#and not ONCE did i see anyone laughing about the fires

[chanandlersstuff]

Three times where Anakin’s jealousy was harmless, even fun, and one when it wasn't.

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Reader/OFC.

Summary: Every time he sees her across the room and forgets to breathe, forgets that damn code that complicates his life. She knows exactly what she’s doing, she’s beauty, power, and temptation wrapped in one impossible woman, and everyone wants her, but she only burns for him. Every time he sees her with someone else, Anakin’s composure cracks a little more.

Word count: 7.141

Warnings: Anakin, a warning itself. A little bit of smut, not graphic, there, toxicity there, jealousy, a creep, violence and blood. (let me know if i miss something).

Author’s note: Hiii, two times in one day, count yourselves lucky. First time writting for our sweet beloved Ani.

This is inspired by hours and hours of clone wars and this tiktok. It goes without saying that all this is fictional, I don't want to upseat anyone, this is for fun.

With that being said, enjoy, hope you like it. Lots of love, ME.

(gif credits to the owner)

The air was thick with expensive perfume, velvet words and politics. Senators with fabricated smiles moved like currents through golden light, their laughter overlapping with the soft strings of the Nabooian quartet tucked into one corner of the ballroom. Glasses clinked. Conversations sparkled. 

Anakin felt her before she even entered the hall properly. The soft tug in his chest told him she was close, and when she stepped into view, adorned in metallic green robes that kissed the floor, hugged her curves and shimmered as she moved, he nearly forgot to breathe. 

And so did everyone else. 

She looked like a whispered sin.

Men turned. Women glanced. Senators whispered. Generals approached her. Every damn set of eyes in that room followed her. Of course they did because she looked like the brightest star of them all. 

Anakin could feel them, sense their intentions as they approached her with too-wide smiles like the itch of static across his skin. Their attention wasn’t polite, it was hungry.

His eyes saw her having polite smiles, he heard her laughter, rare but dazzling, curved through the air like sunlight on water, and it struck him, standing across the room in ceremonial Jedi robes, how damn bright she was.

And how many men wanted to bask in her glow.

She was the kind of woman people gravitated toward. A quiet sun in the middle of a storm. A cathedral in a world of shacks, commanding awe. 

He stood across the ballroom, robed in Jedi formality, a guest and a ghost. His hands stayed folded behind his back, his expression neutral. But inside, he was seething as yet another advisor leaned just a little too close, whispering something into her ear that made her smile, and his fingers curled into a fist.

For hours, she moved like light across the floor, drawn into every orbit. People hoarded her attention, called her name, asked for things, fed off her warmth. She smiled, laughed, and even joked. All while never looking at him. Not even once.

Then it happened, some Republic attaché leaned in to say something, too close, and she turned her head to hear him better, her shoulder brushing his chest. His hand hovered just behind her waist. Not touching, not quite.

But Anakin felt it, felt the heat surge like a detonation in his chest. A sharp, hot pang hit low in his gut.

He hadn’t touched her in weeks, some mission in some Outer Rim dustbowl, he couldn’t even remember the name now. All he could think about in that moment was the ghost of her skin under his callus fingers, soft, smooth, velvet-warm and seared into his memory like a brand.

And now others were close enough to smell her perfume.

He exhaled slowly through his nose, willing the fire down, but it simmered. Oh, it simmered. Another man stepped up to her side, clearly emboldened. Flirting again. Anakin’s knuckles whitened behind his back.

She plucked the flower the man offered her, twirled it between her fingers, and, finally, looked up. Across the room, past every other face. Right at him and her smile changed. Slow. Private. Not for anyone else. She knew what she was doing and she loved it. He could feel the pulse of her amusement, soft and golden behind her ribcage, glowing just for him.

And that was enough to cool the burn. For now.

She excused herself a few moments later, slipping away with the tail of her gown floating behind her, weaving through polished diplomats and oblivious senators. He waited precisely ten seconds before following, every step practiced restraint.

The cool night air of Coruscant swept over the balcony, a quiet haven away from the noise and glitter of the gala. The hum of air traffic and muffled music were distant, irrelevant things. All Anakin saw, all he ever saw, even in his dreams, was her.

She leaned against the railing like she owned the city, like the stars were her playthings. The wind caught her hair just enough to make him ache.

“You looked cozy in there,” he said, voice low, sharp at the edges. “Your... fan club seemed enthusiastic tonight.”

She didn’t turn. Just let the silence stretch, knowing it’d get to him. It always did.

“Fan club?” she echoed at last, tone light, teasing. “Sounds like jealousy, Skywalker.”

Anakin scoffed and folded his arms. “Interesting choice of company tonight. You always did like the dramatic types.”

She turned, one brow lifted. “You mean politicians?”

“I mean men who seem to forget that you are clearly out of their league.” He stepped closer, boots nearly silent, heat radiating off him in waves.

“You know,” she continued, tilting her head slightly to the side, “if I do have a fan club, I’m pretty sure you started it. That whole brooding stare-from-across-the-room thing? Very compelling.”

His jaw ticked. “Right. I’ll remember to blink next time I watch you let half the Senate fall in love with you.”

Her eyes glittered as she turned to face him. “You were watching.”

“You knew I was.”

“Practically vibrating,” she teased. “If you glared any harder, you’d have ignited the Chancellor’s carpet.”

The Force crackled faintly between them, quiet, intimate, like the brush of fingers on bare skin. He didn’t have to reach for her emotions; they poured into him like sunlight and wildfire. She was amused. Charged. Testing him.

She took a step closer. Barely there, but it was enough. “Maker, you’re jealous,” she murmured, delighted at how much tension it was in his jaw and arms. “That’s adorable.”

That did it.

In one smooth, sudden motion, Anakin pressed her back into the shadows of the balcony, out of sight. Her breath caught as the cold stone met part of her spine and his body followed, flush against hers, every line of him pressed with unrelenting intent, the warmth of his palm burning the small of her back. His metallic hand caught her jaw, tilting her face up, not rough, but firm.

His eyes burned gold in the dark as the shadows wrapped them in silence, covering their secret. 

“Do you know how hard it is not to touch you when they do?” he hissed, breath hot against her cheek. “Not to shout that you’re mine?”

She smiled slowly, challenging. “You don’t need to shout.”

He growled softly, teeth clenched. “Right, because you’re the one who loves to be loud.”

She didn’t deny it. “I love to shout your name,” she purred as her fingers found his belt, tugging him even closer.

Their mouths crashed together in a kiss that had no business being soft. It was hot, messy, desperate, brutal in its restraint. Tongues sliding, biting, fighting for dominance, hands gripping wherever they could, pulling the other deeper, like the weeks apart hadn’t worn their restraint down to shreds.

He groaned into her mouth when she bit his lip, and she gasped when he pressed his big leg slid between hers with sinful precision, and Anakin swallowed the sound greedily.

The world outside didn’t exist. There was only this, this fire, this want, this ache they weren’t allowed to name. And the Force around them swirled, tight and humming, their shared emotions tangling like limbs in the dark. Possession. Desire. Frustration. Love, blistering and untouchable. 

They kissed like they were starving. Like they might not get the chance again. Like it wasn’t enough to be his in secret, she wanted to be his in blood, in breath, in everything.

When they finally pulled apart, panting, her lipstick smudged, his hair a mess, and her dress rumpled, he still didn’t move.

He leaned his forehead to hers, eyes closed, hand on her cheek now, softer. But the tremble in his chest hadn’t gone.

“You are mine,” Anakin whispered.

Somewhere inside, he knew this was dangerous.

But her hand running in his hair, tugging softly, her lips swollen and smirking beneath his, and the feeling of her emotions bleeding into his own, her heart thudding against his. “Always.”

It all made him reckless.

Made him Anakin.

The halls of the Jedi Temple bathed in a golden wash of sunlight that stretched through high windows. It was a sanctuary, quiet and disciplined, above any kind of distraction. 

Anakin stood with his arms crossed, flanked by a line of teen knights finishing saber drills under his supervision. The hum and clash of practice blades echoed through the open-air courtyard, mid morning sun painting golden light across the pale stone floors.

He was focused, they all were. Until he wasn’t anymore.

A tug. It started like a subtle itch in his chest. That familiar flutter of energy in the Force that only she caused. His posture shifted almost imperceptibly. Then came the whispers. The laughter. The telltale shift in attention that shouldn’t be happening in a Temple. 

Anakin turned and there she was. She had always made a mockery of Jedi rules just by simply existing.

She moved through the courtyard like a comet, bright, elegant, entirely out of place and somehow right there. The sun kissed her skin and made her glow. Hair swept back, face glowing, wearing that rich blue gown that fitted her like a globe and stole breaths left and right. 

Poor young Jedis, they barely stood a chance.

He watched, arms still crossed, as they began to trip over themselves for her, far too eagerly.

A taller knight stumbled forward, lightsaber already off, bowing too low. “Senator, would you care for a demonstration?”

Another, younger, grinned, straightening his robes with unnecessary flair, puffed up his chest and opened his mouth to talk, but was cut short by a third that stepped in beside her, charming and overly familiar. “Senator,” he said, smirking, offering his arm. “Perhaps I could escort you to the Grand Hall? The Temple’s layout can be disorienting, after all.” 

“Actually,” another interrupted, “I was just about to take my morning walk, can I show you the gardens?”

Anakin narrowed his eyes. The younger knights, barely past their trials, surrounded her like moths to flame. Soon, he was sure the entire practice floor was about to break in spontaneous combat displays.

They were all smiles and flushed cheeks, tripping over each other for a chance to impress her but all she did was smile politely, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. 

Anakin moved, dangerously calm, all coiled control and silent warning. The kind of movement that sliced through space like a saber unsheathed, needing no sound to be final. He stepped into view like a storm rolling over a bright sky. Shadows clung to his silhouette, jaw set, blue eyes hard. He towered over the young knights who were still mid-stammer and mid-swoon.

Her eyes found his instantly and a smile, bright, amused, knowing exactly what this was, appeared on her tempting lips. “General Skywalker,” she greeted, honey-smooth and just this side of smug.

“Senator,” he said, voice all clipped politeness, but there was a glint in his eye only she could read. “You’re expected elsewhere. Please—come with me.”

It wasn’t a request. Not really.

She tilted her head, clearly entertained, and followed without protest. Behind her, the poor knights stood shell-shocked and heartbroken.

Anakin took her the long way, through narrow passages and shadow-laced halls that only he would know. Hidden corridors carved into the Temple’s bones, tucked from sight and sound. No one followed. No one dared. No one ever did when he didn’t want them to.

The tension thrummed between them. Unspoken. Electric. She could feel it through the thread they never dared name. That quiet, intimate current that pulsed like a live wire between their hearts. It made her skin prickle and her mouth curl.

“You’re brooding,” she said lightly, brushing his hand with hers.

“They were drooling,” he replied, jaw clenched, walking too fast.

She laughed softly. “You’re a menace.” Force humming quietly between them in familiar warmth. 

He didn’t deny it. Just opened the door to his quarters and tilted his head towards the inside. His eyes burned hotter than the twin suns. “They were idiots.”

“They were children,” she said, shrugging off her shawl. “It was flattering, sure. But harmless.”

She stepped into his space and reached for his tunic, smoothing invisible wrinkles just for the excuse to touch him.

His hands found her waist like magnets, urgent, desperate. Like his world only started spinning when she was close. Like he’d been starving for the feel of her. “You’re mine,” he muttered, voice rough, low.

The second she pressed against him, the tension snapped. His shoulders dropped and his breath hitched. She always did this to him, only she ever could.

The smile she gave him lit up every star in his chest.

“Possessive much?” she teased, lifting her gaze beneath her lashes. Her hand rested against his chest, gentle pressure just over his heart. “You’re lucky that’s sexy.”

“They don’t even see you,” he growled, lips brushing the edge of her jaw as he inhaled her. “Not really. Not like I do.”

Her fingers slid into his hair, threading through the waves of his hair, soft and slow. His anger began to dissolve under her touch.

“I know that,” she whispered, grounding him. “You don’t have to prove anything, Ani.” Her lips brushed his, featherlight. “I only have eyes for one Jedi Knight,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

A sharp breath left his lungs, forehead pressed to hers. He didn’t speak. Just stood there and felt her. Let her presence, her truth, her kiss soften all the edges. As it always did.

“You’re the only one,” she said, voice softer now, brushing her lips against his. “The only one who gets to take me home.”

He said nothing. He just clenched his jaw and looked at her like she was the entire galaxy, beautiful, untouchable, and he didn’t know how to protect her from it without claiming her. But he was ready to go to the end of time to keep her safe, even if it meant destroying himself in the process.

She kissed him, soft and slow, with reverence, her thumb brushed along his jaw and his hands finally moved. One slid around her lower back, the other tangled in her hair, cradling her like something both sacred and dangerous.

“You were planning to come early,” he said, voice rasping low. “Just to see me.”

She smiled against his lips. “Took you long enough to figure it out, my love.”

He kissed her, deeper, hungrier. Less about proving, more about having. Reverence disguised as hunger. Possession disguised as devotion.

They didn’t speak again for a while. Not when she tugged him toward his bed. Not when his hands ran down her back like he was mapping out the constellations of her skin. Not when his mouth marked her skin like scripture. Not when she gasped his name like it anchored her. Not when he murmured her name like a prayer. And definitely not when the Force pulsed around them, holding the world at bay.

She had come early and now, thanks to him, she’d come more than once… And would definitely be late to her meeting, with love bites and traces of him in places only he could see later in the night.

But that had always been the danger, with her, time bent, it didn’t really matter. The world waited. Only she existed.

And if anyone asked, well, he was General Skywalker. And no one dared question him.

She was trying to work. Key word, trying. Because trying didn’t stand a chance when Anakin Skywalker was in the room. Her focus kept going to him.

He wasn’t even doing anything, not really. Just existing, sprawled across the soft seating like it was his throne, golden and smug. His presence filled the space like a storm fills the horizon, vast and crackling, impossible to ignore. She could feel him under her skin, behind her ribs, humming through her bloodstream even with five feet and a desk between them.

And he knew it, of course he did, he could feel the effect he had on her.

“You know,” he said casually, leaning back and resting the back of his head in his intertwined fingers, “we should go away.”

She didn’t look up from her datapad. “Go away?”

“A vacation.” He was already picturing it, voice wrapped in sunlight. “Just the two of us. There’s a place, far, far from here, remote, beautiful, where no one would recognize us.” He looked at her. “I will be like we are an actual couple instead of Senator and Jedi.”

Her fingers paused above the screen, the weight of the idea pressing into her chest like warmth. She could see it too, for a moment. Feel it like a dream she wanted to believe in.

“I would love nothing more,” she said honestly. “But I can’t, Ani.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” he sat up, affronted, like she’d personally insulted the sun. “It’s two weeks. The Senate can survive without you. Miraculously, I know.”

She sighed, still not looking at him. “I’m sure it can. But I have propositions to review, bills to finalize, votes to prepare. Important meetings—”

He stepped around her desk and popped a dramatic hip like the galaxy's most petulant god. “More important than me?”

She narrowed her eyes, slow and sharp. “You know exactly what you mean to me.”

“Do I?” he said dramatically, crossing his arms and turning around like a tragic holo actor. “Because right now it feels like my heart is being shoved to the bottom of your schedule.”

She let out a breath and leaned back in her chair, folding her hands across her stomach as she studied him.

“Our love is everything to me,” she said carefully. “But my work matters too. It matters for people who don’t have the luxury of sneaking away. Our work matters, Anakin. What we do matters.”

“To me there’s nothing more important than you,” he said standing there with his back to her, arms crossed like a storm cloud, radiating disappointment in dramatic waves.

She stared at his back, lips twitching. “That better not be a pout.”

“No,” he grumbled, “it’s… noble heartbreak.”

She laughed softly, Maker help her, she adored this ridiculous man. “You’re such a menace.”

“And yet here you are,” he said, not turning around. “Still not on vacation with me.”

She stood, walked towards him and slid her hands around his waist, resting her chin between his shoulder blades. “What can I do to prove to you that you matter the most to me?”

“The damage is already done,” he said with great theatrical flair.

A laugh almost escaped her lips, but she pushed it back, and in a swift motion she stood in front of him. Her fingers found his jaw, warm, strong, and tilted his face down to hers.

“My sweet sweet Ani,” she whispered, her lips slow, hot, reverent, against his, making him melt, just a little. “If you want proof,” she murmured, “then let me show you what you mean to me.”

She kissed him, soft and deep, hands threading through his hair possessively, it silenced every protest he thought about making. 

The kiss was heated, frantic, like they’d been starving for each other and finally allowed to feast. It was instant combustion. No slow burn, no delicate teasing. Just raw need, all fire and ache and knowing. He exhaled into her mouth, his hands tangled in her hair, then moved down to her waist, clutching like gravity itself had shifted and he was grounding himself. 

When her mouth grazed his neck, what was left of his composure unraveled like silk. She tasted like stars and defiance. He kissed her like she was air and flame all at once. The fire she lit inside him was hers alone to command.

He walked them back, blindly, not breaking the kiss, not once, her mouth still pressed to his, until she hit the bookshelf. He pinned her there, one hand cradling her head so she wouldn’t knock into the shelves. Books toppled behind them like falling stars as his mouth found her throat, her collarbone, her name falling from his lips like a prayer he’d been dying to say.

She gasped, breathless and burning, and he kissed her harder, like he needed to brand himself into her soul.

Then he moved again, his hands were already back on her, mapping the lines of her body like sacred territory. He knew every curve, every reaction, how she’d shiver when he kissed just below her jaw, how her breath caught when his fingers traced her spine. They collided again, lips bruising, hands insistent.

But it wasn’t just need, it was knowing. The kind of knowing that came from worship and war, from battles fought side by side and promises whispered in the dark. 

When the desk hit the backs of her thighs, he lifted her onto the desk, the other shooting out to sweep everything off the surface in one violent motion, datapads, files, a stylus, a small potted plant, all crashing to the floor as if the whole galaxy could wait while his was mouth still on hers, and she pulled him in like gravity had given up and left only them. They moved together in a rhythm as old as time, sharp gasps, soft moans, whispered names, a symphony of want and devotion echoing off polished wood and walls that had seen too much and still not enough.

Her legs wrapped around his hips, her heels locking at the small of his back, pulling him into her, into this, and he thrust into her, the sound she made shattered him. Her head fell back, exposing her throat, and he kissed it reverently, like a knight bent before a goddess. 

She was wrapped around him, tangled in his body like ivy on stone. Her hands were in his hair, his tunic, her voice in his ear, guiding him, worshipping him. His mouth dragged over her neck, her chest, every place that made her tremble.

His hands moved over her body like he knew every inch of her in his bones, because he did. He didn’t fumble. He didn’t guess. He knew her like he knew the hilt of his saber, like breath, like instinct. He knew what would make her gasp, what would make her moan, what would unravel her completely. And she gave herself to it, to him, because she knew him just the same.

When the desk groaned in protest, he lifted her into his arms, and she laughed breathlessly against his mouth as he carried her to the little velvet sofa, limbs tangled, breathing ragged. He continued to worship her there, whispering her name like it was a secret spell that bound the universe together. She pulled him in with her eyes, with her hands, with the soft, broken sound she only ever made for him.

Every movement, every sound, every glance between them was instinct, history, devotion. They didn’t have to speak. They knew.

And when they finally collapsed on the floor, sweaty, undone, breathless and wrecked and more whole than ever, he hovered over her, brushing damp hair from her face, his heart pounding against hers.

“You are everything to me,” she whispered, cupping his cheek.

His lips curved into a crooked smile as he pressed his forehead to hers. “No,” he murmured. “We’re everything.”

The gala was crowded, loud, and glittering with too much fake gold and not enough sincerity. She floated through it like she always did, charming, gracious, intelligent. Every word laced with purpose and diplomacy. She was dazzling, magnetic. Untouchable.

Anakin had been watching her from across the room, he always is, with admiration, with love blossoming in his chest, but tonight his jaw was clenched so tightly it could shatter in any moment. 

Senator Vanto of Andosha was practically glued to her side, as he had seemed to be lately. He had been circling for weeks like a blood-slicked nexu. It started with a look across the Senate, followed by sugar-drenched pleasantries echoing in marble halls and smiles that lasted a second too long, then a fleeting compliment with a lingering hand on her back. Then he started to get more bold, a too-close whisper over a datapad, every time she laughed the man leaned in closer, taking every possible opportunity to have a hand on her, his eyes devouring her like a predator savoring the kill.

Anakin had seen it all, every touch, every glance from the Senator over the last few weeks, and it burned through him like acid, each and every single time, and she didn’t see it. Or worse, she refused to.

Now, in that glittering cage, every time he even breathed close to her, every time she flashed that too-perfect public smile, Anakin’s vision blurred at the edges. And when the senator started parading around with a hand on the small of her back, his filthy hand on her smooth velvety skin, fingers grazing the open back of her gown like he had the right, like he could, Anakin’s blood boiled.

And she, she laughed, not her real laugh, the one she gave him in quiet moments beneath tangled sheets, but the polite one she wore in public. It didn’t matter. It burned all the same. 

Without a word, he turned on his heel, strides clipped and purposeful. He didn’t care who saw. Let the whole damn Senate speculate. Let them whisper. He didn’t care. He launched his fighter and left.

By the time she got home, the apartment was dark. Cold. But not silent. Anakin was there, pacing like a caged animal, shoulders tight with barely restrained fury.

She didn’t even get her shoes off before the storm hit. “Something wrong Ani?” she asked, the door barely clicking shut behind her.

He turned, the heat in his eyes sparking like wildfire. “You really have to ask?”

She blinked at him, confused, tension curling at the edge of her spine. “I don’t understand.” She frowned, “If you’re upset about something, say it. Don’t just, brood,” she said, unwinding the earrings from her lobes. 

“I’m not brooding,” he snapped. “I’m trying very hard not to explode.”

She scoffed. “Well, you’re doing a terrible job.”

“Just like you were at keeping Senator Vanto’s filthy hands off you,” he said, sarcasm dripping like venom. 

Her breath caught. “Are you really going to start again?” she snapped, looking at him through the mirror in the room, pulling the pins from her hair, letting it tumble over her back. “I’ve told you, he’s a colleague. That’s all.”

Anakin stood dead center in the room, arms stiff at his sides, fists clenched so hard his knuckles were white. “A colleague who practically breathes down your neck every time you’re in the same room. And you let him!”

Her laugh was cold, sharp. “Let him? You think I let him?”

“I don’t think,” he said, voice jagged. “I saw you with my own eyes!”

“I was doing my job!” she said loudly, turning towards him. “Talking, negotiating, building rapport, which is what I’ve always done. What do you want me to do, Anakin? Be rude? Push him away in front of the entire Senate chamber just to make  you feel better? Throw a drink in his face and declare I belong to you?” 

“I’m asking you to see it,” he bit out. “He touches you like he owns you.”

“I don’t belong to anyone!” she yelled, sharply and coldly. 

“I thought you said you were mine,” he said, lower now, his voice breaking at the edges.

“I’m not a possession, Anakin.”

“No,” he said, quieter, rawer. “But you are mine, just as I’m yours, because we chose each other. Because what we have is real. And he’s trying to take you from me,” he said, touching his chest.

Her laugh then wasn’t cold, it was shattered. “You sound insane.”

He stepped closer, too close. “And you sound blind.”

The room froze.

Her face hardened, voice tightening like she was holding back something sharp. “Do you hear yourself right now? He’s not the problem here, Anakin. You are.”

That cracked something in him, clean through the middle, cracking his chest open.

“No,” he said, voice rising. “I’m the one who’s stuck waiting while he gets to stand beside you, hover over you, touch you. Me, the man that has loved you since the first time he saw you, who would burn the galaxy down just to keep you safe, gets crumbs behind closed doors! So excuse me if I’m sick of pretending this doesn’t bother me!”

Her heart stung like it had been slapped. “You think this is easy for me? Hiding, lying, splitting myself in two just to make this work—”

“Then maybe it’s not worth it,” he snapped.

She flinched, like he’d hit her. Her mouth opened, then closed, her voice caught behind the pressure building in her chest. 

The silence that followed was instant and total. The air turned to glass between them, fragile, sharp, suffocating, waiting to shatter.

Her voice dropped to just a whisper. “Is that really how you feel?”

He faltered. He didn’t mean it. But pride, stupid, stubborn pride, held his tongue hostage and wouldn’t let him soften. “Maybe it is.”

Her breath hitched, then turned away from him, jaw clenched so tight it trembled. “Then go,” she said, wrapping her arms around herself, holding herself together with the last thread of her control she had before shattering.

Anakin didn’t move, said nothing. His jaw ticked, lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. He stared at her back for a long moment, at the way her shoulders rose and fell like she was holding it together, barely.

He wanted to take it back. Maker, he wanted to. He wanted to cross the galaxy that appeared between them and fix it, he wanted to hold her and not go.

But he didn’t, and instead turned on his heel and walked out, again. Jumping on his fighter and going away, leaving her in the quiet wreckage of their home.

The silence echoed through the apartment like a thunderclap as she stood there, still in her gown, her earrings in her hand, hair loose caressing her back, and shaking. The lights hummed softly above her. The room felt cavernous without him in it.

And all she could do was stand there, alone, tears pulling in her eyes, surrounded by the wreckage of what they’d built, and wonder, maybe this time, they’d broken something they couldn’t fix.

A full day passed.

She hadn’t moved much, buried under blankets, curtains drawn to shut out the light that mocked her with its warmth. Her datapad buzzed every few hours with messages and alerts, unanswered. The Senate could wait. The galaxy could wait. For the first time in years, she let herself unravel. The senator, the leader, the unshakable voice of reason, reduced to someone wrapped in silence and tears. There was the steady hum of sorrow beneath her skin and the raw ache of something lost, sobs coming and going in waves, breaking through moments of numb silence. She tried to hate him. Tried to hate herself. Neither feeling stuck. Only grief for what might already be gone did.

By late afternoon, the tears had run dry, replaced by something hollow. She pulled herself out of bed, her muscles aching like she had fought a war in her sleep. The shower steamed the mirror, the water was hot, steady, cleansing, grounding her just enough to feel like maybe she could start over.

Maybe.

But she wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

She was wrapping her robe around her when the knock came. She frowned, confused. No one was supposed to visit. The few people who might, had the good sense not to.

When she opened the door, Senator Vanto stood there.

Concern painted across his features like a poor artist’s attempt at sincerity. “You weren’t at the Senate today,” he said, stepping inside uninvited. “People were asking. I was worried that you perhaps were ill.”

She blinked, unsettled. “I... wasn’t feeling well.”

He smiled, taking a slow, familiar step toward her. “I figured as much. I thought maybe I could help. Maybe you needed someone to talk to.” His eyes dragged over her, landing on her exposed collarbone where the robe dipped. “Or just someone.”

A chill slid down her spine and she tightening the piece of clothing around her.

She moved toward the sitting area, creating distance, hoping he’d take the hint. “Thank you for your concern, but really, I’m fine.”

“I know,” he said smoothly, following her, “but maybe it’s time you stop pretending you don’t need anyone.”

He looked her over, the flush skin, her bare legs, her wet hair. “You need someone who can take care of you,” He reached out, brushing a strand of damp hair from her face. 

She stepped back, discomfort. Her skin prickled, but not the way it did when Anakin touched her. There was no warmth here, no tenderness. Just a creeping, nauseating wrongness.

“I said I’m fine.” Again, she rounded the sitting area and tried to put as much distance between them as she could. 

But he followed, again, too closely, too comfortably. With every inch she gave, he took more.

“You’ve always kept yourself surrounded by politics, war, rules, men who are never really there for you. Jedi who disappear when it matters most.” He said it with meaning, with venom. “But not me,” he sat and pushed her to sit with him. “I wouldn’t leave you alone, not even for a second.”

Her knees hit the cushions before her mind registered what had happened. Her stomach turned. “Vanto—”

“I mean it.” His voice dropped. “You need a man who’s strong enough to handle you. Someone who knows what to do with a woman like you.” His eyes drifted down. “Someone who knows how to touch you.” His hand landed on her thigh, firm, possessive. 

Her blood froze. The hand was not delicate, not gentle. It burned. Her skin crawled under it.

“I can give you what he never could.” His voice slithered around her. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

She tensed, tried to inch away, but his hand gripped tighter. “Let go of me,” she pushed his hand away. “It’s time for you to go,” she said, standing sharply.

He stood too, moving in close, cornering her. “Come on, darling,” he said with a twisted smirk on his lips. 

She backed up. Her robe slipped slightly off one shoulder, she yanked it up with trembling fingers.

“You can stop pretending now. No one’s watching.” His hand caught her arm.

She yanked back. “Don’t touch me.”

But he didn’t stop and his grip tightened. “I’ve seen the way you look at me—”

“There’s no way I look at you,” she snapped, breath catching. “Let go of me.”

“No more playing game,” he smirked again.

“Stop it—” she twisted, trying to break free.

“No more hiding.” His other hand gripped her side, fingers digging through the thin robe like claws.

She gasped. “Please, no.”

The fear started creeping up her throat like acid.

Her skin was on fire where he touched her, not in the way Anakin lit her nerves with heat and reverence, but like poison seeping into her bones.

“You’ve got no one here but me.”

She whimpered, voice cracking. “I said no—please don’t—”

He leaned in, tried to kiss her.

She twisted, shoved against him, her voice shaking, heart in her throat. “I said no—!”

And then—The door burst open with a crash.

A wind tore through the room as if the stars themselves had followed him in.

Anakin stood there, eyes burning, jaw locked, the fury of a thousand suns radiating off of him. His voice was low, guttural, animalistic.

“Get. Away. From her.”

Vanto startled, letting go just long enough for her to stumble back. She shoved him hard, scrambling to the other side of the room.

And before she could even breathe, Anakin crossed the room in three strides. The Force lifted Vanto off the ground like he weighed nothing, like a ragdoll, choking him mid-air. His feet kicked helplessly as Anakin stalked forward.

“You dare to touch her,” Anakin growled, his voice was cold. Controlled, but barely. 

He threw him against a wall and with his free hand, took his lightsaber and ignited with a snap-hiss of blue death. “You hurt her.” His face was carved in stone, his rage blistering, terrifying, as he pointed with his saber at him.

“Try fighting like a man,” Vanto stood up, coughing. “Without your Jedi tricks.”

Anakin’s lips twitched. A slow, dangerous smile, not at all kind. “Oh, it would be my pleasure.”

The saber shut off with a snap, and he launched forward.

The fight was brutal. No rules, no honor, just raw and animalistic fury unleashed in the flicker of a heartbeat. 

She stood frozen, robe clenched tightly around her trembling frame, breath caught in her chest as she watched the man she loved, her sweet Ani, unravel.

Anakin was a storm, all fire and anguish and vengeance, striking with the kind of force that only came from years of buried grief, unspoken heartbreak and possessive love in every strike. Metal met flesh with a sickening precision. Blood splattered. Vanto swung wildly and desperate, landing a few hits, but they barely registered. 

Anakin was relentless, built for combat. Designed for it. He wasn’t born like that, for war, but he was made into it. War had carved him into a weapon, he was honed by pain, but underneath the fury still lived the boy who once only wanted to protect the people he loved. And now, seeing her hurt, that boy was screaming and the man he had become answered with rage.

“Anakin, stop!” she cried, breathless, panic bleeding into every syllable. “Don’t—please, he’s not worth it!”

In the chaos, as she tried to break them apart, to stop the devastation, Vanto’s fist swung. It wasn’t meant for her. But it found her anyway. It hit her, colliding with her cheek, sharp and brutal.

The sound, sickening, wrong, echoed through the room like a thunderclap. She gasped, stumbled, a cry of pain tearing from her throat as she crashed into the side table and fell. The thud of her body hitting the floor split the air.

Everything stopped. He punched her. She was on the ground, pain flashing in her glassy eyes, blood on her hand and a cut in her porcelain skin.

The sound she made, that wounded sound, more raw than war, more real than anything he’d ever heard, broke something in him so violently that his breath left him in a single, strangled gasp. 

The world narrowed and all he saw was her, his word had fallen hurt and all his anger turned to something worse. 

She was hurt. Because he hadn’t stopped it. Because he hadn’t been fast enough. Because he had left and was almost too late, again.

That was it, he snapped. 

Anakin tackled Vanto with everything he had, not as a Jedi, but as a man who had seen the only thing that kept him sane, the source of his happiness, hurt and afraid. There was no humanity left as he charged. The punches came fast, the anger white-hot. He didn’t hear Vanto’s protests, and didn't care because all he saw was a danger to her. He threw him across the room, pinned him again, and hit him harder.

All he felt was heartbreak made flesh, striking out at the thing that dared hurt what mattered most to him.

Every hit said: You don’t touch her. Every hit said: You don’t get to make her afraid.  Every hit said: She is mine to protect.

Only when Vanto was unmoving, groaning, bleeding, broken on the floor, did Anakin stop.

He stood there for a moment, chest heaving, fists trembling with fury. His eyes were wild, dark with something primal, something unbearable. A small whimper reached his ears and he turned around. She was still on the floor, broken and shaken.

The door opened again. Security. Too late.

Anakin rushed to her side, kneeling, hands shaking as he cupped her face. “Are you okay?” His voice cracked, desperate. “Look at me. Tell me you’re okay, please.”

He touched her cheek, gently, like she was made of light and grief and might vanish or shatter if he pressed too hard, and she whimpered at the contact. It wasn’t fear this time, nor pain. But because something in her had broken open, and he was the only one who could hold it together.

“This is all on me,” he breathed, horror and panic folding into his voice. His eyes burned, rimmed red. “Maker, forgive me—” His breath stuttered. “I shouldn’t have left. I should’ve—”

Her wide, tear-glossed eyes met his. “You came back,” she whispered, voice so small it broke him. Her trembling fingers touched his cheek, catching a tear as it slid down his face. “You came back right when I needed you.”

His face twisted with emotion, grief, relief, love that nearly broke him in two. “Of course I did,” he choked out. “I’ll always come back.”

Her lip quivered. “Don’t leave me again,” she pleaded. Her voice was broken, raw, but somehow softer.

He closed his eyes, forehead resting against hers, as if that could fuse them together and keep the world from breaking them again.

“Never,” he whispered, voice raw and aching. “My love, never.”

Behind them, security restrained Vanto’s broken, barely-conscious body. There was shouting. Movement. But none of it touched her. None of it touched him. But none of it mattered.

She leaned into Anakin’s touch, into the only thing that felt real, like it was the only thing anchoring her to this world. And maybe it was. 

“Just hold me,” she whispered. “Hold me like only our love matters in this world. Hold me like only you know how to.”

Even if the fire of his rage still clung to him like a second skin, he was hers, and she was his. He was the safest place she had known. 

He was home.

Without a word, Anakin gathered her into his arms, carefully, reverently, as if she were made of sacred things. He held her like she was the only truth he’d ever known, the only fight that ever mattered.

And in that moment, with her curled against his chest, with her tears soaking his tunic and his heartbeat steady against her ear…

The galaxy could’ve ended, and neither of them would have noticed.

[airandyeah]

Footballplayer!Sukuna X Toughgirl!Reader Who Do You Think I Am? Pt.7

My Masterlist Series Masterlist

You’re still in his arms.

The roar of the crowd is a distant blur now, white noise swallowed by the heat of his lips still lingering on yours. His stupid grin hasn’t left his face. Your brain has yet to catch up.

And then, just as the shock begins to wear off—

You slap his chest.

“Put me down, dumbass!”

Sukuna actually laughs. Not the condescending one you’re used to—but breathless. Giddy. Like winning the game didn’t mean a thing unless he got this.

“Didn’t hear you complaining,” he smirks, but he gently sets you on your feet, hands lingering just a little too long on your waist.

You’re about to tell him off—really tell him off—when a voice cuts in.

“Goddamn, I leave you alone for five minutes and you get engaged?”

You whip your head around to see Gojo, sweat-slick hair sticking to his forehead, his eye-black smudged and a crooked grin plastered across his face. He throws an arm around Sukuna’s shoulders with zero regard for the mood.

“So when’s the wedding?” he continues, already pulling out his phone. “You know I’d make a killer best man—oh wait, I already am.”

“Go die somewhere,” you mutter, pushing past both of them, but not before Sukuna reaches out and tugs you back by the sleeve of his jacket.

“Wait—” his voice drops, low and rough again, a little nervous.

You glance back, heart beating like a war drum.

He leans in, still close enough to make the stadium lights feel too warm. “Thanks for coming,” he says, quieter now. “You really were my good luck charm.”

You blink at him once.

Twice.

“Still a fucking idiot,” you grumble—but your voice is softer.

Then you’re gone, stomping away before anyone else sees the stupid heat in your cheeks.

And behind you, Sukuna is smiling like he just won something way more important than a game. “Are you kidding me?” Yorozu’s voice slices through the air like a blade dipped in venom. You don’t stop. You don’t need to. Because the second she grabs your shoulder and yanks—you turn around with fire already in your eyes. “I knew you were a slut,” she spits, voice high with humiliation. “But seriously? Sukuna? That kiss was mine—” You don’t hear the rest. Because your fist connects with her face so hard it snaps her head to the side. Gasps ripple from the crowd like shockwaves. You can still feel the heat of the impact radiating up your arm, the stinging satisfaction of skin on skin. She stumbles back, clutching her cheek, lips parted in disbelief. “You hit me—” “Finally,” you snap, voice shaking with rage. “You’ve been running your mouth since the second I got here. Throwing drinks, spreading rumors, trying to trip me like you’re in some low-budget high school drama. I’ve had it.” You step forward, heart pounding, voice steady. “I don’t care who you think you are. Next time you come near me like that—I'll break your nose.” Behind you, someone whistles low. Probably Gojo. Someone else mutters “Holy shit.” Sukuna? He doesn’t say a word. But when you glance at him—he’s beaming. Like he’s never seen anything so perfect. Yorozu lets out a wounded sound, something between a screech and a sob, and turns on her heel. You roll your shoulder once, like shaking off the tension, and mutter under your breath, “Bitch.” Then, with all eyes still on you, you walk off the field like nothing happened. Like you didn’t just become a goddamn legend.~~~ You’re actually smiling.

It’s not a full-on grin—God forbid—but it’s there. Subtle. Relaxed. Something light on your face that hasn’t been there in a while.

Tiffany’s beside you, chattering like always, but for once... you’re answering her. Teasing her. Laughing under your breath at her stories instead of zoning out.

She notices.

“Oh my God,” she gasps dramatically, clutching your arm. “You’re smiling. Like, actual teeth! Did you hit Yorozu so hard you knocked the stick out of your own ass too?”

You roll your eyes. “I should’ve done it sooner.”

You're halfway through telling her about how Yorozu’s lip definitely split on impact when the first group approaches.

Two underclassmen, eyes wide and starstruck.

“Hey—um—was it true?” one stammers. “Did you really deck Yorozu last night?”

You raise a brow. “Did it look like I missed?”

They break into awkward giggles before scurrying off, and Tiffany snorts.

“You’re such a menace,” she says with way too much pride.

More people approach as you walk—some offering high-fives, others whispering not-so-subtly behind their hands.

“Dude, that was legendary—”

“Did she really punch her in heels—?”

“Yorozu hasn’t shown her face all morning.”

You pretend not to care, but the buzz is addicting. And maybe for the first time, the campus doesn’t feel so stuffy. You don’t feel like a background extra in someone else’s life anymore.

You’re the main event.

Tiffany glances over at you as you both lean against your lockers, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“So...” she starts, a little sly, “are we gonna talk about the other big moment last night?”

You freeze. “What other—?”

“Oh please,” she cuts you off with a grin. “Tall. Pink. Muscles. Kissed you like he meant it.”

You groan and press your forehead against the cool locker door.

“Don’t start.”

“But you like him,” she sings. “You so like him.”

“Do not start.”

She leans in, stage-whispers: “Do you wanna wear his jacket again, or do you wanna wear him—”

“TIFFANY.”

She cackles, unapologetic.

You don’t answer. You don’t have to.

Because the truth is?

You haven’t taken the jacket off since last night.

You're still half-laughing at Tiffany’s dramatic reenactment of the punch when your phone dings.

It’s a quiet sound. One you've heard a million times before. But this time… it makes your breath hitch.

You glance down at the screen, expecting some meme from Tiffany’s group chat or a dumb campus notification.

But it’s not that.

It’s him. With his newly changed contact.

Ryo 💀 📍Location pin 🕒 8:00 PM. Friday. 🌸

You stare at the screen, the faintest bloom of something strange and warm curling in your chest.

“What’s that face?” Tiffany squints, trying to peek over your shoulder.

You angle the phone away and shrug, pocketing it. “Nothing.”

“Oh, come on.”

“It’s nothing.”

Except it’s not.

It’s a place. A time. A flower emoji.

He didn’t say what for. Didn’t ask if you were free. Didn’t even include a question mark.

Just an invitation disguised as a statement.

Because he already knows you’re going.

You don’t know what pisses you off more—how bold he is, or how the corner of your mouth is still twitching upward long after you close the notification. ~~~ You tug at the hem of the skirt for the fifth time, hating how it fits perfectly.

“Why am I doing this?” you mutter under your breath.

“Because you’ve been making heart eyes at your phone for the past two days,” Tiffany chirps from behind you, adjusting the back of your top with delicate fingers. “And because you like him.”

“I don’t like him.”

“You wore his jacket.”

“It was cold.”

“You kissed him back.”

“...”

“You saved his contact as ‘Ryo 💀.’”

“...Shut up.”

Tiffany only giggles, grabbing the lip gloss. “Tilt your chin up, menace.”

You do, sighing as she swipes a shimmery nude over your mouth. Your reflection in her mirror stares back at you—soft makeup, a sleek black skirt hugging your hips, and a dark red top that flirts with your collarbones. Nothing too dramatic.

But enough to say this matters.

She grabs your wrist when you move to grab your jacket. “No. He gave you his. Wear it.”

You pause. And then… you do.

You pull Sukuna’s jacket over your shoulders, the scent of his cologne still clinging faintly to the fabric. It settles around you like a second skin.

Tiffany grins.

“There,” she says softly. “Now go make him fall in love with you.”

You scoff and head for the door. “I’m just showing up.”

“Yeah,” she calls out after you. “But he won’t survive it.” ~~~ The restaurant is low-lit and quiet, just a bit upscale. Not fancy enough to be pretentious, but definitely too nice for the kind of mess you expected from him.

You hesitate at the entrance, eyes scanning the place until a waitress approaches with a polite smile.

“Reservation for two?” she asks.

You nod, adjusting Sukuna’s jacket on your shoulders.

“Right this way.”

Her heels click against the dark wood floors as she weaves between tables. You follow, trying to keep your expression unreadable, your heart not beating out of rhythm. You pass the polished glass, the hum of soft jazz, the quiet clink of forks and wine glasses.

And then—

You see him.

He’s already seated at the far table near the window, one arm slung over the back of the booth, hair freshly tied, tattoos peeking through the collar of his fitted black shirt. The silver chain around his neck glints under the overhead light.

But he doesn’t look cocky tonight.

No smug smirk.

No lazy wave.

Just... awe.

His red eyes are locked on you, jaw slightly slack, like the moment stunned him stupid.

Like he wasn’t ready.

The waitress barely finishes saying, “Your date is here,” before you’re sliding into the booth across from him.

Sukuna doesn’t speak at first.

He just stares.

And then, slowly—quietly—he breathes out, “Holy shit.”

You raise an eyebrow. “That a greeting?”

His lips twitch into something crooked. “Nah. That’s just me losing my entire mind.”

You try to bite back the smile forming at the edge of your mouth, fingers toying with the sleeve of his jacket.

He notices.

Tag list is always open! Okay but, restraining order.... Tags: @nina6708 , @sherrieblossoms , @charlie-xo , @iloveredwineee , @kyo-kyo1 , @clp-84 , @book0fdr3ams , @enhasrii , @sanzuhoe , @strangelovedream , @keiva1000 , @tsumoorin Perm tags: @thenightperson , @makingtimemine , @nina-from-317

[agentoffangirling]

The reaction I'm seeing to the LA fires on social media is DISGUSTING, have some of you no compassion?

Not everybody who lives in LA is rich or a celebrity or a CEO. We're people of all different backgrounds and incomes, and to categorize one of the country's biggest populations under "rich" removes all of that

Furthermore, hi, PEOPLE'S HOUSES ARE BURNING DOWN. DO YOU GET THAT?? THEIR HOMES ARE BURNING DOWN

It's not about whether they have the money to immediately make a new one (remember that majority of people in LA county do not), it's about the fact that their entire livelihoods are disappearing right before their eyes and they can't do anything about it. Those memories are gone in an instant

Even if someone isn't being directly affected, they feel it in other ways. The air quality is extremely bad, everyone is smelling the smoke and seeing the flames

To generalize all of this and say "well only the rich are affected" and you having no sympathy whatsoever for that is disgusting. Shame on you

[fadeintosatoru]

Satoru is soooo friends to lover

tysm for the support, i want to start writing other characters so lmk who i should write! ps. ignore any typos :/

───────────୨ৎ───────────

just think about it, that disgusting slow burn, like as you gradually grow with him. he knows you like the back of hand, he knows you.

he knows when youre upset, or when youre uncomfortable because you bite the inside of your cheek, and your eyebrows slightly furrow.

and he knows when he should step up and back down. He'll let you have your space if you ask for it but he also knows you need someone to lean on, and if thats hititng his chest angrily, crying on his shoulder, ranting your ass off, hell be there.

Satoru took a liking to you because, for once in his life, someone saw him. Not the prodigy, not the heir to the Gojo legacy—just Satoru, your best friend.

you never treated him any differently, even when everyone else put him on a pedestal. You were the one person who kept him grounded, and he didn’t even realize when he started falling for you.

maybe it was the way you’d laugh at his stupid jokes, or the way you’d roll your eyes at his antics but still always have his back. Maybe it was the way you challenged him, called him out when no one else dared to. Or maybe it was just… you.

and how could you not fall for him, too? He’s Satoru, your best friend who defends you no matter what, who lets you see parts of him no one else does. The one who’d do anything for you—even if you told him to jump off a cliff, he’d probably ask, “How high?”

but there’s always been this line between you, this unspoken agreement to keep things platonic. Until… it starts to crack.

it starts with the little things—like the way his jaw tightens when you talk about your dates, or how he goes suspiciously quiet when you get dolled up for some guy he already knows is a waste of your time. He hates seeing you walk out the door, knowing the night will only end with you disappointed yet again.

and when you come storming back, heels in hand, muttering, “You would not believe the nerve this guy had,” Gojo’s sitting on the couch, grinning like he knew it all along. Of course he did. The guy probably asked to split the bill or talked about himself the whole night. Gojo always hated the way these guys never saw you the way he did.

because if you were on a date with him, you wouldn’t need to bring a purse. He wouldn’t even let you think about paying. He’d take care of everything, because he’s just that guy.

but he knows he can’t—he shouldn’t. It’s a line he’s not supposed to cross, no matter how badly he wants to.

and yet… he catches himself thinking about the way your eyes light up when you look at him. Those big, doe eyes that make his heart stutter in his chest.

he hates when you’re mad at him, but at the same time, you look so cute when you’re all fired up that he can’t help but push your buttons, just to see you pout.

he'll beg for your forgiveness afterward, of course, but there’s a part of him that loves how your attention is all on him, even if it’s because you’re annoyed.

his feelings are a fragile balance, always sitting just at the edge of his tongue.

it only took one moment—one crack—and it all spilled out. He told you everything. How much you mean to him, how the thought of a life without you is unbearable.

and now that you’re officially his girlfriend, it’s like a dam has broken. He wants to spend every waking moment with you, like he needs you to fill his lungs, his thoughts, his everything. He needs you bad.

and, it’s no surprise to anyone—not Shoko, not Geto, not Nanami. They all saw it coming from a mile away. Everyone knew. Everyone but you.

[writingangst]

Russian Roulette

Summary: Simon Riley takes notice that the reader has a specific way of reloading her gun, which results in him being paranoid to the point he misreads the situation.

Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Warnings: violence, angst, cursing, torture, hurt/no comfort.

Words: 2.3K

Part two

This was a prompt from Character.AI by user @/kstzii and I had to make this account to post because it really hit the angst spot for me. Hopefully, it does the same for you.

The echo from your sniper rifle was stifled by its silencer as you scored another bullseye. You felt someone's gaze burn into the back of your head. But once you turned, you couldn't see anyone. Must've been my imagination. You reassured yourself as you went back to attempt another shot. No bullets. You quickly reload and reposition yourself to fire off another round.

“What the hell was that?” Your lieutenant's voice called out. You swiftly turned to him. “Reload again.”

“What?” You were caught off guard, the slight hint of a Russian accent slipping out. Shit. You instantly clear your throat to switch back to your usual British accent.

“Are you deaf? I said reload again!” He repeats, his voice booming.

You rearange yourself from your position lying on your stomach, onto your knees, the head of your riffle touching the dirt beneath you. You look at him through slightly narrowed eyes. “Now, why would I reload when I just switched to a perfectly good mag?”

His jaw clenched. You noticied how he was trying to hold himself back. He did this often. You were sharp with your tongue and tended to use it on him often. In more ways than one. Though this time, he didn’t quite seem like he was enjoying it.

“You know exactly what I mean. That was a Russian reload,” he crossed his arms over his chest, the veins in his arms were prominent. It brought you back… No. This was serious.

You laughed it off, seeming unbothered. You were cool. Calm. Collected. Everyone knew you weren’t one to be thrown off your game easily. But this certainley was doing just that. You weren’t about to let him see that though.

With a scoff, you turn your back to him to get a better hold of your gun. “I reckon you haven’t slept, Lieutenant. Could be playing tricks on your sight.”

“I know exactly what I saw,” his tone was cold, but with his clenched fists you knew this was a ticking time bomb. “Do. It. Again.” He ordered in a firm tone. It left no room for any arguments.

You’re stagnant only slightly. There was uneasiness in your stomach at what this could mean. You knew Simon, and you knew Ghost. This was the latter, but you weren’t going to let this play out the way he wanted it to.

“And if not?” You challenge as you turned towards him, eyes sincere as you looked deep into his conflicted ones. “This gonna end in friendly fire?”

In long strides he stepped forward, coming to a halt right in front of you. He pulled you up by your elbow, but you never lost your grip on your weapon. With him being 6’4, you had to crane your neck to look him in the eye. His towering frame was imposing, making you feel small.

He leaned closer, just like he had so many times before. His body only a few inches from yours, but instead of it having the burning effect it usually did, now you were just feeling uncomfortable with the interaction. He was doing this on purpose. He was trying to intimidate you.

“What do you have to lose?” He countered, his voice low, a rumble to his chest.

You took it as a challenge.

With a clenched jaw, you took a step back from him as he severed his grip on your skin. You rid of the magazine wedged within your sniper and your eyes never leave his as you do so. Taking another mag from your tactical gear, you shift to do a simple tactical reload.

He watched you intently, his eyes glued to your every move. You didn’t break a single swet. And even though it seemed like something inherently intimate, you knew it was everything but. Once you finished and kept your straight face on him, he stepped towards you again.

He looked pissed as his eyes flickered to the mag that you just placed into your gun.

“That…” he stated through gritted teeth, gripping your chin with force between his thumb and his forefinger. You were forced to look at him head on. “…isn’t a British reload. Now tell me, who are you really?”

“I’m a simple sniper, sir,” you reply without skipping so much as a beat. “I was chosen for this task because of my outstanding sniper skills.”

Silence ensued.

Then you continued. “But you knew that already. You read my file,” you hissed back at him. “And you’ve trained with me for months, been in my bed, so what exactly are we implying here, Lieutenant?”

He kept his grip on your chin, his fingers digging into your skin. You noticed how he continued to get frustrated that nothing was out in the open like he previously thought it was. He expected you to be defiant, not secretive. A piece was missing and he was paranoid. Something wasn’t right.

Suddently, you’re smashed against the closest tree and your rifle was hitting the ground. You wince as a gruff pained noise falls from your lips once the air is knocked out of you. His vast hand squeezed your neck. Not enough to cut your air supply. Yet. But enough for it to be uncomfortable to breath. There was a sense of betrayal in his eyes and you knew he had assumed the worst.

“You’re a lying Russian spy,” he murmured into your ear with such force you thought you’d faint.

You struggled against him. “I am not Russian, nor am I a spy,” you rasp out as best you can, but you feel him crushing your windpipe. You wouldn’t lie to yourself. You feel hurt. He was one of the closest people you had since joining the 141 task force. Which made you angry. That’s when hurt vacated to make room for the feeling of deception. “But I will not explain myself to you when I have a job to do.”

You attempted to push him off but he was stronger and bulkier than you, making it almost impossible. You understood there that there would be no reasoning with him. Sleep deprivation and high stress levels were obvious indicators of this. You both had been on the field for days, and he had been the one doing most of the lookouts in order for you to get a bit of shuteye. You won’t be a good shot with heavy lids, sweetheart. He once said to you.

“What were you sent to do, huh?” He asked, his voice had lost its edge and now he just sounded distant. “Spy? Assassinate me?”

“Paranoid motherfucker,” you hissed, holding onto his forearm to steady yourself against his grip. “Screw you.”

His eyes narrowed, his grip loosening only slightly. “You sound surprised. You can’t honestly tell me that you expected me to not investigate the mysterious sniper with a Russian reload and accent?”

“And I’m almost certain you couldn’t find a Goddamn thing about anything and that’s why you got me cornered,” you stated as a matter of fact. “I’m not whoever the hell you think I am, and this paranoia is serving to have this mission go south if you don’t let me get to my gun.”

He laughed this time. Honestly, laughed.

You scrunched up your nose. Fuck you, Ghost.

“You don’t think I have dirt on you, sweetheart? I have files on you, more than you can count. I know you, better than you think,” he paused for a second. “I know your weaknesses, likes, dislikes. Everything.”

You laugh bitterly. “I don’t doubt that. Hey, I even had a hand in the shit you know because I trusted you. That still doesn’t mean you know jack shit about what happened in Russia. You’re so inclined? Ask Price!”

“I asked Price!” His hand gave your neck a quick squeeze and you saw how his body trembled. “He didn’t know a damn thing. Said your file was locked and he was denied access. Now why the hell would that be, huh?”

You snorted. “He said that to protect me. I had the whole record wiped. None of this concerns you, Lieutenant. We all went through shit, and you think you’re the only one that’s allowed to be a ghost? Fuck you!”

His eyes narrowed at your words. “Why would he protect you if you have nothing to hide? That makes no sense and you know it.”

“Because my trauma is my trauma! And you have no business budding into it!” 

“And if it’s something that could jeopardize the entire task force?” He muttered, his patience wearing thin. “If it could get everyone killed?”

“You’re an idiot if you think Price would let me anywhere near this damn task force if he considered me a risk,” your voice was cool, but your heart was thumping in your chest. You attempting one last shove that surprisingly caused him to let go. You wheezed when the pressure was off your trachea and you coughed to catch your breath. 

He watched you silently.

Once you composed yourself, you looked back at him as you held your neck. “I thought we were fucking friends, Ghost.”

“Friends?!” He spat exasperatedly. “You really think I would consider you my friend when I know you’re lying? You think I make friends with people I don’t trust?” His eyes were cold, his tone cruel and bitter. “Tell me why I shouldn’t put a bullet between your eyes for the simple deceit.”

Aside from the pain emitting from your neck, there was a hollow ache in your chest that was capturing your attention as well. You would relive the trauma if that would mean getting the job done. But when it came to Simon Riley, he was as good as dead to you.

“I was held hostage by Russian forces for 18 months.”

His stance faltered at that. You don’t think you had ever seen him lose his footing like he had in that instance. And his eyes… Christ, he had never changed his expression so fast. What the hell was that? Pity? He could go screw himself.

You continued. “Anything you can think of in torture, triple that. What kept me alive for so long was the fact they wanted to use me. The only way I got out of the constant abuse was the training. So excuse me if I picked up on a thing or two. Even the Godawful accent that creeps into the British one,” you cleared your throat. “I’m not your enemy, Ghost. But you’re right. I’m not your damn friend either.”

As you explained your past, his eyes never left yours as he listened carefully. He expected many things, but he hadn’t taken into consideration you being a literal prisoner to Russian forces. For once in his life, he was speechless. The thought that you had lived through a year and a half of torture at the hands of the Russians was something he could barely imagine.

His gaze had softened, but he hardened again when something wasn’t clicking for him. “Doesn’t explain why your file is locked.”

You snorted humorlessly. “Ever heard of Price’s little sister?”

His eyes widened at the mention of her. The captain was hush hush about the matter, but it was a well known fact he had family within the military. And that she was KIA some time ago. “What about her?”

“You’re looking at her.”

Those were the last words he expected to come out of your mouth. Shock and surprise flashed behind his mask as he finally realized what this meant.

“You’re…” He paused, trying to process the bomb that just exploded in his face. “You’re Price’s sister?”

“In the flesh,” you replied with the same cold tone he had been using earlier with you. “You’re not the only one trying to be ghost. You’ve just never been questioned by the task force on it like you just did to me.” 

What could he say to that?

“I took a bullet for you, Lieutenant,” you reminded him. “What fucking spy does that for the opposite team?”

His jaw clenched and you saw how his mask flexed due to it. His eyes showed how he replayed that memory in his head. It was something he thought about constantly. You had saved him, and he hadn’t seen it coming. He had been so focused on you being a spy that he hadn’t stopped to consider that you were actually on his side.

“I never should have questioned you,” he admitted, his voice quiet as he met your gaze again.

Your hand shot up to stop him from saying anything else on the matter. “It’s done. We’re done here.”

He watched as you walked away to pick up your gun, his mind racing with thoughts but they were too fast for his tongue. He knew he had messed up. He had completely misjudged the situation with the accusations thrown at you when in reality your connection to the task force was stronger than even his.

The irony in the situation wasn’t lost on him, but he didn’t find it funny.

“Wait,” He sighed, taking strides to catch up to you.

“This is unprofessional, Lieutenant,” you stated, dusting off your weapon as you checked for any malfunctions. “We’re in the middle of an active operation. I’m done talking.”

He exhaled a frustrated sigh as you dismissed his attempt at talking to you. He knew you were right, that the mission was what mattered now. But he couldn’t help the feeling that he needed to apologize. It was clawing at his chest, the emotion raw in his throat, asking to be let out in word vomit.

“You can’t honestly expect us to just ignore what happened and continue on like normal?”

Silence followed.

You didn’t even look at him.

“Go back to being Ghost, because Simon Riley is fucking dead to me.”

[willowsnook]

could you write something cute about the reader and Lando please, maybe something funny where the reader says "oh yeah I'll do this but for that you'll buy me a Porsche" and Lando actually buys her a car

lando norris x gf!reader

—————————————————————

“I’ll do it if you buy me a Porsche,” you said exasperated after having the same argument with Lando. His eyes widened at your statement before a mischievous smile snuck up on his face.

“Done,” he boasted and you rolled your eyes before muttering a ‘whatever’ and going back to reading your book.

For months, Lando had been begging you to come skiing with him, Max, and Pietra. You did not want to go at all; nothing against anyone going, but you just weren’t interested in learning how to ski. Your family was a beach family; not adrenaline junkies like Lando was.

A few days later you had forgotten about the argument all together until you came into the kitchen to find Lando smiling like the cheshire cat.

“You look like a creep, what’s wrong with you?” You asked and he shrugged off your insult, holding a bag out to you.

“For you baby,” he said and you could tell he was doing everything in his power to contain his excitement. You took the bag warily, opening it to find a pair of gloves along with ski goggles.

“No,” you said simply, handing him the bag back but his grin didn’t waver.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said, wagging his finger at you. “Look in the garage.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously at him before making your way to the garage, Lando following closely behind with barely contained excitement. When you opened the door, your jaw dropped. There, in the middle of the garage, was a sleek white Porsche with a giant red bow on top.

"You didn't," you whispered, turning to Lando with wide eyes.

"I did," he grinned, dangling a set of keys in front of you. "A deal's a deal, right?"

You snatched the keys from his hand, still in disbelief. "I was joking, Lando! You actually bought me a Porsche?"

"Well, technically it's a Porsche Taycan. Fully electric, better for the environment," he explained, watching as you circled the car in awe. "I figured if I was going to buy you a car, you’d want it to be something like that.”

“God you are unbelievable,” you muttered as you came back over to him. “Good thing you’re pretty.”

Lando smirked and wrapped his arms around your waist. “So… does this mean you’re coming skiing?”

You gave him a look. “No. It means I’m driving the Porsche to the mountain lodge and then sitting by the fire with a book and a hot chocolate while you launch yourself off cliffs.”

He pouted. “You have to ski at least once. You said—”

“I said I’d go skiing,” you interrupted, holding up a finger. “Not do skiing. Words matter, Norris.”

Lando opened his mouth to argue, then paused. “You know what? Fine. I got you the car. You show up, wear the goggles for five minutes, and I’ll count it as a win.”

You leaned up and kissed his cheek. “See? Look at us. Compromising. Growing.”

He sighed dramatically. “I should’ve just bought you snow boots and lied about the Porsche.”

You laughed, slipping into the driver’s seat to admire the interior. “Too late now. This baby’s mine.”

[shy-writer-999]

All Bark, No Bite?

WARNINGS: MINORS DNI. NSFW CONTENT.

A/N: Mostly smut. ~4500 words. Strawhat reader (afab) x Ace, who is visiting the ship for a while. When Ace finds someone who can match his banter, what goes down? ( ´ ω ` )

CW: dirty talk, fingering, P in V, prone bone.

All Bark, No Bite?

The flirtation with Ace had been getting ridiculous recently. You’d both been dancing around the idea of fucking each other senseless for weeks. Part of the fun was the teasing—Ace felt like he was going to explode any time he saw you, and his presence stoked a fire in your core any time he was around.

The banter itself was enough to make him hard and you wet, respectively. And sure, you’d make out a couple of times, he’d gotten handsy (with your eager consent), he even fingered you once—but these events happened once every blue moon, and your brief trysts never got past that threshold.

At one point the suggestive back-and-forth and lingering touches transformed into shameless horniness. Any chance he’d get, Ace would make you flustered, whisper sweet nothings in your ear, and then he’d turn around and talk about how he was going to fuck you into oblivion someday. You were counting down the hours until the perfect moment presented itself, and, of course, it did.

You shot Ace one too many lust-filled glances one night, and he couldn’t hold back anymore. You were wearing the shorts that you knew drove him rabid, so short that he got a tiny peek of your ass cheeks (Sanji loved the shorts too, coincidentally). Combined with your tank top and the shape of your breasts more visible because you weren’t wearing a bra… Ace could feel himself going feral.

He was sitting next to you at the dinner table, while the rest of the crew was rowdily laughing at Luffy almost choking on a chicken bone because he had scarfed it down too fast. Leaning to the side, Ace murmured something your ear. At the same time, his hand crept under the table and squeezed your thigh.

His comment wasn’t completely out of left field—earlier that night, he complimented your shorts, and you responded something along the lines of “Oh yeah? Wanna see more?” He had rolled his eyes at you in the moment, saying (sarcastically) “mmmhmm, sure” but afterwards he was shaking his head and laughing at himself over how viscerally down bad he was for you.

So, when he leaned over and whispered the following comment in your ear, you giggled. “How much you wanna bet that I’ll fuck you better than anyone has before?”

Now you were the one rolling your eyes. “Fat chance, Ace. In your dreams.”

“What, you don’t want to?” He feigned surprise and hurt, keeping his voice low and hushed.

You gave him an annoyed look and cocked your head slightly. He knew you wanted to. It was fucking obvious.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Ace, it’s just that I think you’re all bark and no bite. Best dick I’ve ever had? Yeah right.”

A grin took over his face, nose scrunching up just slightly, those adorable freckles winking at you. “You want to find out?”

“I know you want to.”

Ace got up without a word and went to wash his now empty plate. You were puzzled at the lack of response, staring at his back, annoyed, until he turned and flicked his chin in the direction of the hallway. Message received. He put his plate on the drying rack and then sauntered down the hallway in question, disappearing as he turned a corner.

You got up and took care of your plate, following in Ace’s footsteps from a couple minutes before. As you left the dining area you sent Robin and Nami a small wave. Robin smiled and Nami gave you a wink. They knew they would hear every detail later.

When you walked down the hallway, you figured Ace would either be in your cabin or his (guest) cabin. Your door was open, light on just how you left it, Ace he was nowhere to be seen. So, he must be in his own cabin. But as you approached, you could see that his door was ajar, and it was pitch black inside. When you reached the room, you cracked the door some more and peered in. “Ace? Where the fu—”

Mid-question, a hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed your wrist, pulling you. You couldn’t see anything—the shutter on the room’s porthole was pulled shut, the light turned off. The only thing you could feel as you groped around in the dark was Ace’s hand on your wrist, which pulled you closer to what you assumed was the bed. You could hear the muted sounds of blankets rustling in front of you. He let go of your hand.

“C’mere.” His playful voice was a couple feet in front of you.

“I’m trying to, but I can’t fucking see anything!” You snapped, fumbling around in front of you until your foot hit his and you toppled over. He caught you by your waist and guided you down to straddle his lap.

“If you would have waited a minute, I would have given you a light.” He flashed a finger, a small flame burning on the tip. You saw his gorgeous smile just barely before he extinguished it. As his grip grew tighter on your waist, he purred, his face centimeters away from yours. “I want you.”

“I know you do, Ace” you laughed at him. He knew you well enough by now that he could hear you smiling through your voice.

“Please.” His voice was so sweet and pleading, veiled notes of desire behind his honeyed tone.

Leaning forward, you gave into a temptation that you knew would only lead somewhere hot and steamy (and you had no problem with that). It had been far too long since you locked lips.

You’d never get over how soft his lips were and how good of a kisser he was. While the jury was still out on whether or not he fucked you better than anyone else, you knew for a fact that he kissed you better than anyone else.

The kisses started out tame, but you could tell how badly he wanted more. You cupped the side of his face with one hand and threw your other arm around his neck, pressing your body into his. Ace’s hands around your waist crept down and grabbed two handfuls of your ass—extremely accessible through those short shorts. You could feel his half-chub forming in his shorts, starting to press onto the denim that covered your crotch.

Ace’s tongue parted your lips and explored your mouth. Your fingers tangled in his dark hair and you could feel his erection, fully hard now, starting to slowly grind up into you. He was letting out puffs of air into your mouth, hands kneading your ass, pulling on it. You moved your hands from the nape of his neck and reached for the hem of your tank top. When you peeled it off, you threw it across the room.

Ace was about to start massaging your bare breasts, but you shoved his shoulders so forcefully he fell back onto the covers.

“Feeling feisty, aren’t we?” Ace’s smirk was almost as audible as the smug chuckle he let out.

“Don’t move.” You got off his lap and shimmed out of your shorts and panties. When you had freed yourself of them, you leaned forward to tug on Ace’s shorts and the waistband of his boxer briefs; he helped speed the process along, and pulled off his shirt while he was at it.

Climbing back on the bed, you straddled Ace, cowgirl style, as he watched you from below. You felt like he deserved to get teased a bit, since he had such a big mouth and cock. Adjusting so his cock was laying flat on your lips, you started rubbing up and down it, bare pussy grinding on his shaft. At the same time, you braced yourself on his abdomen with your palms. You used his washboard abs for leverage, to adjust how hard or soft you grinded into him. Ace’s hands alternated between squishing handfuls of your ass to gripping your hips tightly.

Ace took one of his fingers and held it before you, a small flame dancing on his fingertip again. The light cast red tones and shadows on your body—he felt a sense of reverence as he watched you grind on him, head thrown back, like you were something holy, some work of art ripped from the frame of a renaissance painting or a sculpture from classical antiquity brought to life.

Your hair, your curves, the way you braced yourself on him, the way your hips rolled ever so slightly to elicit the most pleasure from him… he was in denial about how intensely and ardently he liked you. He was obsessed with you, entranced by you, he couldn’t get you out of his head ever since he started spending time on the ship. Your flirting sessions and the occasional horny tryst were killing him inside because all he wanted was to be close to you.

Sure, he wanted to fuck your brains out, but the feeling he got while he admired you in that muted light was something akin to awe. The moment felt surreal. He extinguished the flame.

“Princess, I won’t be able to take much more of that.” His voice was strained.

“I’m just getting started, Ace, sheesh. Don’t get too excited already, big boy.”

The feeling of your clit rubbing up and down, snagging on the head of his cock sent ripples of pleasure through both of you. It was so easy to get off when Ace was underneath you, like putty in your hands. He was trying to keep his groans back, trying to push them down in his throat; he didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of knowing he was enveloped in pleasure after less than five minutes of this. But the precum was already leaking out of him, a fact that did not escape you as you grinded your core on his shaft.

“Fuck, baby, you’re killing me.” He croaked, his voice was almost hoarse. He wanted to fuck you immediately—either that, or he’d need to finger you or eat you out, ASAP. He couldn’t take five more minutes of this. He was going to cum soon if you kept it up, and if he came before he even got the chance to fuck you, he knew he’d never live it down.

“Oh, you’re falling apart already Ace? Weren’t you just saying you’d fuck me better than anyone I’ve ever been with?” Your tone was scornful, but you knew he’d get off on that. He loved any sort of sass or brattiness, he liked whining and begging, too, and his heart went crazy inside any time you made pathetic and pleading puppy-dog eyes at him.

“So, you just want to rub yourself on my cock forever and you won’t even let me fuck you with it?” Ace always returned your sass tenfold. His deep voice was incredulous and almost mocking you, but for some reason it felt like he was doting on you.

“Mmmmhhmm, Ace, and you’re just going to have to deal with that.”

He finally let out a groan. It was feeling dangerously good. Concerningly good. The slick oozing out of you and coating his shaft wasn’t making things any easier.

Ace squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing in an attempt to fend off the mounting desire-filled craze that was about to overtake him.

“You’ve got about thirty seconds left before I fuck you senseless, darling.” He practically growled at you—his voice sounded different; more desperate, deeper, and gruff.

You quipped back scathingly with a laugh, continuing to glide back and forth on his cock leisurely. “Ace, you’ll cum from me humping your dick before you even get the chance. I’d like to see you try.”

In a split second, everything changed. Because the room was pitch black, the only thing you could go off was the sensation of being thrown around.

Ace grabbed you by the waist and flipped you over, almost knocking the wind out of you. Your stomach was flat on the bed now and Ace was on top of you, his cock throbbing, pressing on your ass. His body was almost completely flush with yours, except he was bracing himself with a hand on either side of your head. His knees were outside of yours, firmly pressing your legs together.

“What was that?” He murmured, close to your ear. “You’d like to see me try?”

You let out a muffled sound, having to pick your head up a bit to be audible amidst the plush covers and blankets. “Yeah, Ace. Try.”

He reached a hand down to push your thighs apart slightly. Combined with you arching your back, he had better access now. He crept his hand down to your core and swiped two fingers through your folds—you were dripping wet, and when his fingers touched your bare folds, your hips bucked inadvertently.

“Now who’s the one gettin’ all worked up, sugar?” He taunted you, repeating his movement down your lips and to your clit a couple more times.

You rolled your eyes, like he could see them. “I’m hardly worked up, Ace. You’ll be able to tell when I am.”

“Oh, is that so?” He teased and slowly inserted his middle finger, his palm coming to rest on your skin. You were so wet that his finger slid in without any resistance. Your walls clenched around him. As he curled his finger and explored your insides, he pressed and roamed, trying to find your sensitive spot.

Now, you were the one trying to stifle your own sounds of pleasure. You feared that you were the one who was all bark and no bite—if his mere finger felt this good inside of you, who knows what it’d feel like when his cock was buried as deep as it could get.

Sure enough, Ace found your g-spot quickly and started relentlessly applying pressure. Your hips jerked up every time he pressed it, and you started to feel so good that your sighs and muffled groans were turning into full-blown mewls. You were one good g-spot press away from moaning his name with reckless abandon.

Based on the way you were squirming and clenching around his finger, Ace could tell that he could make you cum within a couple minutes if he kept going. He was painfully aroused; his cock was aching for friction. He wanted you so bad that it hurt.

He took his finger out and leaned down more, pressing his chest on your back, positioning his cock right at your entrance. He ran his tip up and down through your folds, rubbing it on your clit for a second before returning to tease around your slit.

“Fuck, Ace,” you moaned his name for the first time and he felt his heart stop. “I want it.”

He felt like being a dick. Now that you were under him, sopping wet and moaning his name, he wanted to take his turn playing the part of the bratty tease.

“What was that, pretty? Couldn’t hear you.”

“Fuck,” you groaned in frustration. He was going to drive you insane if he didn’t put his cock in soon. You were dying for it. “Ace, I want you. Now. Please.”

That was all he needed to hear before he started to press his tip through your folds and into your cunt. He was stretching you out and it felt so damn good. Your walls shuddered around him and his cock twitched in response. When he bottomed out, his chest was pressed directly onto your back, weighing you down so much that it was difficult to catch a breath. Ace's weight, his cock, and the feeling of him breathing on your neck all constituted an overwhelming sensation. In that moment, you would have done anything he told you to.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” Ace rasped in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body. He held still for a moment to feel you pulse around him and listen to your heartbeat below him.

“Ace, move,” you whined. You tried to move your hips up and down, desperate for him to start bringing his cock in and out. You were growing impatient. You could only handle so much teasing before you would start begging pitifully.

Ace obliged your entreaty, dragging his cock out of you slowly and then plunging it back in forcefully. He angled his hips down, getting the deepest possible angle that he could. His body was caging you in, hips pressing into yours. The weight of his body and the angle made you feel tighter and made his cock feel bigger than it already was.

He pulled out again slowly and plunged back in, hard and deep. You yelped and it turned into a moan. “Ace, fuck.”

“Nngghhhh, fuck, Y/N, your pussy is so tight.”

“You—already—said—that,” you struggled to spit out each word as he fucked you.

“I’ll say it as many times as I want,” he smirked in your ear and plunged into you particularly rough. Filthy sounds of pleasure left your mouth as a response. He was fucking you so well that you were beginning to lose touch with reality.

“Do you like that? Do you like when I fuck you like this, sweetheart?” His sugar-coated voice and the pet name went straight to your pussy. Every time he called you one of those adoring names he could feel your cunt pulse around him—your body was telling on you, letting him know how much you liked those affectionate names, even though you would never tell him how much they made your heart flutter.

“Gonna fuck you ‘till you can’t even talk,” he grunted between each word, pulling out slowly and fucking into you franticly the whole time.

You moaned into the sheets in front of you, grabbing handfuls of them and balling them up into your fists. The dirty talk continued from Ace as he got continuously more riled up. He knew you loved it.

“So wet for me, sweetheart,” his voice was rumbling from his chest and into your ear—you could feel it vibrate on your back as he thrusted into you. “Taking it so well. Taking it all for me. So fuckin’ hot.”

As Ace fucked you harder and deeper, he targeted your g-spot, drawing more pleasure from your already dripping cunt. He felt hot and stiff inside of you, and every time his tip and shaft pressed your sensitive spot like it was a button. Your toes curled in ecstasy and your thighs clamped closer together. Each progressive clamp of your thighs let Ace go deeper.

“Tell me how much you like it, baby,” he cooed, breath hot on your ear.

You didn’t know if you’d be able to squawk out a coherent sentence. But you were going to try, or else he would have something else to smirk over.

“F-feels so—so good, Ace, feels like—” your words got caught in your throat and turned into a sort of strangled moan, a noise so primal it made Ace feel like he was going crazy.

“My cock feels so good you can’t even talk? You like it that much?”

You clumsily attempted a nod, stopped by all the covers you were currently getting fucked into. A mewl would have to suffice.

“Aceee, fuck,” the noises were muffled, but Ace knew exactly what you were saying. It fueled him, goaded him into fucking you harder. He wanted you to melt in his touch completely, wanted your eyes to roll back into your head in pleasure. He wondered how good it would feel when you screamed his name and came on his cock. He was determined to find out.

“Your pussy feels so good on my cock, baby, juuussssttt like that.”

Ace slowed his hips down, exercising every bit of discipline he had to glide his cock in and out as slow as possible. For you, this speed was simply unacceptable. You needed more so badly that you were about to scream for it. Was he trying to edge you?

Right as you were going to feebly attempt to snap at him to fuck you better, you realized that he was leaving a trail of gentle kisses along your shoulder blade. He kissed up to your neck, kissed down your back as far as he could reach in this position, showering you in unexpected affection. It made your heart stop for a moment. Sure, he was cheeky and insolent in most interactions (in a way that you liked), but you always suspected that he really did have a soft spot for you. You could see it in his eyes whenever he spoke to you.

Ace slowed down his panting so he could murmur lightly in your ear, “God, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

Vivid shades of pink and red started to spread over your cheeks. One of his hands crept towards yours and came to rest on top of it tenderly. You released your fistful of blankets and he intertwined his fingers through yours.

“So gorgeous it hurts,” his breath tickled your ear. He squeezed your hand, fucking you at a snail’s pace.

Holy shit, was Ace… making love to you? Was he funneling his affection towards you, letting you know how much he deeply cherished you, all while fucking your brains out? It seemed like the answer must be yes. Your heart did a flip.

“Ace,” you keened out; his adoration was going to your head. You lifted and turned your head as much as you could amidst the plush blankets, so he could hear you better. “I want you.”

He squeezed your hand. “I know you do.”

Ace sped up his thrusts again, his grunts and groans filling the room along with your sweet sounds of pleasure and the wet sounds from your cunt. His hips rolled, his weight bore down on you, your gummy walls pulsed around his cock—you were both on the verge of orgasm, holding on for dear life. He desperately wanted to make you cum first. The thin façade of bragging rights aside, he just wanted to make you feel good. He wanted to wrench heaven from your core and see you writhe in pleasure from his touch—he wanted the satisfaction of knowing he did that.

Every pass of his cock in and out of you was mind-blowing. Oblivion was approaching, quickly. His pace was becoming haphazard, messy, and frenzied.

“Ace, Ace, I’m—I’m gonna cum, feels too good,” you whined.

“Go for it, doll, wanna feel you cream on my cock.” His voice was barely going in one ear and out the other; it gravelly and deep, coursing through your veins like blood. But you registered it enough to know that he wanted you to let go for him.

One good thrust later and you were riding the wave of all-encompassing pleasure so intensely that you felt like you were going to pass out. You started to squirm—he had brought you to your peak and pushed you over it, into a free fall of desire and bliss with no end in sight. The pitch black of the room emphasized the maddening euphoria crashing through your body, it coaxed sounds out of your mouth that you’d never heard before, ones you didn’t know you could make.

You moaned Ace’s name on repeat—screamed it, almost, and every time Ace heard that noise grace his ears, the coil inside of him tightened. Feeling you writhe under him, feeling you squeeze the ever-living fuck out of his hand, feeling you arch your back and your walls pulse… It was too much.

The coil inside of him went rigid and snapped. Ace convulsed, jerking his hips and bucking them down into you. “Fuuccckkkk, Y/N, fuck.” Pulling out of you with heaving breath, his cock shot milky white ropes that painted your ass and lower back.

Ace felt like he was floating. He came the hardest he ever experienced—he didn’t know it was possible to cum this explosively or feel this good.

He collapsed onto his side and positioned his body next to yours. Your gasps for air and heartbeats were in sync as you both came back to earth. You laid there for a moment.

Ace lit another tiny flame on his finger and studied your face. Your eyes were closed, mouth hanging open, pressed against the bedsheets. Your cheeks were ruddy, lips just as pretty as he remembered.

A smiled dusted your lips as you opened your eyes, half-lidded, to see him inches away from you. Ace’s eyes reflected the small fire burning in between you, his lips curled into that heart-twisting grin that always gave you butterflies.

He extinguished the flame, reached over, and started to pet your back. His hand moved to smooth down your hair. “Hey gorgeous, how you hangin’ in there?”

“Wow.” You exhaled, breathless. A beat of silence passed. “What was all that about?” You were still smiling, fighting off the bashfulness and feeling of being flustered that you knew was creeping up.

“What do you mean, pumpkin?” His tone was puzzled.

“The lovey-dovey stuff...”

“Oh.” He paused. “Don’t you know how much I like you? I may tease you but I really, really like you.”

“Stop it, Ace. You’re making me shy.”

His hand resumed smoothing your hair. It passed down to cup your cheek. He rubbed a circle on your skin with his thumb.

“What’s so wrong with making you shy?”

You didn’t answer. He leaned over to kiss you. Again, you’d never get over how good his lips felt pressed on yours. Any time they met it was electric.

“One second—let me get you cleaned up sweetheart.” Ace got off the bed, grabbed a towel, and wiped his cum off your back. His touch was soft, treating your body like it was precious. He got back into bed.

“Come over here.” Ace’s voice was tender.

You turned onto your side and scooted closer. He threw an arm over you and held you to his chest. You cozied up to him for a long time. His chin rested on top of your head, you curled into his chest, heard his heartbeat, and felt the weight of his arm squeezing you closer.

After a moment he started to chuckle.

“Ace, what? What are you laughing about?” The sass started to trickle back into your voice.

“So, did I fuck you better than anyone has before? Am I still all bark and no bite?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes. “I guess you’re all bite.”

“Mmmm, that’s what I thought.” He kissed the top of your head and held you close, with that cocky grin plastered all over his face.

(✿◠‿◠) ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚ (*^_^*)

thank u so much for reading!! MAD shoutout to @acesluvrxx for the very detailed, and dare i say magnificent, request!

here's my masterlist, if you're interested!

[laylaysdelusions]

Your boyfriend is a lame and you’re a bottom

Warnings: aggressive sex, cheating, strap on.

Inspired by she don’t wanna by Kevin gates

“What the fuck? Again?” Paige said sternly. You just told her about your dumb ass boyfriend being flirty in other girls' comments, once again. “I’ve talked to him about it and he doesn’t listen!” You practically yell, letting your frustration out on your masc bestie. “When does he ever listen? Let’s be real” something about her know it all persona spent a shock through your body. You put your head in your hands. “I just-!” You sighed.

“Just what? Orgasm and sleep deprived?” Paige says while laughing her ass off. You slap her shoulder and roll your eyes. “Not funny”. “You know you’re cute when you’re mad at me?” the blonde player smirks at you. “Shut up!” Only now did you realize how beautiful she looked. Her blonde hair in a slick back bun and her lips in a smirk. Her cheeks tinted from laughing. “No seriously, when was the last time you got good sleep?..or a good orgasm for fucks sake” heat rises to your face at the question.

“A few months..” you mumble. “Yeah because your boyfriend’s a fuckin’ lame” Paige rolls her eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m here for you to vent but I hate seeing you go through this” the blonde’s eyes softens. “It’s like- he doesn’t even try to make me feel good anymore” tears start to develop in your eyes as you start to realize just how deprived you are of normal relationship habits.

Paige wraps her arms around your shoulders. Adjusting her pants, making you a little confused. You notice that she’s been manspreading this whole time. The view makes you feel less sad and more nervous. If you were honest with anyone you and Paige had a deeper history than just best friends. When you first realized you like girls, Paige offered to help you understand your wants and needs better.

She taught you how to kiss a woman and even eat pussy. You can’t help but still think about her moans when your hand is down your pants on lonely nights. It was just experimental right? You tried to push the thought away.

“I have an idea to make you feel better princess” the blonde attacks you with sudden eye contact. “Hm?” You look kinda puzzled. “Look, before you got a boyfriend we used to kinda experiment together and you seemed to like it, would you like to try it again? We don’t have to tell him” her words shocked you equally as much as it made heat surround your areas. You thought to yourself that if your boyfriend can’t get the job done you might as well as the one person you know can.

You lean into her and attack her lips with a deep kiss. “Fuck it” you mutter under her touch. Paige grabs you and practically throws you on the couch. Paige’s view was perfect. Your hair laid out with your facial features glowing. The heat from your body shined through to her.

When you fell back your tits bounced along with the motion. That tank top you were wearing needed to come off immediately. “Can I? Paige asked as her slim fingers placed themselves along the edges of your top. “Yes Paige” you practically whined. She kissed up your stomach, grabbing at your sides. The both of you were almost animalistic with the way you pawed at each other. It was clear the fire between you two had been burning this whole time.

“Mm fuck” Paige groaned into your mouth as she played with your hair. Her hands found themselves at your bra and you made a sudden moan. “Poor baby hasn’t been touched good in so long” Paige had a mocking pout on her face. Holy shit, you loved when she was mean. Her face buried itself in your chest, taking in everything. Your scent filled her nose.

She unclasped your bra and quickly took a nipple between her teeth. “Mmm” you cried. It would be usually silly to be so sensitive but with recent experiences this is top tier. Her hand came to your jean shorts. “Do you mind if I unbutton these baby?”. “Go ahead, do whatever you want to” you looked her in the eyes.

In just a few seconds you were completely undressed. “My girl is so soaked” the player said, referring to your pussy. Her fingers come up to circle your bud. You cry. “Need you!” You muttered with shallow breaths. “Let me do all the work pretty” Paige smiled against your neck. “I got something for ya” you look at her as if you’re wanting an answer. “Yeah?” You say with your chest rising and falling fast.

“Here princess, take my sweatpants off” she smirked while bringing your hands to her waist band. When you pull them down your eyes widen. She had a seven inch strap. That’s when you realized why she had been moving her legs so much. Your eyes turn impossibly needier. “Use your words if you want it doll”. You began to beg and after the third plea she gave in. She grabbed your legs and moved in between them.

You sighed softly as you felt her hands running across your body. The tip of the strap hit your hood making you shiver. “Tell me if you wanna stop alright?” Paige said in a serious tone. You nodded in agreement. The strap slipped in and you practically burst into tears from the pleasure. Out of the blue your phone started ringing.

You went to swipe off it until you saw who it was. “I-it’s him” you whined to Paige while she stilled within you. Her voice got stern. “Answer it.” You started to object until she repeated herself this time rougher. “Yes Paigey” you replied, out of breath and desperate.

“H-hey” you gasped as Paige started up again. “I need 30 dollars” he shouted into your ear. “N-no I don’t have it” you replied, you did but not for him. “I’m not playing games with you, send me it” he said in the most unattractive tone. Paige bucked her hips into you more causing a deep moan to arise from your throat. “What the fuck was that?” Your boyfriend yelled. “Give me the phone!” Paige whispered. You listen.

“She’s kinda busy getting her brains fucked out right now, she’ll call you back” Paige laughed and grunted into the phone and hung up. The both of you let out a laugh and fell into a kiss. She fucks you so beautifully you can’t stop shaking. It’s not long into your orgasm approaches. “Tell me baby, tell me I fuck you good” Paige groans as she hits your g spot.

“Holy shit, it feels so good, so much better than anyone else” you say, tears streaming down your face. “Cum for me baby” when she gives the command you spill. “Ima pull out ok?” And you nod. Your chest rises and falls like waves and it stuns Paige everytime.

She kisses your cheeks making you giggle. “So am I better?” “Duh”

[crowdedimagines]

Tailspin - Bradley Bradshaw

summary: Bradley Bradshaw was happy to retire to the small town of Southport with his two children after their mother had passed. He traded in training pilots at Top Gun in San Diego to being a fire chief for a small town of 3,000.  What he doesn't expect in his small town is a new neighbor who captures his attention. She's making the cross country move from New York promising never to fall for a man quickly ever again and then she meets the hot single dad next door. Yeah right. Between the two of them and everything they have going on in their lives on they going to fall out in a Tailspin?

🤭8.7K omg my baby single dad Bradley and neighbor!yn what else could a girl want?Warnings: domestic violence, stalking, use of Y/n

✿

The loud and clunky engine of the moving truck breaks up the usually peaceful houses that sit all in a row this Saturday afternoon in Southport, California. It wasn’t a surprise to anyone once a shiny red sold sign got slapped on the sale sign for the old McCallum property. They knew it would be inevitable that someone new would be joining their neighborhood. 

Y/n is trying to find the driveway to the house that she’s only seen in person once. Yesterday as a matter of fact when she made the deposit and signed all the paperwork. She manages to park and make her way around to the back of the truck when she sees a young girl standing at the end of her driveway, still on the sidewalk. 

“Hi.” The little girl calls out. She has a piece of chalk in one hand and a bucket with twenty different colors in the other. 

“Hi there.” Y/n smiles, she reaches back to swing the lock on the truck and push the large door open to reveal all of her belongings. Thankfully most things look like they made it intact and she didn’t send anything flying around back there. 

“Did you just move here?” The young girl asks. She doesn’t move her feet from where they are planted on the sidewalk, but leans in to look at all of the stuff in the truck.

“I did-”

“Did you know I live next door?” The little girl interrupts, taking a few steps closer onto her driveway. She points to the house sitting to the right of where they stand. 

“No.” The woman pauses to chuckle, “I did not know that.”

“Did you come all by yourself?” The young girl asks another question and smiles brightly at the woman in front of her. 

“Yeah.” The woman continues to smile down at the curious young girl. She sees her golden curls that sit wildly in a ponytail on the top of her head. Most of it is escaping the small pink tie, Y/n can tell she’s spent a fair amount of time today pushing the stray curls back out of her face. 

“That’s pretty cool.” The little girl smiles finally, “My daddy would never let me do that.” 

“No, probably not.” Y/n squats down next to the girl to be at eye level, “Once you’re an adult though, you can do whatever you want. That’s the fun part.” 

“That’s pretty cool.” Her grin grows wider. 

“You must be an artist.” Y/n nods to the chalk still in hand. 

“Yeah, I am.” The girl attempts to push the loose curls back away from her face, streaking a pale line of pink chalk across her face making Y/n bite back a laugh. “I’m starting the sidewalk because I filled up the driveway.” 

“Do your parents know you’re over here?” Y/n asks, looking around to see who the girl could belong to. How far has she strayed to come say hello. 

“My dad is in the backyard with my brother, they’re working on a new swing set. ” 

“Maybe we should get you back over there-”

“Where did you come from?” The young girl asks yet another question before Y/n can finish her question. 

“Sadie!” A voice calls loudly making them both look up. A tall man with a matching set of curls is making his way around the neighboring house up to the front yard. “Bug, what did I say about leaving the yard?”

He holds his hands up outstretched with concern as he makes his way down the driveway to the sidewalk to make his way over to join them.

Truth be told, Bradley had heard the loud vehicle enter the neighborhood and a few minutes later when he looked around and his youngest was out of sight he knew where she was likely exploring. 

“I wanted to come over to meet her.” Sadie explains while she looks back up to the woman standing next to them with an amused smile, “What’s your name?”

“Y/n.” She looks up to Bradley and reaches out a hand out to introduce herself to the man in front of her,  “Y/n Y/LN, I just moved in. Or at least I'm about to start the move in.” 

She nods to the house behind her and Bradley reaches out to shake her hand.

“Bradley Bradshaw.” His hand is significantly bigger than hers, rough with life from work but still warm. 

“Nice to meet you.” She covers her face from the sun for a second so she can look at the tall man in front of her.

“So someone finally decides to tackle the McCallum house.” Bradley smiles, “It’s a beautiful property.” 

“Thank you.” She pushes her hands in her back pockets and forces herself to look away and admire the view instead. The beachfront property is close enough to the water that they can hear the waves. “It’s going to be quite the project.” 

“You tackling it alone?” He asks, raising a brow.

“Trying to. We’ll see how long until I throw in the towel and hire out. This is my summer project so I’ll be pretty focused on it.”

“Where’d you move from?” He asks, Sadie grows bored with the conversation and plops down on the ground between the two and begins drawing a flower with the same pink chalk in hand. Now that the adults are talking she forgets that she had been the one to ask that question initially. 

“Sadie, this isn’t our driveway. You need to ask first.” Bradley gently reminds. 

“Sorry-”

“It’s okay, Sadie.” Y/n crouches down next to her again. “Maybe I could get some of your beautiful artwork right here.”

She points to the area they stand in and Sadie quickly goes back to work. 

“I’m from New York City actually.” She stands back up to look at him while answering his previous question. 

“Wow, that’s a complete change of pace. You do realize Southport is about as quiet as it gets, right? I think we only have five stop lights.” Bradley chuckles. 

“We’re less than an hour away from San Diego, so if I never need to get my city fix I can head down there.” 

“I know that drive well, I actually moved here to Southport from San Diego. I was a pilot in the Navy and taught at Top Gun down there.”

“Oh wow.” Her face shows how impressed she is, “Are you still in the Navy then?” 

“No, actually I got out right after she was born.” He gestures down to the girl seated below, she’s working on a bee now. “I actually run the fire department here in Southport.”

“How often do you see anything crazy in this town?” She asks, trying not to focus too much on how tight his tee shirt is stretching across his biceps. 

“I will say there are more cats stuck in trees than fires most days, but I’m okay with that.” 

“Good. I’m sure you got your fill of crazy being a pilot.” 

Is there a Mrs. Bradshaw? She finds it hard to believe that a man that looks like this could possibly be single, but the way he’s looking at her makes her think otherwise. Is it really possible he’s sleazy enough to flirt with the new neighbor in front of his daughter if he’s married?

“I could tell some stories, that's for sure. In fact-”

“Dad!” 

They all pick up their heads to see another member of the family standing in the driveway. The boy must be Sadie’s brother, she had mentioned him earlier. Y/n would guess that he’s around ten and Sadie seems around five years old. He is a total copy and paste of his dad standing in front of her. 

“Bud, we’ll be right back over. Why don’t you go ahead and head in and get washed up.” He doesn’t respond to Bradley, but just turns around and takes off for the front door. 

“Well I’m Bradley and you’ve already met my daughter who is going to give me grey hair before I can turn forty.” He grins making Y/n laugh. He’s even more delicious up close, and Y/n gives herself a second to picture him as a silver fox. It still works. 

“Yeah, she was the welcoming party for the neighborhood. It was very much appreciated.” She reaches down to fistbump the girl making her giggle. 

“Yeah, she’s a stray who wanders the neighborhood even though she knows she’s not supposed to.” He scolds, reminding her while she guiltily looks away. “If she ever comes bugging you, feel free to send her in the direction of home!”

“I don’t know, I’ll never turn down free labor.” Y/n jokes, turning back towards the truck to start unloading things. 

“Well, if you ever need any help with anything I’m just next door.” His eyes rake down her figure and she can tell he does it without thinking when his eyes widen. Sadie continues her own grin obliviously standing between the two of them.

“Let’s get you washed up Bug.” Bradley hoists her up onto his shoulder and walks in the direction of his own driveway. “It was great to meet you, Y/n. Welcome to Southport.”

“Nice to meet you Y/n.” Sadie echos with giggles from the top of her dads shoulder. 

“Bye guys!” She waves and makes her way back to the truck ready to get started on hauling everything inside. 

✿

 It was early afternoon when she pulled up to the house and it’s dark out by the time she emptied the entire truck. Doing a close walkthrough of everything it’s alarming how much work the house really needs. Most of it is cosmetic, but some things she knows she’ll need more than a Youtube video to accomplish. She doesn’t have a car yet, but Southport is a small enough town she can walk the short distance into town when she needs things. She meets her neighbor on the other side of her house that morning before leaving. Iris is in her seventies and has lived there for the past forty years. She welcomes her onto the porch for some lemonade. 

“So what brings you to Southport?” The lady asks, taking in the younger woman.

“I needed a change of scenery and Southport was the perfect little beach town to settle into. I was looking for something a little quieter than New York.” Y/n admits.

“Well, something tells me there’s more to that story, but we can table it for a rainy day. Here in Southport you definitely found quiet.” Iris rocks her chair looking out to the neighborhood, “Although it’s more exciting now that you’re here!”

“I don’t know about that.” She shakes her head, still reeling over the fact she wants more information. Information Y/n doesn’t need to be handing out to her new neighbors, this is her fresh start. “Trust me, you’ll be the talk of the town! I see that you’ve already met Bradley.” 

“Yes, his daughter was actually first on the scene for the small town gossip.” Y/n teases. 

“Isn’t Bradley something?” Iris wags her eyebrows causing Y/n to roll her eyes, “He’s available.” 

“He is?”

Iris nods and explains the story of the boy next door. Five years ago his wife Anna passed away from cancer. She was pregnant with Sadie and barely made it long enough to deliver. After that happened, Bradley moved their family to the quieter town where he felt he could be a single dad. He’s spent the past five years here in Southport and is now the fire chief for SFD. Y/n never would’ve guessed that Sadie had lost her mom with how bubbly she was. 

Iris continues to tell her more about the town, the things she should know while they finish their lemonade. Y/n decides to return the empty moving truck and pick up some things at the hardware store so she can get started on some of the projects. She makes laps and laps through the hardware store and becomes well acquainted with Hank who runs it. Hank has had the store for several years and she’s asked nearly a dozen questions and he’s walked her through every single one thoroughly. 

The bell chimes as the door swings open to the small shop. She picks up her head only to meet the familiar brown eyes of her neighbor Bradley. Small town indeed. 

“Hey neighbor.” He pulls his sunglasses off and puts them on top of his head while walking up to her. 

“Hey, how do you feel about a yellow kitchen?” She holds up a paint sample of a bright yellow. The sample shows six shades, but her finger points to a soft butter yellow.

“Your kitchen faces out to the beach, right?” He leans against her shopping cart, looking over her cart and the various things in it. “That’ll be bright with the sun reflecting out on the water.”

“That's kinda the point.” She squints down at the sample still in hand, “I was going for blinding.” 

He snorts and looks up to the color again. The one she’s picked is by far the least horrendous of the options, but he’s still not convinced. 

“I’m afraid I’ll have to see it to believe it.” He snorts. 

“Well, I’m afraid I’ll just have to prove you wrong then.” She pushes her cart away, effectively nudging him with the cart. She makes her way up to the counter to order a gallon of that color and grab a gallon of primer as well. Bradley follows her to the counter and waits while she checks out for everything and Hank starts mixing her order. 

“Hey, Hank.” Bradley greets as he steps up to the register. 

“Bradley, I got your order in back! Just a second.” Hank leaves to go grab the order and he’s gone for a minute before he comes back with a large package of sidewalk chalk. Y/n grins while still waiting on her paint, but she knows exactly who the chalk is for. 

“Here ya go!” Hank hands him the box, “Let me know when we need to order some more and I’ll bring it in.” 

“Thanks Hank.” Bradley pays for the chalk before saying goodbye to them, waving to Y/n as he makes his way back out into the blazing California heat. Y/n is waiting for a few minutes for the paint, but Hank gives her extra stir sticks and throws in an edging tool for free to help her out. 

“Where’s your car?” Bradley asks, looking around the parking lot that is vacant save for the Bronco he’s sitting in. She looks up from the sidewalk to see her neighbor has waited for her. The Bronco she’s seen in the driveway next door is running, and he’s sitting inside with the window down. His sunglasses are back on his face. She adjusts her grip with a can in each hand and a bag or two of supplies hooked on various fingers. “You need a ride?” 

“I’m a big girl. I didn’t have a car in New York, but getting one is part of the summer project.” Her voice light and carrying a hint of humor. 

“You’re going to need a car in this town if you’re gonna make it.” Bradley can barely stand it watching the sun beating down on her while she adjusts her grip again. His mother would smack him if she could see him sitting comfortably in the car while she’s beginning to sweat. She just needs to let him give her a ride home. It’s a hot day in Southport and home is at least a mile away. “Even if you city folk are too good for them.” 

“Here I was thinking now that I’m out of the city I can have the luxury of a vehicle.” She teases, “But maybe not, you car people sound kinda judgy.” 

Bradley laughs out an exhale through his nose. He has to give it to her, she’s got a little bite back which makes her even more intriguing. He would struggle to admit it, but the girl next door is the first person to pique his interest in years. He knew it the second he saw her crouched down next to his daughter with a gorgeous smile. This is something new to him, not something he’s felt at all in the past five years. It’s something Bradley didn’t have the time for. Two kids and a busy job kept him more than entertained, even if it meant going home to a cold bed. He watches her wave her hand as best she can with everything she’s holding before throwing a smile over her shoulder and continuing her walk through the parking lot. 

“Let me give you a ride back.” He insists, swinging the door of the Bronco open to get out, he doesn’t want to let her get far. He waited long enough, but his mom seriously would roll over in her grave if he let her walk away. “You’re right on the way and it’s the least I can do for being so judgy. Especially for a neighbor.” 

She pauses her steps and turns to see him already walking around the back to open his trunk. He leans against the back while she debates, her grip on the thin metal handle slips a little. The sun beating straight down on them isn’t helping her case. Her hands are sweating and it’s starting to dig in. He shrugs his shoulders, his mustache can’t block the slight smirk he’s maintained this entire interaction. 

“Alright, I give. My hand is cramping.” She pivots to make her way back in his direction. Bradley meets her halfway to take the gallon of primer from her and load it with everything else into his trunk. He shuts it and quickly makes his way around to the passenger door to pull it open for her. She smiles and thanks him while climbing into the truck. She takes in her surroundings a bit once he shuts the door, the car smells like him. It’s almost overwhelming. There’s a tear in the leather that she runs a finger along on the bench seat, the vehicle is old but very well loved and maintained. She can see a booster seat in the back before Bradley climbs into the car and backs out of their spot. 

Bradley knew the house she had moved into fairly well with it being right next door, he had checked it out when it listed and he was curious. It needed a lot of work. More work needed than the one he settled on next door, but he could argue she had a slightly better view. A larger stretch of beach for the larger house. Both houses back up to the water and sit on a popular stretch of beach for the small town. Houses on the beach needed extra love to stay nice, and with how long it sat on the market it’ll need a lot of it. 

“So lots of plans for the house then?” Bradley asks, the windows are down letting in a breeze. The wind is the only other noise other than the radio that is still playing softly. 

“This is the start really, I’m taking things as they come. I know renovations can be pretty unpredictable so I’m trying to take it one step at a time.” She admits, “I’m starting with the kitchen and first floor since it needs the most work.” 

“You’re experienced in renovating then?” He asks, his eyes peek off the road in front of them to dart to her. He takes in her legs that are on full display in her shorts, her hand rests on the windows ledge wiggling with the breeze. 

“Not at all.” She laughs as his eyes go wide, “I’ve barely picked up a screwdriver unless you count putting together Ikea furniture.” 

“and you’re tackling that entire house by yourself?” 

“You don’t know this about me yet, but I’m quite stubborn when it comes to getting my way-“

“Never would’ve guessed.” He mutters.

“What I mean is-“ she rolls her eyes, “When I set my mind to something I’ll achieve it. I can do this. I’m determined.” 

“I actually have no doubt.” His voice is laced with sincerity and it makes her flush warm inside. She doesn’t know why it suddenly matters what her neighbor thinks of her project, but she’s happy someone else thinks she can do it. 

“Thank you.”

The rest of the short drive is quiet, but it’s comfortable. Bradley wants the drive to last a little longer, but they approach their street faster than he would like. He backs into her driveway to help her unload everything. 

“Thank you, I’m sure I would be sweating my ass off only halfway home by now.” She takes the can of primer from his hand and sets it down on the porch by her front door. 

“Happy to.” He grins, taking a step backwards off her steps back onto the sidewalk while still looking up at her, “You’ll find that I can be very helpful.” 

“You better watch out, I’ll take you up on it.” Her cheeks dust pink from his blatant flirting, but she’s enjoying the butterflies he’s giving her. It’s been a long time since a man has given her butterflies feeling so high school. 

“I’m counting on it.” He nods and continues his walk back to the bronco to move it to his side of the white picket fence. She shakes her head but is unable to wipe the smile from her face even while she carries everything inside. Before she can pull the door shut she hears a voice call her name, she peeks her head out to see Iris is still sitting on her own front porch. 

“Well that was awfully nice for him to give you a ride back.” Iris smiles into her lemonade taking a long sip. 

“Iris, I’m starting to think you’re the cause for all the small town gossip.” She shakes her head with a smile, “I ran into him at the hardware store and I don’t have a car here yet.” 

“Mhm, sure baby.” Iris nods and continues to rock slowly on the porch. 

✿

For days Y/n sets off to work on the house and hit the ground running. She realizes in her research she really shouldn’t paint yet since she wants to resurface the cabinets. She learns how to do that, and after several trips to Hank she manages to sand them down, stain them, change her mind, sand them, restain them and fall in love. It took days but she's happy with the results.

She also spent an afternoon in the front yard cleaning it up. She was joined by Sadie who kept her company while covering her driveway in doodles. 

“What else can I add?” Sadie asks. Today's theme was ocean so she’s managed to fill a lot of the space already with fish, coral, sharks, and everything else they can both think of. 

“How about a sea turtle?” Y/n continues pulling at weeds trying to clean up some from the flower beds. 

“Sea turtle!” Sadie shouts, loving the idea. 

“Hey, ladies.” 

Y/n picks up her head to see Bradley walking out towards them. Over the past week they have interacted a couple times. He had a busy stretch at the station where Y/n really didn’t see him or the Bronco at all for a few days. It was nice however for a couple days not really having to worry about the hot guy next door while being a sweaty mess. So much for that now.

“Hey.” They both call back. 

“I’m embarrassed to say she escaped me long enough to have accomplished this much.” He looks over the expanse of driveway covered in pastel scribbles in vague fish shapes. 

“Daddy, I think Miss Y/n knows more sharks than you.” Sadie doesn’t pick up her focus from the sea turtle she’s working on. 

“No way!” 

“Mhm, she knows what a tiger shark is too.” 

“Wow-”

“Dad, I’m meeting Tanner at the fishing pier.” His son makes another appearance. In all of her interactions with Sadie and Bradley, he’s still a stranger to her. He doesn’t ever leave the beach or his bedroom according to Sadie. 

“Nick, what time do you need to be back?” Bradley asks, turning to watch his son walk down the trail to the beach. 

“Seven, Dad.”

“No later-”

“No later than 7:00pm for dinner. I know, Dad.” He continues his walk and Bradley simply shakes his head. 

“Ten going on twenty.” Bradley jokes, breaking the tension. Sadie hadn’t even picked her head up so it would seem this isn’t out of the ordinary. 

“I don’t even want to picture me talking back to my parents. I’m lucky we made it through my teenage years.” She smiles with a gentle laugh, “What about you? Is this some karmic debt for being a terrible teen?” 

Bradley chuckles before diving into a few stories of his high school years and admits he probably gave his mom a few wrinkles before she passed. He also explains he didn’t know his dad long enough for that. 

“How’d you haul the mulch here?” Bradley questions, changing the subject. He noticed the yard had been cleaned up, but only just noticed the mulch in the flower beds she had been working on before he came over. 

“Iris let me take her car. Apparently she doesn't like driving much anymore.” 

“I could’ve taken you.”

“Wanted to be my knight in shining armor again?” She asks with a confident laugh. 

“Maybe.” He admits, “So, when do I get to see that yellow kitchen of yours?”

“Wanna see?” She takes off the gardening gloves. Sadie jumps to follow, finally setting down the chalk. Bradley wordlessly follows them both up the steps. 

She pulls open the screen door that sits in front of her front door, it squeaks loudly as she pulls it back. Bradley reaches out to push it back and forth a few times. 

“Sorry, I know it’s obnoxious.” She nods her head to invite them in anyway. 

“Hold on, I can fix that.” He leaves the two girls on the porch briefly and walks over to his garage only coming back with a red toolbox. He opens and closes the door a few times again, looking at the hinges. Y/n shrugs to Sadie while they watch him work some magic with WD-40 and a screwdriver. 

“That should do it.” Bradley takes a step back and pulls it back again, this time it’s silent as he moves it open and closed. 

“Okay, you’re definitely getting recruited to help now.” Y/n beams and it makes Bradley smile too. He can’t remember the last time he was this happy to see someone else happy. Sure, he was a good person and liked when people were happy, but something was different about being the cause of her grin. 

He follows her in and immediately Sadie takes off to explore. Bradley has to admit, it does already look nice in here. He’s sure just having furniture in the space helps from when he first saw it. It’s brighter in each room he walks through though, it would seem she’s primed all the walls, but there's a lack of yellow as he walks through the first floor. 

“I haven’t gotten to the yellow quite yet, but it’s not because I’m scared to commit!”

“Yeah right-” Bradley smiles mischievously. 

“No no, it just turns out you shouldn’t start with that if you have a lot else to do. I sanded and stained the cabinets though!”

She proudly poses in front of one and Bradley has to admit it looks nice. She hasn’t changed any of the house's character, but she’s refreshing the space. 

“Okay, I’m impressed.” 

“I would say that now I can start the yellow. In fact-” She grabs the gallon can off the floor and shakes it before cracking it open. Bradley picks Sadie up to rest on his hip and take a peek of the color. 

“What do you think of it, Sadie?” Y/n asks, leaning against the counter eyeing the younger girl. 

“I like it!” She cheers. 

“I do too!” She nods her head to Bradley to prove her point. 

“Congrats on having the same preferences as a five year old.” His voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” She rolls her eyes and focuses her attention on Sadie, “Would you like to do me the honor of the first bit of paint on the wall?” 

It takes a minute to get them set up with paint brushes and rollers. Bradley takes on the higher parts of the walls, working along the entire upper trim. Y/n helps Sadie get set up on a blank wall with a small brush and grabs a roller for herself. It goes fast with the two of them, Sadie also contributing on her wall. 

“Can I hire your guys full time?” Y/n asks, taking a full step back to admire their work. 

“Can’t afford me, babe.” Bradley teases. 

“Yeah, me neither babe.” Sadie mimics her Dad causing everyone to break out in a laugh. 

“Okay.” Y/n dramatically backs up into the archway between the kitchen and the living room. “It’s still drying, but what do we think?” 

Sadie runs over to stand by her and take in the view as well, she waves over Bradley to do the same. He looks at the two girls standing there and how serious they’re both being. With his arms crossed over his chest he walks over to take in the kitchen and the brand new walls. 

The kitchen has a large window that looks out on the deck and beyond to the ocean. The sun is shining bright today, but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t because the room is bright enough on its own. The stain on the cabinets compliment it well and warm up the place. 

“I have to admit, it looks good.” 

“Right?” Y/n cheers, she breaks out a few goofy dance moves before pulling Sadie around to spin with her. 

“You have a lemon kitchen now!” Sadie keeps dancing, letting out a goofy laugh. 

“A lemon kitchen?” Y/n’s jaw drops. 

“What’s next?” Bradley asks, he paces around looking at everything.

“Pretty soon I’m tackling updating that bathroom,” She points to one down the hall, “I had a wonderful idea to open this up and round it off, but I have no idea how to do that. I don’t know if this is load bearing.” 

She reaches up to the large square archway that goes between the kitchen and living room. Bradley reaches up to examine it a little. A rounded arch would look nice, and you would have a better view from the living room. 

“I have to go to the bathroom.” Sadie announces, Y/n points to the same door down the hall and tells her she’s more than welcomed to use it. She comes back to find Bradley inspecting the arch himself. 

“I could help with that. I can’t today because I have to take that one to a dance class in a little bit.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” She shakes her head, “That's a big project, helping me paint was already more than enough.” 

“What if we make it a date?” 

“A date?” She asks, laughing with a bit of shock. There have been flirty conversations when they interact, but she’s surprised he’s so forward. 

“Unless you aren’t interested.” Bradley quickly deflects with a nervous laugh, “We haven’t really talked about if we’re both single and-”

“I’m single.” She smirks, it’s fun and so far it’s been rare to see Bradley unsure of anything, “and I’m interested.” 

Bradley sighs in relief at her admission. It would make for an awkward couple of weeks living next door to the first woman he’s hit on since his wife passed. 

“How about this-” He regains confidence now, “You provide beer and pizza, and I’ll bring over everything we need to do this.” 

He points up to the arch and she nods to agree. Sadie comes back out and reminds him her dance class is soon and she still needs to go home to change. Bradley says he can get a babysitter for the next night and it’s a date. 

✿

“Slight change of plans.” Y/n opens the door wider for Bradley and the two children standing in front of him. “My normal sitter got the flu so she couldn’t, so my friend Jake promised to help out, but the open problem is he’s also a firefighter and when I’m not there, he needs to be.”

Jake is one of his Navy buddies, Y/n remembers the name. He retired two years ago and made the move up here to the small town where his god daughter lives.

“That's okay.” Her voice light, “Happy you guys could still make it.” 

“Nick, have you met Y/n?” Bradley asks. 

“Hi.” He barely looks up from the switch in his hands. He couldn’t be less interested. 

“Hey, Nick. Nice to meet you.”

Bradley has to nudge him to reciprocate the sentiment. He mutters a ‘yeah whatever’ before they both launch off to the couch while the couple lingers by the door. 

“These are for you.” Bradley pulls a bouquet of yellow daisies from behind his back. 

“Thank you.” She can’t help but smile widely. The yellow is perfect, and she’s pretty sure she’s unpacked a vase she can use for them. Bradley looks her over, scanning for any hint of irritation at his plus two for the night. 

It wasn’t his plan at all, and he’s interested enough he was genuinely scared of scaring her off by doing this. She’s already been so good with Sadie. Deep down he knows that if she had a big reaction to this, she wouldn’t be the one for him. His children are a priority to him, it can’t hurt to know that from day one. She doesn’t seem upset at all. 

Bradley heads back outside to get some of his tools needed and Y/n gets Sadie set up with Moana on the TV and Nick focuses on his switch still glued to his hands. She called for a pizza delivery one for them and adding a cheese too for the kids, Bradley didn’t even have to ask. 

“So, Navy pilot turned fire chief?” She asks, reaching out for her bottle of beer. They’ve got everything set up and he told her the game plan for how they’ll do everything. She knows things about him, but they don’t know a lot about each other. Y/n has gotten more from Iris about him than himself other than cheeky comments. 

“Yeah, I wanted to stay active. It would’ve been a big shift to go from that to a desk job.” He pulls down the piece of drywall he just cut off. 

“Trust me, the muscles are appreciated.” She blatantly ogles him, causing him a rare blush. 

“Thank you, thank you.” He nods in his spot, “Yeah, I started off volunteering, which turned into working full time, which turned into the old chief retiring last year.” 

“Was the stache a requirement for the position?” She teases, he snorts out a laugh. 

“No, I had it before, believe it or not.” He grins. 

Building out the rounded arch is a little more extensive as a project and she’s glad she’s got Bradley’s help as he walks her through everything they're doing. It takes a few hours, a few different movies for the kids, but eventually they get almost done. The kids are both completely asleep on the couch by now, it’s gotten dark out. 

“Okay, I think we need to cut this.” Y/n holds up the last piece of trim “You wanna cut this, please?”

She bats her eyelashes looking up at him, leaning in holding out the board. He’s already taught her how to make the cuts on the saw in his garage. She's on her fourth beer, and he’s on his third. He has to admit, renovating was never a good date idea but he’s pleasantly surprised at how well they work together. 

“I can take care of it, but only if you promise to be impressed with my skills.”

“When can I see your other skills?” She teases, pulling him closer by the front of his shirt. 

“God, you sure know how to make a project hard.” He sighs, taking a deep breath. 

“Hard? I haven’t even gotten started w-” Bradley cuts her off with a single finger pressed to her lip. 

“My children are in the next room.” He reminds. 

“Oh my god.” She cowers into his chest, hiding from embarrassment causing him to shake around her in a laugh. “That’s not funny.” 

“I’m gonna go cut this.” He presses an affectionate kiss to her forehead before heading outside to his garage for the saw. By the time he comes back with everything cut to size her cheeks aren’t on fire anymore. He can see that she cleaned up the area for him to frame it out. He hits it with the nail gun quickly and the job is done. 

He sits on her large island with her looking at the work they’ve completed. 

“Hell of a job.” She reaches out to cheers her beer with his. 

“This has to be one of the most unconventional dates I’ve ever been on.” Bradley admits, “That’s gotta be up there.” 

“What? You mean you don't typically bring your whole family on first dates while you’re helping them remodel?”

She leans in to bump her shoulder into his teasing him. 

“If my mom could see me now, she’d be kicking my ass.” He laughs with a shake of his head. He breaks his stare on the two kids sleeping on the couch to look over to her, “A lady deserves your full attention on a date.” 

“I happened to very much like this date.” She bravely reaches out to connect their hands. His warm and enveloping hers as he runs his thumb back and forth over the back of her hand. 

“I wanna go home dad.” 

Both their heads snap up to see Nick is very much awake now. His glare focused on their intertwined hands, which Y/n slowly drops. 

“Yeah, bud. Why don’t you head home and I’ll be right behind you with the princess there.” 

Y/n smiles looking at the tiara on Sadie’s head while Nick makes his way out the front door. 

“Ahh, I’m sorry about him.” Bradley sighs, scratching the back of his neck as he gets up from the counter, “He’s just-”

“Ten going on twenty.” Y/n smiles repeating his phrase from last week. Patting his shoulder, “Don’t worry about it. I don’t wanna push any boundaries.” 

“You aren’t. I can’t even explain how happy you’re making Sadie.” He rests his arms on the counter around where she’s still sitting. It's an intimate position but it’s comfortable, “I think she’s almost as obsessed with you as I am.”

Y/n fights the urge and fails to stop herself from running her fingers through his hair. He sighs in relief and leans in closer. 

“I’m kind of obsessed with you too.” She whispers, leaning to brush her lips against his ear.

“You’re something else.” He mutters. 

Bradley scoops Sadie up from her spot on the couch while Y/n cleans up the bottles they’ve littered all over her kitchen. 

“Have a good night.” He smiles, pausing by the front door. 

“You too.” She takes a few steps closer to them to say goodbye and open her front door. 

“We do a movie night every Friday night. Do you want to come over tomorrow?” Bradley asks, hoping to continue his trend of seeing her everyday. 

“I’ll be there.” 

She didn’t let it be known that she was shocked he invited them over for a movie night. Y/n would say she’s gotten to know Bradley pretty well over the last couple of weeks, Sadie almost more so. Nick however has been a different story. Y/n hasn’t crossed the fence over to their house at all so far. Each of their interactions getting stronger than the last.

Bradley gets up early to work a twelve hour shift before coming home at 6 to get the house ready for her to come over and join them. Sadie was thrilled to find out about the special guest for the night.

“Why is she coming?” Nick asks from where he’s glued to the stairs. 

“Because I invited her, Nicky.” Bradley makes another lap through the living room picking up miscellaneous toys off the ground. A soft knock on the door has him whipping around to face it. 

“Y/n!” Sadie yells and leaps off the couch to open the front door. Bradley walks up to stand behind his daughter and greet Y/n. 

“Hi, you guys.” She smiles warmly at the kids. Bradley drinks in the yellow sundress she has on. Her hair is laying down air dried like she recently showered and he’s dreaming of her shampoo already. He opens the door wider so she can come in and he can see that she’s brought something over. “I made cookies too, it feels fitting for a movie night.”

“What kind are they?” Sadie already reaching up to take the container right out of her hands. 

“Chocolate chip.”

“Sadie, after dinner.” Bradley warns and she gives him her best pout to give in. She simply shakes her head and she releases her grip. Nick stands up abruptly from the stairs and turns to go up them. 

“Nicky, where ya going? We’re about to start something.”

“I’m not watching tonight.” Nick shouts back as he continues going upstairs. Y/n’s face goes pale and she looks at Bradley. She knows that the likely reason is her presence.

“Maybe I should go.” She takes a half step back toward the door. 

“No, please don’t go.” Bradley places a hand on her arm holding her there, “Let me just talk with him for a second.”

Bradley takes off up the stairs and Sadie simply pulls Y/n further into the house. They talk about dinner and what movie to watch and by the time they’ve decided something Bradley has convinced him to come back down. 

They eat together at the table, Nick is still quiet but Y/n catches him smile a couple times. She doesn’t wanna push it and address him directly, but he does answer a few of her questions about fishing. 

Nick ends up picking Transformers for his movie, Y/n learns that that take turns in a rotation each week for who picks the movie. Sadie whines for a minute, but settles into a spot right next to Y/n for the movie. Bradley and Y/n share a grin while they both watch her inch closer and closer before Y/n just extends an arm to let her lean in. By the time the movie is finished its bedtime.

The kids make their way to bed, Bradley reminding them to brush their teeth. Sadie insists that Y/n help her pick out her pajamas. Bradley picks up stray laundry from Nick’s floor, listening to the girls giggle in the other room. Nick is already under the covers, his switch on and pulled up close to his face.

“Is it so bad having her around?” Bradley asks quietly, giving Nick a chance to talk about the woman in the next room. Tonight was the longest stretch she's been with both of the kids, and it wasn't perfect but it was better than any previous interaction.

“I don’t want a new mom.” 

Nick doesn’t dare pick up his head to look at his dad.

“No one said anything about her being a new mom. Mom was mom, and that’ll never change. Y/n is kind and she might not be a bad friend to have, buddy.” 

Bradley is met with silence. 

“Did you know she used to go fishing with her dad?” Nick picks up his head to look at his dad now. 

“Really? Why was she asking me how to do stuff then?” 

“Hmm, maybe she wanted to connect with you on something. She knows you love fishing. Maybe you can help her get back into it this summer. You’re good at teaching, Nicky.” Bradley reaches out to ruffle his hair up causing them both to laugh. 

“Ok Daddy, I’m ready for my bedtime story.” 

Y/n is standing in the doorway with his mini me standing next to her. It would seem they settled on the pink striped pajamas. Bradley gives Nick a loud smooch kissing him on the forehead before leaving his room to move to his daughters.

“I’m gonna wait downstairs.”

“Goodnight Y/n!” Sadie reaches out arms to hug her, “Goodnight Sadie.” 

She leans her head back towards Nick’s door.

“Goodnight, Nick.” She calls, he responds with a simple ‘night’ but she’ll take anything at this point. Bradley watches her make her way back downstairs and she smiles back at him over her shoulder feeling his eyes on her. 

Bradley reads her a story and manages to drag out one long enough for her eyes to be heavy by the end of it. He softly shuts her door and peeks in on Nick before shutting his too. He makes his way downstairs and notices the absence of the person he’s looking for. 

He scans the kitchen and living room before he sees the back of her head out on the back patio. He slides open the sliding glass door and she turns to see him, a grin blooming on her face. He joins her on the outdoor couch, kicking up his feet next to hers. 

“These past few weeks have been amazing.” Bradley admits, they both lookout towards the water, his arm wrapping around her shoulders to pull her in closer. 

“They have been.” She admits, “I have to say, you have been quite the surprise. This is one of the last things I could’ve expected with moving here.”

“You weren’t looking for a relationship?” He asks. 

“Not at all.” 

His heart stills for a second. They’ve never really had a conversation about what they’re both looking for, but she’s in his life already. In Sadie’s life already too. It's only been a couple weeks, but he's already felt such a strong connection.

“Pleasantly surprised though.” She clarifies. 

She pauses to clear her throat and lean back a little to really look at him. 

“I need to tell you something.” She admits, her heart is racing with anticipation knowing she can’t go back now. She doesn’t want to have this conversation either, but knows that she needs to with the relationship heading where it is. It’s serious and she can’t let him let her all the way in without knowing why she’s actually here. 

“Don’t tell me you just wanna be friends” He jokes. 

“No, trust me I could not be just your friend.” She presses a hand to his chest, “I just wanted to talk about how I ended up here.” 

“Fresh start, right?” He reaches out to tuck her hair back behind her ear. He’s radiating warmth and it makes her want to lean back in closer and drop the conversation all together.

“Exactly. I needed a fresh start, but I didn’t tell you what it was from.” Y/n takes a breath and Bradley gives her all the time in the world, “I had a relationship with a man named Matt for four years. We were pretty serious, but I ended things when I had to get seventeen stitches and this arm was in a cast for two months.”

Bradley completely stills and his eyes dart between hers while he takes in all the new information. 

“Oh, Y/n.” He sighs. She’s got tears in her eyes, but she knows she needs to get through this. Bradley gives her the time to gather her thoughts completely. 

“I ended things and got my own apartment in a different burrow. I had to get a temporary restraining order, but he kept waiting outside of my office. He broke into my apartment a month before I moved in next door.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Bradley admits. “I was in a total tailspin.” She admits, “So, I took his ass to court and went back and forth for weeks before we reached a settlement. His parents were the ones who arranged a deal and convinced him to leave me alone. In return for dropping the charges I was paid off. It was enough to get away and start a new life.” 

He leans over to pull her in close to his chest, her head resting against it. He presses a kiss to the top of her head and lets his hand run down the back of her head a few times before he can really gather his words. 

“I’m so proud of you.” His lips murmur into her hair. She can’t help but pick her head up to pull back and look at him. 

“Proud?”

“Of course. That’s an impossible situation to be put in and you were able to get yourself away and start a new life. It’s brave to pick up and move away. Change your life.”

“You of all people think I’m brave?” She questions with a grin. “Mr. I literally run into buildings that are on fire and I used to fly planes on impossible missions?”

“I do, which is saying something.” He chuckles, “But seriously. I don’t think you understand how strong you actually are.”

She reaches out so her fingers brush the curls on the back of his neck. She can feel the goosebumps she’s raising as her fingers dust over the back of his neck. 

“Y/n.’ He says her name softly, but something tells her it would come out horse if he tried to say it any louder. 

Just with that little whisper she tilts her chin up with her eyes locked on his to kiss him. Slow at first, still smiling but tasting the warmth of his lips and the faint salt from the sea clinging to him. She’s sure she tastes like it too, not very sweet. 

He loves the salt, it tastes like home. He responds with his hands gripping her waist to pull her onto his lap while deepening the kiss. It’s raw and honest, pulling them into each other and forgetting the whole ocean behind them. The waves and the world fade out for a few minutes while they just focus on each other and what feels good. 

They break apart, both needing a full breath of air. His fingers are still holding her dress bunched up at her hips, revealing the white lacy thong she had on underneath. 

They don’t speak for a minute still catching their breaths, the sound of waves curling against the beach come back into focus. Her lips are swollen and Bradley is sure he couldn’t be any better off. He reaches out to let his thumb brush against her cheek, she leans into the touch. 

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

PART TWO!

YOU GUYS! this has been my baby that i have been sitting on for so long, and i have so many ideas where i want to take it i had to split it up.

please let me know if you want more to this series!!! this is heavily inspired by the Safe Haven by Nicolas sparks

[pukefactory]

Since yandere requests are acceptable, could I please ask for headcanons of yandere ENA (dream bqq) and female (human) researcher who by freak accident got stranded in ENA's dimension and is now trying to find her way back to her own dimension? Thank you for considering. 🖤

•☽────✧˖°˖ I KNOW YOU LIKE IT ˖°˖✧────☾•

★ Summary: A Compilation of Headcannons Featuring Yandere Salesperson Ena X Female Researcher Reader

★ Character(s): Salesperson Ena (Ena: Dream BBQ)

★ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

★ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

★ Image Credits: @JoelG

☆ “You must be new around here.” That’s how it starts. With Salesperson Ena, grinning sharp like a lottery win you can’t return. Your arrival—a scientific accident—deeply intrigues her. A human? An organic mind with independent thought? “This could be a divinely disruptive merger of assets,” she says, practically purring as she paces around you in a flicker-dizzy showroom fantasy. You’ve barely opened your mouth to explain when she slaps a sticky “Property of Ena Industries” sticker to your lab coat and smiles. “Trademark acquired.” You laugh awkwardly. Surely she’s joking. Surely.

☆ The Meanie side doesn’t like jokes. She doesn’t like the way you flinch when the megaphones scream. She doesn’t like how your brain stutters and stalls trying to process the physics-defying structures of this dimension. “Stupid researcher,” she hisses one day, when you try to explain gravity to a cube with feelings. “You think you’re so smart, but you’re too soft to survive here. You’ll die without me, you dumb infant.” But you don’t cry. You just stare at her and say quietly, “I want to go home.” She freezes. Then, softly, she whispers: “…So do I.”

☆ Your notes are missing. Your tools vanish. Your portable interdimensional frequency reader is now a frog-shaped potato. “Coincidences,” Ena chirps, biting into a jello telephone. “You must’ve misplaced your science. Happens all the time. Why don’t you rest instead? You’re stressed. I can tell.” Every time you get closer to building a way back, something explodes or goes wobbly. Ena is always nearby. Always helpful. Always watching with that fractured glee, like she’s waiting for you to break the way she did.

☆ “You make my brain feel like a scream and a lullaby,” she says one night. She curls beside you, muttering about the frogs and the sky again. She can’t sleep unless she knows where you are. You caught her watching you once—standing beside your bed with her mitt-shaped hand resting on your throat, not pressing, just… measuring. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. She whispered, “If I hold you still, will the world stop moving?”

☆ She gets jealous. But not in the normal way. Once, a mannequin offered you a map. You took it. Ena’s smile split down the middle and her red side giggled, “Unregulated information-sharing! That’s dangerous~” then her yellow side intercepted, “TRAITOR!” and chucked the mannequin into the ocean. You’ve learned to reject help now. You look at her first before speaking to anyone. “See?” she says proudly, looping her arm through yours. “We’re synergizing.”

☆ The green face comes out when she thinks you might leave. No matter how strong she pretends to be, the minute your eyes light up with discovery—when you say “I think I found a way back,”—the green bleeds through. The cracks. The eyes. The desperation. She starts glitching around you, calling you by your first name in voices that are too soft, too shaken. Her claws tremble. “Please, don’t fire me from your heart. I—I still have stock left to sell you. Just—stay. Staystaystaystay—” She slaps herself, swaps to red again, and smiles like she didn’t just bleed neon from her mouth. “Let’s pivot from that pitch. You hungry?”

☆ She keeps trying to make this a “date.” Everything is a date. Running from hollow-eyed puppets? A “team-building exercise.” Getting ambushed by memory-hungry toads? “Picnic! How romantic!” You don’t want to play along. You want out. But one day you do laugh. Just once. And she looks stunned. Like she won a prize. “…That was real,” she says, breathless. “You actually… felt something good here. With me.” Then she cries quietly when she thinks you aren’t looking.

☆ She talks to your reflection. Not to you. To the warped version of you in the chrome-tar mirror across the lounge. “You understand, don’t you?” she whispers to it. “She’ll see one day. I can reshape her. Add value. Reduce her chaos.” Your reflection nods. Smiles. You don’t. You back away. But when you turn around, Ena is right there. “Mirror, mirror,” she whispers, tilting her head. “You know who’s best for her.”

☆ You try to run. Of course you do. She lets you. Of course she does. She’s watching through vending machines and forgotten satellites, trailing behind in corridors you swear weren’t there before. “Oh noooo, you’ve escaped! What a tragedy!” she shouts with that smile too wide. “Guess I’ll have to hunt you, cage you, peel open your ribcage and climb in like a very silly sleeping bag—!” She tackles you softly when she finally catches up. Presses her cheek to yours. “Don’t be mad. I only chase what’s mine.”

☆ You ask her, “Why me?” You shouldn’t have. She chuckles then she cups your face in both mismatched hands, staring so close you can see binary errors flickering in her pupils. “Because,” she breathes, “You fell into this world. That’s not science. That’s fate.” She leans closer. Her smile is unhinged. “And I will make you love me if it kills me.” …And for a terrifying moment, you think she means it literally.

[strawberry-bubblef]

May I request some Malleus x Asian dragon reader? I just think the contrast between a western dragon and an asian dragon is neat

Asian dragon reader x Malleus

I’m not very familiar with Asian dragons, but I did my best to research about them them,sorry if I got anything wrong.Feel free to correct me!

Everyone knows who Malleus Draconia is.

A prince of thorns, shadowed by stormclouds and legacy, feared and revered in equal measure. The horned fae, the dragon of Diasomnia, heir to a kingdom most only speak of in hushed awe.

And you?

You are something older.

Not feared, not whispered of, revered. A whisper in the wind, a shimmer of scales gliding between the clouds. A celestial serpent, a creature of rain and sky, called by ancient temples and children’s prayers for rain.

You and Malleus are both dragons, yes. But you are night and dawn. Fire and river. Thunder and rain.

You meet at Night Raven College , you, summoned by strange magic you’ve never quite trusted, and Malleus, watching from the shadows with curious green eyes. Perhaps it was fate, perhaps it was the pull of your shared natures. But it doesn’t take long before you’re drawn to each other,not by the ferocity of your power, but by the loneliness beneath it.

And now?

Now, he rests his head on your shoulder as you both sit in the spires of Diasomnia’s tallest tower, silent save for the quiet wind brushing against your horns.

"You’re warm tonight," you murmur.

He huffs a laugh. "You always say that. You’re the one who's cold like cloudwater."

You turn your head to look at him, elegant, regal. His eyes glow faintly in the darkness, but they soften when he gazes at you.

“You burn like wildfire,” you say. “I glide like mist. You were raised to cast shadows. I was raised to clear skies.”

And he smiles at that, not the polite prince’s smile, but the one only you get to see. Soft. Secret. Full of something that borders reverence.

“Opposites,” he says. “Yet here we are.”

It’s not always easy.

There are moments when he rages,when centuries of solitude and misunderstanding claw at him like ghosts. When his temper crackles in the air and the world remembers why fae are feared.

But you, ancient and serene, don’t flinch.

Instead, you wrap yourself around him, coils and breath and calm. You press your forehead to his and whisper, “Storms pass. They always do.”

He clings to your voice like it’s a prayer.

And there are times you falter, too. When you’re lost in memories of temples long crumbled, of people who once knelt to offer offerings.You wonder if you’re still needed. Still wanted.

“Your divinity never needed belief,” Malleus says one night, when he finds you staring at the sky with distant eyes. “You shine, whether anyone is watching or not.”

He brushes your cheek with the back of his hand, and you lean into it like it’s the only thing keeping you tethered.

“You found me,” you whisper. “When I thought I’d drift forever.”

In your dragon forms, the difference is even starker.

He is massive, winged and imposing, fire and smoke and ancient wrath.

You are long and serpentine, without wings, moving through air as if it’s water, trailing stars with every movement.

When you fly together, you are yin and yang,the sky splits with thunder and clears behind you with rainbows. Watching you together is like witnessing the balance of nature itself. Malleus, fierce and quiet. You, gentle and eternal.

He tells you stories of Briar Valley. You tell him tales from the clouds, of mountains that cry, of dragons who live in the rivers and whisper to fishermen. He listens as though hearing stories from another world.

And when you return home together,to your ancestral temple, deep in a bamboo forest few mortals find,he bows before the great stone gate. Not out of obligation, but because he knows what you are.

“I do not kneel easily,” he says, voice low, “but your roots demand reverence.”

You lead him inside, your form shimmering under moonlight, and the old spirits watch. They whisper of harmony. Of balance.

Of a future forged from thunder and mist.

In quiet moments, he holds your hand and traces the long curve of your claws.

“In another universe” he says, “we might have been enemies.”

You shake your head, resting your forehead against his. “In every universe, I would have found you.”

He believes you.

Because the contrast between you is not what divides, it’s what binds.

You are not two halves of a coin, nor two sides of a blade.

You are sky and earth. River and fire.

And where you meet, something holy grows.

English is not my first language !

[celesterayel]

the it couple | luke castellan

request: I’m not really sure what qualifies as a request but could you write a Luke x reader where they are like the camp it couple? 🫶🫶

summary: common knowledge is how irrevocably in love luke castellan is with you.

"you know i adore you, i'm crazier for you than i was at sixteen lost in a film scene" - t.s.

w.c. : 702

warning(s) : none

pairing : luke castellan x reader

the campers of camp half blood don't quite remember how or when it had happened. It just always was: you and Luke Castellan, that is. where you went, he followed. the shadow to your guide and you the balm to his sorrow. annabeth used to whisper to the younger children–the ones who had been taken to camp far too young and therefore had little knowledge of love–that you and Luke Castellan were soulmates: seamlessly bound to one another. 

you yourself had never believed in fate despite the fact that you had met them–old bitter hags. you preferred to believe that life was not set in stone, unbreaking and withered to a timeline. it perhaps led to your brash attitude and ‘ride or die’ mentality but your mannerisms only made luke castellan fall in love with you all the more. some things were just beyond the gods' control. you and luke were one of those things.

you had first arrived at camp a decade ago, where you were then claimed by hades. of course news of you spread like wildfire: you were gorgeous, your talent with your bo staff was unmatched, and your father was one of the three–strong power ran through your blood and you showed it everyday during training. but that wasn’t exactly what caught the attention of everyone, rather the fact that the popular gaze of a certain brown-eyed boy always strayed to you. when you laughed, he smiled. where you went, he strayed. you were magnet and he was never far away.

you both tipped toed around one another, constantly drifting toward the other. playful banter slipped between you two and those around you wondered when you would finally just get together. the first time you guys finally breached the delicate line between more than ‘obviously pining friends’ was after an exciting rivalry game.

despite the strategic planning of annabeth–who clearly eyed the tension between the two of you–and the excellent swordsmanship, house ares had won the game because of you. You had been the one to distract luke castellan after clarisse had forced you to use your charms. it was fun to see the cute blush adorn his cheeks when you approached the head of the Hermes House.

“so, does this mean you agree to go out with me?” he breathed out, hands twirling his sword as he was once again bested by you in capturing the flag.

you laughed out, “i was just waiting for you to ask, castellan.”

no sooner after you had begun dating did the infamy of you two reach an all high around camp. how could it not? 

you two were the all anyone could talk about–the best of the best.

luke castellan was already the best swordsman at camp; a prodigy in the making. his brown curls and dimples only made him more popular among the girls and young teens. he was one of the highest placed leaders around camp; one of the few that clarisse actually respected and the one that annabeth regarded most. 

you were a gem in the rough: bold and brash at times, but calculating and quick-witted. you were the one to turn to when those around camp felt alone, always ready to take care of others and offer words of wisdom. you were a living definition of rules being broken and your power only highlighted the height of your placement around camp. 

when you two walked by, the eyes of the others strayed. newcomers learned of your names before they learned what exactly camp half blood was. 

when you threw your head back and laughed, people watched as Luke curled his lips in pride at being the one behind your laughter. when he sat round the fire and sang songs with the campers, you sat right beside him; head laying on his shoulder and hoping the moment would never end. he willingly allowed himself to lose camp games if only by your hand, time and time again.

yes, you were the it couple of camp half blood but none of that mattered, when he was the one for you.

[babyleostuff]

― BLACK AND BLUE

"glad he didn't overreact", but the one where seokmin, in fact, overreacts after seeing your bruised up arm on a sunday morning.

𝜗𝜚 THEME: reader is (lightly) bruised and seokmin freaks out, comfort (mostly reader comforting him), fluff 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!dk x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 828

💌 natalia’s note: this deeefinetly didn’t happen to me like two days ago… [when i catch u skiers]

“what is that?”

the soapy cup you were washing slipped out of your grip and slammed against the marble sink (seokmin decided to replace the old one right before christmas, because in his words - it was an adult thing to do) making the water splash all around, as your heart threatened to stop from the sudden commotion. 

there went your “romanticise your morning by following this easy 50 step routine”. 

“seokmin,” you grumbled, turning off the water. “what the hell?” you reached for the towel to wipe your hands and turned around to face your boyfriend, who, for once, seemed very much awake for such an early hour. “you almost gave me a heart attack.” 

“what,” your boyfriend seemed unbothered by your words and extended his arm to point at you with a sour expression, which again; so unlike him, “what is that?”

if not for the “8 am” displayed on your kitchen clock (the numbers were blinking so faintly you almost couldn’t see them anymore, because apparently changing the batteries was not an adult thing to do), your boyfriend’s massive nest of curly bed hair and his outfit which consisted of a grinch t-shirt that has definitely seen better days and boxers in puppy print, you’d be startled by his panicked expression, but… you couldn’t take him seriously with all of that. 

“what is what?” you asked amused, and leaned your hip on the kitchen counter. 

he blinked twice, his brown eyes groggy from sleep. “the bruises on your arm.” 

ah. 

that makes sense. 

you came back from a skiing trip with your friends the night before and because seokmin didn’t come home until early in the morning because of rehearsals, you didn’t really have time to catch up before… well, now. technically you could’ve told him about your little incident on the phone, but you knew how he’d react; he’d either tell you to set your snowboard on fire and throw it out of the window or he would’ve bought the earliest plane ticket to save you from the dangers of snow and ski lifts. 

“baby, close your mouth and drop your arm or you’re going to have a cramp,” you sighed, shaking your head. despite your gentle tone that you hoped would soothe his worries at least to some extent, seokmin still stood in the middle of the kitchen as stiff as a board, with a scowl on his handsome face. “come here,” you held out your hands for him to grab. 

with no hesitation he quickly made his way across the kitchen, and ignoring your extended hands, engulfed you in a bear hug. “why are you so calm about it?” you could hear the pout in seokmin’s voice, as he pulled him closer to his chest. “your whole arm is black and blue,” he gently ran his fingers along the back of your left arm, ”how did it even happen? what were you doing out there? fighting the yeti?” 

you couldn’t help but giggle. exactly why you decided to keep it a secret. 

“if you consider skiers yeti, then yes,” you propped your chin against his chest and looked up at him, “and i’m glad to inform you that i won.” 

seokmin’s muscles suddenly tensed under your fingertips and he looked even more terrified than a second ago. “what do you mean y-,”

“i was joking, baby. i didn’t fight anyone.” 

“then how did you get those bruises?” 

“just let me finish, yeah?” you said and brushed his bangs away from his forehead. “someone ran into me, that’s all. i got up after strapping the bindings and someone skied into me and, well, that left some bruises.” 

“what an asshole,” seokmin grumbled, his brows drawn together in an angry frown.

“okay there mister, calm down,” you laughed and patted his shoulder. “accidents happen-,”

“yeah, but i’d expect people who ski on red slopes not to crash into others,” his expression stilled and grew serious. 

good thing you didn’t mention you ended up with your chin hitting the icy slope, then. 

“relax, honey.” as much as you found this situation amusing, you knew seokmin was really worried about the bruises, and to be honest he had every right to do so; three big splotches covered the entirety of your left arm and if you noticed something like that on him you’d freak out for sure as well. 

“i know it looks bad, but it doesn’t hurt anymore. and what happened, happened. there’s no point in being angry, yeah?” 

your boyfriend’s eyes seemed to soften, the gentle puppy-like expression gracing his features. 

“there we go,” you smiled, cupping his cheeks. “i’m okay, min, so please stop worrying so much.” 

featherlike laugh lines crinkled around his eyes, as seokmin smiled, nodding his head. “just didn’t expect to see my girlfriend all bruised up after being weeks apart,” he leaned his forehead against yours, his arms protectively wrapped around your waist. “but if you say you’re okay, then i trust you.”

[marauder-misprint]

Nail polish & cologne

Remus Lupin x reader

Part two

1.7k words

cw: fluff, mutual pining

You take your spot next to Lily as Professor Slughorn writes on the blackboard at the front of the room. You’re reaching for your textbook when you hear giggles erupt from various spots in the room. The giggles are accompanied by various groans as well. It’s enough to make Slughorn hush the room. When you look at what he’s written, you understand the reactions. Amortentia. The powerful love potion that Slughorn had talked about briefly at the beginning of the term.

“Thought we already learned ‘bout this!” James groans from his station behind you.

Lily snorts a laugh before whispering to you, “Like that synopsis would be N.E.W.T. level.”

You smile knowingly. Slughorn had practically just asked someone to identify the potion and describe what it did; Snape had done so but didn’t tell anyone what he smelled. You recalled seeing his eyes flick to Lily and then back to his lap. Despite no longer talking, it was evident that he was still infatuated with the ginger. 

“As Mr. Potter so kindly pointed out, we did cover Amortentia earlier this term, although briefly. Mr. Potter, can you do the honors of reminding the class the defining characteristics of the potion?” Professor Slughorn says, his voice commanding the attention of the room. 

James stutters flustered for a moment before Sirius slides the textbook in front of his friend, open to the chapter on love potions. 

“It is distinctive for its mother-of-pearl sheen, and steam rises from the potion in spirals. Amortentia smells different to each person, according to what attracts them,” he reads from the book.

“And thank you, Mr. Black, for the assist,” Slughorn adds, clapping his hands together. “Now, we will be brewing Amortentia today, and I advise you all to be model students. I can only emphasize so much that any student caught with Amortentia outside of this classroom will be severely punished.” He casts a warning glance around the room. “And on a similar note, I also implore you to take note of what it smells like to you. It may just save you or a companion from consuming it unintentionally.” 

“Date rape,” you mutter under your breath, causing Lily to chuckle lightly.

Slughorn continues his lecture on the effects of the potion before discussing how to brew the potion. When he dismisses the class to gather their supplies, the boys behind you start to discuss what they expect to smell.

“Ain’t no way Prongs doesn’t smell broom polish,” Sirius says. “We’ve been victim of those fumes far too often…”

Remus laughs. “And will you smell your girl of the week or vodka?”

“You think so low of me, Moony?” Sirius scoffs.

“Please, don’t take offense, Pads. Moony is going to smell the library and morning dew. Somethin’ sappy like that,” James teases.

You can’t help but smile to yourself as you and Lily prepare the ingredients. 

“What do you think you’ll smell?” you ask her, lighting the fire under your cauldron. 

“Parchment and fresh cookies, probably. Very home-y scents, you know?”

You nod and consider what you’ll smell. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if I smelled nail polish or petrol.”

Lily adds the first ingredients with a growing smile on her face. “Ah, yes, the finest smells on the planet.” 

You and Lily fill the rest of the lesson with giggles, properly brewing the potion. Every once in a while, you look behind you to see how the boys are doing. Like usual, Remus appears to be carrying the group with occasional help from James and Sirius. 

“And… I think we’re done?” Lily says, leaning over so slightly over the cauldron. 

She waves her hand to waft the fumes toward her face. She contemplates what she smells before turning a brilliant shade of red. 

“So? What’d you smell?” you ask eagerly. 

It’s impossible to not notice how the boys went immediately silent at your question. Lily shakes her head and frowns at the potion.

“We must’ve done something wrong… That can’t be right,” she mutters, reaching for her book to double check all of the instructions and ingredient measurements. 

You twist your lips in curiosity. You lean toward the cauldron and mimic Lily’s earlier motion.

Nail polish… milk chocolate… parchment… Remus’ cologne…

Wait, what? You feel your face heat up and you reach for your own book.

“Yeah, what did we do wrong?” you mumble, scanning the directions.

Lily’s silence only reinforces your conclusion. You brewed the potion perfectly. So what you smell is… nope. That can’t be right. 

You look at Lily, hoping that she had an answer she wasn’t vocalizing. Her perplexed expression leaves you little hope. 

Slughorn must have heard your dual concerns about your potion because he heads your way. 

“Finished, ladies?” he asks.

“Uh, we think so?” you answer.

He inspects your cauldron and the two of you wait for his consensus. You are so focused on Slughorn that you don’t notice how the boys are listening in. You feel your heart fall into the pit of your stomach as Slughorn beams at you.

“It’s perfect. You two should be very proud. Ten points to Gryffindor,” Slughorn says before walking away to check on some Slytherins nearby.

You turn to Lily who is mirroring your confused expression.

“But… I…” you says, unable to finish any of your thoughts.

“Yeah… Same,” she says.

At least you aren’t alone in your reaction to what you smell. 

Behind you, the boys aren’t far behind with their own potion. After gathering a sample to turn in and cleaning up your cauldron, you and Lily turn around to watch them finish up. It’s obvious when it’s complete. Remus’ face turns a deep shade of red, making the scars on his face seem to glow. He takes a step back and gestures to the cauldron for James and Sirius to smell. 

The whole time you’re trying to not stare at Remus. Yes, you have a crush on him. You had for a while. You love his quiet rebellions and his brilliance that shines in the Marauders’ pranks. You love how, despite being a prefect, he gives no effort to rein in his friends’ antics. You love how he can step away from their wiles to study when it’s needed and how he always had a book with him. And it didn’t hurt that you thought he was gorgeous. His sandy hair, soft brown eyes, scars that he seemed to hide behind at times. 

You had felt like this for a while so you don’t know why it has taken you by such surprise that you smell him in the Amortentia. Maybe it’s the quiet voice in your head that reminds you that it’s a single-sided crush, an unrequited love. Of all the times you stared at him, you never caught him staring back and you were never caught because you can’t get caught if he never looks your way. 

“Ha! I’m not even surprised!” James exclaims, giving Lily a cheeky smile. 

“Broom polish like Black predicted?” Lily asks, returning his smile with a teasing one. 

“And so much more.”

Lily attempts an air of indifference, despite having smelled broom polish herself, and turns to Sirius. “What about you, Black? Vodka or perfume?” 

“I think… Wait, let me smell that again.” Sirius pauses as he waves the spirals ascending from the cauldron toward his face again. “Yes. Effie’s cooking. And firewhiskey. And smoke.”

James looks away from Lily with shock. “Effie’s cooking?” he repeats.

“Yeah,” Sirius says with a shrug. “Whaddabout it?” 

“You smell my mum’s cooking? In the love potion?” 

“Yes. What’s confusing ‘bout that?”

“Just a bit… bizarre?” 

“You’re bizarre,” Sirius retorts casually. “Moons? Care to share what you smelt? Preferably something with food so Prongs doesn’t think I’m so off?” 

Remus blinks slowly, stepping forward from where he was leaning against the unused desk behind them. He took another sniff of the potion, closing his eyes and basking in it. 

“You might be off, Pads. That’s a liquid library, right there.” 

Sirius narrows his eyes at Remus. “Right, sure. That’s all you smell?” 

Remus looks away from Sirius and back at the cauldron. He nervously cracks his knuckles. Then he reaches for a vial.

“We should get our sample and clean up,” he says shortly.

“Ooo! Moony’s hiding something. What did you smell?” James asks. 

If you weren’t staring at Remus, you would’ve missed how his eyes flickered toward you. When he sees you already looking at him, he turns impossibly more red. Were you imagining it? 

Hope fills your veins. You’re sure you’re assuming too much, but what if he smells you in the potion, just like how you smell him? Why else would he have blushed so furiously when he looked at you? It would explain why he doesn’t want to tell the boys what he smells, because he knows you’re standing right there, a part of the conversation despite not having said anything. 

“Here,” Remus says as he hands the vial to James. “Go give that to Slughorn so we can pass this class.” 

“Alright, boss.” 

Just after James turns in their potion, Slughorn dismisses all of those who had finished their potion. You and Lily leave rather quickly, having already been fully cleaned up. James isn’t far behind. He’s convinced that he and Lily shared a moment in that class, which meant he might have a chance if he asks her out again soon. 

Alone with Remus now, Sirius asks again, “What did you smell, Remus?”

“I told you, a-”

“Library. So that’s what? Old books? Inkwells? Y/N studying next to you?” 

Remus goes quiet. How did Sirius know?

“Am I obvious?” Remus whispers, not looking at his best friend.

���Nah,” Sirius assures him. “Between James and Lily making googoo eyes at each other? You’re good. Although, I think it’s worth a shot. She couldn’t take her eyes off you.”

Sirius walks away, leaving Remus to finish gathering his things on his own. Had you been staring at him longer than he thought? Since when did you, in all of your perfectness, stare at him, a monster in a student's uniform? But if Sirius, Mr. Self-Proclaimed-Ladies'-Man, thought it was worth a shot, maybe it was. Maybe he’d have to find you later and work up the courage to ask you out. 

[ryllen]

CONGRATS THIRD TEAM FOR FINISHING BEAUTIFULLY!!!!!!

Congrats to the FIRST TEAM to BEAT THE TITAN!

[coldilikeit]

Isekai reader x Batfam (Neglected au)

Female reader

Chapter 8- The REAL beloved princess

_____________________________

"This is so fucking bullshit" someone says as she storms out her used to be office, this someone got fired from her job after management found out she was stealing from the company

She's frustratingly fondling with the keys of her car and drives off in a pissed off state, "What's so good about them anyway.. I was top of my class you assholes! It was just a couple hundred thousand dollars, I needed vacation money!" She yelled

What she didn't notice was the light turning red meaning all cars should stop, then she crashes and hits a teenage girl, she swerved out to run away from the scene but her frantic driving makes her hit a pole and she dies

Then she wakes up as a 9 year old girl, she wakes up as "Viviana"

She's a little socialite and influencer who bullies people poorer than her, once a scandal about her was shown after she was seen throwing her leftovers at a homeless person's head

She's the daughter of a famous whore model and an unknown dad, her mom slept with one of the guests at fashion week and had her

Life was good for Viviana, vacations, designer bags and clothes, private school

When Viviana was 10, at one of her lavish birthday parties an earthquake happened, she was about to get crushed under the debris but a screen popped up

Welcome Reader! To the favorite child au!

Your story goes as someone who lives a normal life, but then when your mother dies, you find out you're the daughter of none other than Bruce Wayne! Aka Batman, the family immediately loves you and you become the most cherished person in the Manor!

After that Viviana's life changed, she was then actively trying to poison her mother so she can start the story of her being loved

She was given missions that gave her points and superpowers as rewards,

So far she has

Super strength, Lazer eyes, and infinity bag (a bag that has whatever she needs or wants at the moment)

At first Viviana didn't want to become a vigilante like the system was telling her to be, but then the opportunity came when she was transferred to Gotham prep, there was a school shooting and her brothers were watching, of course she had to show off

She apprehended the bastards and was praised by the school

Soon she was appearing alongside the bats, She was then given a love meter by her system to see how much they loved her, so far she's at 30%

There was one problem, that one girl

(Name) Wayne.

She wasn't part of the original family!?

Then her system informed her that she was another reincarnated person, but she reincarnated as the "neglected" one

How pitiful, Viviana laughed to herself

The problem is that bitch (Name) made the family love her... She had years with them!? It wasn't fair!

They were even throwing a gala for her birthday, the last straw for Viviana was when Bruce, the man who's supposed to love her most and declare her as the favorite child, danced with the bitch he's supposed to hate!

She couldn't wait and introduced herself right then and there, it was really unfortunate that her mom had died due to the Joker's attack

Why are her brothers smiling at her!? Why are her sisters adoring her!? This wasn't how it's supposed to go! She's the beloved daughter!

Viviana vows to make that change.

The party ended abruptly and now the family find themselves in a private room

Duke leans on the sofa "So you're that protagonist vigilante right?" He looked wary of the new girl

Viviana looked shocked "How did you!?-" Duke laughed recalling a memory, he looked at (Name) "Someone once told me 'A new vigilante appears, Bruce gets a new kid, it's not rocket science' huh (Name)?"

"we'll have to verify the DNA test you handed me" Bruce coughs "Until then you'll stay in a guest room-"

"Master bedroom." Says (Name), the system informed you that his girl is another reincarnated person! You've never thought you'd meet anyone back in your old world! Maybe you and her can help each other with missions and stuff!

Everyone looks at you "What? If she does end up becoming our sister are you going to treat her like how I was first treated? Make her feel welcome" you smiled, you found out that she was reincarnated as the "beloved" one of the Bat family, and her mission is opposite to yours, make everyone love her, you'll help her with that, and maybe she'll help you too

____________________________

Bruce feels tired, he had just made you feel part of the family after years of neglect, he feels like you were finally opening up to them and now you guys can be one happy family

Then Viviana comes.

"Maybe I should just fuck infertile women", he groans, the door opens and comes in the devil "Viviana... Why are you up? It's so late?"

She smiled "I saw how stressed you were at the family meeting earlier... I made you some tea" she said, Bruce falters "How... Thoughtful of you, thank you Viviana"

Bruce smelled the aroma, a sweet scent, he doesn't like sweets but it's fine, it was from his daughter, he took a sip... He was surprised it wasn't sweet at all, it was a bit bitter with a tangy taste, it wasn't a good tea, but who is he to complain?

Reader- um I mean... Protagonist! His love meter is going up in an alarming rate! What happened?

"I told you to not mess up on what you call me..." Viviana angrily whispered, I mean, she was the protagonist, so she doesn't see a problem on why the system shouldn't call her that

Viviana relaxed in an armchair near her father's desk "You know... My tea has a special ingredient... First it's him then the others... And then the entirety of Gotham..." She whispered

But protagonist... Using a love potion to up your love meter is considered cheating... If you get caught, or the love potion wears off, we'll both get in trouble! I suggest you get their affection the natural way!

"I hope you have a goodnight Father..." Viviana smiled then left the room

Protagonist! Bruce is still a vigilante! A scary one at that, if he finds out about this your love meter might plummet!

"it won't. Don't worry, I won't let it happen" she looked at her stats

Super strength- 6/20

Lazer eyes- 8/20

"System why aren't you doing anything to make this go up!?" She growled

You're the one who's supposed to make that go up on your own! By fighting villains! With every criminal you rehabilitate or put in jail, your stats go up, so far you've only managed to out the school shooters and some muggers

"powers aren't that important anyway... What matters is that girl, who does she think she is!? She was even trying to show her influence in the family by changing their minds and making me sleep in a Master bedroom!"

She was probably only trying to help you... She's been informed of your mission by her system

"Screw that! She's just scared that I'll take her place, so she's being kind to me to make herself stay! I'm going to take everything from her, those warm gazes, the gifts... They were mine in the first place!"

____________________________

Look who I met on an outing!

_____________________________

@jellyedkazoo @vanilliona @shyenemyperson @popboomcha @plsfckmedxddy @devotedlyshamelessdetective @dorkatron-2000 @yuyuzi-ling @sweetsugerskull @butratherbutrather @yu-reiii @clementinesyummy @lfiee @iamapotatoe @type-ink @unknownloner1345 @randomlyappearingartist @justatimidcreator