps right now," you finished, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cillian looked at you, feeling a mix of emotions coursing through him. He wanted to tell you the truth about what happened last night, but he knew that he couldn't. Now was not the right time. It would destroy you , the woman he loved, and he couldn't bring himself to do that. Not after everything you had been through.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Cillian asked, his voice filled with concern. He couldn't believe that he had been so blind to what you had been going through.

"It's not something I wanted to admit to myself, let alone to anyone else," you told him, your voice wavering slightly as you tried to hold back your tears.

Cillian nodded, understanding what you meant. "Fuck Y/N, I am sorry, I should have noticed," Cillian admitted as he looked down at Mara, rocking her gently, as she started to fall back to sleep.

"No, you shouldn't have. I did well to suppress my feelings," you admitted before leaning against his shoulder, taking in a deep breath.

Cillian wrapped his arm around you, holding you close until Mara was finally fast asleep again and he placed her in the bassinet in his Livingroom.

"I love you Y/N," he then said, turning towards you and gently caressing your face. "I want to be there for you, no matter what you are going through and for me you are the most perfect woman in this world."

You smiled softly, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. "I love you too, Cillian," you whispered, feeling the warmth of his touch making your heart flutter.

Cillian leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in a soft, gentle kiss. He wanted to deepen it, lose himself in the heat of your mouth and forget about the guilt that was washing over him, but it was too hard. Cillian couldn't shake off the guilt and shame that had taken over him after his one-night stand with Amanda. He pulled away from the kiss, turning his head to the side as he took a deep breath.

"What's wrong?" you asked, looking up at him with confusion in your eyes.

"Nothing," he responded following a long exhale, putting on act and you believed him.

"Good, then why don't you take me upstairs while Mara is sound asleep? That sure will make me feel better," you suggested with a wink, your voice low and seductive as you looked up at Cillian with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Cillian's heart skipped a beat as he heard your suggestion, a mix of emotions coursing through him. He knew that he shouldn't, not after what had happened with Amanda the previous night, but he couldn't resist the temptation that you presented either.

"Come on," you prompted , taking his hand and leading him upstairs to the bedroom.

Once you were both in the bedroom, you closed the door behind you and turned to face Cillian, a seductive smile playing on your lips.

"I've been thinking about this all morning," you whispered, stepping closer to him and wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Have you just?" he asked, his eyes wide with surprise. "All morning?"

You nodded, your eyes shining with desire as you looked up at him.

"Mmmhmm, yes, you, with your cock inside me," you murmured, biting down on your lower lip while Cillian swallowed hard, his body responding to your words without hesitation. His cock was already hardening in his pants, aching to be inside of you.

Cillian's hands wandered down to your hips, pulling you closer to him as he kissed you deeply, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips before delving inside your mouth. His fingers gripped the hem of your t-shirt, slowly pulling it up over your head and discarding it on the floor.

You moaned softly, your fingers working to unfasten the buttons of his PJ-shirt. Once his shirt had joined your t-shirt on the floor, Cillian's hands roamed over your bare skin, feeling the warmth and softness of your body under his fingertips.

Your nipples hardened under his touch, and your body arched towards him, wanting to feel more of him.

"Oh fuck, that feels good," you moaned, your breath hitching as Cillian's hand cupped your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple, causing a small drop of milk to escape.

Cillian couldn't help but groan at your words, his cock twitching in his pants.

"You have no idea how much I want you right now," he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

You smiled, your fingers working to unfasten the button of his pants. "Then why are you still wearing these?" you teased, your voice low and sultry as you pushed his pants down his hips, freeing his cock from its confines.

Cillian's cock sprang free, hard and thick and pointing straight up at you. You wrapped your hand around it, feeling its warmth and weight as you began to stroke him slowly.

Cillian groaned, his head falling back as he closed his eyes and savored the feel of your hand on his cock.

"Fuck, Y/N," he growled, reaching down to cup your breast again, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. "I want to taste you," he groaned before, with one quick movement, he gently pushed you back on the bed. You looked up at him, your eyes sparkling with desire as he crawled between your legs, spreading them wide open.

He leaned down, his breath warm against your inner thighs as he placed a soft, lingering kiss on the delicate skin of your thigh.

"Fuck, you smell so goddamn good," Cillian growled, nuzzling against your thigh and breathing in your scent. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as his tongue darted out to trace a path along your slit.

You were already wet and ready for him, the thought of his tongue on your pussy making you quiver with desire.

Cillian groaned, his tongue gently flicking against your clit before he started to lick you in earnest. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he devoured you, his tongue and lips working together to bring you close to the edge.

"Fuck, Cillian," you moaned, your fingers knotting in the sheets as you felt yourself building towards release.

Cillian seemed to sense how close you were to coming.

His tongue circled your clit with more intention, his fingers delving into your wet pussy and finding the perfect spot to stroke.

"Oh god," you cried out, your body shaking as you came hard. Your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. Cillian kept licking, swallowing every last drop of you as you rode out your climax.

Finally, you fell back on the bed, panting and spent. Cillian crawled up your body, his eyes dark with desire as he looked at you.

"You taste so fucking good," he groaned, pressing his lips against yours in a deep, passionate kiss.

You could taste yourself on his lips and it only made you want him more. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

Cillian groaned and reached down between your legs, his fingers finding your wetness and sliding easily into your pussy. You moaned into the kiss, your hips bucking against his hand as you rode his fingers.

Cillian groaned, his cock twitching at the feeling of your wet pussy clenching around his fingers.

"Fuck, Y/N," he growled, breaking the kiss and trailing his lips down your neck. "I need to be inside you."

"Then what are you waiting for?" you gasped, gripping his shoulders as you lifted your hips, aligning yourself with his cock.

Cillian didn't waste a moment. He thrust into you, filling you completely, causing you to cry out with pleasure.

Cillian's thrusts were desperate and urgent, as if he couldn't get deep enough inside you.

"I love you so fucking much," you moaned , your legs wrapping around his waist as you pulled him closer, wanting to feel him deeper and closer.

"I love you too," Cillian gasped, his breath coming in short pants as he felt his orgasm building. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you went over the edge again, screaming his name and losing control.

"Cillian!"

Cillian's hips stuttered for a moment before he too fell over the edge, groaning as he filled you with his seed. He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and sweating.

They lay there for a moment, wrapped in each other's arms, before Cillian pulled out of you with a groan.

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling as his breath slowly returned to normal.

"Fuck," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "That was... intense."

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. "Yeah," you agreed, rolling onto your side and propping your head up on your hand. "It was."

Cillian turned his head to look at you, a small smile playing on his lips before guilt came crashing down on him again, and he looked away.

You frowned, your eyes studying his face as you tried to figure out what was going on in his mind.

"Is everything alright?" you asked, your voice filled with concern as you reached out to touch his arm.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Cillian replied, forcing a smile as he turned to look at you.

Though the sex had felt intense, and intense rightfully so, it still felt a little off and wrong. He could tell something was bothering you and that something didn't sit right with him.

"Are you sure?" you asked again, your voice soft and gentle. You could sense the tension in him and your intuition was telling you that you needed to keep probing.

Cillian looked at you, his smile wavering for a moment before he nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure," he assured you, even though he didn't quite mean it.

You sighed, your eyes searching his face for any trace of doubt or uncertainty. Seeing none, you decided to let it go, at least for now.

Tags:

@sunbeamseas @saint-ackerman @oatmealisweird @naxxsstuff @amanda08319 @r-m-cidnah @elysiannook @cillshot @infireddabdab @tastycakee @harrysbestiee @lilybabe22 @adalynlowell @henrywintersdearestgirl @ietss @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @ryiamarie @axionn

@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

@galxydefender @hunnibearrr @saint-ackerman @lunyyx @gentlemonsterjennie1 @ihavealotoffandomssorry @nadloves @lost-fantasy @nolucesn@mcavoy-girl @hjmalmed @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @blushykiss @tatumrileyslover @teawithsatanx @orijanko @rhaenyra4ever @xcinnamonmalfoyx @budugu @nadloves @kmc1989 @bloodybagels @obeyme4life @richiesgroupie @forgottenpeakywriter @smailaway @sophiaaguirred @blondie-22

#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy

67 notes · View notes

f6bron · 2 days

Text

delicate who?

pairing : badboy!iso x soft!gn!reader

notes : established relationship (this is after they started dating), bad boy x sunshine trope, fluff fluff fluff >.<

Iso arrived at the front of your house, being extra mindful not to rev his bike too much. The last thing he needed was for your parents to come out and give him grief. Not that he minded particularly, but he had to be on his best behaviour in front of his future in-laws.

After all, he wanted to make a good impression.

He put up his helmet visor, still sitting on his bike, and texted you.

Yuyu 🐼 : I'm waiting outside, sweetheart.

Five minutes later...

Yuyu 🐼 : Babe?

Y/N: I'm still choosing which shoes to wear!!!

Iso chuckled to himself, shaking his head. What would you do without him, huh?

Without a second thought, he removed his helmet, setting it down carefully on the seat. He then walked up to your front porch, the wooden steps creaking slightly under his heavy combat boots. Just as he was about to knock on the door, it swung open, revealing the ever-adorable you, perched in front of him with an excited grin.

“Yuyu!” you squealed, throwing your arms around him in a tight hug. The faint smell of cigarette smoke still clung to his leather jacket, mixing with the scent of your floral perfume. It was a comforting and familiar combination.

You stepped back, biting your lip as you gestured to your feet. “I don’t know what shoes to wear…”

“And that’s why I’m here to save the day, baby,” Iso said, giving your cheek a light pinch, causing you to let out a tiny squeak.

He stepped into the hallway, his eyes scanning through the assortment of shoes lined up by the door. After a moment of consideration, he picked out a pair of white sneakers. “These suit your outfit best. Plus, we don’t want your feet to hurt tonight, do we?” He knelt in front of you, gently guiding your foot into the shoe.

You shook your head, watching as he tied the laces with practised ease. You giggled softly when he gently patted your thighs. “Alright, let’s get going.”

“Did you bring my helmet?” you asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Of course, the one with cat ears on em’,” he replied with a smile, retrieving the helmet from his bike.

Arrived at the club

Iso's palm, which was resting on the small of your back, moved to grip your waist instinctively as you both entered the crowded and noisy venue. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and alcohol. The music pulsed through the room, a steady thump-thump-thump that you could feel in your bones. Iso led you further into the club, your eyes darting around as you tried to spot familiar faces. Knowing it was your first time at a club, he wanted to ensure you were comfortable and happy. But as he leaned in to take a closer look at your face, he realised he might not need to worry so much.

You looked up at him, eyes wide and doe-like. “What?”

“Nothing,” Iso said, trying to hold in his chuckle. “You look beautiful tonight. Beautiful as ever.”

You blushed, a rosy hue spreading across your cheeks, which earned a soft smile from him. Then, you heard a familiar voice.

“It’s about time!”

Iso perked up, recognizing the happy voice of Gekko, who was walking towards you both.

“Gekko!” you squealed, quickly moving to hug the taller guy. The embrace was warm and filled with the excitement of friends reuniting.

“Hey, sweets! Looking pretty as always,” Gekko said, dismissing Iso’s playful touch on your hair. “Everyone’s been waiting for y’all. Come on.”

Iso nodded, placing his hand back on the small of your back as Gekko led you to the rest of your friends. The crowd parted slightly, giving way to your group of friends huddled around a tall table.

“You hungry?” Iso asked, his voice barely audible over the din of the club.

You shook your head, fiddling with your purse. “I’m thirsty, though…”

Iso let out a tiny chuckle. “The party hasn’t even started, and you’re already thirsty?”

“I-It’s hot in here! You can’t blame me…” You stomped your foot lightly, pouting up at him. Your actions made Iso chuckle, his chest vibrating with the sound.

Iso left you with his friends whilst he went to order your drinks. He navigated the crowded bar with ease, returning a few minutes later with drinks in both hands. He saw your eyes light up at the sight of your favourite drink in his hand. The strawberry milkshake was topped with whipped cream and a cherry, just the way you liked it.

You settled comfortably on Iso’s lap, your soft hands playing with his hair, while he caught up with his group of friends around the table. They talked and laughed over beers, the camaraderie evident in their easy banter.

One of his friends voiced out, “You won big, Iso.” discreetly mentioning you.

“Yeah, didn’t expect you to soften up like this because you know… you’ve always been, rough.”

“Heh, wouldn’t be surprised if this dude ends up with flowers around him.”

Iso rolled his eyes, tightening his arms around you, seemingly annoyed with his friends’ remarks as they bursted into laughter.

“Shut the fuck up…”

Suddenly, you started squirming on his lap, discomfort etched on your face. The loud noise and the overwhelming crowd were starting to get to you. Iso noticed immediately, his protective instincts kicking in.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Iso asked, his voice gentle and concerned, leaning in closer to hear you over the din of the club.

“S’ loud… hurting my ears…” you mumbled, leaning into him for solace.

Iso knew he couldn’t let you stay uncomfortable any longer. He leaned back, his hand coming up to fix the hair that had fallen over your face. Iso knew he shouldn’t have brought you here; you’ve always hated loud noises and big crowds. But, sighing, he realised you were too stubborn, and Iso just couldn’t say no when it came to you.

Whatever his sweetheart wanted, he made sure to provide.

“Can I go, pleaseeeeeee can I can I?” you had pleaded,

“Y/N, for the last time—” Iso had started, frustration evident in his voice. But then you looked up at him with those wide, pleading doe eyes, and his resolve crumbled.

“Alright, alright. But, you gotta stay with me at all times, okay?” he had relented, his voice softening as you cupped his face, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Thanks, Yuyu ~!”

“Wanna get out of here?” he asked, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your back.

You shook your head in response, tightening your arms around his waist. “I wanna be with you…”

“Hey, hey, shh… I’ll always be with you, okay? Whatever you want, baby,” he reassured you, his lips brushing against your temple.

You didn’t respond, instead tightening your embrace, your face buried in his chest.

“Alright, how about we leave this party and go home? We can cuddle, watch your favourite movies, or… whatever you want. I’ll stay over at your house tonight.” He murmured into your ear, his calloused hands rubbing your back for comfort.

Your face lit up. “Really? Don’t you have work tomorrow—”

“It’s no big deal, yeah? Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” he assured you, his smile warm and genuine.

Iso knew he'd get an earful from his boss for coming in late tomorrow, but it is not as bad compared to the thought of leaving you at home with tearful eyes while hugging his leg, pleading him to stay,

Trust me, this is not the first time. He could handle it.

Iso nodded as an assurance, which earned small kisses all over his face from you. He chuckled, relieved that he could put a smile on your face. When both of you left, his friends couldn’t believe their eyes.

“Told you, man, he’s whipped as hell. That dude is far gone!” one of them remarked, shaking his head in disbelief.

While waiting for Iso to put on your helmet outside, you asked, “Yuyu?”

“Yeah?” he responded, looking at you with those soft eyes that made your heart flutter.

“Can we get, um… ice cream on the way back?” you asked, your voice hopeful and sweet.

“Of course, I’ll take you to your favourite place. How about that?” he replied, a smile spreading across his face.

You nodded excitedly, your eyes sparkling as he securely fastened the helmet on your head.

(A/N): badboy!iso is my muse and i will die on this hill...

masterlist.

#f6bron #badboy!iso i want u so bad #IT’S SO ISOVER #li zhao yu #valorant iso x reader #valorant iso #valorant iso x y/n #valorant fanfiction #valorant imagines

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lunajay33 · 2 days

Text

Not the Only One Part.2

•🌪️🍂🪵🏹•

Summary: Reader comes from an abusive family and is insecure about it showing up everywhere with bruises, but one night she comes across Daryl who is more like you than you know

Pairing: Young Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Content Warning: Abusive parents

Part.1

•Masterlist•

I woke up feeling sore all over, rolling over in the bed I notice Daryl still fast asleep, I try to get up slowly……quietly but as I sit up he groans groggily opening his eyes

“Where ya goin?” His voice still raspy with sleep

“Just gonna get more pain meds, I’m really sore, sorry I woke you”

“Ain’t gotta be sorry, bout time I get up anyways” he got out of bed and grabbed some more aspirin and a bottle of water that was on his dresser

“Thanks, I should probably head home now, don’t wanna over stay my welcome” I laugh pathetically

“Yer staying, like I said last night ya ain’t going back there, ya need a break, hell we both do” he said sitting down next to me on the bed

“Then what are we going to do?”

“Come on I’ll show ya” he took my hand and led me out of the house to the woods that were behind his house surrounding the lake

“Is this your way of telling me you’re going to kill me” I joke with him as he drags me through trees and bushes

“Ya caught me” he smiles as he looks back at me

We stopped at a clearing that over looked the lake with the morning sun shining down on the water, we both sat down just watching the serene moment, I gently laid my head on his shoulder eventually feeling him lay his against my head, in the span of a day he’s been there for me more than anyone ever has in my life, that feeling last night when he consoled me and made me feel like I wasn’t a burden or like all this isn’t my fault and he understood, it made my heart flutter and I want more of that, I want more moments like this with Daryl

“How is it we basically grew up a few houses apart when we could have helped each other this whole time”

“Don’t know sunshine, but ya ain’t alone now” he said as he picked at his fingers nervously

“I don’t wanna go back there, I can’t do it anymore and I don’t want you to hurt anymore either” he was silent for some time

“What do ya wanna do then?” My heart was beating fast with thrill but mixed with anxiety

“What if we just ran away, my aunt lives on a farm like an hour away and she lives alone, she always said she’s lonely and she has a lot of space, what if we just go there, start over together”

“I don’t know, ain’t we gonna be a lot to take in?”

“She calls all the time telling me to move with her, I always said no because well dad would go crazy but I need to go, and you’re so sweet she’d love to have you around, I can call and ask” he seemed to think it over before he nodded

We went back to his house and I dialed my aunts number waiting a few rings before she answered

“Hello?”

“Aunt Carrie it’s me y/n”

“Oh sweetie I didn’t recognize the number”

“Yeah I’m calling from a friends house ummmm I need to ask you something” I asked feeling my voice quiver, Daryl holding my hand in encouragement

“I’ve never told you because I was scared of what might happen but dads been hitting me, he has for a long time and this time was really bad, I can’t live her anymore and I have know where else to go, I know it’s a lot to ask but could me and my friend come live with you, we need to get out of here”

“Oh love you should have come to me sooner, you and your friend are welcome to come live here for as long as you’d like, I love you sweetheart”

“Love you too” we both hung up and I turned to Daryl smiling

“She said yes, we can live there for as long as we want” he pulled me into a hug mindful of my back

“Thank ya, ya can go pack and meet me back here and we can take my truck and go” with that we went our ways, I entered the house and no one was home, I took a suitcase and packed as much as I could as I was leaving the house I saw Daryl throwing some things in the box of his truck, I wheeled over and he helped load my stuff up

“Are ya sure bout this?” He asked brushing my hair back

“I want this Daryl, let’s go before someone comes home” we got in his truck and the engined roared as we pulled out, driving past the house that only brought awful memories, driving past the sign telling us we were now leaving town seemed to lift this weight off my chest and it seemed to have the same effect of Daryl

Throughout the hour drive Daryl played his music and we just enjoyed the comfort of knowing we got out, when we got to a dirt road I gave him directions, pulling up to the farm it was as beautiful as I remembered, huge green fields with roaming horses, a little pen for lambs and sheep that were hopping around, and there in the middle of all the land stood a big older house that just brought everything together, Daryl pulled up the drive way and parked, shutting off the truck

“Didn’t know it would be all this, thought it’d be somethin small, don’t know if I deserve this” my heart hurt at how he saw his worth, I thought he deserves all this and more

“Daryl this is our home now and what we’ve been through we deserve some peace, now come on let’s go inside”

It’s been a month since we moved to the farm and it’s been the most peace I’ve had in years, Daryl and I were sitting out in the field watching the sun set, listening to the frogs crook

“Are you happy here Daryl?”

“Ya know I am, best thing anyone could’ve given me”

“Do you think maybe we could be more than friends eventually” I asked extremely nervous that this might push him away

He looked down at me his face hard to read making matters worse

“Thought we already were” my eyes widen and my heart skips a beat, did I miss a something?

“What really? And when did this happen without me knowing?” I tease

“That night ya came to my room, had that nightmare and needed me, I knew then that ya were the one, thought ya felt the same” he said squeezing my hand

“So we’re dating, thee Daryl Dixon is my boyfriend” I laugh leaning my head back to his shoulder

“I’m all yers sunshine”

This was only a short sweet series I hope you all liked it🩶

Taglist: @l0kilaufeys0n7 @stoner420things69 @pinchofthetwd @thestonedwriter @daryldixmedown @deansapplepie @ghostboneswrites2 @superbowlisgay @daryls-wife @pinkratts @daryl-dixons-left-hand @mrrumplebottom @twistedprincess-92 @addi1978 @wongcena @darylspersonalwhore @starrqi @heidiland05 @livlaughlove03

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nekropsii · 2 days

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Atomic Ask Bomb... 2!!

Hello, all! We are back in the mines immediately, because you all love me and my inbox so much. I still have 200+ more asks to sort through after this and that is not hyperbole!! Oops!!

Content Warning: Long, and Cronus is There.

You can be both. I am both. I think Terezi's easily in the Top 3 of Best Written Homestuck Characters, no competition. AND she compels me.

Mituna Fans and Terezi Fans flocking together like how Gays and Lesbians are supposed to.

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He doesn't have a Recuperacoon. He doesn't NEED a Recuperacoon. Who needs a Recuperacoon when you have a bathtub? You pile a bunch of slime in there, and then you can pop the drain open in the morning and take a shower right there where you just got up. It's convenient. And not at all sad. It's not sad guys.

Let's pretend for a moment that either Vantas would have regular bathing habits for the sake of this joke.

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Even if that's the case, it really doesn't change anything. Insecurity doesn't justify literal actual sexual harassment and sexual assault. What?

People will do anything to excuse random shitty men for being shitty. Sympathy is the favorite weapon in Fandom Misogyny's arsenal. So often will fans pull some random bullshit out of their ass just to say that it's fine that a male character is abusive, especially if it's to women, because "He's Sad", so he should never face criticism or punishment for his actions.

We should all start putting people in blenders. We've let these arguments go on long enough. People are far too bold in their abuse apologia. We need to kill them.

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Yeah. Like, he interests me a lot, he's one of the characters I take the most interest in out of all of the Alpha Trolls. I literally write sov!Cronus. I hate his guts, though. It really is just that easy to be a fan of a character and also fucking hate them. Not once have I ever made an excuse for him. The goal Hussie set out for when writing him was making him inexcusable and irredeemable, down to Cronus literally knowing what he's doing is bad and hurts people, and simply just not caring.

Cronus is genuinely fucking evil. That's the whole point. If you make him misunderstood, if you make him mean well, if you make him lack self awareness, if you make him sympathetic, if you give him any redeeming qualities at all... You are missing the point completely. If you want a sympathetic asshole character, you want Vriska. The point of Cronus is that he's The Worst Character In Homestuck, and that he has zero redeeming qualities and trying to fix him or redeem him is a Hopeless venture. He is beyond saving. Don't you dare even think about trying - to try to make him palatable is to erase Violent Bigotry, Incest, and Child Sexual Abuse. Just don't. Enjoy him as he is, do NOT defang him.

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He truly is the worst! I think we should explode all depictions of fanon!Cronus. Forever.

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Yeah, there's a huge reason why I do not say I'm a fan of Cronus or call him a favorite character of mine or anything. It projects a certain... Image. The wrong one. There's just such a strong precedent for anyone saying they're a Cronus Fan or calling him their Favorite Character being a person who just completely fucking ignores everything about him, or even pardons it, saying it's fine, actually, because He's Sad, or that it's Not That Bad, actually. I can't stand it.

I'm aware there are Cronus Fans who are totally normal, but I cannot help but immediately be wary of them, or flinch for a moment even when they offer the reassurance that they know better. It's a natural response, having been here for around a decade and having been a Mituna Fan the whole time.

Liking characters who are terrible people is fine. Based, even, in some cases. But... It's truly difficult with Cronus, because so much of that fanbase relies on excusing/minimizing/condoning abuse and bigotry. I don't have any qualms with people liking characters that suck, but when a fanbase for a character is so heavily focused on pretending that character isn't a horrible, terrible, awful person who abuses people - even children, even people they're related to, even children that they're related to - for nothing but their own sexual gain... I start having issues. That sets a pretty dangerous precedent, to me.

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It's crazy to me how so much of the apologism is because he's hot. Because he literally isn't. You all have terrible taste.

Let's all appreciate for a moment just how fucking ugly he is. The fan art is lying so bad. He needs a haircut. His shirt doesn't fit him, and honestly looks like women's clothes - you know those women's shirts that have the sleeves that stop halfway down the damn shoulder? He looks like a 16 year old. He's so skinny, and his shoulders are so... rounded and small - which are fine traits to have, but literally every piece of fanart portrays him as broad-shouldered and ripped when the literal opposite is true. You just know he has too much product in his hair. His actual sprite is even worse.

The way his fly doesn't even go all the way up. The way his hair clips into his face. The way he's slightly yellow for literally no reason. The shitty belt. This fucking sucks. He's so ugly. He isn't even hot.

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Mituna having Memory Loss as a result of his TBI is literally a myth invented by Cronus to emotionally manipulate Mituna and perpetuated by Cronus Fans. I think if they were friends in the past, Cronus's actions would be worse, actually.

Could you imagine getting sad that your friend doesn't remember you because of a Traumatic Brain Injury, and your response to this sadness is to abuse and sexually assault them on the regular? What, is that Just Bro Things now? Cronus literally says he targets Mituna because he thinks he can get away with it due to his struggles with communication. The thing about them being buddies in the past was one of his trademark Lies. Because he is known to do that, specifically to manipulate people. Because he is known to manipulate people. Emotionally. Because he is abusive. And terrible. And not redeemable. This isn't rocket science! It isn't rocket science to say that pushing the fault of Mituna's abuse onto Mituna is Victim-Blaming!

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Positively fucking ridiculous that so many people did not recognize their romance within the comic. If they were boys, there'd be no god damn question about it. It'd be up there in everyone's OTP list alongside DaveKat.

I think they're adorable. They're one of my favorite pairings.

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It's great in the source comic, especially during earlier phases of its existence, but the quality deprecates drastically the further you get from that point. I hate it in Fanon and in Dub/Post-Canon.

It's a great off-screen pairing for a lot of lore reasons - namely it being great to let Dave slowly allow himself to love and be loved in private, with no fear of eyes on him. He's never really been able to have privacy before, with all the cameras and eyes on him all the time, and he's never been able to really let his guard down and be vulnerable. He's never been able to love and be loved, safely. I ultimately think they should've kept their relationship mostly private, even after Dave's recovered quite a bit, because sometimes having something just for yourself without that need to perform it is healing in itself. Mental health maintenance.

In Fanon, it seems like pretty standard yaoi, though. Boring. Tired. Literally everywhere. Voyeuristic as always.

------

Thank you! My Inbox generally really isn't that bad at all, honestly! Most people are pretty cordial! Anon Hate for me is pretty rare. Thankfully, the Delete Ask button exists, so I don't have to worry about those Anons for very long, lol.

------

I hate to say this, but back in my day, plenty of people actually did do that. In fact, people only knowing Homestuck through fan material and then still calling themselves a fan is a big reason why old Homestuck fanon was so bad and so far off the mark!

I have a name for those kinds of fans, because it was such a frequent occurrence it begged for a title. I call them Secondaries. Like "Secondary Source"!

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World's most based triad, I think. Should be real. It's real to me.

7H15 15 MY 91RLFR13NF, L47UL4. 4DN 7H51 15 7UL45 9R1LFR13ND, P0RR1M.

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I think everyone should start watching actual horror movies. I think these people should watch Re-Animator and Bride of Re-Animator. I think this would fix the fandom, because a lot of people are just posting about horror movies without realizing they're posting about horror movies. Go watch a horror movie. They even have more and, frankly, more interesting gay representation than... Whatever Dirk and Jake have going on. Sorry.

If you're a gay man, get some hair on your chest and watch a bunch of horror movies. There's more in this life than anime twinks and skinny white pixel men. There's BlackRom Old Man Pet Play (The Lighthouse, 2019), there's Tormented Huge Dirty Bear (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, 2006), there's The Bisexual Psychological Torture + Betrayal Chamber (Saw, 2004), there's Dysfunctional Gay Marriage Disputes (Re-Animator, 1985, Bride of Re-Animator, 1990). And way more other ones than I can really list. Expand your horizons.

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Not much. It's a bit mysterious. Here's what Aranea had to say about Mituna in general, which gives us most of the crumbs we have:

The Heir of Doom was once a powerful psionic. He had much to say when it came to warning us a8out the path of doom and destruction we were all headed for, 8ut no one took him very seriously. 8ut one day he lost all those abilities when he 8adly overexerted himself. It's hard to get any specifics from him, 8ut indications are that he applied every last 8it of energy he had toward some great act of heroism, saving us all from some looming threat. Not only did his exertion permanently 8urn out his psychic a8ilities, 8ut it left him somewhat... er. Incoherent. The entire incident is shrouded in mystery. From his limited and scattered accounts of what happened, it seems very likely that Kurloz was with him at the time, as the only eye witness. And of course it's impossi8le to get any relia8le information out of him. I guess we may never know, sadly.

This does say quite a lot, but not really anything specific. We've got some stuff about how he's the session's Cassandra, the fact that the GAoH was NOT an accident (this is the misconception that pisses me off the most, I think - I hate when people call it an accident), the fact that he was protecting everyone from something... The fact that he DOES remember it, the fact that Kurloz was there, as the only eye witness, and refuses to talk about it.

It leaves plenty of room for speculation. A little too much room for me, honestly, but that's fine, I'm not really pressed about it.

------

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matan4il · 2 days

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911 ep 708 first watch reactions

Oh, poor Bobby.

Seeing him at that AA meeting, his past failures that made him wanna take his own life rubbed back in his face with the intention to hurt, was painful. Especially because you realize Amir would not be saying anything, unless he realized at that meeting that Bobby is the kind of good guy that can be hurt by hearing about the consequences to other people of his own actions. If Amir had gotten the idea that Bobby is the kind of cold-hearted bastard who did not care and could "just walk away," then his whole little speech would have been pointless, and another path for revenge would have been needed instead.

But to see little Bobby, so happy and proud when it came to his dad the firefighter captain, realizing he must have wanted to be just like his hero all these years, really brings into focus how much he must have felt like an even greater failure in his own mind, no matter how many good things he did, how many people he saved, how often he was willing to sacrifice his life to save others', and how hard he's worked to fix the faults that caused this tragedy in the first place. And not just since the fire that killed 148 people, but from the very moment that his drunk dad started gaslighting him, as if the senior (supposedly heroic) Captain Nash's sins were the fault of his son.

"I never counted the survivors."

Why does this show keep hurting me by striking in the places closest to home. :( My grandparents were all Holocaust survivors, and yeah, I know firsthand that survivors are victims, as well as sometimes their family members, too. I'm a third generation, and I know exactly where the Holocaust has scarred my grandparents, my parents and me. I know what the Nazis and their collaborators did, does not stop in May of 1945, and is not close to over in May of 2024. Grief, pain and loss can be like that stone thrown into the water, where the circles that come out of it may extend far beyond the initial point of impact.

What Athena said to Bobby about how it needed to matter to him that he's a different person now than he was back then is so incredibly important. It was a good ep, but at the end of the day, most of us don't get to heal by saving people's lives. We find what we can fix and we do, we choose to be kind with others, we eventually learn that the measure of compassion and mercy we show to ourselves also matters, and we try to find the right balance between all of these things. That last part is probably the hardest. But that's the real work of life, and that one I think is true for all of us, no matter what our circumstances might be.

Thank you for reading! If you’re looking for more, you can find my s7 reactions tag here, and more of my Buddie meta and content in my pinned post. xoxox

#911 spoilers #9-1-1 #911 meta #911meta #911 abc #911 show #911abc #911 #911 on abc #911onabc #911reactions #athena grant #bobby nash #bathena #9 1 1 #911 season 7 #911 7x08

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ecoamerica · 1 month

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youtube

Watch the 2024 American Climate Leadership Awards for High School Students now: https://youtu.be/5C-bb9PoRLc

The recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by student climate leaders! Join Aishah-Nyeta Brown & Jerome Foster II and be inspired by student climate leaders as we recognize the High School Student finalists. Watch now to find out which student received the $25,000 grand prize and top recognition!

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thoughtsonhurtandcomfort · 3 days

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Shun the Light - Ch. 9 - Moments

Author's Notes: Not thrilled with how this one turned out but I needed to get some ideas out of my system that aren't quite developed enough to be their own chapter. It fills in some gaps and gives them a break before the next, much whumpier chapter.

Content Warnings: brief use of mind control, that's about it. This one is pretty light.

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One more night becomes a week, and then another.

Dante never asks Matteo to leave, and Matteo never asks to if he wants him to. Neither wants to know the answer.

After learning what he did about the vampire, Matteo feels it's only fair to share a little about himself. One quiet evening, Matteo joins Dante in the living room and just starts talking. He expects Dante to be indifferent or even annoyed, but instead is met with rapt attention.

"I was pretty boring until a few years ago," he begins. "Had a job, a little place, I was dating." He clears his throat and starts fussing with the hem of his shirt - which is in fact one of Dante's or possibly Philip's shirts, he isn't quite sure.

"I met this guy I really liked and we started dating, sort of. It always felt like I was more into him than he was into me."

"So people are okay with that now? You being with another man?"

"Some of them," Matteo replies. "More than there used to be but still not enough. Depends where you go."

"I see. Sorry, continue."

"Well, there's not much else. He got me into some trouble. A lot of trouble, really - "

He catches the trepidation on Dante's face and quickly adds,

"I'm not wanted by the cops or anything. Like I said...no one is looking for me. But I...changed. And I knew if I stayed there I would hurt people. So I left."

Every time Matteo gets close to telling the whole truth, he diverts at the last moment. That would change everything and he isn't ready for this to change yet. But he makes a firm promise to himself to hide during the full moon, lest he put Dante in danger.

"Where did you go?" Dante asks.

"Nowhere, really. I move around a lot. I'm not sure there's a place for me anywhere anymore."

Dante sits back in his armchair and silently reflects on Matteo's story. He doesn't press for details, which is a relief but makes Matteo feel twice as guilty for being so vague.

"When you got here," Dante says after a while, "you were in bad shape. Can I ask...what happened? Were you attacked?"

"Sort of. Some guy caught me on his property and chased me into the woods with a gun. I got cut up on branches and stuff."

That much is, technically, true.

"And after all that you still gave me your blood?" Dante muses aloud.

Matteo shrugs, trying not to feel too proud of himself considering he was only there in search of shelter. Dante was never part of the plan.

"You were in worse shape."

Dante doesn't disagree. "I never did thank you for saving me."

"Well...I never did thank you for the place to sleep."

"Mm. Glad to know my life is at least worth a bed."

It takes Matteo a moment to pick up on the dry humor. Dante isn't smiling, but there's a glint in his eyes.

Matteo wonders what that somber face would look like smiling or laughing. He wouldn't be like the man in that old photograph, not anymore. Sorrow has weighed on him too heavily for too long. But maybe it would be beautiful in its own way.

Maybe he'll even get to see it.

Despite his often morose demeanor, Dante is a gentle soul who feeds stray cats and leaves seeds out for the birds even though he'll never get to see them enjoy it in the morning.

Living alone almost fifty years has left him with no shortage of eccentricities. He talks to himself, never has the same routine two days in a row, takes long walks alone at night, and stores blood in mason jars in the refrigerator.

His knowledge and hobbies have been shaped by what is available to him in the house - the books in the office library, the grand piano in the living room, Mrs. Townsend's knitting and needlepoint, an assortment of games and puzzles.

And, as it turns out, basic cable.

"How in the hell did you manage that?" Matteo asks, staring at the old but functioning television.

Come to think of it, the house has electricity and running water. He never even questioned it, and suddenly he has so many questions.

"A very large savings account," Dante explains calmly. Then he looks sheepish. "I may have...borrowed Philip's identity."

Matteo stares at him.

"...I'm not proud of it."

"No, no, I don't care about that, but what happens if something breaks? Or if someone from the company comes by?"

"There's this - this thing I can do. It's probably easier if I just show you."

Dante's eyes gleam unnaturally bright in a way Matteo has only seen a couple of times before.

"Pick up that book. Balance it on your head."

All other thoughts disappear; Matteo obeys without question.

As soon as the spell is broken he snaps back to reality and the book drops to the floor.

"How...wait, did you do that?"

"No. You did."

"But you made me do it."

"Yeah. I can make someone think they were never here. It isn't harmful...I think. And I swear I didn't use it on the Girl Scouts."

Dante seems uncomfortable admitting to using this skill, but Matteo is unperturbed. Even a little jealous - his condition doesn't come with any cool powers.

"What about shopping? I guess you don't have the internet...but maybe the home shopping network?"

"No...no mail. It's not worth the risk of someone stopping by every day."

Matteo chews his lip, thinking.

"I have an idea. What if I went shopping for you? I can go out in the daytime. And I could get some real food...not that I don't appreciate the cookies! What do you think?"

Dante looks stunned.

"You'd do that for me?"

The next day, while Dante sleeps, Matteo follows the path of the winding, overgrown driveway to a main road and follows that until he finds a small shopping plaza. It's a long walk but he feels stronger and healthier than he has in a long time.

That evening Matteo sits back with a bowl of soup and watches as Dante eagerly goes through the bags. He had only requested a few new books, the most recent newspaper, and some new pens and pencils, but Matteo threw in some extras just because.

I owe him for letting me stay. That's what he tells himself.

It's all going too well. He should know better than to get comfortable anywhere...or with anyone. As the waxing moon grows larger each night, Matteo knows he should leave.

But he doesn't.

#vampire #werewolf #mind control #angst #loneliness #bonding #a lot of dialogue #not very plot heavy #not very whumpy #whump writing #my writing #my ocs #matteo #dante #shun the light

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sosa2imagines · 2 days

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Misunderstanding. Part 8

Warnings- Fluff, little angst --------------------------------

Natasha's expression softened a bit, seeing Steve’s remorse. “You hurt her,” she pointed out bluntly. “You accused her of something she didn't do, without even hearing her side of the story.”

Steve's guilt intensified as he replayed the scene in his mind. He could still see the look on your face when he yelled at you. “I know...” his voice trailed off, “I screwed up badly.”

Natasha stopped searching for a moment to face him directly. “You need to apologize to her,” she said firmly. “A real apology. Not just a passing remark. She deserves that much.”

Steve nodded, knowing she was right. He knew he had hurt you deeply with his words and accusations. “I will. As soon as this is over, I'll apologize to her properly.”

Natasha gave him a final stern look before resuming her search. “You better!” she said. “She didn't deserve, to be on the receiving end of your misplaced jealousy. Ever since she is back, you have treated her badly, even kissing someone else.”

Steve winced at her reminder. He had been so caught up in his own emotions that he had forgotten that she knew about him kissing another woman. “I didn't kiss her...she forced herself upon me...”

Natasha shot him a skeptical look, not buying his excuse. “Really? She forced herself on you?”

Steve nods and tells her the whole truth.

Natasha shook her head, her annoyance evident. “You're an idiot sometimes, you know that, right? Actually, you both are idiots.”

Steve didn't argue with her assessment. He knew she was right. He had made one mistake after another when it came to you.

“I know...” he muttered, his voice filled with remorse.

Back on the other side,

“What do you mean Tons?” you ask.

“Oh boy,” he starts, “Back when Pepper and I were still figuring out our relationship, Matt decided to swoop in like the charming idiot he is.”

Matt chimes in with a playful grin, shrugging his shoulders modestly. “I was just doing my job.” he repeats, as if it's no big deal. Tony rolls his eyes, still annoyed by Matt's nonchalance.

“Yeah, he told me and Nat, that he was your lawyer in the past, and due to some advice, you have problems with him?”

Tony's mood shifts, and a mix of frustration and amusement crosses his face. “Problems? More like a persistent headache.” He leans back, shaking his head at the memory. “Let's just say his ‘advice’ didn't exactly go according to plan.”

Tony shoots a glare at Matt, who just smiles innocently, clearly enjoying getting under Tony's skin.

“Wait, what problem did you have with Steve?”

Tony gasps and look at Matt with a disbelief look. “You told them?”

Matt just smiles, “I don’t lie to pretty women.”

Matt chimes in with a grin, relishing the memory. “Yeah, I still remember that day.”

Tony interjects with a groan. “I still curse the day I asked you for advice.”

“But what was the problem?” you ask, too curious and eager to know.

Matt takes this opportunity to recount the story, enjoying the chance to annoy Tony. “Well, Mr. Billionaire here...” he gestures to Tony “had a disagreement with Captain America.”

Tony rolls his eyes, clearly not pleased with where this conversation is headed. Not wanting to let Matt take the lead on this story, he cuts in, ready to give his side of the drama.

“Cap was being a pain in my ass-”

“Don’t you dare lie!” you cut him.

“Why do I keep forgetting about your love for him?”

Matt interferes, “It was about an article...more like fashion article.”

Tony's face turns red with embarrassment, and he glares at Matt for airing out the secret. “Damn you!” Tony mutters under his breath.

Matt continues, enjoying Tony's discomfort. “Tony had a rather unflattering photo in the papers, and it stirred up quite the media frenzy.”

“But what's the connection of Steve in this?” you ask.

Tony crosses his arms, still annoyed at the memory, while Matt smiles, relishing in stirring the pot. “Cap happened to stumble upon that photo, and in true superhero fashion, he decided to give his two cents on the situation.”

“He wanted to sue Steve, for that?” you gasped.

Matt chuckles, “No, he wanted to sue the damn newspaper. And our dear Mr. Billionaire here had a brilliant idea.”

Tony grumbles, still not over the fact that the “brilliant idea” turned out to be a mistake. “Shut up.”

Matt turns to you with a grin. “Our genius friend over there wanted to sue them for 'defamation of character'.”

Tony looks like he wants to strangle Matt but decides to finish the story himself. “They claimed the photo had negatively impacted my image, that I should become more responsible and rational. I wanted compensation for that.”

Matt couldn't hold back a chuckle, amused by the absurdity of the situation. “So, being a good lawyer, I had to bring him crashing back to reality.”

“Hey they printed a wrong photo of me and they have the audacity, to say it's a negative impact for my image?!” Tony tells you.

“And let me guess, Pepper was impressed by your work and Tony here got…”

“Don’t you dare kid!” Tony warns. “Okay...” you laugh covering it with a cough.

“Now, see? This is why I'm clearly her favorite superhero.”

Tony rolls his eyes, clearly not amused, but tries to keep his snarky remarks coming. “In your dreams, devil boy.”

Tony refocuses his attention on the task at hand, muttering under his breath about Matt as he dives back into deciphering the code system. “I hate that guy.”

Matt just grins, clearly amused by Tony's annoyance, while Tony continues working silently.

Tony dives deeper into the code system, his genius mind working at full speed. He takes a moment to study the patterns, the sequences, and the peculiarities of the bomb's circuitry.

“Alright...just a matter of time...” He carefully examines different components of the bomb, running numerous calculations in his head. Then, suddenly, his eyes light up as he makes a breakthrough.

“Eureka, I figured it out!”

Meanwhile, Steve and Natasha continue their search for the remaining wires, meticulously checking every room and hallway.

Suddenly, Natasha spots something under a desk. She crouches down and finds a hidden compartment connected to some wires.

“Found it!”

Steve immediately rushes to her side, his gaze fixed on the newly discovered wires. “That's the one.”

Natasha leans in for a closer for further inspection. “This is where they are all connected.”

Steve nods, sharing her sense of urgency. As Natasha continues tracing the path of the wires, the sound of his comm crackles to life.

Tony's voice speaks through the comm. “Hey, guys. I've deciphered the code.”

Both Natasha and Steve exchange a glance, “Copy that, Stark. We've found the main connecting point.”

Part 7 -

Taglist- @blackhawkfanatic @ordelix @sapphirebarnes @differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @lillyxlillian @nekoannie-chan @ashley202 @lovely-geek @redbloodedgurl

#chris evans characters #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #tony stark #natasha romanoff #matt murdock

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hearts-hunger · 19 hours

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evergreen — part five

Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Cabin Fever Masterlist | Join my taglist here!

Series Summary: Jake takes you on your first vacation to the cabin the gang stays at every year. When memories of past relationships loom heavy, will this vacation send cracks through the foundation of safety and trust you have in each other?

Chapter Summary: In your love nest, you and Jake heal every hurt.

Pairings: Jake x Reader, Josh x Baby, Sam x Danny | Genre: fluff, emotional h/c | Word Count: 2.5k | Warnings: sexual innuendo, smoking

A/N: The last chapter of this little fic! I'm so thankful for all the love you've showered on Jake and Sparrow, despite how silly they've been. I hope this chapter is everything you're hoping for! ♡

Coming into the tent was a tangle of something shy and gentle and cautious, wet hair plastered to your faces and shared looks of love and longing and apology as you tried to figure out what to say to each other. You both knew you needed to talk, but for a while, there was nothing but the sound of the rain; he helped you out of your boots and jacket, setting them neatly in the corner of the tent. You sat together in the doorway, watching the rain, smoking a few cigarettes from the crumpled pack from his jacket pocket.

“Thank you for my love nest,” you said. You brushed his wet, curly hair back from his face. “You didn't have to do all this, Jake. And in the middle of the night and in the rain, too.”

“I wanted to,” he said. “I wanted you to have a place that was just for you. You’re everything to me, and you deserve something from me that I haven't shared with anyone else.”

You knew you already had something from him that belonged to the two of you alone, and it wasn't your love nest, as wonderful as it was. You knew you had him, had his heart in a way that no one else ever had, just like he had yours.

A bruise showed on his neck, and you reached a cautious hand out to brush your fingers over it.

“I’m sorry, Jake,” you said softly. “All that — it was stupid. And it was my fault.”

He gave a rueful smile. “Takes two to tango, sparrow.”

You let your hand fall to your lap. “Yeah.”

He glanced over at you after a moment. “Besides, you were the one who said you didn't want to fight.”

“Much good it did me,” you said quietly. Though there was an understanding between you now, you still didn't know what to say, how to tell him things you could hardly sort out yourself. “I didn’t want to fight. Or maybe I did. I don't know.”

You put your cigarette out and looked for a place to put it; he held his hand out and put it in the pocket of his jacket.

“I don't know why I always do this,” you said softly. “I don't know why I keep everything bottled up until it turns into a huge catastrophe.” You felt the sting of tears, remembering how you'd hurt him, how poorly you'd treated the one you loved more than anything, feeling guilty for your inability to give him the apology he deserved.

“And then I do this,” you said, “and make it a pity party for how stupid I am.”

He ran a soothing hand over your back. “Yeah. You do.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Too bad I love you, sparrow.”

“Oh, you're joking, but it’s true,” you said miserably. “I was awful to you. I don't know how you put up with it.”

“I just told you why,” he said gently. He brushed his hands through your hair. “I love you, sparrow. Pity parties and all.”

You turned your tear-streaked face to him and met his eyes, sucking in a choppy breath. “Even like this?”

“Yes, sparrow. Even like this.” He brushed your tears away with a gentle touch. “I thought I told you not to cry, silly girl. You never listen to me.”

You couldn't help a watery laugh, and he gave you a tender smile.

“I'm sorry I hurt you,” he said. “I didn't mean to, but I understand how that doesn't make it any easier. I'd be doing the same thing as you if it was the other way around.”

You shook your head. “You wish you could cry as much as I do, Kiszka. You don't ever cry.”

“That’s not true.” He tucked your hair behind your ear. “I cried when I left.” His smile was wry and rueful. “That's why I left, partly, to be all stoic and manly while I cried like a baby.”

Your heart twisted. “Jake. You could have woken me up.”

“Yeah, I know.” He grazed his knuckles over your cheek. “But you needed to sleep, and I couldn't figure out what to say to you anyway. The way I treated you... that was a mistake, sparrow, and I regret it. All of it — the fighting, the sex, not seeing you as you are, not giving you what you needed. I'm sorry.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, but your tears were starting in earnest again. “Me too, Jake. I’m sorry for all of it too.”

“My girl,” he said softly, a gentle, teasing smile on his face. “There you go again, looking at me with your heart in your eyes, everything spilling over.”

He pulled you close; you leaned into his chest, your head thumping pitifully against his collarbone. He gave you a tight, comforting squeeze, rocking you gently.

“We’re a mess, aren’t we?” he asked.

You breathed a laugh. “I’d rather be a mess with you than do anything else.”

“Me too.”

“I love you, Jake.”

He kissed your forehead. “I love you too, sparrow. Come lay with me and let me show you how much.”

With soft, healing laughter, you helped each other out of your damp clothes and lay in the nest of pillows and blankets together. You pulled him close and combed your fingers through his hair.

“You’re beautiful,” you said softly. He was, all warm and soft under the golden fairy lights, and the peace that filled his expression now was more lovely to you than anything you'd ever seen.

A sweet blush pinked his cheeks. “Thank you, sparrow. You're beautiful too.”

He cradled your face in his palm and traced the pad of his thumb over your cheek. “I didn’t bring you here to sleep with you. We can if you want, but I understand if you don't. We can do whatever you want.”

You hummed. “How about mad libs?”

He chuckled. “If you want. It's your love nest, sparrow. You pick.”

You drew him close and kissed him, slow and sweet and deep. “I want to be with you, Jake.”

“I want to be with you too, sparrow.”

You spent long minutes relearning each other, his mouth gentle against yours, remembering how to love each other with patience and tender touches. He pulled you snug against him with a hand splayed over your back; you melted into him, safe and loved and mended. He kissed the places he’d left marks before, healing with every touch, until everything was right in the world.

He brushed his fingers over your cheek. “Let me make love to you, sparrow. Let me do it right this time.”

“Okay,” you said softly.

He stayed with you, close and warm and generous with his kisses, and you gave a contented sigh when you were joined. He was slow, gentle, patient; you blossomed under him like a flower opening to the sun, drinking in all of him, surrounded by him and the love he gave you so easily and willingly.

“With me, sparrow,” he said, holding you close. “Please, love. With me.”

Pleasure, joy, something nameless and old and perfect; you felt them all when he moved inside you, when you heard his sigh and the words of love he spoke to you, when you felt the way he loved you and held you after.

“Sparrow, sparrow,” he said, gentle, breathless. “I love you. You're my heart. You know that, don't you?”

“Yes, Jake,” you said softly. You kissed him. “You’re my heart too.”

—

The rain kept up a steady beat on the roof of your tent, comforting now instead of lonely, and in the afterglow, Jake was full of laughter and bright with smiles you couldn't help but return. You talked about everything and nothing, listening to each other’s voices, coming together in pleasant interludes of hands on skin and tenderness in every place you needed it.

“Let's never fight again,” you said.

He gave a gentle laugh, drawing your intertwined hands up to study them in the soft light. “Okay. It's not very realistic, honey, but we can try.”

“I mean... not like that again,” you said. His hand was the perfect fit for yours, callused and gentle and strong; the macrame bracelet you'd made for him years ago rested at his wrist. “You’re better at it than I am.”

He didn’t deny it; he couldn't, not when he was so good at it, at knowing when to step back and take a minute and when to talk again when you were both calmer. You relied on him in that, and it wasn't until now that you realized just how heavily you depended on his good judgement and diligence in it.

It also made you realize just how angry you must have made him earlier to push him over the edge of that judgement. It was that thought that kept you from feeling completely content, and you felt you could apologize to him over and over and never do it enough.

“Jake,” you said softly. You tucked your hands between you. “Can you forgive me?”

He kissed your collarbone. “I already have, sparrow.”

Your throat felt tight. “How?”

“You know how,” he said gently. “Tell me.”

You drew him up to kiss you again. “Because you love me.”

“That’s right. Because I love you.”

“I love you too,” you said, meaning it more than anything you'd ever said in your life. “Teach me how to be better to you.”

“I like you the way you are, sparrow.”

You smiled. “I know that too. But you’d like me more if I knew how to tell you what I was feeling.”

He shrugged. “I’ll get better at reading you,” he said. “Teach me how to do that, and I’ll teach you to be a lover, not a fighter.”

You giggled as he kissed your neck. “Can we start right now?”

“Sure. Tell me how you're feeling. But first...” He gently stretched you out beneath him. “I think you're feeling safe, and happy, and.... hm. Maybe excited. A little.”

You laughed. “Correct. See, I told you — you’re better at it than I am.”

He hummed. “Anything else? Maybe I missed something.”

“Well...” You were a little bashful. “Maybe I feel kind of hungry.”

He gave a dramatic groan. “Oh, I knew I missed something.” He smiled and kissed you. “Let’s get you something to eat, then.”

You dressed again and found it was a short walk back to the cabin. In the bathroom mirror, you saw a bright, lovely color in your face and much preferred it to the sickly look you’d had before. You changed into clothes that weren't soaked with rain and ventured back out to the living room; Sam and Danny had gone to bed, but Josh and Baby were asleep on the couch, his head in her lap, her hands lightly tangled in his curls. She woke when you came in, looking up at you with a sleepy smile.

“All better?” she whispered.

You couldn't help a beaming smile. “Yeah. All better.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” she sighed. “I thought I was going to have to take you both by the ear and make you fix things.”

You gave a soft laugh. “No need. We’ve decided we’re never fighting again.”

Her smile turned to more of a smirk. “Well, good sex will do that. Let me know if you crack the code, and I’ll try it with this one.”

She gently roused her boyfriend and rewarded him with a kiss. “Bed, Joshy.”

He nodded, half-asleep. “Okay, baby.”

She gave your hand a gentle squeeze as she led him to bed, and you were so glad that everything was right in your family, that you were all happy and had the rest of your vacation to enjoy each other.

“Sparrow, my dearest.”

You turned towards the kitchen to see Jake with a hodgepodge of midnight snacks.

“Chef Kiszka strikes again,” you teased.

He grinned. “Well, I figured you didn't want to wait for a full-blown Julia Child recipe, but I’ll make something fancier if you want.”

“No, this is perfect.” You stole a pretzel and popped it in your mouth. “Delicious. Better than anything Julia Child could make.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad you like it.”

“Can we take it back out to our love nest?”

“Uh... yes,” he said, looking around the kitchen. “I might have to throw it all in a Ziploc bag, though, to save it getting rained on.”

You hummed in agreement. “Like a weird trail mix.”

He smiled. “Something like that.”

Weird trail mix in hand, you went back out to your tent and got cosy again. He peeled a tangerine for you, handing you pieces of it and stealing a few for himself, and you found that he’d brought the copy of Rilke’s poems you’d gotten him last Christmas.

“I didn't know you actually liked this,” you said, thumbing through the dog-eared pages, seeing the notes he'd made in the margins.

“What do you mean?” he asked. “Of course I liked it. I read it all the time. He’s your favorite.”

Your heart tilted. “He is my favorite.” You handed the book to him. “Will you read me our poem?”

He smiled. “As if you don't have it memorized,” he teased gently.

You shrugged. “It’s not the same as hearing you read it. I love to listen to your voice.”

He looked pleased and a little bashful, taking the book and opening it to the poem he’d used as words of love before you even knew he loved you. His voice was soft and warm as he read, giving every word its meaning as a little piece in a tapestry of affection and beauty.

“Show me the miracle of your hair unbound,” he read. “I want to surround you with your secret self... I want to close every place you've ever been with a kiss, leaving nothing but inner skies.”

You leaned close and let him kiss you and leave you with nothing but inner skies, deep, boundless, full of meaning and wonder. You lay together again, tucked close to each other, and he read to you from your favorite poet.

“How we waste our hours of pain,” he read, his voice rumbling comfortingly in his chest. “How we gaze beyond them into the bitter duration to see if they have an end. Though they are really our winter-enduring foliage, our dark evergreen, one season in our inner year — not only a season in time, but a place and settlement, foundation and soil and home.”

You touched his cheek, feeling the words of the poem ring true for the two of you — in the safety of the love you shared, your hours of pain were something more, something evergreen, a foundation on which you built a stronger love to make a home in together.

“I love you, Jake,” you said, very softly.

He kissed you and held you close. “My sweet sparrow. I love you too.”

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ugotnojamzzz · 2 days

Text

Rulers of Ruin

Chapter 6

Genre: Mafia!au , Slowburn, Angst, Hurt, eventual smut, TW (it is a mafia!AU, after all)

Pairing: Mafia!Jungkook x reader

Synopsis: There will come a day when I will sit down and write an alluring synopsis for this series. But that day hasn't come just yet lol. Stay tuned for more chapters to come.

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language. Also, don’t come for me over the theme, people. It’s an Alternate Universe, which means the bangtan boys are essentially what I like to call meat puppets to serve the storyline. This is obviously not a projection of their actual real-life personas.

Wordcount: 1.7k

Masterlist

Chapter 5

After her altercation with Jimin, YN’s frustration only grew stronger. For someone who supposedly played an important role in the upcoming feud, she’d never felt more sidelined. Always kept outside of the loop.

She found herself more restless and defiant than ever. Taking advantage of Taehyung’s occasionally distracted nature, she spent the following week slipping out of his line of sight every chance she got, exploiting the slightest opportunity to explore—or test—the limits of her captivity.

One evening, as she was escorted to the mansion's library for a new book to distract her from her boredom, Taehyung's attention was momentarily captured by a conversation with another agent, a young woman whose laughter seemed to echo distractingly down the dark hallway. Seizing the moment, Y/N discreetly slipped away, her steps silent on the plush carpet.

She wandered down the corridor, not expecting much, really. Only she stopped dead in her tracks, her ears picking up the muffled tones of a serious conversation seeping through the thick door of an adjacent parlor. Her curiosity piqued, she pressed closer.

"…seems they’re gearing up for war," She recognized Namjoon’s distinctive baritone, “We may need additional eyes out there soon."

“Maybe Hoseok?” another voice spoke, “"He's returning soon with Kookie, right?"

"Stop that,” Namjoon chided, his voice sharp, “you know he hates that nickname."

“Aish, you don’t need to fight his battles,” the voice said, “if your father was here-“

Her heart thudded with the thrill of the forbidden knowledge just within her grasp. She leaned in, straining to catch more.

“While on the topic of my father,” Namjoon’s voice grew tenser, “any updates?”

“He’s alright, for now,” the voice spoke, “but…”

Y/N's mind raced. She was so absorbed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the conversation inside had ceased until the door suddenly swung open.

Namjoon’s piercing gaze met hers immediately, a frown creasing his brow. Behind him, YN recognized Seokjin standing in his white blouse, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Y/N," Namjoon's voice was a blend of disappointment and irritation. "Spying requires guile and vigilance," he paused, “it appears you’re lacking both.”

Her response came quick, tinged with defiance. "Maybe I need some lessons from your agents," she retorted sharply, her voice echoing slightly in the spacious hallway, “they’re clearly doing such a good job at keeping track of me.”

He chuckled dryly, not out of amusement but as a prelude to a sharper critique. "Watch your attitude,” he shot back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed her, “it’s unbecoming."

She exhaled a frustrated sigh, feeling cornered yet defiant. "I've been kept in the dark for two weeks, Namjoon.” Her voice rose, a clear note of irritation threading through her words, “How long do you expect me to sit around waiting for you to decide my fate?"

Namjoon stepped out, closing the door behind him with a soft click. "Information is dispensed on a need-to-know basis," he stated firmly, approaching her. "And right now, you don’t need to know anything."

Y/N bristled at the dismissal, her anger flaring. "So, what do I need, then? More guards? An ankle bracelet, perhaps? Shall we test how tight this leash can get?"

Before he could respond, rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway. Taehyung appeared, breathing heavily, his usual composed demeanor unraveled by exertion. "Sorry, Boss—I lost sight of her for just a minute," he panted, casting a wary glance at Y/N.

Namjoon’s eyes flicked between Y/N and Taehyung, his displeasure evident. "Ensure it doesn’t happen again," he warned, then turned back to Y/N. "As for you, try to remember your place. If you keep this up, I won’t hesitate to make your conditions less... comfortable.” His threat hung heavily in the air, a stark reminder of the power he wielded. “Or perhaps I’ll simply ship you back to your brother, see if you prefer what he’s got in store for you.”

Before YN could utter a response, the broad-shouldered leader went back in the parlour, firlmy shutting the door behind him.

YN's anger boiled over as she stormed off, her heels clicking angrily against the marble floors. Behind her, Taehyung hurried to keep up, his own frustration mirroring hers but tinged with resignation. "Come on, don't do this," he called out, his voice barely cutting through her tirade.

"This is all ridiculous!” YN shouted back over her shoulder, her words sharp as daggers. “Complete, utter bullshit!" The cool night air did nothing to temper her heated words as she burst through the double doors into the garden.

She stomped outside still ranting to herself.

Taehyung sighed, dodging low-hanging branches as he tried to keep up with her brisk pace. "Ranting isn’t going to change anything," he called out, his voice barely cutting through the sound of the wind.

"And what would you suggest, huh? Compliance? Silent obedience?" she snapped back, turning to face him with a glare, “Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You miserable pieces of shit!” she shouted

Taehyung sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's raining, Y/N. Let’s go back inside before you catch your death," he tried reasoning with her, his voice calm but firm.

“Oh sure, it’s the rain that’s going to kill me,” she rolled her eyes. "Last time I checked, a little water has never hurt anyone," she snapped, dismissing his concern with a wave of her hand. Her focus was solely on venting her frustration, paying little attention to where she was stepping. The garden path, slick with rain, was a treacherous terrain for her furious pacing.

Before Taehyung could warn her, YN's foot caught on the edge of a stone near the koi pond. Her balance lost, she stumbled with a startled yelp, arms flailing as she tried desperately to regain her footing. It was no use; gravity took over, and with a splash that echoed louder than her shouts, YN found herself submerged in cold murky water.

“Ah, shit,” Taehyung rushed to the pond’s edge, suppressing a chuckle as he extended a hand to help her out. “Looks like a little water might hurt after all," he remarked, trying to infuse a bit of humor into the situation.

Soaked and shivering, YN grasped his hand, her earlier fire doused by the icy pond water. "Very funny," she muttered, pulling herself up with his help. She stood dripping beside the pond, the rain mixing with pond water, her elegant outfit ruined and clinging uncomfortably to her skin.

Taehyung’s expression softened as he draped his jacket over her shoulders. "Come on, let’s get you inside and dried off," he said, guiding her back towards the mansion. "And maybe skip the midnight garden walks for a while, yeah?"

"Fuck off," she muttered under her breath, even as he escorted her toward her quarters, his jacket still wrapped around her.

In the warm embrace of the shower, Y/N let the hot water cascade over her, washing away the pond's chill and the night's frustrations. As the steam clouded around her, so did her thoughts, swirling with the events of the evening.

The steam seemed to seep into her pores, attempting to soothe the sting of humiliation and the cold realization of her helplessness.

Her mind replayed Namjoon's words, sharp and cutting, echoing against the tiles with every droplet that fell.

Remember your place.

the fall into the pond had been a jolt back to a reality she’d been trying to ignore. It wasn't just the physical shock of the cold water but the absurdity of the situation that gnawed at her. Here she was, a pawn in a game of power, maneuvered by people who saw her not as a person but as a leverage point—a tool in their negotiations and strategies. The very idea that she could be discussed as part of a war strategy was infuriating.

With every drop that washed over her, she pondered the bitter irony of her safety. Here, in between the tigers’ claws, surrounded by those who viewed her as little more than a bargaining chip, she was, in a twisted sense, probably safer than she had been in a long time. The thought stung, a reluctant admission that clawed at her pride.

Her last encounter with her brother had been under circumstances shrouded in shadows and tension, their parting more a series of harsh whispers and hurried steps than heartfelt goodbyes. The memory was a sharp jab to her conscience, a reminder of unfinished business and unresolved conflicts that lingered like ghosts in her mind.

The steam fogged up the mirror, and for a moment, she imagined it clouding out the world, giving her a momentary respite from the watchful eyes and calculated moves. But as comforting as the warmth was, it couldn't wash away the reality of her predicament.

She needed to be more than just compliant; she needed to be cunning. If they were going to use her as a piece in their games, then perhaps it was time to learn the rules and play back. Tonight, however, she would allow herself just a few more moments of solace in the simple, searing heat of the shower.

The comforting rush of warm water was abruptly overshadowed by some noise coming beyond the bathroom door. Y/N's muscles tensed beneath the cascade. "Taehyung,” she began, her voice, sharp with annoyance, echoing slightly off the tiled walls, “I told you not to—"

Her sentence was abruptly cut off as the door swung open with a force that suggested urgency—or a complete utter lack of care. "Jesus Christ—" Y/N exclaimed, a mix of surprise and irritation in her tone. She instinctively spun around, her eyes squinting through the billowing steam. She could make out a figure, distinctly different from Taehyung's lean silhouette.

Before she could fully shield herself or demand an explanation, a deep, unfamiliar voice cut through the mist.

"And who the fuck are you?"

guess who? lol

Anyway hope you liked it. If some of you are intrigued or interested in finding out more, don't hesitate to interact and I'll start posting some more chapters! Also questions and remarks and feedback are welcome xxx

Chapter 7 (coming soon..)

Masterlist

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