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bumblebeesfromvenus · 3 months ago

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TF141 taking you on a picnic date 💐

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They're a little very all over the place because I wrote all of them on different days lol

I hope you'll enjoy it anyway <3

Some NSFW for all of them, but it's just a little bit at the very end, the rest is sweet fluff!!

Lmk who you would go on a picnic date with!

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

John is such a romantic.

Maybe not the flashy kind, but in subtle and sincere ways. He would absolutely love to take you on a picnic date, he might even be more excited about it than you are.

You know how girls have those dreams of specific dates or scenarios??? Well, boys have that too, and this is John's. He finds the perfect spot, a secluded park with a field of wildflowers that bloom beautifully in the summer.

As ready as he was to organize the whole thing himself in the matter of a day, he'd adore to organize it with you. Write a grocery list, make some homemade goods, pack up the car. The domesticity makes his heart do flips.

"Do you reckon champagne would be too over the top?"

"John, honey, we're going on a picnic."

"Touchè."

And it's 100% fool proof.

This man has something planned for every single scenario because nothing will ruin this for him. He'll hold your umbrella while he gets soaked if he has to.

He hasn't asked you to marry him yet, but this seals the deal for him. He's already imagining going on a picnic like this on every single anniversary until you're physically unable to.

Did he overdo it a bit with the outfit? Maybe, but he couldn't care less about potential grass stains when his white button-down shirt and his beige slacks basically make you drool.

John insisted on a classic picnic basket, but he'll accept input regarding the pattern of the blanket. He's so utterly in love with you it's ridiculous. And when you come down the stairs in a flowy and floral sundress the blood in his body doesn't know where to rush first, his heart or his cock.

"Fucking hell, dove. You look divine."

He makes heart eyes at you but also has a raging hard on. What can he say? You keep him balanced.

John has to try so hard not to drop to his knees in front of you and beg. For what? He doesn't even know. It just feels like the right thing to do with you looking like a goddess. He loves it when he can press his nose against your soft mound all while his forehead rests on your pudgy tummy and your fingers card through his hair.

The drive there is lovely. The sun is out, it's a comfortable temperature, and the mood is high. The windows are rolled down, and you both sing along to music while his hand is planted firmly in yours. The location is even more beautiful than you thought. There's willow trees and all kinds of sweet smelling flowers accompanied by the symphony of busy bees and chirping birds.

After everything is set up, it's the best day of your life, probably. It's so so so nice.

And yes, he did bring the champagne.

Your head is in his lap while he strokes your hair and feeds you bits of cake. It's so romantic that it's sickening. SICKENING, I say. He's just so perfect. You talk and laugh, and it's so fun. T

he day goes by in the blink of an eye, and suddenly, it's golden hour, and John swears you're heaven on earth. You're so pretty, and he wants nothing more than to kiss you silly, frankly.

So he does.

Just bristly and sloppy kisses wherever he can reach, your cheeks, jaw, neck. You shift your position, you're now lying down on the blanket, facing each other. The tips of your noses touch, and you're a tangled mess of limbs.

John wants to fuck you more than he ever wanted anything in his life, but he's a man of style, so rubbing you through your panties until your hips buck away from his hand will have to do until you get home and he can take care of you properly <3

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Johnny only wants to spend time with you. He doesn't care how.

He'll do anything to be by your side. Such a clingy bastard but we all love him for that. He loves being outside, and now he gets to let out his romantic side, too???? He's sold.

I'm also firmly convinced that he listened in on what his sisters gushed about in books or movies, and he uses that as his guideline for dates.

He makes sure there's a variety of different foods. Let's be honest he probably packed way too much, but he just wants to have options! Frankly, Johnny's is positively buzzing with excitement to get to spend such a lovely day with you.

As much as he loves to laze around with you on the couch, he needs air to breathe. So anything that's outside is an immediate yes from him. He's so so so excited that he doesn't shut up about it for days before the actual date.

Johnny is 100% one to overpack. He takes absolutely EVERYTHING, and you end up not even using half of it.

"I- Johnny??"

"Yeah, bonnie?"

"Why, for the love of God, did you bring a hazmat suit???"

"Ya never know!"

He will pack so many outdoor activities, like frisbee, badminton, a football, literally so much but you don't end up using any of it because he'll doze off as the sun shines down on the both of you.

He just can't help it! Your pudgy tummy is such a nice pillow, and the way your fingers rake through his mohawk and over his scalp nearly make his eyes roll into the back of his head.

He doesn't notice the smiles and nice looks the pair of you get from bypassers, but you can't help but giggle. It makes your belly jiggle, which in turn makes Johnny smile, still face down in your soft fat.

After he wakes up, though, there's a lot of talking that you'll happily listen to.

Corny jokes, overexaggerated stories from missions or his family, and from time to time, he'll get distracted by your pretty face with all its soft edges and kiss you.

Constant snacking. I mean, we all know the boys can EAT, but Johnny is such a foodie. Will eat everything and anything.

He also LOVES Irn Bru. It's definitely more of an... acquired taste, shall we say, but I think it's also very nostalgic for him.

He doesn't care what you wear. However, there are some things that get him feral. Sundresses are obviously on the list, but he adores long skirts. He likes how they flow when there's a nice breeze, and he thinks they make you look very elegant.

He will play into the whole Princess charade with long skirts or dresses.

"There's ma princess. Are ya ready to depart, m'lady?"

He will also bow very dramatically.

Undoubtedly, his favorite part of those skirts is when he gets to push them up your plush thighs and bury is face in your sweet cunt while the fabric is bunched up around your wide hips and fiddles with the hem because his goal is to bring you to bliss with his tongue only <3

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Kyle loves the water.

I don't know why, but I feel it in my bones. From streams and lakes all the way to the great big ocean. His casual style in the summer would definitely be coastal grandson, too.

So your picnic date would obviously take place in the vinicty of water. It's somewhere in a small park that has a nice big lake with lilypads and ducks swimming across it.

You'd be right by the shore, feet in the shallow water while you enjoy your lunch. Kyle is so sweet and considerate!

He'd bring you a bouquet of daisies and lovingly hold your hand in his. If it gets a little too breezy, he'll tuck you into his side and stretch his jacket over the both of you as much as he can.

He always brings you a new rock from that lake when he comes home from his morning run, and when you two are at the beach, he'll collect seashells with you.

It's all about balance and teamwork with Kyle. He makes the sandwiches while you whip up a quick sweet treat. You carry the basket while he has the blanket slung over his shoulder and your drinks in the other hand!

I feel like he'd really enjoy picnics, but they're not his favorite activity. He likes to explore a bit, just sitting around isn't quite his style. But it's nice to just sit and breathe sometimes.

For dates, he prefers the classic going out to dinner. Getting to see you all dressed up in the gentle atmosphere of a cozy restaurant makes his heart swell. But he won't ever deny you anything. Definitely not something as simple as a picnic.

A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he sees a little duck family waddling along the shore before they glide into the water.

"You think we'll have little ducklings of our own one day?"

You can only match his smile as you follow his line of sight.

"Who knows, maybe."

He pulls you close and presses a kiss to your temple. The picnic is starting to grow on him.

"... did you mean actual ducklings, or was it a metaphor for kids?"

"Both?"

As badly as you want to call him ridiculous, the mental image of Kyle with a duckling or a baby makes your heart beat with affection.

Also does not care what you wear, but he, too, has a weakness for sundresses as all men do. The way it hugs your ass, your tummy, and your supple tits makes him want to sink his teeth into your soft flesh.

An absolute sucker for a square neckline. No, I can not elaborate. You'll just have to take my word for it.

You watch the sunset together, the park becoming emptier as the light fades. He loves how you look during the golden hour and will gently hold your face to admire all your pretty features. Kyle likes that the park now only has the both of you and a pair of swans that swim over the lake like lovers.

What he loves even more is making you ride his slender fingers while the only sounds that fill the air is the chirping of cicadas and your heavenly moans while the remnants of the golden sun shine down on you making you look like a dream come true <3

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Simon isn't thrilled, let's say.

When he thinks of picnics he thinks of big open spaces, obnoxious people with annoying kids and uncomfortable wooden benches. Of which none are his cup of tea.

So you make compromises. Talk about it and ask what he would be okay with. He isn't the biggest fan of PDA, he's stuck between wanting to show off his love for you to the whole world and keeping it close to his heart like the sacred thing that it is.

But Simon perks up when you mention something about a lovely forest that's pretty secluded. Now that he can work with. Even though he's a born city boy, he'd much rather take a walk in a forest or on a little trail than on the busy streets of Manchester or London.

So he agrees, deciding that your excited reaction and thank you kisses were already worth it. He watches as you prepare the lunch you're taking with you, answering all your questions on what he'd prefer.

The truth, he'd eat rocks if your lovely hands prepared them.

He packs up the car and drives to the car park nearby, grumbling over the fee before it all melts away when he sees your smile.

The walk there on its own is nice. Holding your hand and listening to the birdsong that echoes along the tall trees. Of course, he's carrying everything.

You will never ever have to carry anything with him around, not on his watch. It's his way of repaying you for taking care of him and loving him. He would've carried you as well if you weren't so fussy about it.

When you set up the blanket and just lay down, it's the first time you think you've ever seen his shoulders untense on their own.

Simon's eyes even flutter shut, and his breath evens out.

It's just the two of you in a little glade with the vast green of the woods making your own little sanctuary.

Your head is on his shoulder, and his nose is buried in your hair.

"This.. this is nice."

He speaks so softly as if not to disturb the peace of nature. You can't help but smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

"I'm glad you think so. It is really nice."

It's mostly pleasant silence after that with the occasional short conversation, but that's how you like it best.

When you hand him his lovingly prepared sandwich, he catches your chin between his fingers and kisses you so softly that you melt right into his touch.

"You're so patient with me, love. I appreciate it."

"Of course. A few compromises aren't the end of the world if it means you're happy."

He's a fucking goner, okay.

He loves it when you wear one of his sweat jackets or flannels over a nice dress. It's so obviously not yours which signals to other people that you're taken.

And considering the size and color of the thing, it's safe to assume it belongs to that hunk of a man always by your side.

He lays back onto the soft blanket and pulls you onto his chest, wrapping his arms around you. There are a few sun spots shining through the thick canopy of leaves, warming your skin.

You're half asleep, dozing off, ignoring the way he fiddles with his trousers until he pushes your panties to the side and sinks his thick cock into your pussy, having you warm his length. It makes him feel so impossibly close to you and his brain melts and before you know it, he's snoring beneath you, his dick buried inside of you <3

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I hope you liked it! <3

More CoD and other works -> 💫

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amathslutsguidetofandom · 3 months ago

Note

You just moved in the house next door to Bucky’s and when he welcomes you to the neighborhood, he completely forgets what he was going to say cause he’s stunned by your beauty and he eventually asks you if you want to hangout with him and Steve which you immediately accept🥰

Never Been More Sure

PAIRINGS: Construction Worker!James "Bucky" Barnes x Reader

WARNINGS: FLUFF, overworked reader, reader needs a break, loud music. Grumpy Bucky

WORD COUNT: 1,644

*not proof-read*

ENJOY!

His grip on the hammer tightens as he hears the base from the house next door increases.

“Jesus,” he mutters, Bucky looks at his watch as see that’s it three in the afternoon. He then looks at Steve, “who the hell would be listening to music this loud at this time of day?”

Steve looks up from the blueprints and squints his eyes at the house next to the one they’re working on and hears the bass he’s best friend was talking about. “Dunno man,” he shrugs.

The house flipping project was not knew to Bucky’s experience, but it was albeit different from his usual construction work, but when the man who own the company, who also happens to be his best friend, tells him he needs some help, Bucky’s up and ready to help.

He enjoyed renovating the house, but what he did not enjoy was the loud music playing from the house next door.

It would always be the same playlist every day, at the same hour, at maximum volume.

He’d always grit his teeth as he felt the vibrations through out the entirety of the house.

***

He parks his truck in the driveway and steps out, Bucky looks up into the sky and see’s the orange hue of the rising sun tainting the blue sky.

He sighs and walks into the house gets all the equipment up and ready for action.

Steve arrives a little while later and sets up too, they talk about random updates on their lives when Steve stops to a specific topic.

“Oh, and the person next door, the one that blasts the music is apparently new to the neighbourhood too,” he says as he uses a hammer to nail in some wooden floorboards.

Bucky pauses as he holds some tiles under his arm, “yeah?”

To which Steve nods too, “yeah.”

***

There is it, again.

The bass.

Bucky shakes his head in annoyance and rubs the bridge of his nose trying to push away the oncoming headache.

Steve had to go and get some caulk for the bathroom, so it was only Bucky working out some things.

“Fuck this shit,” he drops his tools and walks out of the house in his beige construction boots.

He was on the sidewalk to the house next door; he sees the plants on the porch and the little metal porch table and chair on the corner. With each step towards the house, the bass gets louder.

Walking up to the door he clenches his jaw as he hears his heart thumps to the beat of the base, he clenches his knuckles and knocks on the door a bit too loudly.

***

Your mind was too focused on working on your code and trying to find your bug and trying to understand why your program runs on an infinite loop, that you almost did not hear the loud knock on your door.

Your mind reels itself back into the real world, where Freddie Mercury screams through your house about some woman being a killer queen.

You walk to your front door, as you do you feel the base course through your body, providing you’re tension some sort of release. You open the door to see a 6’ something beefy man with hair till his shoulders, the bluest eyes you’ve seen, and a pair of construction vest and a hard hat.

You, however, are cladded in a tank top and red flannel pyjama pants.

“Uh hi, may I help you?” you look at him confuse, like you weren’t totally checking him out a few seconds ago.

I mean you really can’t blame you, when he is doing the exact same thing as you were: checking you out.

***

Bucky taps his foot impatiently waiting for the door to be opened, and when it does the string of cuss words that he had planned to use evaporates from his tongue.

He takes in your messy hairdo and the glasses that perch on your nose.

His heart stutters for a sec, he can’t even bring himself to answer the question you asked. And when you repeat it again, he just lets out a serious of “uh’s” and “um’s”.

You look at him questioningly, wondering what a construction worker would be doing around these parts. Then you remember the house that’s being renovated on your left.

“Oh you the guys working on house next to mine, yeah?” You say as you lean against your doorframe.

Bucky stands straighter and gets himself together. “Uh, yes ma’am,” he nods he scratches his stubble.

“I’m sorry for knocking so loud, ma’am. But I’ve been working on the house for a few weeks now and I can’t help but hear the…. music from your house,” he says looking into your eyes and stuffing his hands into the hands of his cargo shorts.

You blush immediately, “shit. Oh my god, I’m so sorry it’s just when I get locked into my work. I just need some loud base so it does get loud in the noggin’,” you say and tap on your temple, and then cringe.

WHO THE FUCK SAYS NOGGIN

To your luck, Bucky chuckles at your little stunt and nods.

“What work needs music so loud that it can break the sound barrier,” he crosses his arm and gives you a smirk.

Your legs almost turn to jelly at his smirk.

“Well, um, I code…...A lot. I work in Machine Learning,” you say as your wring your hands and laugh nervously.

Bucky raises a brow, impressed at your revelation of what you do for a living.

“Impressive. Well then, I really shouldn’t say anything that would affect your work-,” he starts but you cut immediately.

“No, no, no, it’s my fault I’ll reduce the volume. I should’ve done it sooner, but I was just seriously locked in. I’m like running on five cups of coffee, it’s literally insane. My boss thinks that I am able to code an entire authentication system in two weeks, and that’s where she her screws are loose in her head. Cuz, no one in the entire world can build an entire TWO-WAY authentication system in two weeks. Like who does she think I am Mark Zuckerberg, I can’t-,”

You pause as you realise, you’re going on a rant. Bucky’s eyes are slightly raised in shock.

“Sorry I really shouldn’t be rambling about my job to some stranger, I’ll lower the volume Mr…,” you drag the last bit hoping he’ll finish it off you.

“Barnes, James Barnes. But my friends call me Bucky,” he sticks his hand out and asks for yours, which you tell gladly.

“And don’t worry, we all have those days,” he says giving you a little nod of sympathy.

You smile softly at his efforts and thank him before giving a tight smile and a “See you later” and closing the door of your humble abode.

***

Bucky notices the reduced volume of the music in the following days, he smiles as he can only hear the traces of the 80’s/90’s music you play from your home.

Steve see’s the look Bucky has as he watches your house.

“Have you met ‘em?” Steve asks as he continues to tile the kitchen.

Bucky, without looking away from the house, responds with a yes.

Steve chuckles, “you gave ‘em a piece of your mind? Threaten ‘em? Is that why their music is barely audible now, hmm?”

Bucky shakes his head, “she’s gorgeous, Steve.” He remembers how you were dressed with you first opened the door and it made his heart flutter again.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, with a smirk on his face. Bucky death glares at Steve, to which Steve chuckles at.

The blonde looks at his watch as sighs, “well it’s time for lunch, wanna clock out?” To which Bucky nods to.

Soon they make it to Bucky’s truck and Bucky can’t help but stare at your house.

“Ask her if she wanna join,” Steve pushes Bucky in your direction.

“Should I? I dunno man,” the brunette scratches the back of his neck. Steve just rolls his eyes and shoves Bucky to the stairs leading up to your porch.

***

You excepted there would be a bug in your code. But what you didn’t expect was your doorbell to ring.

You got up and felt your grey sweats unstick from your thighs, you shudder at the feeling.

You make your way to the door and open it up to reveal the man you were secretly hoping it would be.

Bucky.

“Hey Bucky, gosh I hope the music isn’t loud again,” you laugh nervously to which Bucky shakes his head and reassures you.

“It’s perfect, doll. Greatly appreciated,” he smiles giving a soft smile.

You return with your own and then a confused look glazes your face, “oh, great. Then, why are you…?”

Bucky helps you finish the sentence, “My co-worker and I were heading to grab some lunch, just wanted to check in and ask if you wanted to join us?”

“Oh,” you look behind him and see and equally handsome blonde man waving in your direction with a 100-percent-typical-American-golden-boy smile. You nervously wave back and look back at Bucky, “Oh I don’t wanna impose.”

Bucky huffs and chuckles, “you ain’t imposing, Doll. I’m offering.” He raises a brow in question, waiting for your answer.

“How long have you been at your computer?” he asks straightforward. You reel you head back in slight confusion at the sudden change of topic, “uh, since this morning?”

Bucky nods and replies, “you need a break.”

That you didn’t disagree with, since you are desperate for one.

But you feel as though you’d disturb Bucky and his friends lunch.

“You sure I won’t be imposing?” you ask him as you bite your lip.

“Never been more sure of anything else in my life, doll.”

💌💌💌

Hey Lovelies! this has been sitting in my drafts for a while now, and I FINALLY finished it. My deepest apologies @sergeantbarnessdoll for not completing it sooner, it isn't the same as you asked I hope that's all good 🤧🤧🤧.

This was also a fix I was planning to make! ( a fix that included a construction worker Bucky Barnes’s, cuz that AU is soooo underrated)

Lemme know what y'all think!

Till' then,

Stay Coquette-y,

Anya 🫶🏽🕊️🎀

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #constructionworker!bucky barnes x reader

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azzo0 · 7 months ago

Text

Infinite Memories

Summary: It's Katsuki's 25th birthday. After celebrating and cleaning up, you take him on a trip down memory lane.

Pairing: Bakugo x f!reader

Contains: established relationship, implied childhood friends to lovers, reader takes a bath with bakugo but nothing nsfw, foofy foofy fluff

wc: 1.2k

Katsuki made sure everyone at the party knew he was forced to be here and didn't like this shit at all, but you knew that was far from the truth. Standing with a glass of wine in your hand, you couldn't help but grin at him as he sat with his friends, Sero's arm slung around his shoulders. He was smiling unawares. He was totally enjoying this.

Everyone had agreed to hold Katsuki's birthday party at his parents' house, given they had an enormous backyard. Mitsuki had cooked an amazing dinner while you and Mina decorated the backyard, leaving the boys to get the cake. It was supposed to be a surprise for Katsuki, but of course, he had to go and say he already remembered it was his birthday. It was just like him. You couldn't count the number of birthdays you tried to surprise him. He even acted like he was confused, but you knew better.

After the party, you and Katsuki stayed back to help with cleaning up. You dumped the plastic plates in a trash bag and then helped Mitsuki wash the dishes while the birthday boy removed the decorations in the back.

"Are you sure you guys don't want to stay?" Mitsuki asked one last time as you two stood in the doorway.

"No, ma," Katsuki said, "It's been a long night. Gonna go home and sleep."

"You can do that here, too," Mitsuki insisted.

"We won't fit in my old bed, you know that too," he sighed.

"Alright, then. Good night." Mitsuki pulled you in a hug and gave Bakugo's cheek a smooch despite his protests.

As soon as you entered the apartment, you took off your heels, kept the food Mitsuki had packed for you and joined Katsuki in the bathroom. He stood shirtless in the bathroom, brushing his teeth as the bathtub filled with warm water. You stood in front of him, grabbing a wipe to remove the makeup from your face. He rinsed his mouth and took the wipe from you, tilting your face towards him as he gently cleaned your face.

You guys undressed, stepping into the shower cubicle, big enough for two. Katsuki sat on the step stool, and you shampooed his hair for him, followed by cleaning his back while he scrubbed the rest of his body. He did the same for you afterwards, massaging your shower products into your hair and washing your back while whispering sweet nothings in your ear, planting an occasional kiss to your neck.

You joined him in the tub after that, your head on top of his chest while his fingers brushed through your wet hair, his eyes closed, "Did you enjoy the party, 'Suki?"

"A little," he replied. You could feel his voice reverberate in his chest.

"Just a little?"

"Very little," he opened his eyes, looking at you with a smile, which told you he did enjoy the party. You shifted to kiss him, working your way around his jaw and onto his face. He caught your lips in a lazy kiss, his hand tracing up and down your spine. It was getting very late, and Katsuki had to go to work in the morning.

In the bedroom, he sat on the bed as you did his skin care for him, patting serums and moisturisers onto his skin. He crawled under the covers once you were done, resting his head against the headboard as he watched you do your skincare in front of the mirror. You caught his eye in the mirror and glanced back, "Don't go to sleep. There's something I want to give you, birthday boy."

"Okay," he replied, his crimson gaze following you as you left the room. He fought to stay awake as his eyes slowly shut.

"You're falling asleep," your voice brought him back to his senses.

"I'm not," he retorted.

You smiled and sat beside him, slipping under the blanket. You handed him a photo album. He took it from you, looking down at it. It had a beige leather cover with a heart engraved on the front. Inside the heart was a word in italics: Us.

He opened the album and was greeted by a picture of him and you as toddlers, only two years old. A smile danced on his lips as he looked down at the picture. You were crying in it because he had snipped one of your pigtails while he sat on the floor with a pair of scissors, a gleeful grin on his face. Under the picture, written in your handwriting was, 'I'm not sure which one of the adults left you alone with a scissor, but I'm still mad you cut off my cutesy hair.'

"Heh, I was a fucking hair stylist!" Bakugo exclaimed, all his sleep gone.

"Hair stylist, my ass. You just cut off a huge section of my hair."

He turned the page to see more baby pictures of you two, with a picture of you guys standing in your elementary school uniforms on the next page. You were grinning at the camera while Bakugo pouted, looking like he'd stab someone with the stick in his hand. He found your commentary under the pictures hilarious, 'My boyfie does not like school.'

The album brought back so many special memories he had with you. His fingers stopped over a page with a picture of you wearing a crown made of different flowers while he stood beside you, little ears dusting pink, 'He decided to marry me when we were six.'

"Where did you get that picture from?" He groaned, running a hand down his face in embarrassment, "I don't even remember anyone taking a picture of us!"

"Well, my father had it," You smiled, glancing up at him. He still blushed like he did when he was six.

He flipped through each page with you, smiling at the wholesome ones and scoffing at the embarrassing ones, each turn of the page a reminder of the constant and unwavering support you gave him to this day. In this album you made him, he took a trip through his middle and high school days he spent with you. You also put a picture of him receiving his award for making it to the top two, 'Proud of you, Dyanamight- your #1 fan.'

There was a picture of your guys' engagement and wedding. He shook his head and laughed at them, blinking away the tears that were starting to form. How far he had come with you. The last picture was a fresh one. It was from the party. He was looking at you as you stuffed your mouth with the cake, 'Happy 25th birthday, Katsuki.' Mitsuki was the one hopping around with a polaroid camera. He was sure you got it from her.

"Thank you, y/n," he said, looking to his side to see you had fallen asleep on his shoulder, your mouth ajar.

His hand searched for his phone under the pillow. He opened the camera app, switching to the front camera. He snapped a picture and stared at it for the longest time. It was beautiful, with the bedside lamps casting a golden hue around you two. He found it adorable how your cheek was mushed on his shoulder with your mouth open. He'd get it printed on his way to work and put it in the album.

He'd slowly stick more pictures in it over time. When pages would run out, he'd add more pages because he still had infinite memories waiting to be made with you.

#HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY POOKIE #MY GREMLIN #MY HUSBANDDDDD #this struck me while i was half asleep a few days before his bday #glad it did cz i'm on time for the party!!#bakugou x reader #bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #bakugo #bakugou #bnha #azzo writes

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risriswrites · 2 years ago

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Just Roommates

summary: a series of moments between bradley bradshaw and his roommate that prove they're a little more than "just roommates"

pairing: roommate x bradley bradshaw, fem reader

warnings: none, just some mild language and lots of fluff

author's note: this is my second fic and i just wanted to say thank you all for the love on the first one! it made my heart happy :) likes, comments, and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated!

word count: 9.1k

“Okay but hear me out. What if we painted the living room wall a pale green?” you question, gesturing to the beige wall directly across from you with a spoon, that was once being used for your bowl of cereal; which had been discarded five minutes prior in favor of the sudden inspiration to revamp the living room.

Tilting your head to the side you allow your eyes to wander the length of the wall before adding, “Not like a pastel green but more like a sage green. I think it’d compliment the couch…and the wood floors.”

Bradley was leaning in the doorframe of the hallway that led to your separate bedrooms, arms crossed over themselves and letting his eyes trail over the way you’ve perched yourself onto the granite kitchen island, one leg crossed over the other.

It was a Saturday morning, so it didn’t surprise him that you’d foregone pants and settled on an oversized t-shirt, really short shorts, and fuzzy socks. You always complained about how you couldn’t sleep if it was too hot, so he made sure to keep the thermostat at a comfortable 70 degrees, but as soon as you woke up, you’d be freezing and needed socks to keep your feet warm. He’d never understand it.

Dragging his eyes away from you he lazily glanced at the wall of the living room. Honestly, he was fine with the way it was, but he wasn’t an interior decorator, so his opinion didn’t really count for anything in the name of “design”.

“I don’t think it really matters” he shrugs, letting his eyes wander back over to you. Your hair was still a little messy from sleeping, but in way he found oddly, cute.

A huff slips past your lips as you slide off the counter and move to wash the bowl you’d been using, “Bradley, the apartment could use a little bit of color. It’s kind of bland in here,” you grimace, sparing him a quick glance before resuming your assault on the navy-blue bowl.

Sighing, Bradley pushes himself off the doorframe in favor of moving to the granite island you’d been sitting on a few moments ago, “Well, you pay for half of the apartment, so whatever you think will make the place look decent that’s up to you.”

“That’s not how decisions work between roommates, Bradley. We have to both agree with it,” you mutter.

Shaking your head you force a breath out, “Look, we can talk about it later if you want, it’s not a big deal. We can always meet in the middle and bring in a plant or something instead? You keep the neutrality of the apartment, and I can have some greenery to look at.” you negotiate, all while wiping your hands on the hand towel hanging across the bar of the oven, shooting him an awkward smile, doing your best to not glance at his naked chest.

He forces his own smile back at you and nods his head the tiniest bit to let you know he’d think about it.

With that conversation ending you decide to leave Bradley to his thoughts in favor of snuggling into the couch for some warmth and an excuse to binge watch “The Witcher”.

You and Bradley had been living together for a little over a month, having been introduced to each other through your friend Jamie.

Jamie was a landing signal officer for the navy that you had met while you were in college. He was just getting his associates degree to pass the time while he worked on achieving all of the necessary credentials to start training in the navy, and once he graduated, was stationed out in Miramar. He had worked alongside Bradley during a few different missions and had kept in contact with him over the past few years. The two were close enough that Bradley valued Jamie’s feedback and opinion, so when Bradley came to him with his roommate dilemma, he knew the perfect person to recommend.

Based on your first meeting alone you liked Bradley. He was well mannered, reserved, and yet, still had a certain rugged charm to him. And now you were here, laying on the gray couch you had convinced Bradley would look perfect in the small living space, snuggled under a knitted blanket from your grandma, as Bradley fixed himself a cup of coffee.

“I’m going to go out for a run in ten minutes, do you need anything while I’m out?” Bradley called out to you.

You tilted your head back to look at him from the throw pillow you were currently laying on, “No thanks I’m good,” you smiled, quickly turning back to your show, successfully avoiding gawking at your roommate as he maneuvered around your shared kitchen.

Ten minutes came and went, and you never heard Bradley leave the house. Crinkling your eyebrows, you sit up from your spot on the couch and peer back into the kitchen to check if Bradley had snuck out without you noticing. Only to see him sat on a barstool at the kitchen island, one arm leaning on the long piece of granite and the other holding his coffee mug in his hand, casually sipping at the hot beverage while his eyes were glued to the tv screen.

A smirk grows on your lips, “Going for a run, huh?”

Bradley’s gaze breaks from the tv screen and snaps to you, his eyebrows pinching together as he shoots you a playful glare, mumbling into his mug, “I’m about to leave.”

“Sure, you are” you snort.

Silence ensues as you continue to smirk at him and he glares at you, before finally he breaks.

“Alright fine,” he huffs, “One episode, and then I’m going for a run.”

You turn back to the tv with a knowing smile on your face before getting comfortable under your blanket again.

Bradley stays put at the kitchen island for the next episode, but once you’ve started the second, he’s gravitated to sitting on the arm of the couch.

You glance over at him every now and then, smirk growing larger with every minute he continues to sit and not leave to go for his run, too enraptured in the show currently playing on your shared tv screen.

Grasping the remote in your hand you pause the show, turning you head and quirking an eyebrow at him, “Soo…still going for that run?”

Bradley huffs and throws his head back groaning, “I need to.”

You stay in your position allowing yourself to let your gaze roll over the scars that litter his neck and along his cheek. Seeing the war waging on in his brain you decide to make it easy for him, “How about you go on that run, and I’ll just pause it until you get back? It’s on Netflix so it’s not going anywhere anytime soon.” You smile.

Bradley turns to face you, moving his arms behind him to rest on the couch, further exposing his naked chest, “You sure? I don’t wanna make you wait to finish the episode.”

You push aside any thoughts about how hot he looks right now and instead focus on his honey brown eyes, letting your smile turn into an easy smirk, “I’ll be okay Bradshaw, I’m a big girl I can wait one hour for you to finish your run.”

Bradley raises an eyebrow while leaning towards you a little bit, letting his tongue poke out to swipe across his lips before he fixes you with a sarcastic smile of his own, “Sweetheart, it’s cute you think that it’s gonna take me that longto go on a three-mile run.”

And with that statement being put out in the air, he’s moving off the couch and heading towards the door, passing the water bottle he set out earlier.

Momentarily dazed from his proximity, you regain your train of thought and call after him, “Have fun show off!”

“Don’t start that episode until I get back sweetheart!” he yells, pointing a finger back in your direction, letting the door swing closed behind him.

A snort escapes you as you take to scrolling through your phone, waiting for Bradley to come back.

And exactly twenty minutes after you last saw him; not that you were counting, Bradley strolls back inside, a sheen of sweet glistening from his chest and abs as he strides towards the water sitting on the island.

Having looked up at his arrival, you quickly force yourself to look back down, cursing under your breath at how heaven sent he looks right now.

As Bradley is unscrewing the cap from his water bottle, he glances towards you propped up on the couch scrolling through the many apps you have on your phone before he slides his gaze to the tv, smiling to himself when he sees that you’ve kept your promise in keeping the show paused.

Allowing himself a few gulps of water, he sets the bottle back on the island and turns his attention back to you, “You mind keeping it paused for a little longer? I need a shower.”

You keep your eyes glued to your phone screen, “Don’t need to ask Bradshaw, I’d rather not have you tainting our clean couch with your sweat.” You snicker, wrinkling your nose in disgust.

He just shakes his head and smiles as he sets off towards the bathroom.

Another ten short minutes had passed before Bradley saunters back into your shared living space freshly showered and wearing a pair of gray sweatpants.

You stare for all of five seconds before becoming conscious of what you’re doing and move to grab the remote that’s been lying dormant on the side table for the past thirty-five minutes, eager to distract yourself from allowing him to take up any further space in your mind.

Bradley, however, has other plans and is picking your legs up off the couch and maneuvering himself under them in order to sit, bringing them back down and settling them in his lap, unknowingly regaining your attention.

Said attention being specifically on his right hand that is currently resting on top of your left leg, allowing a warmth to settle where his hand is, and traveling up through the rest of your body, a flush no doubt currently on your cheeks. Giving your head a small shake, you press play on the remote before forcing yourself to relax into the throw pillow and focus on Geralt arguing with Jaskier.

He's your roommate.

You’re very attractive roommate, but your roommate, nevertheless. And reminding yourself of that fact helps you stay focused on the show before the two of you part ways a few hours later.

He’s your roommate. Nothing’s going to happen.

“Pretty sure this is the kinda injury you go to the hospital for, Bradshaw. Not your very unqualified roommate and a first aid kit” You grimace.

Bradley was currently sitting on the toilet seat of your shared bathroom; after what you can imagine was another interesting night at the hard deck, in his typical white tank and Hawaiian button-down combo while you stood in between his jean clad legs, attempting to control the bleeding above his eyebrow.

“I’m serious you might need stitches,” you grunt, grabbing some more gauze and pushing it against the laceration.

Bradley snorts, “I wouldn’t say you’re completely unqualified if you’re gonna stand there and say I need stitches.”

You roll your eyes at the statement and resist the urge to smack him, “Anyone with half a brain can deduce that you need stitches, doesn’t take someone with a degree to know that.”

“So, you’re saying you’re perfect for the job, since you don’t need a degree? That’s perfect, thanks sweetheart,” comes the reply of a grinning Bradley.

A huff escapes past your lips as you mutter out, “You’re impossible”.

Your eyes examine the items from the first-aid kit that are currently scattered across the countertop, landing on a small box that says, “butterfly wound closures”. You light up at your luck before ordering Bradley to keep pressure on the gauze you’ve been holding as you move to get the much-needed bandages.

Once you’ve grabbed two or three bandages from the box, you push Bradley’s hand off the gauze and slowly peel it back to check on the bleeding. Luckily, it’s stopped now, and you can focus on closing the wound.

Grabbing a square packet with the words, “alcohol pad” on it, you rip open the packaging and take out the small piece of moist fabric, before sucking in a breath. Just knowing how much this could burn against Bradley’s wound has you wincing and hesitating to clean the area around it. “This might sting a little if I get to close, so try to stay still” you whisper, trying to keep your voice steady as you start wiping around the wound. “How’d this happen anyway?” you question, attempting to distract him from any pain he might be feeling.

Bradley watches your face as you begin to wipe away at the dried blood above his eyebrow, nose scrunched, eyebrows pinched, and eyes focused on his wound. It’s endearing, how seriously you’re taking this.

“Some guy kept bothering Phoenix, she can usually handle guys like that on her own, but this one just wouldn’t take no for an answer. I stepped in to help escort him out of the hard deck with Hangman when the guy swung on me. It’s not a big deal.” He sighed.

You forced out a chuckle at his response, “I wouldn’t say that. Not when you’re coming home with blood rushing down your face”.

Bradley clocked the skip in his heart at the word “home” coming from your lips.

Ignoring that thought he rasped out, “Yeah well, better me than Phoenix. Plus, he definitely looks worse than me, I can guarantee you that, sweetheart.”

And just when you were about to retort back, you made the mistake of brushing the alcohol pad too close to his open wound.

Bradley’s eyes instantly force themselves shut, reaching out to grip your legs as he inhales sharply.

“Shit, shit, shit, I’m sorry Bradley” you apologize, moving your hands to hold his head in place. And before you even register what you’re doing you’re blowing air on his wound, applying the same knowledge you have with the reaction between small cuts and hand sanitizer to this scenario.

Bradley slowly let out the breath he’d been holding, muttering out an, “It’s fine sweets,” allowing his body to relax again.

Discarding the alcohol wipe, you quickly grab the bandages you set out, unwrapping them at a swift pace before moving to place them one by one over Bradley’s cut. Gingerly, you smooth your thumb over the last bandage, securing it in place on Bradley’s sun-kissed skin.

“Okay” you let out a breath, “You’re all set to be a hero again” you smile softly. “Don’t get into the habit of getting into fights with drunk men.” You warned, moving your right hand to squeeze his shoulder.

Bradley’s eyes flutter open meeting your soft gaze, and he can’t help but to let one side of his mouth quirk up into a smirk, “I make no promises sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes at his confession you take a step back from him, forcing his hands to drop from your thighs, “You think you can manage putting everything back in the first-aid kit, show off? Or do you need my help with that too?” you smirk.

Bradley scoffs, pushing himself off the toilet to tower above you, “I got it,” he jests, light blue Hawaiian shirt swaying at the speed he moved from the toilet.

With the smirk still playing on your lips you back out of the bathroom, rounding the corner completely before calling out to him, “good to know you’re not completely helpless, Bradshaw!”

It’s been almost a year since you and Bradley started living together and somehow, he’s managed to supply endless excuses as to why dagger squad wasn’t able to meet his roommate. No one was more frustrated about the lack of an introduction than Phoenix, as Bradley’s closest friend she was a little pissed and mildly offended at the realization.

So, after some choice words between Phoenix and Bradley and the occasional nagging from Hangman, Bradley folded and told the duo that he’d talk to you about inviting them over for dinner.

Dragging his feet, Bradley opened the door to your shared apartment, taking in the smell of the lavender essential oil you had diffusing in the entryway.

Bradley faintly remembers you educating him on the effectiveness of essential oils when it comes to mental and physical health, and how lavender was best for promoting sleep and relaxation. Something you learned from your “stress management” class in college. It’s funny how that knowledge has him instantly relaxing once he’s stepped into the apartment; or maybe it was just knowing you occupied the same space as him.

“Honey I’m home!” Bradley calls out, tone light and playful.

He rounds the corner to see you propped up on the couch, book in your lap as you glance up at his loud and flashy entrance.

Quirking a brow at the flight suit currently tied around his waist, you watch him move one arm above his head to lean against the doorway, black fitted tee straining as he makes himself comfortable. You shoot him a playful smile, “Have a good day, sweetheart?”

Bradley lets a smirk grace his lips as he watches you, “I’ve had better.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn your attention downwards towards the book in your lap, “Well there’s always tomorrow” you reasoned.

Bradley allows himself to take in your appearance, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he watches a strand of hair fall in your face. He decides then and there that the matching green sports bra and spandex shorts set is his new favorite outfit that you own and there’s definitely gotta be some rule about inappropriate thoughts about your roommate that he’s ninety-nine percent sure he’s breaking.

Breaking his gaze from you he moves to the kitchen, focusing on fixing himself a glass of water when he remembers Phoenix’s words from earlier.

Meandering around the kitchen for a few more seconds he decides to just throw it out there.

“Hey sweetheart, are you okay with a few members from my squad coming by the apartment?”

Hearing his voice echoing through the kitchen into the living room, you allow his words to sit for a second, letting them mull over in your head until you decide to answer him with a, “why not? The more the merrier,” and glance back down to continue reading the murder mystery you’d been attempting to finish for the past few days.

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding; Bradley smiles softly at your focused expression before grabbing his phone and shooting a group text to Phoenix and Hangman to let them know they could swing by later this week.

Only putting his phone down when he got a thumbs up from Hangman, and an enthused text from Nat telling him to send the details when he can, allowing himself to refocus back onto the girl currently sat on the gray couch, with an impressive number of throw pillows surrounding her, and a book he’s never heard of before in her hands.

Smiling quietly to himself, he runs a hand through his curls and decides to head to the bathroom to shower, already hearing you in his mind telling him how you don’t want the smell of jet fuel on the couch.

Once he’s finished, he throws on an old Navy tee and gray sweatpants, heading back into the living room to try and persuade you to put down your book and watch a few episodes of “The Witcher” with him instead.

Maneuvering himself around the coffee table and onto the couch, he quickly grabs your legs and props them onto his lap and shoots you a wide smile.

Peering over the top of your book you fix your gaze on his honey-brown irises and quirk an eyebrow at his disruptive actions.

Bradley nods his head to the tv in a silent question, and you hide the growing smile on your face behind the book you’ve had your nose in for the better part of the last few hours. “Bradshaw, can’t you see I’m reading?” you challenged, quirking an eyebrow up at the man sitting in front of you, puppy-dog eyes on full display.

He nods, “I see that, and I raise you with a much more interesting proposition.”

Lowering your book just a tad, you tilt your head to the side and scoff, “Oh really, and what might that be?”

Bradley bites his bottom lip before shooting you a dazzling smile, “You, me, and at least three episodes of ‘The Witcher’, accompanied by pizza and wings, if you’re into that kinda thing?”

You hum at his idea and look up in thought, biting the bottom of your own lip in the process, “I don’t know Bradshaw, this book is really starting to get good, and I’ve been wanting to finish it for like, a week now” you exaggerate.

He gives you ten seconds, and then he’s reaching across the couch to swipe the book from your hands tossing it behind him, earning a surprised shriek from you.

“What book?” he smiles again, beaming from ear to ear.

Not able to contain your own smile, you let out a soft laugh, “Go order the pizza, show off.”

Bradley stands, sending you a mock salute as he makes his way to his phone.

“Oh! And I want a Hawaiian pizza Bradshaw!” you call out.

Bradley scrunches his face in disgust at the thought of pineapple on pizza, turning back to you phone now up to his ear as he waits for the line to connect, “Still can’t believe you like pineapple on pizza, it’s a crime.”

“It’s really not!”

Pushing yourself up onto the arm of the couch, you bring your knees to sit underneath you, using your hands for emphasis as you argue the point of how perfect the sweetness of the pineapple compliments the saltiness of the pizza, and all Bradley can do is roll his eyes and smile at how enthusiastic you are. And despite him not agreeing with you, he orders the pizza for you anyway. Moving back to his spot on the couch once he’s placed the order and grabs ahold of your left leg, massaging it as you continue to rant about the different universally accepted sweet and salty combinations.

Once the pizza has been delivered, the two of you spread the small feast across the coffee table, as you start the second season of “The Witcher”.

Every now and then Bradley will make a small comment that makes you laugh, distracting you long enough that you’d have to rewind the show every few minutes to make sure you caught everything. And Bradley would just smile in return, taking pleasure in knowing that he’s the one making you laugh.

Once the pair of you have gotten through the third episode, you exit out of the Netflix app and turn the tv off, and before you can make a move from the couch, Bradley brings up the topic of his friends again and you tell him Friday at six should be good for you.

Sending him a small smile you slide your legs out of his grip and stand from the couch, bringing the leftover pizza with you and placing it in the fridge, Bradley close behind you with the wings. Once everything is put away, the two of you exchange “goodnights” and part ways to your separate rooms, lingering looks, and fond smiles left in the shadows of the dark.

Two Days Later

Friday comes quickly, work having been overwhelming and taking up most of your limited time. The time you normally are reading or hanging out with Bradley is almost nonexistent.

Once you’ve made it back to the apartment you make a beeline for the bathroom to wash off the day. Letting yourself linger under the hot water long after you completed your routine, forcing yourself to turn the water off, step out of the shower, and dry off.

Remembering that Bradley invited his friends to come by tonight, you curse under your breath, wrapping the towel around your body and swinging the bathroom door open, stepping out into the hallway, only to crash into a hard chest.

“Shit” you mumble, scrambling backwards towards the bathroom.

Looking up you make eye contact with Bradley, who’s sporting his black tee and flight suit attire from his day working at the naval base. Gulping you tighten the towel around your body, squeaking out a “sorry” as you try to look past his eyes towards your bedroom door.

Bradley ignores the urge to look down past your eyes, willing himself to think of anything other than your naked body, and shuffles back a few steps to let you past.

You take that as your opportunity to scurry to your room in an attempt at avoiding any more awkward moments for the night. Deciding to throw your thoughts into what outfit you’re going to wear instead of the recent interaction between you and Bradley. Coming up with jean shorts, a white t-shirt, and white socks, you give yourself a onceover in your floor-length mirror and nod at your reflection, leaving the safe space of your room to wander around the kitchen.

Since you and Bradley had ordered pizza earlier on this week, you take it upon yourself to order takeout from the local Chinese restaurant. Not having been able to go out and grab groceries to prepare for tonight’s dinner, ordering Chinese seemed better than ordering pizza for a second time.

The bathroom door opening signals to you that Bradley’s finished showering, almost like a warning of his inevitable presence.

Busying yourself with tidying up the living room, you don’t notice him walk out of the hallway, too focused on how to lay your grandma’s knitted throw blanket over the couch.

Bradley lets out a breath, closing his eyes and wills himself to forget about your moment in the hallway, instead choosing to put his shoes in a more orderly fashion by the front door, and switching the diffuser on as he passes it, the smell of lavender quickly flooding his senses and bringing him back to thoughts that all involve you in nothing but a towel.

Shaking his head, he forces the image of your wide eyes, wet hair, and glowing skin from his mind and moves back to the kitchen to unload the dishwasher.

You finally take notice of him and send him a shy smile. He sends you one back and breaks the silence by asking about your day at work.

Thankful for the distraction, the awkward tension dissipates and the two of you fall into easy conversation until three sharp knocks come from the door.

Looking to Bradley he sends a reassuring smile your way before going to answer the door. The sound of two voices arguing back and forth hit your ears and you instantly smile and let out a small laugh at the loud, “Bagman I swear, if you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to sew it shut with the next toothpick I can find.”

Composing yourself quickly, you tuck a stray hair behind your ear while you sit at the kitchen island, only standing when a woman with shoulder-length black hair and chocolate brown eyes, moves around the corner.

Once Phoenix makes eye contact with you, she’s instantly grinning and coming closer to give you a polite hug, introducing herself with her callsign and then her name, telling you to call her by whichever, and settles in on the barstool next to yours.

A blond with perfectly styled hair and a smug smirk follows shortly after Phoenix and quickly scans you from head to toe, smirk deepening (if that’s even possible), Bradley right behind him with a sheepish smile on his face as he looks towards you.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” the blond drawls, he’s a little short compared to Bradley and you take note of his southern drawl, Texan maybe?

Eyes flitting from Bradley back to the blond, you let a sarcastic smile settle on your lips and hum, leaning your arm onto the counter, hand forming a fist as you rest your chin, batting your eyelashes at him, “Bagman, isn’t it?”

Nat snuffs out a laugh, hiding her smile behind her hand as she looks at you.

“Hangman, actually.”

“That’s not what I heard,” you retort back, smile staying stationary on your lips, challenging him.

“Oh, I like you,” Nat grins. “I like her” she states, turning to give Bradley a pointed look.

Hangman breaks the stare down choosing to look towards Bradley instead, “I like her too.”

Rolling your eyes at the statement you also turn to Bradley, tongue coming out to swipe across your bottom lip as you point a finger towards Hangman, “I can learn to tolerate him.”

Bradley lets out a chuckle moving to grab a set of beers from the fridge huffing out an, “We all do that, Sweets” the room erupting into laughter at the expense of Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

Somehow over the course of the night you and Nat had made your way over to the couch, her sipping on a Heineken and you on a coke, leaving the boys to their own devices in the kitchen.

“So, how long did you say you’ve been roommates again?” Hangman questioned, nodding over to you, toying with the perspiration sweating off his beer bottle.

Bradley brings his beer up to his lips slowly, “About a year now, were good friends” taking a sip after he answers.

Jake hums, “And how long have you been lying to yourself about that second part?”

Bradley whips his head towards Jake, eyebrows pinching at his suggestion, “What?”

Huffing Jake turns his attention from the couch where both you and Natasha have started gossiping about some picture on your phone, back to Bradley, “Bradshaw, when’s the last time you went on a date with a girl, or even hooked up with one?”

Jake is met with silence from the naval aviator, and takes a sip from his beer, “That’s my point. You like her man.”

Bradley leans on the countertop, eyes focusing on the way your eyes light up at something Phoenix says, your giggles filling the space of your shared apartment and making him suppress a fond smile. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, we’re just roommates, Bagman.”

Jake watches Bradley watching you, a knowing smile breaking his smug façade, then he moves to sip at his beer, glancing back over to you and Nat, “Whatever you say Bradshaw.”

From the way the wind and rain were whipping against the windows of your apartment, you’d think you were dealing with a stage three hurricane, but according to the weatherman it was just a bad storm. Maybe someone should double check his certification.

Every few minutes thunder would rumble, ricocheting off your apartment complex, shaking the building, and sending you into another gathering frenzy. Moving around the apartment in a flurry, you grab the collection of candles you’ve been hoarding and any lighters you can find.

In your rush, you don’t hear Bradley enter the apartment, too busy with collecting all of the necessary items.

Bradley smiles as you pass by him, oversized tee flowing behind you, socks making you skid on the hardwood floors of your apartment as you spread the abundance of candles throughout the living space.

“What are you doing?”

A shriek escapes your lips, narrowly avoiding dropping three candles as you recompose yourself, straightening your back you let out an exasperated breath. Placing the remaining candles down onto the side table you huff, “What does it look like I’m doing?” You turn to face Bradley, who looks like he’s soaked from head to toe; he must’ve left his flight suit at the base today since he’s sporting just a black tee and his workout shorts, “I’m preparing for our inevitable demise.” You exaggerate.

Bradley chuckles at your dramatic opinion of the weather, “I don’t think fifty candles are gonna help us sweetheart.”

You give him a reprimanding look, groaning as you say, “No but they’ll help with our vision whenever the power goes out. And some of us, are afraid of the dark.”

Bradley’s smile softens at your admission and angles himself toward the foyer table, reaching into one of the drawers and pulling out the flashlight you’d been looking for. Turning to you and giving it a little wave in an effort to make you feel better.

You smile at his thoughtfulness, “I’ve been looking for that everywhere.”

Giving the flashlight a light toss, Bradley chuckles, “And looking in all the wrong spots apparently.”

Another round of thunder rattles the apartment, making you jump, eyes flashing with fear for a moment. Bradley raises his eyebrows at your reaction and sets the flashlight on the kitchen island.

“You okay?”

You turn to him, giving a small nod, “Yeah, I’m fine. Storms don’t normally bother me but this one just feels like it’s closer to a hurricane than a regular storm.”

Bradley nods at your statement, “You gonna be okay if I take a quick shower?”

Throwing your hand up nonchalantly, you wave him off, “I’ll be fine, probably gonna light a few candles and start a new book.”

His eyes wander the expansion of your face, looking for any cracks in your calm and collected façade you’re putting up. Not finding any, he rationalizes that he’ll only be gone for ten minutes tops, and can coax you into cozying up on the couch to watch another episode of “The Witcher” once he’s finished.

Shooting a reassuring smile your way he side steps out of your way to head to the shower, “I’ll be out shortly sweetheart!”

Shaking your head, you force yourself to move again throughout the apartment, huffing as you grab a case of water and set it on the island.

Standing at the entryway to your home you play with a strand of hair nervously, studying the progress you’ve made throughout the space, giving a decisive nod of approval, before heading off to your room to pick a book and grab a few extra blankets to set on the couch.

The wind has picked up even more now, making the patter of rain on the window hit with a force you thought for sure resembled hail. Shivering at the thought, you clutch your collection of blankets closer to your body and make your way back out to the living room, throwing yourself down on the couch and cuddling into your favorite throw pillow, snuggling under the blankets.

Another loud boom of thunder rattles your building, making you let out a soft whimper in response, snuggling further into the couch for comfort. In an effort to calm yourself down you reach across the cushions to grab the pink book peeking out from the collection of blankets, totally abandoned in your haste to hide from the thunder.

You thumb through the first few pages until you see the intricate curvature of the words “Chapter One” typed at the top of the page and immediately immerse yourself into another world of fiction. And within five minutes, you’ve completely forgotten about the raging storm outside, the sharp beating of the rain on the window turning into a dull thumping as your eyes scan the pages in front of you.

Bradley curses to himself at the amount of time he’s spent in the shower, quickly stepping out and drying himself off, throwing on a white tee and his favorite gray sweatpants. Hanging his towel back on his hook, he swiftly opens the door and takes long strides to the living room, reaching his hand around the hallway entrance and poking his head out to see where you’ve scurried off to.

Momentarily panicking when he doesn’t pinpoint your exact location, until his eyes zone in on your blanketed figure on the couch. A grin splits his lips, and he bites the bottom one to contain his chuckle, you’re reading that new book you were talking about, but the way you’ve huddled into the blankets reminds him of the alien from E.T. all wrapped up with only your head being visible.

Sidling up to the frame of the hallway he folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head as he calls out your name. Actually, letting out a chuckle this time when you don’t acknowledge him.

“You good over there, sweetheart?” he tries again.

This time you do look up, and his heart clenches at the sight of your wide eyes, “Shit! I’m sorry Bradley, how long have you been trying to get my attention?”

“Not long sweets, don’t worry about it.” He juts his chin towards the tv, “What do you think about a few episodes of ‘The Witcher’?”

Glancing down at your book you think about it for a second, it was starting to get interesting but you could never say no to Bradley or “Geralt of Rivia”. So you smile and push the blanket off of your head, “You know,” you clicked your tongue, “I’m starting to think you like this show way more than I do.”

Bradley scoffs, “Definitely not, I’m only suggesting it because there’s nothing else worthy of watching on that godforsaken streaming service.”

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “just admit it Bradshaw.”

And just as Bradley opens his mouth to give you some smart retort back, a loud crack echoes throughout the room, and the power flickers off. You suppress a scream and instead resort to a quiet whimper.

“Shit sweetheart, are you okay?” Bradley calls.

You bite down on your lower lip and close your eyes to avoid looking into the void of darkness that’s encompassed your apartment, “Not really,” you breathe out.

Bradley goes quiet for a second, trying to make the moment lighthearted in an attempt to make you feel better, “All those candles and you didn’t light any of them huh?”

An offended scoff that closely resembles a whine leaves your lips, “Seriously Bradley.”

“Hey, I’m just pointing out the obvious, sweets” Bradley teases.

“At least I thought about this happening and got us prepared,” you sputter out. “Some of us were too busy washing their mustache to care” you sneer, eyes still screwed tightly shut.

Bradley pinches his eyebrows, “Hey now, no hating on the stache.”

“Bradley I can’t see anything and it’s really loud so I’m sorry, but the feelings of your mustache are not on my list of priorities right now” You huff.

“Okay well then how about we try to find the lighter so we can actually see in here?”

“Fantastic idea Bradshaw, best one you’ve had all night,” your tone exaggerated, moving your hands to aid in pushing yourself up from the couch.

Letting out a puff of air, Bradley ignores your comment and starts using his hand to navigate through the living room, hoping he’s getting close to the couch, bumping his knee into what he thinks is the side table, letting out a low groan.

“You okay over there, showoff?” you call out, taking a few tentative steps forward.

“Yeah,” he grunts, “I’m fine.”

You nod your head in understanding and mumble out a quiet, “Okay, good.”

Bradley moves forward again, maneuvering around what he thinks is the coffee table. He can hear your shaky breaths so he’s almost a hundred percent sure he’s a few steps away from the couch.

Growing a little bolder you take two steps forward, which proves fatal as you end up tripping over what felt like a shoe, forcing you to stumble forward in an attempt to catch your footing, throwing your hands out to avoid crashing into anything, only for them to land on Bradley’s warm and hard chest.

Not quite balanced yet, you stumble forward a bit more, Bradley grabbing your wrist in hopes to help steady you, pulling you closer to him in the process.

You haven’t been able to see since the power went out, but having him this close allows you to see the outline of his face and the sparkle of his eyes, your breath hitches in your throat at your proximity and it all becomes overwhelmingly intimate.

Looking away from his profile into the darkness, you momentarily forget about the fear of the storm and instead are distracted by the very muscular, very attractive man; that is your roommate, currently holding you.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” Bradley whispers.

Closing your eyes, you turn your head and force a shaky breath out from your lips, “Yeah, just tripped over a shoe or something.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” He mumbles, voice a little raspier than normal.

Shit.

Your eyes shoot open, your head tilting back to face him, “If you’re referring to the fact that it’s darker than a black hole in here right now, then no, I’m not okay, I would really appreciate at least one of those candles being lit right about now.”

Another roll of thunder crashes into your living room, echoing along the walls and through your chest, making you press further into Bradley’s firm hold.

Closing your eyes again you huff, “I’m sorry.”

Bradley moves the hand that doesn’t have a grip on your wrist around your back, tugging you into his warm embrace, “You have nothing to be sorry for sweetheart,” he reassures, resting his chin on top of your head as he speaks.

You sigh, allowing yourself just for a moment, to enjoy how close he is right now. Just roommates you remind yourself.

“I swear I’m not usually this bad with them,” you mumble against his chest, referring to the raging storm outside.

Bradley’s chuckle rumbles through his chest, nodding his head in understanding, “Where do you think that lighter is right about now?”

“I have no idea, maybe on the island? That’s where I put the majority of stuff.” You mumble, placing your hands flat against him to aid in inching yourself away from his chest.

Bradley hums, keeping a firm grip on your wrist as he steps back slowly towards the kitchen, pulling you with him. “Okay,” he nods, “Lets focus on getting the flashlight and then the lighter. That sound okay with you?”

Feeling the way his thumb is rubbing small circles into your skin, you whisper out a “Yeah,” gulping down your nerves that are so frazzled you’re not sure if it’s from the storm, or from how tender he’s being.

Taking a few more short steps; with Bradley leading the way, the two of you eventually make it to the kitchen island. Bradley letting your hand go in favor of roaming his over the countertop, blindly searching for the flashlight while you focus on finding the lighter. After what seems like hours, Bradley announces his accomplishment and flicks the button on the metal piece of the flashlight, a beam of light hitting your pupils making you flinch and close your eyes. Bradley cursed under his breath in apology, moving the light down towards the countertop in search of the lighter, allowing you to reopen your eyes and get accustomed to the new source of light.

Eyes scanning over your pile of necessities, you spot the lighter peeking out from behind one of the candles.

“Found it,” you sigh in relief.

Bradley’s eyes pan over to you from where he’s standing, watching as you reach past an emerald, green candle that has a picture of the woods wrapped around it; the words “sandalwood” in some typewriter font scribbled at the top, and pull the lighter out of the dark and into the beam of light coming from the flashlight.

Meeting Bradley’s eyes you shoot him a soft smile, giving the lighter a little wave, “Lets light these candles.”

A soft chuckle rumbles through Bradley’s chest while he shakes his head in amusement, “Leave it to you to make a ‘The Boys’ reference.”

You smile, turning away from him as you grab the same emerald, green candle that he was just looking at, clicking the lighter on and pushing it against the wick, “It’s not my fault okay, there’s some great one-liners in there. I just so happen to be capable of altering it to fit our scenario.”

The sky rumbles shortly after your statement and has you kicking into gear, setting the newly lit candle back down onto the island and moving swiftly throughout the apartment, lighting as many candles as you can to brighten up the room, but also not enough to be a fire hazard.

Lighting the last cream-colored candle by the couch, you straighten up and turn towards the room to look at your handiwork, Bradley standing next to you doing the same as he clicks the flashlight off. A soft yellow glow has settled in different areas of the living room and kitchen, the areas surrounding it darker, the further away you get from the candles. “I think that’s good enough.” You murmur, arms crossing over themselves while you scan the space.

Bradley hums in approval, moving an arm around your shoulder and tugging you closer to him.

“What do you wanna do now sweetheart?” Bradley’s voice is soft as he asks his question, allowing his thumb to rub small circles onto your deltoid. It’s comforting.

Allowing your guard to slip, you lean further into his body, turning your head up to look at him, whispering, “Can you sit with me on the couch while I read?” Eyes flickering towards the darkness of your room before returning to his gaze, “I just don’t want to be by myself right now.” You mumble.

And for what feels like the millionth time in the past year, Bradley’s heart skips at your confession, his mouth wanting to grin at just how cute you are and pull you into his chest. Instead, however, he settles for a soft smile and a, “Anything for you sweetheart.”

Gripping your shoulder tighter, he pulls you back towards the comfort of the couch making himself comfortable as he settles into the cushions, allowing you to leave his embrace to grab your book. But once you try to sit back at the opposite end of the couch, Bradley immediately grips your wrist and tugs you back to him.

“You’re gonna end up here anyway, sweetheart, just sit with me.” He rasps out, his warm breath hitting your ear, making you shiver.

Not trusting your words, you hum in response, letting him guide you back into his chest, propping your knees up to rest your book on them as you open it, conveniently landing on the page you had last read.

Somewhere in your brain a little voice was screaming at you that this isn’t what normal roommates do, getting a little louder once Bradley hooked his left arm around your waist, but an even louder voice was telling you just to enjoy it while you could. And in the end, what did it matter anyway? You were going to read and the two of you would part ways once the power came back on to your respective beds and everything would go back to normal. So, what’s the harm in lying here with him now?

The thunder was still rolling outside along with the sharp gusts of wind, but now that you were reading in Bradley’s arms you honestly couldn’t hear it anymore. And what felt like a few short minutes, turned into three hours, your eyes growing heavy, almost dropping the book on your face once you started to nod off.

Becoming mildly alert, you shift your body upwards to set your book on the coffee table, turning to tell Bradley you were going to bed, only to see him peacefully sleeping with his head tilted back onto the throw pillow, right arm flexed behind to support his head as he slept.

Smiling softly to yourself you shake your head and move to get up to go sleep in your bed, only to be anchored down by Bradley’s arm.

Frowning, you grab his hand with yours and begin to try and peel it away from you, Bradley’s grip only growing tighter and successfully pulling you back against him, your hand promptly landing on his chest to avoid faceplanting into it.

Just when you were about to make a second attempt Bradley’s raspy voice rings loud in your ears, “Stop trying to leave me.” He grumbles. Eyes still closed he brings his second arm around your back and pulls you tight against his chest, “Just stay.”

Biting your bottom lip at his drowsy statement, you try to pull your body away from him again, his arms only squeezing tighter around you. “Bradshaw, I need to go to bed,” you huff. Bradley pushes his body further down the couch, keeping you in place as he makes himself comfortable, “Sleep here” he mumbles.

Jesus Christ he’s gonna put you in an early grave.

You allow your eyes to examine his face, the way that his eyelashes touch the tops of his cheeks, sweeping over the tiny freckles littering his face, and stopping at the curve of his lips. Goddamnit. Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes shut, you can’t do this.

“Bradley” you whisper, voice shaky as you break your gaze from his face and focus on the flickering candlelight, “I really can’t sleep here.”

This pulls him from his drowsy state almost instantaneously and has him fluttering his eyes open, blinking a few times to bring his gaze into focus.

His thumb has a mind of its own it seems, since you feel it push under the fabric of your t-shirt and rub your skin in small circular motions, biting your bottom lip to refrain from doing anything rash, a small “Bradley,” slips past your lips, tone warning.

He doesn’t say anything.

Instead, he brings his other hand up to your face and forces your gaze back to him. It’s quiet as the two of you stare at each other, blood rushing in your ears over the silence that’s only broken by the distant roar of thunder.

Sighing, you start to move your body backwards to put some distance between the two of you, “Bradley, I need to go to- “, your sentence is cut off by Bradley, who’s pulled you down and collided his lips with your own. Your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of his lips on yours, a moment passing before you understand what’s happening and push your lips against his.

The hand that Bradley has resting against your cheek pulls you further against him, fingers curling around the nape of your neck to keep you close, as you melt into the kiss, his lips caressing yours, mustache tickling your upper lip as they slot together over and over again, until you pull away to catch your breath.

Your eyes flutter open, reconnecting with Bradley’s. His honey-brown eyes have a certain glow behind them as he takes you in, leaning forward to recapture your lips with his own, “Stay.”

Closing your eyes again, you push your lips against his, letting them linger there for a moment before you lean back, and whisper out a breathy, “Okay.”

A soft, adoring smile pulls at Bradley’s lips, giving his head a short nod as he leans the two of you back, settling himself into the couch cushions while you pull your grandma’s knitted blanket off the back of the couch and over the two of you. Nuzzling yourself into his neck, placing a few chaste kisses along the scars that have made homage there. Slipping your hand under his white t-shirt while you mutter, “Just so you know,” another kiss, “I will be milking the fuck out of this.”

Bradley lets out a chuckle, kissing the top of your head briefly before closing his eyes, “Wouldn’t have it any other way, sweetheart.”

Two Weeks Later

Nat and Jake had come over again for another dinner night. This time, you chose to make dinner, a simple “lasagna roll-up” recipe you found on pinterest that has never failed you when it came to impressing guests.

Bradley and Jake were sitting at the kitchen island, mulling over the salad Bradley had just finished tossing while Jake gave him “pointers”, occasionally stealing glances at the two women sitting on the couch, deep in gossip.

Every now and then you’d look over and send Bradley a soft smile, until Natasha grabbed your attention with another story of the shenanigans that had taken place earlier on base. Jake watching the love-sick expression on Bradley’s face, and stewing in the knowledge that Bradley Bradshaw had it bad for you; just like Jake had told him he was several weeks ago.

“Took you long enough Bradshaw,” Jake poked, bringing the beer he’d been holding up to his lips and taking a sip, smirk prominent on his face.

Bradley spared Jake a glance before returning his attention back to you, clicking his tongue, “When are you gonna tell Phoenix how you feel, Seresin?”

Jake’s eyes flicked to Nat’s figure currently relaxing on the gray couch, not giving anything away, keeping his expression in his traditional cocky smirk, “I have no idea what you’re talking about Rooster.” Taking another sip of his beer, Jake moves his body off the stool and towards the living room, sitting himself down ungracefully next to Nat, her throwing an irritated look at him.

Rooster suppresses a chuckle at his teammates and shakes his head before moving himself to sit next to you, easing his arm around your shoulder, you relaxing into his embrace immediately.

Jake leans onto the arm of couch, permanent smirk etched onto his lips, “Okay I gotta know. What got you hooked on our very own ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw?”

Nat smacks Jake’s wrist and immediately reprimands him with an annoyed “and this is why we only tolerate you, Bagman” while you sit there, a blushing mess, as Bradley rubbed small circles into your shoulder.

You mull it over in your head for a second while Nat continues to reprimand Jake before you speak up, “Honestly?”

Everyone goes quiet at your consideration of Jake’s question, apart from Jake who lets his famous smirk return to his face, “I’d love to hear the honest answer.”

You look up at the ceiling briefly, cheeks flushing as you mumble, “Definitely the mustache.”

The room immediately erupts into laughter, Jake and Nat rushing out questions at a million miles a second, while you cover your face in embarrassment.

Bradley just chuckles to himself and pulls your face into his side, kissing the top of your head, emphasizing the rub of his mustache against your forehead, making you burrow further into his side.

“Just Roommates my ass!”

#bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster x reader #topgun maverick #topgun fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagines

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ciciyup · 4 months ago

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Yandere! Adam X Fem! Human reader headcanons.

cw: Corruption, manipulation, angst, dark themes, blackmail, slight obsession, little nsfw, perversion, mild voyeurism maybe, cheating(?)

━━━━━━✧ 🦢 ✧━━━━━━

It was paradise. So much peace and quiet in the Garden of Eden, the animals got along together, the place was quiet, being there was a dream. The perfect place where he would raise his children and live happily with his wife.

All of that was thrown away once the incident happened. Sin. What a great sin these humans had committed by disobeying God and eating the forbidden fruit, that was what the gods thought as they judged them in every possible way. But humans couldn't be as bad as they thought, right?

Was man evil by nature or was there something else that corrupted him? What exactly made him that way? Maybe the saying "you never finish knowing a person" was true, maybe when you really think you know them the shell breaks and another layer of shell is revealed and you realize that you haven't discovered even half of it.

Their punishment was banishment, no more paradise, the earth would be the new home in which they would live. It didn't look so bad when they arrived, it had lots of plants, big trees, good vegetation, rivers, streams and much more. The land didn't seem to be so bad, it looked nice.

It was a beautiful day with family when Adam saw you. Your face looked lost and confused as you looked in all directions as if you were looking for something or someone, you were wearing a light beige dress, it seemed like it was made of a very thin and light fabric, although it served its purpose anyway, which was to cover you, your hair was loose and somewhat disheveled. You were so different from them, but at the same time so similar. So perfect.

It didn't take long for Adam to get up and walk towards you, you looked so helpless that it made his heart shrink, at least that's what he wanted to make himself believe, that pulsation and feeling in his chest of wanting to have you after seeing you had to be that, simple protection.

You don't see the way Adam looks at you when he offers you to join them, you don't see the way his eyes shine when he hears your acceptance without hesitation or thought of refusal, you don't see the way he starts to watch you when you're around his children or the way he looks at them when they touch you or smile, you don't see the manipulation in his words when he persuades you to leave your dress and wear leaves like them.

Now that you were with the family you had to go with them anywhere, you would help when they had to catch some fish from the stream for dinner, you would help gather fruits and vegetables, you would help build their home. That didn't seem to bother you, you were glad they had accepted you, of course, it was better than wandering the earth alone.

Should you be worried when he seemed to distance himself from his family whenever he could? Should you be worried when he said extremely disturbing things when you were alone? Should you be worried about his constant stares and inappropriate touches when his wife wasn't around?

For a moment you think about running away, but you're scared, what's beyond? Adam sees this, he sees that doubt in you and takes advantage of the situation, with cold words he lets loose, indirect threats: if you left and separated from the family you could never come back, they wouldn't accept you back because you left them. He plays on your fear by telling you how dark the land could be, the dangerous wild animals and that any other person you met wouldn't be as friendly as they were to you. He knew how to manipulate you, that's why he seems satisfied when he has you at the tip of his finger.

Adam is not someone who is violent, he would consider himself more peaceful, however, he seems the opposite when he gets angry at anyone in the family who interfered when you two were together, when his children don't seem to have control when they're around you, that makes Adam feel enraged. The irritability on his face and his expressions make his children quickly back away in fear and get away from you.

When you do something Adam doesn't like it shows on his face, you don't want to try to escape or get away from him, he will stop talking to you and giving you food, sometimes even when it's time to sleep he pushes you aside and forces you to sleep alone in another place with the lowest temperatures without having anything to cover yourself and sleep practically naked.

Don't try to resist him, you shouldn't feel like that when he wants to take you, your body was now his, his worship, so you better keep your legs open for him and let him use you.

While he's lying under a tree eating an apple, he'll want you to suck his cock, Adam doesn't care if there's anyone watching or not, the body was a gift from God, why should he hide it or feel ashamed? He has no shame nor does he feel guilty, he thinks it's something completely normal and you should believe it too.

Taking it so well under the starry sky, on hot days when they bathed in the river, and, oh, it couldn’t feel better when one moment you’re with their children in the forest picking berries and the next second Adam fucks you right there with his kids in front of you.

His family doesn’t question it, Adam was smart enough to convince them from the start that everything he did was completely normal, and they believe it, because why wouldn’t they? He’s their father/husband, the most fair and loving man ever, he only cares about you as he does everyone there, he’s a great man.

His family contributes in part by taking Adam’s side any time you refuse something or question something, which makes everything easier for him and you give in easier.

“Why don’t you want to stay with us? You want to leave us, we wouldn’t do that to you” Abel cries to you exaggeratedly when you start to rethink the idea of leaving. “Why don’t you want to do what our father says? You should listen to him and obey him, it’s the least you can do” Cain looks at you suspiciously when you refuse another request from him. “Why don’t you want him to touch you? He’s our husband, that’s fine” Eve looks at you with false pain and pleading when you refuse to be intimate with Adam.

Many have heard of the story of the first humans, gods or mortals, they have heard it, but no one has ever known about you, you were like a ghost. There was no information about you, not in books, not in myths, not in anything. It was as if you had never existed. But you would always know the truth, something you carried with you until the end of your days. Because even the sweetest human being has their heart rotten inside.

━━━━━━✧ 🦢 ✧━━━━━━

#shuumatsu no valkyrie #record of ragnarok #yandere shuumatsu no valkyrie #yandere record of ragnarok #yandere adam x reader #adam x reader #record of ragnarok adam x reader #yandere record of ragnarok adam x reader #yandere adam #record of ragnarok adam #shuumatsu no valkyrie adam #ror x reader #snv x reader #record of ragnarok smut #shuumatsu no valkyrie smut #ror cain #ror abel

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trendywaifus · 11 months ago

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thinking about navia waking you up with kisses and being extra loving in the mornings after healing from the archon quest. cw: none

the early sun crept through the beige curtains, causing light to slowly spread through the bedroom. although you’re not awake to witness the sunrise, navia happily was. she yawns a bit, pushing some of her messy blond strands away from her eyes. “ another morning, another routine. “ she mutters, her gaze aimlessly shifting over to your sleeping form beside her. a loving smile find itself across her lips when she sees your peaceful face.

navia’s gaze drops down to your chest as it softly rises up and down. there’s no lag or any irregular breathing—good. she knows it’s ridiculous to observe your breathing but she can’t shake away the bitter sense of doubt that’s occupying the small corner of her heart. sighing, navia’s gaze returns to your face again; this time full with intent and worry. frowning, she places her hand on your cheek. your skin still felt pleasantly warm.

you stirred a bit, before heaving a deep sigh through your nose. navia’s face softens, “ sorry, mon trésor.”she apologizes, dipping down to place a sweet kiss on your nose. the blonde snorts at your nose cutely crunching up from the kiss. “ naviaa. . “ you drawled in a drowsy voice, opening your tired eyes to playfully glare at your lover. the corner of her lips curls into a sheepish grin. “ i didn’t mean to wake you, i. .simply wished to admire you and couldn’t resist. “ she half lies, carefully shifting her bare body on top of yours. it was true that she was admiring you—you’re (beautiful/handsome) even when you’re asleep. but after what happened a few months ago, how could she not be so attentive to your health? you were now one of the few, if not, the most precious person in her life.

wordlessly, navia holds your face delicately with both hands and brings you into a passionate kiss. you hummed with content, lacing your arms around her waist and sleepily kissed back. “ how was your sleep, mon amour? dreamed of me as always? “ she inquires softly, her voice full of tease. you cracked a smile, rubbing the small of her back tenderly. “if i’m not still dreaming right now, then yes.” navia lets out an angelic, bubbly laugh that made your chest bloom with indescribable warmth. the skin under her eyes crinkles, her sparkly, oceanic hues looks ever so brilliant than usual—archons, maybe you are dreaming.

navia’s lips traces down to your jawline, leaving kisses in its wake. your breath hitches as she moves down to your neck, planting a brief kiss right against your pulse point. by now, the drowsiness left your body. “ you sure are extra loving this morning, navi. “ you chuckled, sounding a bit flustered. you feel her smile into your neck, she presses a few more kisses against your skin before sighing happily.

“ why would i not be when you’re still here every morning with me? “ she whispers, voice slightly strained.

#trendy #navia x reader #genshin impact women x reader

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mrsackermannx · 14 hours ago

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— HOMECOMING | SATORU GOJO

wc: 1.1k

cw: moving in together, implied childhood trauma/abuse, comfort/fluff, light descriptions of sex, established relationship, nervous reader.

author’s note: doing a little draft clearing <3

Moving in together managed to show all kinds of sides to Satoru’s girlfriend of almost two years. You planned every room, insisting on a theme for each to make it ‘fun’—which Satoru loved. His childhood had been nothing but sterile decor, too much white, or light beige, but you wanted cosy and he was completely onboard.

Warm lights and plants made everything seem closer and cosier, rendering the 360 penthouse windows mere spectators.

It felt as if every decision you made was done carefully, so you could fill every space with love and prepare it for the memories you would make together. As it came together it made Satoru’s gut pull with an unexpected feeling, walking into each room was like walking through the great mysteries of your mind, and embrace of your heart.

It made him realise that he was really starting his life with you, so he’d pick you up and spin you around with every step of progress.

You too saw different sides to Satoru, like when he insisted on driving to the only store who had the paint you wanted 60 miles away before the final one was gone. When he didn’t realise how rich he really was when getting an interior decorator isn’t the first thing you arrange, but when you tell him “I want it to be ours” he pulls you in a for a kiss and whispers, “anything you want.”

The next day when you’re shopping for bed sheets and you pick up some ones you think he might like, but he clicks and then softly hums, “Babe, they’re recycled polyester,” as he compares two paint splotches with one eye cocked shut.

Your mouth parts in surprise, “H-how can you tell-“

He sighs into a smile, cocking a brow at you, “Aren’t they?”

He was right.

But it’s the first week of living together that completely blindsides Satoru. When you sleep in one morning and he catches you walking almost silently around the apartment, afraid to make noise, afraid to exist.

He’s almost perplexed, frowning with his thumb to his chin, wondering if he should even call your name in case he startles you. You knock into a piece of furniture and your eyes widen like this is it, hell is about to break loose. Your breath quickens and you hurriedly realign it, before carrying on with quietened and now shaky movements.

The sight pulls on his heart, no—tugs on it until it feels like it’s not cemented in his chest. What had your first home been like? He needed you to know that this one was nowhere near the same, so he stops peeking in the doorway and says your name softly to get your attention.

But you still startle, yelping but then trying to laugh it off. But your palm is glued to your chest and your eyes are wide. He says your name softly, once more. You swallow and nod. When he says it a second time you draw closer, footsteps so soft he barely hears them, he feels like he’s coaxing an injured animal, suddenly wondering if his tall, broad frame is too overwhelming.

But then you place your hands on his forearms, stroking the veins that rest there, and press your cheek into his chest. “Hello,” you murmur in apology. He frowns, carefully wrapping his arms around your waist.

You hold onto him like somebody is trying to pry you apart. The sensation that erupts in his gut is so consuming, that he rocks you to keep himself together too.

You stay like that for a long time. Every squeeze and gentle caress carries silent words like, “You’re safe.”

But still, Satoru doesn’t ask. He tries not to ask you too many questions about anything you do in the apartment.

One morning after an especially late night, your shared laughter rings through the kitchen, Satoru’s whipping up a compote of berries for the plates of pancakes you’re arranging when you accidentally swipe your glass of orange juice.

Satoru startles so little it’s almost imperceptible, but your hands fly to your ears and you’re so stricken by the sight you look like you might just collapse. “I’m so sorry,” you chant, ducking to grab the shards of the broken glass.

But Satoru’s already leaning over and grabbing you, “It’s okay,” he says firmly, and you worry so much that he sounds upset. He’s not upset with you, he’s upset with how you have been failed.

He sits you carefully on the couch and kneels below you, you immediately cover your face with your hands. “Give me a moment.”

You sit curled up on the large pink couch, sinking into the array of blankets and pillows Satoru keeps arranged. He hums little songs to himself as he cleans away the mess, and before you know it he’s cuddling up beside you with one plate of pancakes instead of two.

He leans over and kisses your forehead, and says, “Let’s share?”

You nod silently and he makes a triumphant “hmph” sound, carefully cutting into the pancakes and bringing the heaped spoonful to your lips.

As you take the first bite, so warm, and fluffy and tasty it makes you feel so cared for your eyes grow glassy. Satoru pretends not to notice, humming to Chet Baker’s Let’s get lost, playing on the vinyl in the kitchen.

With every other bite he has one too, humming in content as he leaves the plate on the coffee table and helps you clamber onto his lap. “Thank you, Satoru.”

He cups your cheek and then kisses the tip of your nose, “It’s okay, sweetness…” His voice trails away, staring at you like you’re simultaneously the most bewitching and confusing thing he’s ever seen. “How can I help?”

You dither for a moment, reaching for his hand just to anxiously drum your fingers against it. “Just keep being you.”

Your words seem to reassure him. They reassure him to softly push your back against the couch and spread your thighs. He settles there like his true home is your body and not the place you’re even in, he takes his time to unravel you, making you burst until he realises he’ll have to get the couch cleaned. He shifts your hair from your eyes, loving you so good that you cry a little from how much pleasure he’s giving you with even the most minimal effort.

From then on, Satoru notices the day that you don’t jolt as he hugs you when he steps into a room, when you don’t flinch at loud sounds or startle when his voice fills the room

He asks you and then you begin to always say; because it’s only you.

He grins, enamoured and content, pulls you into his arms and whispers back. “Exactly, and you’re the safest when you’re with me.

©mrsackermannx: do not repost, plagiarise, translate or modify my works.

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru x reader #jjk drabbles #satoru drabbles #jjk fluff

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hwaflms · 7 months ago

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𐙚˙⋆.˚ nct 127 as 1d songs!

‧₊˚ 💭 ✩彡 , , 0.69k, fluff + slight suggestive + slight angst, just lil snippets of you and 127 with one direction songs, not my usual writing style, TELL ME UR FAV 1D TRACKS

♡ taeil . . . last first kiss

rainy days, soft smiles and soft kisses, nicknames, casual dates, putting away groceries, taking photos of things to show each other later, promises, painting dates, secret handshakes, prolonged stares, drawing each other, approving photos to post, kisses on the top of your head, karaoke nights, trying street food together, song recommendations, deep questions, laughing over some soju, denial and hesitation, splashing each other with wet hands

♡ taeyong . . . little things

LONG showers, buying clothes for you, matching jewellery, folders in your galleries for each other, perfume, long talks over tea, words of affirmation, flowers, crying in front of each other, wine nights, slow dancing, sending you reminders to eat, falling asleep over call, learning ukulele together, staying-in days, holding hands 99.99999% of the time, corny jokes, bike rides, playing video games, cutting fruit for each other, naps while it's raining outside

♡ johnny . . . she's not afraid

secret movie dates, drive-thru mcdonald’s, tight dresses, tousled hair, long video calls, subtle lock screens, orange-scented soap, sneaking out at night, drunken confessions, the two of you together in the background of every photo, watching scary shows, kissing in the dark, running, texting while in the same room, lying in his arms, windy nights, knowing each others favourite songs, screenshots, hushed whispers, road trips, dancing in the kitchen

♡ yuta . . . perfect

parties at 1 am, hailing taxis, long sloppy kisses, tucking hair behind each others ears, red bull cans, blasting music in the car, ice cream runs, eye contact, skinny dipping, cheap hotels, playing pool, texting late at night, beach walks, wind blowing in your face, meeting in secret, italian restaurants, thin cigarettes, messy sheets and hair, windows all the way down, knowing smiles, wearing his shirt at home, soft gasps, motel pools, cherry lip balm, getting tattoos together, getting kicked out of parties

♡ doyoung . . . half a heart

soft sweaters, missed calls, buying his detergent, matching rings, soft wispy clouds, two different kinds of juices in your fridge, puddles, picnic dates, mixed up socks, never deleting photos, the first text after an argument, books with notes in them, walks by the river, watching a show together, conversations in the dark, spontaneous coffee meet-ups, naming plants, museum visits, drives in the rain, saving memes about each other, empty lockets

♡ jaehyun . . . no control

stargazing, drinking on rooftops, meeting at parties, red cups, pool nights, lipstick stains, the smell of his perfume, oversized clothing, driving fast when the roads are empty, voice messages, morning kisses, private playlists, tinted taxis, looking for each other in a room, holding your hair back, strong coffee, silk pillowcases, clothes on the floor, selfies on each others phones, muffled moans, drunk tattoos, pinching his cheeks

♡ jungwoo . . . 18

amusement park dates, walks at night, letters on beige paper, photo booth pictures, ugly keychains, playing on the seesaw when the playgrounds empty, passing notes, keeping said notes, bracelets, having each other as your lock screen, messy beds, lists of baby names, knowing each other's favourite songs, extra toothbrushes, shampoo bottles, yearbook cutouts, shoebox filled with letters and trinkets, holding pinkies, random texts throughout the day, talking to his mom on the phone, long calls

♡ mark . . . i want to write you a song

pure innocent love, cafe dates, warm hugs, board games and hot chocolate, writing songs for you, sharing clothes, pecks while smiling, cookie recipes, said cookies ending up burnt, karaoke nights, acoustic guitars, writing desks, cheek kisses, grocery shopping, badly taken polaroids, long walks, late night conversations, photo albums, beanies when it's cold, holding hands under the table, wearing his glasses, breakfast in bed, bouquets, scarfs, walks along the sand

♡ haechan . . . temporary fix

stolen glances, smokey rooms, making out in the back of a taxi, moonlight, hair flying in the wind, playing footsie under the table, jealousy, talking on the phone late at night, eyes meeting across the room, drunken kisses, sitting on his lap, lots of 'are you awake?' texts, vodka sours, mirrored lense sunglasses, dyeing each other's hair, locking doors, lips on your neck, avoiding questions, stupid contact names, waking up in his clothes, empty wine bottles, bright sunsets, 10+ tiktoks and memes every morning, voice notes of him singing

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foxtriestobiteandmaimandkilland · 7 months ago

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piece based on the idea that Dakota might've started learning guitar to play along with Ashe's drums ^_^ Ambigiously timed but was originally gonna be post s2 (tho their designs here look more s1)

Extras under the cut, as usual :3 AND a VERY detailed ID since this piece is a big one

Detailed ID: a drawing of Dakota Cole and Ashe Winters from Just Roll With It: Prime Defenders, sitting in Ashe’s dorm room.

Ashe is sitting on the bed, with one arm behind her head and the other rested on her stomach, while Dakota is lying on his back on the floor holding an electric guitar, legs kicked up on the bed next to Ashe.

Ashe has white skin, long curly white hair, a few freckles, and is looking down at Dakota with an open mouthed smile. She is wearing a dark purple beanie with pins of Madeline from Celeste, the Welcome to Nightvale logo, and the knight from Hollow Knight partially covered by her hair.

She is also wearing a shirt with the album cover of I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning by Bright Eyes. Over the shirt is Dakota's red flannel. She's wearing black jeans, one black and green sock, and one purple and black sock with cat ears at the top and cat paws at the toes.

Dakota has mid-brown skin with a few moles, and medium lengthed, curly, bright red hair thats splayed out across the floor. his eyes are shut tight and his eyebrows are furrowed, whilst hes smiling widely.

He has a black bandana around his forehead. On his neck is a chain, and attached to that is a purple heart with the letter 'A' on it. He's wearing a white tank top, that exposes his shoulder which features a temporary Ms G tattoo of her face accompanied with the words 'Ms G' in a galaxy pattern.

Dakota's wearing beige shorts, and has another temporary tattoo on his thigh which reads 'Teaching Moment' in galaxy text. his socks are white.

The blue and white electric guitar he's holding has a sticker that says 'Prime defenders' in black and white, and another sticker that says 'Just Roll With It' in gold and purple. At the top of the guitar near the tuning pegs, it reads 'Prime'.

They are in Ashe's dorm room. Her bed has a blue mattress and a green blanket that's pushed against the pillow away from Ashe, and draping off the side of the bed onto the floor. On the part of the blanket that's on the bed, there is a plush of Morgana from Persona 5, and another plush of Bacon Man. On the part of the blanket that's on the floor, there is a Nintendo DS, except with the word 'Primtendo' written on it. On the side of the bed there are 3 stickers; one of Hatsune Miku, one of Mae Borowski from Night In The Woods, and one of Tony's Pizza.

On the purple carpeted floor underneath the bed, theres a cardboard box labelled 'Secrets'. There is also an oval rug that Dakota is lying on that has a green, yellow, blue, and red circular design. ontop of this is a pair of headphones with the wire spiralling across the floor, and an amp that Dakota's guitar is plugged into. the front of the amp has the word Prime where the brand name of an amp would be usually

Next to Ashe's bed is a set of shelves. On the flat side facing the bed, there is a My Chemical Romance poster of the album cover of Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge. Under this poster are 3 photos, of Ashe and Dakota ice skating, Ashe and William walking on traintracks, and Ashe and William taking a selfie in bed. Next to these three photos are two school schedules, labelled 'Ashe Winters' Schedule' and 'Vyncent Sol's Schedule'.

On the shelves, the top shelf has a lit candle next to a box of matches. Next to these are 4 books titled 'The Carnival Of Souls', 'Planetary Problems', 'The Purps' and 'Overlord'. The shelf below this has a plant with small white flowers, in a ceramic pot with a blue heart, a red heart, and a purple heart on it. Next to this is a bottle of ibuprofen, and a turned on purple lava lamp. Behind these are more books titled 'The New Generation', 'Island Of Amal- [cut off]', 'Ultraviolent Light', '[cut off] -Don't R- [cut off],' and 'Good Cop, Ghos- [cut off]'

Underneath that shelf is an open drawer with two fairylight chains trailing out. One is in RGB colours and the other is golden. On the closed drawer below that, there is a Welcome to Nightvale sticker.

On the white wall behind Ashe, there is a window to her left. outside the light is golden, and there is a street. Behind Ashe's head is a Thank You Scientist poster of the album Maps Of Non-Existent Places, a Car Seat Headrest poster of the album Twin Fantasy, and a trans flag. There are also messages in smudged ink reading: '[cut off] -ncent was here !!!', 'Ashe. W [cut off] -s here :3', 'DC wus here <3', 'wiwi waz here [ghost doodle]' and 'love u man'

End ID.

#night thoughts #art thoughts #jrwi #jrwi prime defenders #prime defenders #jrwi pd #ashe winters #dakota cole #demonkicks #this shit took me like. almost a month to make #i am surprised the file hasnt corrupted even once <3

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jetii · 2 months ago

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Event Horizon

Chapter Eight: Loyalty

Chapter WC: 11,915

Chapter Tags/Warnings: background character death, brief description of wounds/blood

A/N: This is a long one! I had to make up for all the Rex we were missing before. Please enjoy the angst (my fav) and my attempt at writing battle scenes (my agony).

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Felucia, 21 BBY

"This is disgusting," you mutter, wiping the sweat from your forehead. It's a fruitless endeavor, the humidity unbearable. You're soaked to the bone, the mud caking your boots, the insects swarming around your face. You slap away a large winged bug and grimace when your palm meets a slimy substance.

"It's not that bad," Rex replies, his helmet under his arm. His hair is damp, skin shining, but he doesn't seem bothered by the weather, and you can't help but be a bit jealous. "I've seen worse."

You glare at him and wipe your hand on your tunic, the ichor smearing across the fabric. You'd forgone your usual white robes, the outfit too impractical for a planet like this, and instead opted for a set of beige, lightweight clothing. It was simple, a pair of pants, a tunic, and a matching hooded cape draped overtop your chest plate, but it allowed for more freedom of movement despite the way the moisture in the air made the fabric cling to your skin.

"Says the man in the full-body armor," you retort, gesturing at him with a dirty hand. "How are you not dying right now?"

He shrugs, the smile on his face a touch smug. "Guess I'm just built different, sir."

You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth lift into a smile. Despite the heat and the bugs and the general unpleasantness of Felucia, you've found yourself enjoying the company of the Captain. Rex is a capable soldier, and he's easy to work with, but it's his sense of humor and dry wit that have made the mission bearable. You've found yourself relying on his calm, collected demeanor and his quick thinking. He's a natural leader, and his men respect him, which makes your job a lot easier.

You trudge forward together at the front of the line, careful not to step into any of the large pools of standing water. The ground is squishy, the mud oozing beneath your boots, and you resist the urge to gag.

You're walking beside a stream, the water slow moving and murky. A few large, bulbous plants hang over the banks, the pods swaying slightly in the breeze, and the air smells earthy and sweet, a combination of rotting vegetation and fresh flowers. It would have been beautiful, had it not been for the stench of decay and the constant buzzing of insects. And the knowledge that, at any moment, something could pop out of the bushes and try to kill you, or worse, eat you.

"So, this is where the Separatists want to make their stand, huh?" you say, your voice low, and your eyes scanning the horizon. "They picked a real shitty spot."

Rex snorts, and the sound is loud and surprising. The sudden urge to laugh threatens to bubble up, and you bite your cheek, fighting to remain serious. You might be a little delirious, the heat and the humidity making it difficult to think straight, but Rex's reaction is too much.

A burst of laughter escapes your lips, and you cover your mouth, your shoulders shaking. Rex looks at you, his brow furrowed, but his expression is amused.

"They picked a good defensive position, sir," he corrects, the words a half-hearted reprimand. It loses its impact, however, as his own lips twitch upwards. "It's a tactical choice. This terrain makes it difficult to advance."

"You're right, I know," you manage between giggles, and you hold up a hand in apology. Your laughter tapers off, and you take a deep breath, wiping the tears from your eyes. "Sorry, it's the heat, I think."

Rex shakes his head, and his eyes twinkle. "I get it, sir. This place is...something else."

The two of you continue along the stream, and the troops fan out, keeping a safe distance behind you. You sigh and run a hand through your hair, pushing the sweat-soaked strands away from your face. It's been several days since you landed on Felucia, and you've been fighting the Separatists nonstop. The jungles are filled with traps and wildlife, and the enemy is well-equipped for the terrain. You've managed to secure a few key locations, but the fight is far from over.

Anakin and Obi-Wan have led the bulk of the assault, while you and Ahsoka have been assigned the task of clearing out the smaller outposts. You'd spent the morning in the thick of the battle, using the Force to aid the clones as they took out enemy droids. Now, you're on your way back to the rendezvous point, and the heat of the jungle is starting to get to you.

You feel as if you've been dipped in a vat of swamp water, and you can't shake the feeling of stickiness, the sensation both disgusting and unpleasant. You'd give your left arm for a cold shower, or at the very least, a fresh set of clothes.

You turn, and Rex is staring at you, a frown tugging at his lips. You must look a sight, the sweat pouring down your face, the mud splattered on your boots and trousers. It's far from your best, and you can't help but wonder what Rex is thinking, whether he finds you unappealing or repulsive.

The thought causes your stomach to twist, and you glance down, avoiding his gaze.

"We're almost there," Rex says, noticing the look on your face. He puts his helmet back on, the click echoing in the silence. "Just a little further."

"Thank the Force," you groan, and you can't stop the pout that forms on your face. "I'm beginning to think we should just let them have this stupid planet."

Rex chuckles, the sound distorted by the modulator, and he gestures at the trail ahead. "Just keep moving, sir."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," you mumble as you wipe more sweat from your eyes. "I'm going, I'm going."

The two of you move forward, your pace slow and measured. You're tired, the heat and the humidity sapping your strength, and the fatigue is beginning to catch up with you. You stumble, and Rex grabs your arm, his grip firm but gentle.

"Steady, sir," he murmurs, and he waits for you to regain your balance before releasing you.

You mumble an apology, and you take a deep breath, trying to shake off the tiredness, the ache in your muscles. You're not used to this, the physical exertion of war. The fighting is one thing, but the constant marching and camping and traveling are another. The heat, the humidity, and the lack of sleep are all taking their toll.

You've been running on adrenaline, and it's finally catching up with you.

"You're not looking so good, General," Kix says from behind you, his voice laced with concern. "Are you feeling alright?"

You try to hold back your long-suffering sigh, the urge to roll your eyes strong, but you manage to refrain and turn to face him, the effort almost too much. Kix helmet darts from you, to Rex, and back again, the worry evident in his posture.

As the medic, Kix's place was with the Captain, staying close to his side and monitoring the men. It was a responsibility he took seriously, and his care for his brothers was admirable. It made you trust him and respect him, but you were also incredibly sick of his constant vigilance. He had a tendency to hover, and you were starting to feel smothered. He reminded you a bit of a certain ginger-haired Jedi, and it was hard not to let it rankle you.

"I'm fine, Kix," you insist, trying to keep your temper in check. You give him a weak smile, the expression meant to be reassuring, but you know it's probably coming off more as a grimace.

"You've been sweating an awful lot," he observes, and his tone is suspicious, the words a bit accusatory. "You could be dehydrated."

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. "It's a jungle, Kix. Everyone's sweating."

"You don't look like everyone, sir," he counters. His medical scanner is out before you can stop him, and he runs it over your body, the whirring noise grating. "You look flushed, and your pulse is elevated."

"Will you quit it," you hiss, slapping his hand away. You take a step back, putting some distance between the two of you as if it'll make your sudden irritation dissipate.

Kix stiffens at the rebuke, and his hand lowers to his side, the scanner still gripped tightly.

"I'm just trying to do my job, sir," he protests. "And right now, that job involves making sure you're okay."

"It's the adrenaline," you snap, and the words come out harsher than intended. You wince immediately, the guilt settling in. You'd been struggling with your temper, the anger simmering just beneath the surface, and you were doing your best not to take it out on the people around you, but sometimes, you slipped. "We need to keep moving, or else we'll be left behind."

"Kix is right," Rex interjects as he steps forward, his tone firm. "You look like you could use a break, sir."

"Captain," you warn, and you level him with a glare. "I am fine."

He folds his arms over his chest, and even though his face is hidden behind his helmet, you can tell by the way his body is angled towards you that he's not backing down.

You grit your teeth, the stubbornness setting in, and you square your shoulders, mirroring his posture. The two of you stand there for a moment, locked in a silent stare down, neither of you willing to budge. The rest of the troops continue marching past you, their bodies rigid and their footsteps heavy. They avoid looking at you, gazes focused straight ahead as if they can sense the tension between the two of you.

Rex is the first to speak, his voice quiet and measured. "You've been pushing yourself pretty hard, sir."

"You haven't seen me push myself," you scoff. "I'm only getting started."

"I'm just saying, maybe it wouldn't hurt to slow down."

"I'm not going to slow down," you argue. You plant your feet, the movement resolute, and the determination settles into your bones. You weren't about to let some hot-shot captain, no matter how handsome, or nice, or charming, tell you what to do, or how to act, or how to handle your own mission.

Rex, on the other hand, seems completely unperturbed by your show of defiance. His stance is relaxed, his shoulders loose, and he seems entirely unconcerned. He simply continues to stand there, arms crossed, and his helmet tilted ever-so-slightly to the side. It's an infuriating gesture, and you have to fight the urge to throw something at him, or, better yet, to push him into the stream.

You glare at him, and the silence stretches on, the seconds ticking by. With every step the troopers marching on the path take, your resolve wavers. You can feel yourself start to wobble, the tiredness getting the best of you.

You can't deny that, maybe, perhaps, Rex has a point. You've been pushing yourself hard, the guilt and the shame fueling your desire to prove yourself, and it's starting to wear on you. Still, you can't seem to bring yourself to admit that he's right, and the thought of slowing down, of admitting defeat, is just too much.

So, instead, you just keep glaring.

Kix's voice, when he speaks, is cautious. "General, if I may..."

"What," you snap, not bothering to look away from Rex.

"You're clearly dehydrated, and you could be suffering from heat stroke. Maybe the Captain is right. Maybe we should—"

You turn your glare on Kix, and the words die in his throat, his helmet dipping, and he takes a step back. You open your mouth, ready to give him a piece of your mind, but your vision is struggling to catch up to the sharp movement of your head, black spots clouding your eyes, and the words don't come.

The ground shifts, and your balance falters. You sway on the spot, your knees buckling, and you pitch forward.

"Sir!"

Rex moves with surprising speed, and his hands reach out, catching you by the waist. You feel the mud squelch beneath your feet, and then his arms are wrapped around your torso, holding you up. You blink a few times, trying to clear the fuzziness from your vision, and you feel another pair of hands grab your arms, helping steady you.

"I'm alright," you mutter. You shake your head, and the world comes into focus. Rex is still holding you, and Kix is standing beside him, his expression concerned. You can't help but blush, the embarrassment creeping up your neck, and you swallow hard, willing your heart to slow.

"Sorry," you say, your voice hoarse, and you wince at the sound of it. "I think I need a minute."

"Take as much time as you need," Rex replies, his voice soft, and he lets go of your waist. Kix takes hold of your arm, and he helps guide you off the trail and into the thick underbrush. Once out of view of the marching army, you settle against a tree trunk, the bark rough against your back. You lean your head back, and you shut your eyes, willing the world to stop spinning.

"I hate this place," you mutter bitterly. Your back slides against the trunk, and you end up sitting on the ground, your legs stretched out in front of you, and the mossy leaves squishing beneath your weight. You're grateful for the shade and the small breeze that rustles the canopy.

Your eyes open as Rex kneels beside you, his helmet tucked under his arm, and his gaze scan the trees. He looks back at you, his brow furrowed. "It is pretty disgusting."

"Understatement of the year," Kix quips. He pulls a canteen from his belt and hands it to you. "Drink this, sir."

You take the canteen and gulp down the liquid. The cool water soothes your throat, and you feel your strength returning, the weakness receding.

You hand the canteen back to Kix and manage a smile. "Thanks, I needed that."

"How are you feeling?" Kix asks, his tone clinical. He pulls a scanner from his belt and begins waving it over your body.

"Better," you reply with a tired sigh. You glance around, the jungle a blur of green and brown, and the realization sets in. You're supposed to be in the middle of a mission, not sitting in the bushes, wallowing in your misery. You look at Rex, and he gives you a sympathetic smile.

"I'm sorry. We're wasting time," you say, and you start to push yourself up. "We should get moving."

Rex places a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down. "Not a chance, sir. You're going to rest until you're feeling better, and then, we'll move out."

"You sure? What if—"

"General, please," he interrupts, and the use of the title, and the pleading tone of his voice, causes your resistance to crumble. "You need to rest. Don't worry, we'll keep an eye out."

Your mouth opens and closes, and you realize he's right. There's no use arguing, or trying to change his mind. Rex is just as stubborn as you, and if he's set on helping you, then there's no way you're going to talk him out of it.

Finally, you sigh and nod, closing your eyes. Your muscles are sore, and the heat is draining, and it's a relief to get off your feet. The sounds of the jungle fades away, and all you can hear is the sound of your own breathing. You can feel the Force all around you, the life that exists within the plants and animals. It's a living, breathing entity, and you let yourself get lost in its rhythm, the connection between you and the world a strong, steady flow.

Meditation has always been a useful tool, but it's been harder since Yaddle, the anger and the self-loathing making it difficult to quiet your thoughts. Today, though, surrounded by nature and the bright, pulsing life all around you, the meditation comes easier, and you lose yourself in the peace, the darkness fading.

Time slips away from you, and you're not sure how long you sit there, basking in the light of the Force. It's only when a hand touches your shoulder that you snap out of your trance, and you leap to your feet, drawing your saber in one fluid motion.

You press the button, the yellow blade hissing to life, and the world comes rushing back, the sounds and the smells and the sights assaulting you.

Rex jumps, and he steps back, holding up his hands. "Woah, easy there, General."

"Shit," you mutter, and you lower your saber. The adrenaline ebbs away, and you take a deep breath, the tension leaving your body. "I'm so sorry, Rex. I didn't mean—"

"It's alright," he says as his hands fall, his voice hoarse. "I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that."

"No, I should've known better," you protest, feeling embarrassed. You deactivate your lightsaber and tuck it back into your belt, and you take a step closer to him, checking to make sure you haven't injured him.

There's a spot on his shoulder, the blue material slightly scorched, and you realize that the tip of your blade had come a little too close for comfort. You reach out instinctively and run your thumb over his pauldron, the armor still warm from the proximity to your weapon.

"Are you okay?"

His helmet tilts down, the visor following the movement of your hand, and he clears his throat, his voice sounding a little strange. "Yeah, I'm good, sir. Nothing a bit of paint won't fix."

You glance up at his face, the helmet still tilted towards you, and he shifts, his posture stiff. It's hard to tell if he's upset, but his body language reads as uncomfortable. "You sure?"

"I, uh, I'm fine," he replies, and he clears his throat again. His hand comes up, and he runs it along the back of his neck. He seems nervous, and you're about to ask him what's wrong when you realize you're still touching him, your fingers still running along the edge of his pauldron.

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you snatch your hand back, clenching it into a fist at your side. "Right. Sorry. It was just, um, habit, I guess. Did you need something?"

Rex coughs, and he shakes his head. He's quick to respond, the words coming out rushed. "Uh, yes. Actually, I did. I was just coming to let you know that the rest of the men have gone ahead to the rendezvous point. They should be there any minute."

"Oh," you say, the realization dawning. The jungle is empty, and the only sounds are the rustling of leaves and the buzzing of insects. "Shit."

"You've been asleep for an hour, sir. We've been taking turns watching you."

Your mouth falls open, and the flush returns to your cheeks. "An hour? Seriously?"

"Yeah," Rex says, the amusement evident. "We weren't sure what else to do, so I let you rest. You seemed like you could use the sleep."

"I can't believe I fell asleep," you mutter, covering your face with your hands. "I'm sorry, Rex. I didn't mean to keep everyone waiting."

He shrugs, and his hand moves to your shoulder, squeezing it gently. "It's okay, sir. Don't worry about it."

You can feel his touch through your armor, the pressure sending a tingle down your spine. The solid weight of his palm is a welcome distraction, and you let yourself enjoy it, the feeling grounding.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks, his voice soft.

You nod, the answer coming without hesitation. "Much."

His hand lingers for a moment longer before he releases his grip. He drops his arm, and his helmet tilts, his gaze appraising. "Good. Come on, let's get you back to base."

"After you, Captain," you say, giving him a small bow. He chuckles, and the two of you walk side-by-side, his arm brushing against yours. The path ahead is worn down by the many boots and vehicles that have trod upon it, and it's surprisingly easy to find, the trees spaced far enough apart that it's possible to walk without tripping over roots and branches.

The humidity and the heat have subsided, and the temperature is pleasant, the sun low in the sky. You can hear birds, and frogs, and various other animals, the sounds loud and raucous, and the air smells sweet, the flowers filling the air with their fragrance. It's a nice change from the stench of decay that's permeated the day, and you find yourself enjoying the walk, the beauty of the jungle finally becoming apparent.

You glance at Rex, his head moving left and right as he scans the area. His shoulders are relaxed, his stride even, and he seems more at ease than he has been since you've arrived on the planet. The thought makes you smile, and you feel your own stress lightening.

"How's Ahsoka?" you ask, breaking the silence.

"She's doing well," Rex answers without turning. "A little hot, but she's handling it better than you."

"Togruta are built for this kind of climate," you say, a touch of defensiveness in your voice, and you're careful to avoid stepping on a large vine that's fallen across the path. "I can't help that my human body is weak and fragile."

"You're hardly fragile, sir," he teases, glancing over his shoulder. "I saw you punch a clanker on Geonosis."

You snort as the memory hits. "That was different. I was angry."

"And reckless," he adds. His tone is more amused than admonishing, and you know he's smirking at you from under his helmet.

"I thought I was brave," you counter, raising an eyebrow. "Isn't that what you said the other day?"

He chuckles, and he shakes his head, his gaze returning to the trail ahead. "I did."

You grin, a pleased feeling washing over you. From what you've gathered, Rex is a man who takes his duty and himself very seriously. You've seen him joke with the other clones, and there's a camaraderie between them that's obvious. But, there's a formality when he speaks to others, a sense of professionalism. It's clear that he respects the chain of command, and you can't help but feel flattered that he's comfortable enough around you to tease, and to speak more freely.

You're reminded of his words to you that day, when he refused to allow you to chase after Dooku in your misguided anger. He had seen the truth of the situation, and he had been willing to speak up. And you weren't sure how he'd managed to break through your stubbornness, but he had.

You're grateful for his honesty, and for his willingness to challenge you. It's refreshing, and it makes you like him all the more.

"What are you thinking about?" Rex asks, his gaze never leaving the jungle, and his hand rests on his blaster.

"Just thinking about Geonosis," you reply. "And how you told me off."

"I did not tell you off," he protests, his tone indignant. "I merely...advised against you acting rashly."

"You did," you retort with a laugh. "But, I'm glad you did. Otherwise, I might not be here right now. I never got a chance to thank you, and I want you to know how much it meant to me."

He shrugs, and his steps slow. "Any good soldier would've done the same."

"Still," you insist, shaking your head. "You saved my life. I owe you."

Rex stops, and he tugs his helmet off, the action so sudden, it startles you. He's staring at you, his expression intense, and his mouth is pressed into a firm line.

"You don't owe me anything," he replies, his brow furrowing. "That's not how this works."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we're soldiers," he says, voice tight. "Our duty is to protect the Republic, and the citizens of the galaxy. We are sworn to serve, and that includes our Jedi. It's not about debts or favors or gratitude. It's about doing what's right and what needs to be done."

You fall silent, the weight of his words settling over you. It's a noble sentiment, and it's easy to see why he's risen so quickly through the ranks. You've always known that the clones were loyal, that they would die for the Jedi, for the Republic. But, it's the first time you've heard one of them explain it, and the intensity in his voice makes your heart clench.

It, for whatever reason, makes you feel uneasy. Not because you don't believe him, but because you're not sure if he understands. There's a difference between loyalty and blind obedience, and there's a part of you, deep down, that worries that maybe Rex doesn't know the difference. That maybe the Republic prefers it that way, that it's easier to have a slave than an ally.

You shake your head, dismissing the thought, the shame settling in. You're being paranoid, you know. Rex is a good man, and his loyalty is a gift. A gift that, perhaps, the Jedi have taken for granted.

"I'm sorry," you say, your voice quiet. "I didn't mean—"

"It's not your fault, sir," he says, cutting you off. "We were created for this. This is what we were made for."

The words are meant to be reassuring, but they have the opposite effect. Your stomach twists, and the unease grows, the guilt weighing heavy.

"Doesn't that bother you?" you ask, unable to stop the question from leaving your lips. "Being created for a single purpose?"

He looks at you, his head tilted slightly. His face is impassive, his expression blank, and it's impossible to read his thoughts. You hold his gaze, and you realize how little you really know about him, or the other clones. You've been so focused on yourself, on your own failures, that you've barely given any thought to the fact that there's an entire group of people fighting alongside you, fighting and dying, and all you've done is complain about the weather.

He shrugs, and his posture changes, his shoulders dropping slightly, and he runs a hand over his head. "Not really," he says, and he sighs. "It's all we know."

"But, it's not fair," you protest, shaking your head. "You're not just soldiers. You're people. You have thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams. And, yet, the galaxy expects you to put them all aside, to lay down your lives, for a cause you had no choice in joining."

Rex is silent for a moment, and his steps slow. He seems surprised by your words, his brow furrowed, and the corners of his mouth turn downward.

You realize you've said too much, and the guilt returns. You shouldn't have opened your mouth. You should have just kept your thoughts to yourself.

You try your best to push down the part of you that wants to continue, to say more. To tell him that the Republic is corrupt, that the Jedi are blind, that the galaxy is full of suffering and pain. That the war is a waste, that it will lead to nothing but destruction, and that he deserves better. But, you swallow the words, the anger and the frustration building, and you keep them locked inside.

The truth is, you don't know Rex, not really. And you don't have the right to tell him any of those things. No matter how much you might want to. No matter how much you feel.

Rex's face, however, shows none of these emotions. He's silent, the only sounds the buzzing of insects, and the rustling of leaves, and just when you're beginning to think he's not going to respond, his shoulders rise and fall.

"Well, I for one am grateful," he says, his voice soft, and he keeps his eyes trained straight ahead.

"What?" you ask, not expecting his answer. "Why?

His gaze flicks towards you, and the corner of his mouth twitches. "Because it brought me here."

"Here?" you echo, raising an eyebrow. "Felucia?"

"Yeah," he says, chuckling, and the tension melts away. He gestures to the surrounding jungle. "I mean, not exactly here. But, the idea. It's just...if the War hadn't happened, I wouldn't be here. None of us would. We'd just be sitting on Kamino, waiting for the day we're decommissioned. Or, maybe, we'd already be dead. Or never have existed in the first place. It's hard to say."

The words are spoken casually, as if they're a matter of fact, and the realization sets in. He's right. If not for the war, the clones wouldn't exist. They'd be just a handful of embryos, a dream, a plan.

But, the war gave them life. And, for many, it gave them death. The thought sends a chill down your spine, and you look at him, the understanding hitting.

"I see," you say, the words coming out quietly. "I suppose I've never thought of it that way."

"It's the only way I can think about it."

Rex's gaze moves back to the path, and you fall silent, his words echoing in your head. He's right, of course. There's no point dwelling on what could have been. The war is here, and there's no going back.

You can't help but admire his attitude, and his ability to find the positive. It's not the first time he's impressed you, and you realize that perhaps, he's the most optimistic person you've ever met. You wonder, briefly, if all clones are like that, or if it's something unique to him.

The two of you walk in silence, the conversation having run its course, and you sneak glances at him as you continue on, the curiosity getting the best of you. There's something about him that's magnetic, and the longer you're around him, the harder it is to look away.

He's handsome, and strong, and kind, and everything you're not. The thought makes your heart sink, and you're reminded once again of your shortcomings, of the darkness inside of you.

You wish, for the briefest of moments, that you were worthy of him, that you deserved his loyalty and his respect.

But, you know you don't.

You shake your head, the movement slight, and the dark thoughts vanish. It's useless. Wishing won't change anything.

Instead, you focus on the task at hand, the mission, and you try to clear your mind. You're almost back to the base, and the thought fills you with relief.

It's another few minutes before the two of you emerge from the thick foliage, and the camp comes into view. It's a large clearing, surrounded by towering trees, and the ground is a combination of dirt and grass. Several tents are being set up, and the sun is beginning to dip below the horizon. It's a welcome sight, and the anticipation of food, and sleep, and a chance to get out of your armor, is a tantalizing prospect.

You're halfway across the clearing, your eyes focused on the makeshift mess hall, when the air shifts, and the hair on the back of your neck stands on end. You come to a stop, and you reach out to grab Rex's arm, the feeling of foreboding overwhelming.

"Sir?" he asks, his voice low, and his body is tense, coiled.

You're about to answer, but you're cut off by a blaster bolt hitting the ground at your feet, the impact sending up a spray of dirt and rock.

You react on instinct, drawing your lightsabers, the blades glowing brightly, and you spin around. You're able to block the second shot, and the third, the energy of the bolts sizzling against the saber, and you step forward, your body moving into a defensive stance.

Rex is beside you, his blasters drawn, and the two of you move together, circling around, scanning the jungle for the source of the attack.

"Stay behind me," you tell him, the order sharp, and your gaze flicks over to him.

"Sir, you should stay behind me," he counters, his tone just as firm. "This is my job."

"Captain, I'm not going to let—"

"There!" one of the troopers shouts, pointing his finger at a group of trees.

The air is split by the sound of gunfire, the shots ripping through the underbrush, and the blaster bolts tear into the vegetation. Several of the branches fall to the ground, and the trunks are peppered with smoking holes. You can see the glint of metal bodies, and the flash of red, and you grit your teeth, the anger rising.

Droids.

It's an ambush.

The droids are closing in, the outlines barely visible through the thick, green leaves, and they're firing with a single-minded determination. Rex signals for the men to fire, and the clones begin returning the shots, their guns flashing. Several droids fall, but more appear. The battle is on, and you move to the edge of the clearing, intent on taking the fight to the enemy.

Rex is close behind you, his presence a comforting weight, and the two of you rush towards the tree line. The droids are scattered, the blaster bolts raining down on the area, and you raise your blades, ready to meet the enemy head-on.

Your first strike is a slash, the blow slicing through a super battle droid's midsection, the halves falling apart.

Rex is at your side, and his shots hit the next two droids, the metal bodies sparking and sizzling.

You take the next one, a swing cutting the machine's arm clean off, and the appendage flies through the air. You leap into the fray, the blades blurring as you move, relying on your muscle memory to keep you going as you scan the jungle. The droids are everywhere, and the clearing is filling with their bodies.

It's chaos.

You're surrounded, and it's all you can do to keep the shots from hitting the men, your sabers swinging, the light reflecting off the armor and the trees. You throw a boulder, the Force propelling it forward, and the impact crushes a group of the machines.

They keep coming, and the clearing is a whirlwind of activity. You can't see Rex through the mass, and you grit your teeth, the frustration building. You've barely begun, and already, the droids are getting the upper hand.

It's a losing battle, and you can't help but wonder if, maybe, there's another way.

A droid aims a blaster at your chest, and you deflect the shot, sending the bolt ricocheting before leaping into the air. You land behind it, your lightsaber severing its head.

The head hits the ground, and you glance up, seeing Rex's outline through the haze, the smoke from the blasters clouding the area. He's moving in your direction, and you move to meet him, your sabers a blur, the heat of the bolts making your skin prickle.

His head whips to the side before he suddenly grabs your arm and pulls you, his body twisting. You're about to protest, but the words die on your lips as an explosion rocks the ground where you were standing. Your ears are ringing, and you struggle to stay upright, the shockwave rippling through the clearing.

Rex looms over you, his blasters raised and his body shielding yours. You can't hear anything, but you can tell by the way his helmet is moving that he's speaking to you.

Your head is pounding, and your vision swims. You look up, blinking, and your eyes finally focus on the scene before you. The spot where you'd been standing is nothing but a smoking crater, the dirt and rocks scattered. The trees, too, have been shattered, their trunks broken, the leaves ripped apart.

You take a deep breath, and the sound comes rushing back. You can hear the shouts of the clones, the sound of blasters firing, and the explosions of grenades. It's all so loud, the noise deafening, and you want nothing more than to curl up in a ball and wait for it to be over.

Instead, you stagger to your feet, your body aching. Rex grabs onto your arm, helping steady you. He says something, his voice muffled, and you shake your head, trying to clear it.

"What?" you shout, trying to be heard over the cacophony.

He leans closer, his grip tightening. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," you lie, pushing yourself away from him, and you take another breath, the dizziness subsiding. You give him a weak smile. "That's two I owe you, Captain."

He shakes his head, and the helmet tilts, the motion conveying the exasperation. "You can repay me by not getting yourself blown up, sir."

You roll your eyes, but you can't help the smile that spreads across your face. "I'll do my best."

Another blast hits the ground a few feet away, and the two of you jump back, the dirt and rocks flying. The droids are still advancing, their numbers seemingly endless, and you realize that the clones are losing ground.

"We have to get out of here," Rex shouts, the panic obvious. "This is a losing battle."

You glance around, trying to see a way out. The clearing is a battlefield, the bodies of droids and clones littering the ground. It's a bloodbath, and the men are outnumbered. There's no hope of winning, and it's only a matter of time before they're overrun.

You can feel the weight of the decision pressing down on you. It's not the first time you've faced such a dilemma, but it never gets easier. The will to keep fighting, to give everything you have, to protect the people you love.

And yet, there's another part of you that knows when to retreat, when the cost is too great. It's a part of you that you're ashamed of, a part that you try to bury. But right now, with Rex at your side, and his brothers' lives in danger, it's hard to ignore.

You look at him, and his gaze meets yours. You find yourself wishing you could see his eyes, and the expression on his face. To know what he's thinking, and what he's feeling.

He seems to sense the question, and he gives a slight nod, the gesture conveying the understanding. He's with you, and whatever choice you make, he'll support you.

The knowledge helps. And it strengthens your resolve.

"Alright," you say, grimacing, and your hand lifts as you activate your comm. The static crackles in your ear, a deafening roar, and you're not sure if anyone will hear. "Anakin, can you hear me?"

The line is silent, and for a moment, you fear the worst. Then, a voice, garbled and distorted, cuts through the noise.

"Goldie, what the hell is going on?"

Relief floods you, and you press the button, the sound of the battle still raging around you. You press your back against the tree, using it as cover, and Rex does the same a few feet away.

"We have to retreat," you shout, your words almost drowned out by a barrage of blaster bolts. "There are too many droids."

Anakin is quiet for a moment, and the sounds of the battlefield echo through the comm. You hear his saber slice through something, and he yells a command, the order almost indistinguishable.

"We can't," he says, his breathing labored. "We have to stand our ground."

You watch Rex, and the helmet turns, his body still tense. He's focused on the fight, but you can feel his anger, and his frustration, and his desire to protect his brothers. It's palpable, and the emotions feed yours, twisting, and pulling, and growing.

You swallow, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak. "Anakin, we're getting slaughtered out here. We have to pull back, regroup, and try again later."

"Not an option, Goldie. We can't afford to lose this base," he counters, his tone firm. "If we lose the base, we could lose the planet."

Rex ducks from cover, firing, and a droid falls, its limbs jerking as the sparks fly. He's back in position in seconds, his helmet turning, searching for another target.

The droids are advancing, and they're beginning to surround you, their metal bodies crowding the tree line. The clones are starting to fall back, and the gap between the two forces is narrowing.

It's getting dangerous, and it's only a matter of time before the battle will be completely lost.

"Anakin, listen to me," you say, your voice low. "We have to leave. If we stay here, we're going to lose more than the base. We're going to lose the entire battalion."

The words seem to echo in the air, and the tension in the clearing is so thick, you can feel it. You take a deep breath and reach out, trying to center yourself. The Force around you is in chaos, but you can feel Rex, his presence steady and strong. You cling to it, to him, and it's the only thing that keeps you from spiraling into panic.

Anakin doesn't respond right away, and the silence drags on. More and more clones are falling back, passing you and heading towards the safety of the jungle. You see Kix dragging an injured trooper, the man's leg a bloody mess, and you wince.

You wait for Anakin's response, knowing the decision is his. You've given your advice, and you trust him to make the right choice. You always have, and you always will.

But, right now, in the heat of the battle, it's hard to have faith.

"Fine," he huffs at last, and his voice sounds strained. "Pull back, but we're coming back with a plan to take this damn base."

You breathe a sigh of relief, the weight of the decision lifted from your shoulders. "Copy that. We'll rendezvous at the secondary camp."

You end the transmission, and Rex glances at you, his helmet tilted.

"The general is calling a retreat," you explain, and his shoulders relax slightly. "We need to get to the secondary camp, and then, we can regroup."

"Yes, sir," he says with a nod. He raises his hand, signaling to the clones, and his voice echoes in the clearing, the sound carrying over the chaos. "Fall back! Fall back!"

You watch the troops obey, the men retreating into the jungle, their bodies disappearing into the foliage. It'll be miles before you reach Obi-Wan's camp, and the walk will be a long one.

You look at Rex, and the two of you share a brief moment of eye contact before he's moving, and the two of you fall into step beside each other, running alongside the others. The droids follow, the battle raging, and the forest is filled with the sounds of gunfire, and screams, and the hum of the blasters.

The sun has set, and the air is cooler, the night sky a dark purple barely visible through the canopy. You keep running, the exhaustion beginning to set in, and the ache in your muscles making each step a struggle. The path ahead is littered with obstacles, the fallen trees and rocks, and the thick underbrush making the going difficult. You can hear the footsteps of the clones, the rattling of their armor, and you try not to think about how many might be injured, or worse.

You try not to think about what might have happened if you'd stayed, or how many more would have died if you hadn't made the decision to retreat.

The guilt is a constant, weighing heavier on you with every step. The battle had been a loss, but you couldn't shake the feeling that the retreat had been a mistake. That you should have pushed harder, or come up with another plan. It's a feeling you've had before, and it never gets easier.

The pain in your head grows the longer you run, the headache becoming a dull throb, and the pressure builds, the darkness threatening to take over. It's a familiar sensation, and you try to block it out, focusing on the path ahead and on keeping up with the pace.

The minutes drag on, and the air becomes more humid, the scent of rain filling your nose. The droids are still pursuing, and you can see the flashes of their lights as they move through the trees. But, they’re getting farther and farther away, the gap between the two sides widening.

The wave of relief is tempered with the exhaustion that finally catches up with you, and you have to slow down, your breathing heavy. You stumble, and Rex reaches out, his arm steadying you.

"Sir, are you sure you're okay?" he asks, his voice low with concern, and the helmet tilts as he studies you. "You took a pretty bad hit."

"You don't have to babysit me, Rex," you retort. The words coming out more sharply than intended, and Rex immediately drops his hold on your arm.

"I'm not babysitting you, sir," he says stiffly. "I'm just concerned. It's my duty to make sure you're safe."

You roll your eyes, the frustration rising, and the anger bubbles to the surface. It's been a long day, and the last thing you want is to be coddled. Especially not by Rex, especially not when all he's doing is making you feel like a failure and a liability.

"I'm fine," you insist, a bit harsher than necessary, and you start moving again, intent on leaving him behind, the urge to put distance between the two of you growing. "I can take care of myself."

He falls into step beside you, his steps quickening to match yours.

"I'm well aware, sir," he says. The exasperation in his voice is clear even through the modulation of his helmet, and you can't help but wince. You're being unfair, and you know it. But, you can't stop the feelings from building. "But, I would appreciate it if you would allow me to do my job. And, my job is to protect you."

"And, my job is to protect you," you bite out through clenched teeth. "All of you."

You shake your head, and the guilt settles in, the regret mixing with the anger, and the resentment, and the self-loathing. It's a potent combination, and it makes your stomach twist, the nausea growing.

Rex doesn’t respond, the two of you walking side by side in tense silence. It's unbearable, and you know it's your fault. You're the one who started it, after all. You're the one who keeps picking fights and pushing people away.

But, you can't help it. You're not built for this. For the war, and the battles, and the responsibility. You were never supposed to be here, and the more time you spend on the front lines, the more you realize how unprepared you are, how out of place.

It's a harsh reality, and it makes the anger burn brighter.

It's not fair, and it's not right, and it's not what you want.

And, yet, here you are, leading a battalion and fighting a war. And, no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to get it right. You can't seem to keep them safe, or stop the fighting, or end the war. You can't seem to make a difference, no matter how hard you try.

You can't seem to do anything.

"With all due respect, sir," Rex starts, breaking the silence. His voice is soft, and he sounds almost...defeated. "It's not the same."

You stop, your gaze shifting towards him, and he slows, coming to a halt beside you. The clones keep moving, and the group is beginning to stretch out, the men spreading out along the trail.

You look at him, and he meets your gaze, his posture tense.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, there's a difference," he says, voice deliberate and measured. "We were made for this, to fight and die. You weren't. And, we don't expect you to. We know you're doing your best."

The words hit harder than expected, and the breath leaves your lungs, the realization sinking in. It's not the first time you've heard it, and the clones have said it often. But, somehow, coming from him, it seems to carry more weight. You don’t like it. Not the words, not the sentiment, and not the way it makes you feel.

You shake your head. "I'm a Jedi," you argue. "This is my job, just as much as it is yours."

"No, sir," he counters, his tone firm, and the certainty is unmistakable. "Your job is to lead, to guide us, and to protect the Republic. Our job is to fight, and die, if necessary. We're expendable, you're not."

The words sting, and you can't help the flinch, the emotions threatening to overwhelm. It's too much, and the tears sting your eyes. You take a deep breath, trying to swallow the feelings down.

"That's not true," you say, shaking your head. "You're not expendable. You're valuable, and important, and you deserve to be protected."

Rex sighs, the sound crackling through his modulator, and for a moment, he just stares, the gaze impossible to read. He's silent, and the only sounds are the footsteps of the clones, the rustling of the leaves, the distant sounds of the battle, the echoes of explosions reaching your ears.

He reaches up and slowly pulls off his helmet, and his eyes lock with yours. The moonlight shines off his face, highlighting his cheekbones, and the curve of his jaw. He looks tired, the bags under his eyes more prominent, and the worry is etched into his features underneath the dirt and the sweat.

It hurts to look at him. To see the concern, and the understanding, and the care in his expression. It makes the guilt and the shame that much worse.

"I know you believe that, sir," he says, and his voice is quiet and gentle. "But, the truth is, we're soldiers. This is what we were bred for. What we were created for. And, if we die, we'll have fulfilled our purpose. We'll have served the Republic, and the Jedi. That's enough."

The words are said with a finality, and you understand without a doubt that he believes them, every single one. That, in some strange way, he's happy with the path he's on.

You shake your head, unable to wrap your mind around it. Unable to accept it. "Rex—"

"General," he says, cutting you off. He moves closer, his hands clenching around the helmet in his grip. "Listen, the last thing I want is to make this about me. But, I need you to understand, this is how we see it. How we feel. And, I don't think you can lead us if you don't recognize that."

His gaze is intense, and his eyes search yours, looking for something. What, you're not sure. But, it's clear that he's not going to back down, and that he's not going to change his mind.

You swallow as the realization sets in. The truth is, you do know in a way, perhaps more than either of you realize. You've known since the moment the Jedi found you, since the moment you were brought into their fold. That, to the galaxy, and the Force, and the universe, you were always a tool, a means to an end. That your life was not your own, not really.

And, that, one day, you would die, and it would all be for nothing.

"Why?" you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

"Because, it's the truth," he says, and the response is so honest, and so open, it makes your chest ache.

"No, I mean, why are you so okay with it?" you ask, shaking your head. "Why aren't you angry, or frustrated? Why aren't you fighting it?"

His lips press together, the frown pulling at the corner, and he looks away, his eyes focused on the path ahead. He runs a hand over his head and down the back of neck, the action seemingly unconscious.

He's silent for a long moment, and you wait, the anticipation growing inside you.

Finally, he sighs, his shoulders sagging, and he glances at you.

"Because, I was made for this," he says, his voice soft. "This is what I was created for. And, I know I'll never be able to do more than this."

His words are like a punch to the gut, and you can't hide the hurt in your eyes. The look on your face seems to make him realize the impact of his words, and Rex quickly averts his gaze, his expression contrite.

He turns, and the two of you continue walking, the silence settling over the two of you, the awkwardness growing.

You're not sure why his words bother you so much, but they do. You've always known that the clones were designed for war, that their sole purpose was to serve the Republic. But you've been bothered by it since the day they arrived, beacons of hope and fear and everything in between. Since the first time you saw Rex, a sense of dread washed over you, and a pit formed in your stomach. It's a feeling that's only gotten worse as time went on, and every day brings new horrors.

The more time you spend with them, the more human they seem. And the thought of their lives being taken for something so meaningless makes you want to scream.

You've never been able to understand how the Council could condone the use of the clones, or how the Jedi could turn a blind eye. It goes against everything you were taught, everything you believe. And, it's a constant reminder of the corruption and hypocrisy of the Order.

The thought makes the anger rise, the resentment bubbling to the surface.

"It's not right," you mutter, and the words are more to yourself than to him. "It's not fair."

Rex looks at you, his gaze meeting yours. His eyes are dark, and they're filled with something. Something you can't quite name, something that makes your chest tighten and your heart beat faster. He doesn't ask, and he doesn't have to. He knows.

"That's just the way it is, sir," he says, his voice steady. "This is our place, and we have to make the best of it."

The words are heavy, and they land with a finality that resonates. He's accepted his role, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to fulfill it. No matter the cost, no matter the pain.

You wish you could be that selfless, that determined. You wish you could be like him, and Anakin, and Obi-Wan. They all have a strength that you'll never understand, a sense of duty and honor and courage that you can only dream of.

You wish you could have a fraction of their conviction, their dedication. But, you're not like them. You've never been like them. And, you doubt you'll ever be.

You're not sure what to say, so you don't say anything. Rex secures his helmet back on and moves ahead of you, taking point, his pace brisk, the armor glinting in the moonlight. You're left alone, and you're grateful for the reprieve.

You're not sure how to deal with your feelings, with your frustration. You feel helpless, and there's a part of you that wants to grab Rex by the shoulders and shake him until he sees the truth, until he understands.

But, you know that won't work. You know that, in the end, the only person who can change his mind is him. And, even then, you're not sure it would make a difference.

You walk, and the night passes slowly, the exhaustion seeping into your bones. Your body aches, and your head is pounding, the pain making each step a struggle. The battle, and the argument, and the journey have drained you, and the emotional toll is just as bad.

You try to reach out through the Force, to draw on its power, and it comes slowly, the energy flowing through you, and around you. But the presence of so much death and destruction is disorienting, and the pressure builds, the headache becoming a steady, throbbing pain. You need to find Obi-Wan, and soon. Otherwise, you're afraid you might snap.

You can't help but wonder if that's what the Council intended, when they assigned you to the front lines. To push you until you break, and then, send you back to the Temple, a lesson learned. Or, maybe, they don't care at all. They've washed their hands of you, and now, they're content to watch you fail.

The thought sends a chill down your spine, and the anger simmers, the resentment building. You're not sure what the truth is, but the possibilities are terrifying.

The base camp is quiet when you arrive, the men hunkered down and waiting for the next wave of attacks. You can feel their fear, their anxiety, and it makes your chest ache. There's nothing worse than the waiting, the not knowing. It's a different kind of battle, one that's just as dangerous, and just as painful.

You make your way to the command tent, the flap open and the light spilling out onto the ground. Ahsoka and Anakin are already there, looking over a holo-map, and their heads snap up as you enter, their gazes locking onto yours.

The tension in the air is palpable, and their faces are drawn, the exhaustion written on their features. They've both been through a lot today, and you can feel the weight of it pressing down on them.

You give them a small smile, and Anakin nods, his posture relaxing, if only slightly. His eyes shift behind you, and the concern returns, the worry etched into his face. You turn, following his gaze, and your eyes lock with Rex's.

He's standing in the entrance, his helmet in his hand, and his eyes are narrowed. The worry, and the anger, are clear, and it's obvious to you that he's still upset.

You turn back, the guilt too much to deal with, and you try to rub the tiredness from your eyes. As you move to stand beside Anakin, you can't help but notice the way Ahsoka's eyes flick from you, to Rex, and back again.

She frowns, and she glances at her master, the silent question in her eyes. He doesn't respond, his focus on the map, and she sighs.

"Are you alright?" she asks you, her voice low.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you reply, and you try to give her a reassuring smile, but you're not sure it's very convincing. "Just a little tired, that's all."

"It's been a long day," she agrees, and her eyes linger on the bruise on your face, the blood dried and flaking. "You should get that checked out."

You shake your head. "I'll be fine. It's just a bruise."

She gives you a look, her eyebrows raising, and she opens her mouth to protest, but Rex beats her to it, his voice cutting her off.

"I agree, sir," he says, moving closer. The armored plates of his thighs hit the edge of the holotable, his movements stiff, and you wince at the sound. "You should get it checked out."

The three of you look at him in surprise. He's been quiet since you arrived, but now, he's standing firm, his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched. He's not backing down, and the frustration is radiating from him, his anger almost tangible.

Anakin's eyebrows raise, and his lips twitch in amusement. "I see Rex has been acquainted with your infamous stubbornness, Goldie."

You roll your eyes. "I'm not that stubborn."

Rex makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a scoff, and you shoot him a glare.

"I'm not," you insist, crossing your arms. "Besides, there are more important things to worry about. We need to discuss our next move."

"Agreed," Obi-Wan's voice echoes from the tent opening. He enters with Cody close behind, his face drawn. "We have to come up with a plan, and fast. We're losing ground, and we can't afford to lose this planet."

His eyes drift over you, his gaze lingering on the bruise, and he frowns. "I see you've gotten yourself injured again."

The accusation is clear, and the anger flares, hot and bright. You bite back a retort, not wanting to start another argument, and you take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. Obi-Wan must feel it, because he sighs, and the annoyance leaves his face, his eyes softening with understanding.

"Come here, my dear," he says, gesturing as he steps up to you. "Let me take a look at it."

You hesitate, the embarrassment making the blush spread across your face. But, after a moment, you move forward, and his fingers lightly trace the bruise. You can't help but wince as he presses on the swollen skin, and his brow furrows.

"It's not serious," Obi-Wan says, his tone thoughtful. "But, you should be careful. Head wounds can be tricky."

"Thank you, Master," you say, the sarcasm evident, and he smirks. His hand lingers for a moment longer, and then, he drops it, stepping away.

"Now," he continues, moving towards the table. "We need to come up with a strategy, and quickly. There's no telling when the Separatists will make their next move, and we can't afford to be caught off guard."

You nod as you take your place, and the others follow suit, gathering around the holo-map. Through the blue projection of the battlefield, you can see the battle is still raging, the droids advancing, and the clones' position shrinking.

Your gaze shifts, and your eyes lock with Rex's, startled to find him already watching. His lips are pressed together, his jaw clenched, and his eyes are intense, the brown irises darker than usual. He looks away, his gaze turning back to the holo-map, and the feeling in your stomach grows.

You turn your attention back to the meeting, trying to focus, but it's difficult, your mind elsewhere.

You don't want to think about the fact that Rex cares, that his concern, and his anger, and his frustration are directed towards you. You don't want to think about what that means, or how it makes you feel. You can't, not when you're trying to keep everyone alive, not when you're trying to figure out a way to win the war.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and you look at the holo-map, determined to focus.

"How long before we can get reinforcements?" Anakin asks Obi-Wan. "We can't hold this position without help."

"The Council is sending additional troops, but it will take time," Obi-Wan says, a note of defeat in his voice. "We'll have to manage the situation ourselves, at least for the time being."

"So, what do we do?" Ahsoka asks as she looks around the table.

Obi-Wan shakes his head, his expression grim. "We fight. Hopefully, we can hold the line until reinforcements arrive."

"And if we can't?"

Your question hangs in the air, the unspoken truth hanging heavy between the six of you. If the Republic doesn't send help, or if the battle goes badly, there will be nothing stopping the Separatists from taking the planet.

It's not something any of you want, but the reality is harsh, and it's a possibility none of you can afford to ignore.

"Let's just focus on getting through the next few hours," Anakin says, his voice firm. "We can deal with the rest later."

The determination in his eyes, the unwavering resolve, is a familiar look, and one that you've seen many times. It's the same look he's had every time you've needed him, the same look he's had since he was just a youngling, always ready to help, to protect, to fight.

He's never backed down from a challenge, and he's not about to start now.

You take a deep breath, drawing on his strength, and you feel a small bit of relief.

"Alright," you say, nodding. "Let's get to work."

You spend the next few hours poring over the maps, planning your defenses, and trying to come up with a strategy. The reality is, there's only so much you can do, and the odds are not in your favor. But, you have to try, and you have to hope, and you have to have faith that the Republic will send help, and that the reinforcements will arrive before the Separatists destroy everything.

Finally, the meeting is over, and the six of you head back out into the camp. It's dark and quiet, and the air is heavy with smoke. The men are huddled around small fires, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames, and they're exhausted, their postures slumped, their expressions grim. There's a somberness in the air, and the knowledge that the battle is far from over.

You walk through the camp, offering encouraging words where you can, and trying to reassure the men, even as the doubt and fear continue to grow. You stop and check on the injured, offering what comfort you can, and you take the time to speak to the medics, ensuring they have what they need.

It's not much, but it's all you can do, and you're grateful for the opportunity to connect with the clones, even for a moment. On your way out, Kix presses a bacta patch into your hands, his eyes narrow in disapproval.

"You need to take care of yourself, sir," he says, voice firm. "No one else is going to do it."

You roll your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. "I will. Promise."

He's not satisfied, but he doesn't argue, and you continue on, your feet carrying you through the camp. You wander, the exhaustion making your movements slow, and the ache in your muscles growing.

Your steps eventually bring you to the edge of the jungle, and you stand, your eyes sweeping over the landscape, the view breathtaking. The moonlight reflects off the trees, the canopy lit up, the colors vibrant. The scent of the forest fills the air, the smell of earth and life and nature mixing with the smoke, the acrid stench of death.

You can't get Rex's words out of your head, his voice echoing in your ears, the memory playing over and over again. You know he's right, and that the clones are different, and that their lives are more expendable than yours, but it doesn't make it any easier. It doesn't change the fact that, in the end, you're all fighting and dying for a Republic that doesn't care about any of you, a system that's broken, and corrupt, and flawed.

You let out a frustrated breath, the anger simmering, and you look up at the sky, the stars glittering. You don't get to see the stars on Coruscant, not with the light pollution, and it's a sight you'll never get used to.

"I can feel your anger," a voice says, and you glance to your left, surprised to find Ahsoka standing beside you. Her eyes are narrowed, and her arms are crossed over her chest. "You're upset."

"I'm sorry." You look away, turning back to the view, the guilt settling in. "I'm just frustrated. It's nothing."

She moves closer, and she's quiet for a moment, her eyes studying you. "About the battle?"

You sigh, shaking your head. "About the whole damn war."

She hums, her expression thoughtful.

"Me too," she admits, and her gaze shifts, her eyes finding the stars. "There's so much, and sometimes, it feels like there's no end in sight."

"It's like no matter what we do, it's not enough," you say, your voice quiet. "The fighting, the death, the sacrifices...it's not changing anything."

Ahsoka is silent, her gaze focused on the night sky, and you can feel her uncertainty, her emotions swirling. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from saying more, to keep from pouring out all your doubts and fears and frustrations. She's younger than you, and she's struggling, just as much as the rest of you, and the last thing she needs is you putting even more pressure on her.

But, before you can apologize, and try to distract her, she speaks.

"We must do the hard work of mastering our fear, so that in turn does not master us," Ahsoka says. She pauses, the words weighing heavily. "Master Yoda taught us that. I never understood, not until recently."

"Yeah," you say, and the sadness hits, the realization settling in. "Me too."

She turns, her eyes finding yours, and her expression is solemn. "We have to stay positive. We have to believe that there's a way out of this, that we'll find a solution. Otherwise, the anger, and the hate, and the despair...they'll consume us, and we'll never be able to come back from that."

The tears well, and you nod, your throat tight. For a moment, you don't trust yourself to speak, and the silence stretches between the two of you. Ahsoka seems to understand, and she turns back to the view, giving you the time you need to collect yourself.

You look up at the stars, the sky bright and the stars glinting, and, for a moment, you can almost believe.

"We will find a way," you say with a conviction you don't feel, and you give her a small smile. "We have to."

She nods, and her lips curve upward. "Yes, we will."

"Has anyone ever told you you're wise beyond your years?" you tease.

She rolls her eyes, and her smile grows, the amusement lighting up her face. "Not as much as they should."

You can't help the laugh, the sound bubbling out of you, and the tension leaves your body. She grins, her expression mischievous, and she nudges you playfully with her elbow.

"You know, if you ever want to talk, I'm here. We can...hang out, or whatever."

The invitation is unexpected, and the surprise must be written on your face, because she quickly adds, "I mean, if you want."

The happiness flooding your chest catches you off-guard, and it takes you a moment before you can find your words.

"I would like that," you say, and she returns the smile, her relief palpable. "How are you at Sabacc?"

She raises her eyebrows, interest sparking in her eyes. "Pretty good. Why?"

You grin. "I have a deck in my tent."

"Are you challenging me, Master?" she asks with a smirk.

"Only if you're brave enough, Padawan," you say, and her smile widens.

"Okay, bring it."

You laugh, and the two of you turn, heading towards the tents. As you walk, Ahsoka starts talking, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you, and you find yourself relaxing, the anxiety easing with every step. It's a rare occurrence, these moments of levity, and you're grateful for the chance to be happy, if only for a little while.

You'll need it, if you're going to survive what's to come.

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@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay

@callsign-denmark @julli-bee @moonychicky

#the clone wars #captain rex #clone captain rex #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #obi wan x reader #roy writes #i hope you didn't think this romance was going to be easy

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queenendless · 11 months ago

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❄️🎄🎁☃️Merry Making (Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader ft Various JJK) ☃️🎁🎄❄️

A/n: I AM SO LATE TO THE PARTY!

Holiday fluff, ships, and so on, ya know the drill.

SO PLEASE DON'T PLAGARIZE COPY TRANSLATE STEAL OR REPOST MY FANFIC CONTENT. Rather reblog like and follow please and thnx u.

Fuzzy coziness in beige white and cream filled your eyes.

Early light streamed through the curtains.

“Merry Christmas, Y/n~” Satoru's purr was layered with pecks strewn all over your face, bringing a smile to the surface.

The feline man cradled Suguru's head as he gave him the same wakening treatment. “Merry Christmas, Suguru~!”

Said man deeply humming against the crook of your neck had you squirming and giggling, especially as his sweatered arms hugged you close enough to where his grip was too firm to break free from.

“So early,” Suguru grumbled raspily, pulling away from your neck to yawn in his knuckles.

“Better than being late for the day when I embrace my destiny as Saint Nicky~ Imma go get all fancied up for the rascals. I better see you coming right behind me all decked out, hubbie~” Gojo planted one big wet smooch on Geto's lips before giving you the same lovely treatment, pulling a garment bag outta the closet, giving you two a smile and a peace sign before dipping into the adjoining bathroom.

“Sugu?” Your pajama self moved to splay atop your slowly awakening husband.

“Hmm?” He rubbed his eyes, blinking to clear up the murkiness, when the feeling of your lips on his got him to be fully awake.

“Merry Christmas.”

He embraced you, kissing you in kind. “Merry Christmas, love~”

“Tada!” Springing out the bathroom door stood Gojo Claus. Beard, hat, boots and all. “Time to get the sack! Suguru, suit up!” The man warped away.

“Lord I will regret this.” Geto muttered under his breath before lifting you off him so he could get out of bed and pull out his garment bag out of the closet too, heading to the bathroom after giving you a wink. “See you in a bit, honey.”

A few days ago, you celebrated with everyone by throwing a Christmas party at the Tokyo school as it was the one chance you could throw one due to everyone having plans over the holidays.

You even had a Kiritanpo hot pot as the main dish, Christmas version. And a big one at that to fill everybody up.

You hummed as you started up your phone only to see notifications from your group chats. Opening it up, you viewed the photos sent to your phone ever since that night.

One of Haibara beaming brightly as he and a flustered Nanami were lounging on a beach in Malaysia, shades on and a drink in Yu's hands while Kento read off the stack of books he plans to read.

Another one showed Shoko and Utahime in the capital, Kuala Lumpur, with the former kissing the whipped cream off her wife's lips from their shared mug of spicy cocoa along a balcony setting of their lit up resort.

A snapshot of Riko and Misato in a ski lift viewing the snowy hills of a ski resort along the Alps with Yuki, Choso and Kamo skiing together down the slopes below.

More pics kept on piling in.

Miwa and Kokichi taking a sleigh ride through the falling snow, smooching his now beet red face.

Mai and Momo skating across a ginormous ice rink while doing it with such grace.

Todo catching a Takada-chan plushie THE Takada kissed on stage during her live Christmas bash, chucking it to the enormous crowds, hearts and tears in his eyes cause OF COURSE he caught it.

Kusakabe in a tavern drinking with Higurama; one of the many new sorcerers, flushed but at ease.

Yaga and Gakuganji sharing sake together.

Nothing from Mei, but knowing her, she's in a tub filled with cash, with Ui letting her do whatever cause he loves her so … yeah …

And knowing Toji and Shiu, they're probably taking shots while looking out over the balcony of their apartment window and just watching the land being draped in a blanket of snow.

A beaming Nobara and a flushed Maki going through holiday themed boutiques with a shy Fumi and an endearing Saori-chan in tow, so many bags already piling over in their arms.

Rika and Toge doting over a flushing nervous Yuta, spooning him on both sides, lounging in his apartment, with Panda acting as their cuddle couch, snacking on Christmas cookies, egg nog trailing down his conked out face.

Getting lost in holiday feels, you nearly forgot about the other presence in the room but the fuzzy sensations overwhelmed you. Your squeaking giggles were overshadowed by his conniving cackles streaming out as those furry fingers gently tickled you and those smart ass lips kissing your adorable face.

“Letting your guard down makes you vulnerable. It's difficult to resist you, my distracting beautiful wife~” Suguru crooned in your neck, horns on his head and cane in hand as he stopped the tickling to kiss your cheek then easily carried you up in one arm, letting your phone plop onto the sheets. “Now, let's go before Satoru drags us out himself.”

Fairy lights flashed many colors hanging strewn above across the living room ceiling.

A tall traditional tree stood in the corner. Tinsel, ornaments, string lights, and a small start plopped on top decorate the pine.

And Yuji and Junpei awoke to the smell of pancakes being made. Peaking into the kitchen, they spotted Megumi and Tsumiki already having platters full of Christmas tree shaped flapjacks lining up the island. Nanako and Mimiko were prepping up some hot cocoa with marshmallows.

When a sack of presents literally filled up the kitchen like magic.

“Ho ho ho!”

“Santa Claus!” Yuji's chibi self lit up with stars in his eyes at the bearded glasses wearing man poking his head in.

“Santa?” Junpei and Megumi weren't convinced.

The girls giggled, knowing who it was but going along with the cuteness.

A silky raven head with horns on top of his head popped out from the other door, cane in hand. “Yo.”

“K - K - KRAMPUS!?” Yuji turned blue at the alarming sight.

“Geto-sama!” The twins tackled their papa, giddy over his furry onesie look.

The snow began falling that early morning.

As the puppy dog that is Yuji dragged a scolding Megumi outside who didn't want to abandon his cooking duty and let a fire start when a handful of snow was smushed into his now welt forming face.

Yuji's speed was tested by Divine Dog Totality with Megumi riding atop, chasing his salmon boi across the private snowy grounds, as snowballs streaked the air.

A concern Tsumiki tried yelling out her scolding remarks to her brother as she ran out the back patio doors but he was too far off to hear, so her exasperated self plopped down into the snow, getting into the mood to cool down and make a snow angel.

Junpei floundered, his arms and legs jerking as he was doing his best to stay upright even as Tsumiki legit dragged him down with a radiant smile sent his way, going with the flow with a dopey smile on his face.

“SU.GU.RU~!”

“Yeah?”

“Lookie lookie!”

The puffy albino kitty cat and his raven furry mate nuzzled their heels, scurrying out between their legs and through the slide open back doors with cat sized Santa hats on, chasing each others tails.

“Catoru and Cuguru are matching! Say cheese!” Gojo Claus pulled out his phone to take so many pics.

Catoru's chirpy meow and Cuguru's calm meow were all they gave before trotting over to the twins, nuzzling their ankles as they built their snowmen family. Making sure to include a blindfold for one of them and a Gojo Kuja for its snow partner.

“Suguru … THINK FAST!”

Like future father in law, like future son in law.

The side of Geto's face was smothered in snow, giving off a welt mark contrasting Gojo's shit eating smirk.

“Prepare to die … SATORU!”

Choosing to retract his shikigami in preference of handling this matter himself, Megumi rolled across the snowy grounds as he and Yuji's snowball chucking garnered everyone else's attention, especially colliding with Gojo getting his face smushed with powder by a hissing Geto.

A soft rough coughing noise garnered their attention.

All their snowy heads plopped out of their white puffy pile.

Seeing you in that fuzzy velvet robe flowing from the blowing wind, your snug jammies, and velvet slippers as you walked out to admire the falling snow, breathing out to see your breath in a puffy white cloud, fading into purity.

Powder slowly descended from the heavens as you watched, entranced, as you gracefully floated.

“Unless you all want breakfast to get cold, come back inside.”

“Mrs. Claus.” Satoru breathed out in wonder at your tender voice.

“Are we getting our present?” Suguru coyly asked.

Devotion covered your face as you smiled, pressing a hand on your small growing baby bump. “You already have.”

“Oh yeah.” Those two exchanged smirks.

They gently pulled you down to submerge you in their suited powdery embrace, laughing at their gobsmacked expressions as you pulled out some mistletoe from your pockets to hang above your heads.

Lots of kisses between you three.

Yuji snuck in one to Megumi who slunk back in the snow, melting it from how hot he got.

It would be a while until breakfast would be eaten and presents be opened.

But even so …

Christmas had come at last.

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beansprean · 2 years ago

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Waiting on Mr. Right

My Exchangeapalooza gift for @jay-auris !! See it HERE on A03 and check out all the other fabulous entries HERE!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID page 1: 1. Interior of a bar, romantically lit, and covered in heart balloons, heart and cupid decorations, heart shaped light strings, and various small round tables with two chairs each. The tables are occupied with male/female couples in mid conversation. A waitress dressed in black jeans, black button up, and a white apron around her waist walks through with a tray. In the foreground is the corner of the bar counter, which has a small sign advertising 'Valentine's Day Speed Dating' On February 13 between 7pm and 10pm. A little cupid cartoon is pictured on the sign saying 'Every time a bell rings, ladies move on to your next date!' At the bottom, it says 'Find your Valentine! (before it's too late)'. 2a. Close up of Nandor on a salmon background lighter at the top and darker at the bottom, dressed up in his finest red and gold fur trimmed coat, sitting at one of the small tables, hands folded in front of him. He stares expectantly forward and says, 'I am glad to hear your parents are dead; I never liked any of my previous 37 wives' parents. 2b. Reverse shot of a middle aged black woman in a red turtleneck sitting across from him, arms crossed with an uncomfortable expression as she stares back at him with no response. 2c. A brown hand in a dark beige suit sleeve rings a small golden bell. 3a. Close up of Nandor, leaning over the table with his fingers pressed together, presenting his date with a lascivious smile. He says, 'How many times a day do you expect cunnilingus?' 3b. Reverse shot of a white middle aged redhead across from him, dressed in a mauve v neck sweater and nervously avoiding eye contact while gulping a glass of white wine. 3c. A brown hand in a dark beige suit sleeve rings a small golden bell. 4a. Close up of Nandor, smiling sweetly with his hands folded in his lap as he says 'Without a word spoken between us, I find myself falling deeply in love. Do you feel this also?' 4b. Reverse shot of a middle aged southeastern Asian woman with a bob and large glasses. She still has her coat in her arms and hasn't even slipped her bag off her shoulder, and there is an untouched menu in front of her. With an expression of vague disgust, she replies'...No.' 4c. Reverse shot as the woman gets up to leave, Nandor planting his fists on the table and calling out 'Hey, the bell has not rung yet!' 5. Close up of Nandor as he crosses his arms and clicks his tongue, mumbling angrily to himself 'Clearly she has no idea how dating works.' A waiter reaches into frame to grab the abandoned menu and snorts in response. 6. Zoom out as Nandor jerks his head around to whine, affronted, at the waiter, 'Ayy, what, waiter-man? Where is the joke?' The waiter, who appears to be Guillermo wearing a black button down, black pants and a white apron around his waist, holds the menu up with both hands to shield his face, replying 'Sorry, sorry! Nothing!' /end page 1

ID page 2: 1. As Guillermo hides behind the menu, Nandor holds his hand up in a useless hypnosis gesture and barks 'I am Nandor the Relentless and I command you to tell me!' 2. Close up of Guillermo as he peeks cautiously over the top of the menu. Offscreen, Nandor continues, 'You are seeing so many people here have success...' 3. Close up of Nandor looking pleadingly upward as he says 'What am I doing wrong?' 4. Guillermo fully lowers the menu with a cautious smile, replying 'I mean...I guess you come on a little strong?' 5. Wide shot of them both. Nandor makes an affronted expression and curls one arm up to show off his bicep, gesturing to it with his other hand. He says, 'I am strong! I am very strong! Do modern women no longer admire strength?' Guillermo, holding the menu under one arm, holds up both hands in a soothing gesture and responds frantically 'Nonono, for sure! I just meant that you're acting really intense right off the bat!' 6. Close up on Nandor with a thoughtful hand on his chin as Guillermo continues offscreen: 'Talking love and marriage...it's too soon for a first date.' Nandor: 'Ahh... This is more third date talk?' There is a small reaction shot of Guillermo looking exasperated but resigned as he reluctantly agrees: '...Sure.' 7. Close up on Guillermo as Nandor asks offscreen: 'So what is first date talk?' Guillermo replies, counting off on his fingers, 'Well, it depends on the person, but generally... Get-to-know-you questions? Like where did you grow up, how many siblings do you have, that kind of stuff.' 8. Close up on Nandor as he turns his face away to glare into the middle distance, a sudden shadow melting half his face into darkness as he says 'I grew up in the faraway kingdom of Al Qolnidar, which no longer exists, and I had seven siblings, all of whom are now dead.' There is a small reaction shot of Guillermo looking shocked and cornered, unsure how to respond to all that. 9. Wide shot from Nandor's other side as he raises his eyebrows guilelessly and gestures to Guillermo with a hand, prompting, 'And then you answer?' Guillermo jolts in place, surprised to be placed in the date's role, and replies 'Oh, yeah, uh. Your date would answer, too. Um. I grew up here in the Bronx and I'm an only child.' 10. Repeat. Nandor and Guillermo both stare expectantly at the other. 11. Repeat. Nandor drops his gaze with a frown, eyes hooding, and grunts 'Hm. This is very boring, waiter-man.' Guillermo, flustered and irritated, throws his arms out in a helpless gesture and snaps 'Well, you have to actually engage in the conversation! Ask follow-up questions! And it's Guillermo!' Nandor says, uninterested, 'What is.' /end page 2

ID page 3: 1a. Close up on Guillermo on a bubbly pink background as he points a finger sternly and states 'My name! It's Guillermo.' 1b. Reverse shot of Nandor looking up at him, almost dazed, cheeks flushed a bit purple as he echoes 'Guillermo...' 1c. Reverse shot of Guillermo as he withdraws his hand to curl it protectively against his chest. He looks a bit taken aback by the reaction, cheeks gone a ruddy pink. 2. Wide shot of them both on a red-violet background crisscrossed with multicolored lights. Guillermo looks away from Nandor nervously, blushing and sweaty, patting his free hand anxiously on the menu held under his arm. He stutters out, 'I, uh. Anyway, I gotta-' Nandor, leaning his head on his hand and gazing at Guillermo with a besotted expression, interrupts, saying 'You are very wise in the ways of dating, Guillermo.' He puts extra emphasis on the name. 3. Close up on Guillermo as Nandor continues: 'You have been on many dates?' Guillermo fidgets, still looking away, and mumbles back 'Not, not like a lot, no. Not like a large amount. Like a normal amount, probably.' 4. Wide shot as Nandor lifts his head and leans closer with a small smile, asking 'And how do your suitors woo you? If they are asking you on a second date?' Guillermo is startled into making eye contact and goes red, clutching the menu to his chest with both hands as he sweats nervously. 5. Repeat. Nandor leans even closer, smile widening into something more flirtatious as Guillermo stiffens and looks away again, somehow getting even redder as his shaky mouth pulls into an uncertain grin. Guillermo stutters out, 'I mean...assuming the first date went well...um...' 6. Close up on Guillermo, smiling nervously even as he avoids eye contact. He says, 'I guess he might...get me flowers?' 7. Close up on Nandor on a bubbly peach background from Guillermo's POV, looking up patiently as he listens. Guillermo continues offscreen: 'He'd...tell me how much he enjoys my company, or...pay me a genuine compliment.' 8. Close up on Guillermo on a bubbly peach background from Nandor's POV, his smile softened and eyes far away as he continues: 'And...whisk me off somewhere fun. Somewhere new. Somewhere we could...stumble in to an adventure together. Away from everything else. And we'd stay up all night because we just...didn't want it to end.' /end page 3

ID page 4: 1. Close up on Guillermo's hand, crossed over his opposite arm, as Nandor nudges his fingers underneath to free his grip. Nandor starts softly, 'And...' 2. Wide shot on a bubbly pink background. Nandor has taken Guillermo's hand and is holding it like a knight would a lady, gazing down at it softly as if readying to kiss it. He continues, '...how many of your suitors have done this for you?' Guillermo, dazed, gazes down at their hands and replies '...I... I don't think anyone would...' 3. The plain green background wall slams back into view as a bell rings offscreen. Wide-eyed and red-faced, Guillermo snatches his hand away from Nandor and flings it upward as if tossing the moment over his shoulder. Nandor is left frozen, hand in the air, eyes wide in shock. 4. Repeat. Guillermo begins to back away from the table, tossed arm coming around to rub at the back of his neck. He looks up and away, sweating , red, and awkward as he chokes out a loud forced laugh and says 'Well, that definitely counts as coming on too strong. Terrible advice, don't do that.' Nandor leans after him, hand hovering in midair, squeaking out 'A-' 5. Repeat. Without letting Nandor finish, Guillermo disappears out of frame with a hasty 'Ok bye good luck!', leaving Nandor saying nothing but question marks, hand still frozen in the air as if reaching out after him. In the foreground, a woman with long brown hair and a dark pink sweater steps into view to take the seat in front of Nandor. 6. Slight zoom, the background returning to the light and dark salmon as Nandor settles back into his seat. The woman across from him, out of focus in shadow, says 'Hi, I'm Kjersten! Um...that's a really interesting outfit...' Nandor doesn't appear to be listening and is staring after Guillermo thoughtfully, a Mona Lisa curl to his lips. /end page 4

ID page 5: 1. Low angle of an alleyway, fenced at the rear and surrounded by tall buildings in multiple vague colors with some spray painted areas. Snow is piled up on either side of the center path against the sidewalk. In the foreground, there is a dumpster. A pink text box at the top reads February 14, 12:07 am. Halfway down the alley, a door opens and Guillermo steps halfway out, missing his apron but having added a coat, carrying a full garbage bag. A voice from inside calls, 'Guillermo, you can head out when you're done, okay?' Guillermo's breath steams into the air as he turns back to the door to respond: 'You sure? The dishes are-' The voice interrupts him with 'Sí, es El Día Dr Amor y Amistad! (In English: Yes, it's Valentines Day) Go sow your oats! You're too young to be working so much.' Guillermo replies without enthusiasm, 'Ha...yeah. Thanks, Teresa, have a good night.' 2. View from behind as Guillermo pulls the lid of the dumpster up with one hand and throws the bag in with the other. He sighs and mutters to himself, 'My oats are just gonna go home and watch Buffy...' 3. There is a clatter in the alley behind him and Guillermo spins around to face the viewer, startled and tense. 4. Extreme close up on Guillermo jerking back in shock as a wad of dandelions are suddenly thrust into his face. A voice offscreen calls 'Guillermo!' happily. 4. Zoom out as Nandor, now with a black and gold cloak dusted with snow over his finery, kneels down in front of Guillermo, arm outstretched to keep the dandelions pushing at his chin. Guillermo, pink and flustered and very confused, takes a step back and splutters 'Nandor?! The- the relentless?' Nandor ignores his reaction and announces, 'Here are some flowers!' 5a. Close up on Nandor as he looks up at Guillermo, dandelions thrust into the foreground and his hair and shoulders dotted with snow as if he had been waiting for some time. He proceeds, clearly rehearsed, 'I very much enjoyed your company tonight as well as the sight of your charming boyish face and plump behind!' His voice is demanding but his expression, eyes shining upwards and cheeks flushed purple, betrays his nerves despite the confident set to his brow. 5b. Reverse shot of Guillermo, staring down at him slack-jawed with wide shiny eyes and pink cheeks, the dandelions still hovering up by his face. Offscreen, Nandor asks 'Have you ever been to Staten Island?' Guillermo responds 'No...' on autopilot. Nandor concludes, 'Then that is where I will be whisking you for our date!' 6. Full body shot, the alleyway back in focus and showing an empty snow-lined street on the other side, a single window just above Guillermo's head lit up from within. Nandor finally stands up and rubs at his chin with a worried expression, dandelions clutched in the other. He says, 'I've heard tales of an all-night bowling alley, but my housemates never want to go with me.' Meanwhile Guillermo, frozen beside him with his hands hovering in mid-air, lets his brain catch up with what's happening. He stares into the middle distance as equations float around his head and his breath fogs into the air. Above, it begins to gently snow. 7. Close up of Guillermo, knocked out of his trace by a gentle prompting from Nandor offscreen: 'So...?' An EKG line skips a beat in the background as he startles and looks up, eyes shining and lips pressed together in a frown. 8. Reverse shot of Nandor, looking very nervous now as he stares back hopefully, holding out the bouquet of dirty dandelions one more time. /end page 5

ID page 6: 1. Close up of Guillermo on a bubbly pink background. He smiles genuinely, red-cheeked, and reaches out to take the dandelions from Nandor's hand. He says, 'Okay...' 2. Medium shot of the two in profile. Nandor, still holding the flowers as Guillermo tucks his hand inside his grip to take them, looks down at Guillermo in shock and echoes 'Okay?!' Guillermo looks up at him with a shy smile and clarifies, 'Yeah. Yes.' 3. Nandor drops his hand and straightens up, a giant silly ecstatic grin taking over his face. Guillermo turns back toward the building and points behind him with his free hand, the other now clutching the dandelions. He says, 'Just let me clock out an-' 4. A close up of Guillermo, blurred diagonally with sudden motion. The only thing clearly visible are his wife eyes, frozen grin, and a little white question mark. 5. Knees up of Nandor, now holding a startled Guillermo in a bridal carry, on a red background lined with glowing neon pink hearts. Grinning wildly down at his date, Nandor announces, 'Prepare to be whisked, Guillermo!!' Guillermo sits there wide-eyed, clutching his little wad of flowers to his chest and somehow finding his other arm looped around Nandor's neck. He stutters frantically, 'Wai- wait, Nandor, you don't have to-' 6. The background warps upward as Nandor shoots them both upward into the sky, flying them both right out of the panel. Guillermo's last word is stretched out in a startled 'OOOOOO??!' as they take off, a single dandelion escaping his grip and drifting back toward the ground. 7. Wide shot of the night sky, dark purple with bursts of white clouds and speedily increasing snowfall, lit by a clear full moon. Nandor and Guillermo fly through, Nandor smiling in a pleased way and clutching Guillermo tightly as he watches their ascent. Guillermo, both arms now around Nandor's neck and more flowers slipping from his grip into the night, stares up at him with awe. He thinks to himself, 'This is the best night of my life...' Behind them, the words 'the end' are carved into the moon. /End ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #valentines day #exchangeapalooza 2 #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #image described #waiting on mr right #there are worse things i could do #tawticd

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wosowrites · 2 years ago

Text

I’ll Take Care of You (Leah Williamson x Reader)

Warnings: ⚠️homophobia⚠️

A/n: based off the song Take Care by Beach House. Also I know a few things aren’t accurate but just pretend. The words in itallics are the song lyrics :)

Prompt: Little moments of the reader and Leah taking care of each other, and just being in love.

Stand beside it, we can’t hide the way it makes us glow

You and Leah were standing in front of a yellow-ish back drop, both wearing fashionable outfits and getting ready to take pictures. You would be the first duo on the cover of the British GQ MOTY magazine, and you were ecstatic to be on the cover of a magazine, it was a first for you. You were both styled by the incredible Angelo Mitakos. Leah’s first outfit was a big baggy pair of jeans and a white tee shirt, along with a black captains armband and a pair of white sneakers. She looked amazing. You, however, we’re wearing a similar look but with beige trousers, and a white tee shirt, along with black mary janes and white socks. "Stand beside it! It makes you glow." Leah laughed as you stood directly under a bright light, squinting. Leah grabbed her phone and took a picture of you. She then walked to you and showed it. You looked adorable, your arms flopping at your side like an angry kid, your eyes small due to the squinting and your skin shiny from all the subtle makeup they had put on you.

It’s no good unless it grows, feel this burning love of mine, deep inside the ever spinning, tell me does it feel?

You and Leah were in the backyard of her childhood home, gardening. Her mother and father were inside, cooking away and laughing together, a happy old couple. You wished for that with Leah as you watched them, dancing around the kitchen and laughing. You soon felt a finger swipe your cheek and your head swivlled around to see Leah laughing at you her left hand covered in dirt. "Leah Williamson! I’ll tell your mother!" You threatened, wiping the dirt off your cheek but smiling at her wildly. "Focus on the carrots! If you plant them wrong then they won’t grow. They’re not good unless they grow!" Leah said, pointing at the carrot seeds you were supposed to be planting. You looked back at Leah and lunged on her, making her fall over into the grass. Leah shrieked but let you lie on top of her. "What are you doing?" She laughed. "My overalls are gonna be dirty." She said, looking at you. You placed your palms on both side of her body and looked down at her. You smiled and leaned down to pepper her face with kisses. Suddenly, you switched positions, grabbing her back and rolling so that she was over you. "Now my overalls are dirty too." You said, looking into her ocean blue eyes. "I hope you know how much I love you. How my heart… burns for you." Leah said to you, propping herself over you with her arms. You tilted your head slightly at her words. "I do know. I do, Lee."

It’s no good unless it’s real, hillsides burning, wild-eyed turning, till we’re running from it

You stood in a shoe store. Staring at a pair of supposedly vintage 1980 jordan’s. They were your dream shoes. But you wanted to know if they were real. If they were authentic. "Baby… I love shoes, and I love you. But you’ve been looking at those same shoes for thirty five minutes." Leah whined. You spun around to look at her. "I don’t want to ask him if there authentic. It’s rude." You said, looking at her with puppy dog eyes. "Then I’ll ask." Leah said, standing up and walking towards a man that worked there. She had a quick word with him and then walked back to you. "They’re authentic. He says you can check the tag in the shoe yourself." Leah said, walking behind you and placing her hands on your waist as you grabbed the shoe off the shelf. "Oh yeah… he’s right. It feels authentic." You smiled. "Why does it matter so much if it’s real or not?" Leah asked. "You’re joking! It’s no good unless it’s real, Leah." You said to her.

I’d take care of you, if you asked me to

"Yes. I promise. It’s all good. Serve yourself anything from the pantry, she won’t mind." You told Leah over the phone. You were staying at your sisters house while she was on vacation with her boyfriend. You and your sister both lived in London, but the heater in yours and leah’s apartment was broken so you were staying at your older sisters place. "I love you too, Leah-" you told her. "Yes! I’m sure! Leah just take something darling! I’ll be home in 20." You repeated, laughing and hanging up. You were in line at a coffee shop, your sister didn’t own a coffee machine and you and Leah were extremely coffee deprived. "It’s wrong you know." A voice said behind you. You turned around to look at a beefy looking man. "Excuse me?" You asked confused. "You’re a fucking dyke. God doesn’t forgive that." He said loudly. People were looking at the both of you now, but you chose to be the bigger person and you just turned to look in front of you, trying to hide the fact that your heart was beating stupid fast. "Fucking sinner. We should shoot you all in the fucking head." He yelled at you, pushing your back and sending you flying forwards, hitting your head against the counter and feeling warm blood trickle down your forehead. He left quickly after that and customers as well as baristas surrounded you and helping you up. A nice man gave you napkins and the barista gave you your order for free. But you walked the short walk home shaking. And when you got home, you broke down crying. "Baby, baby, what’s wrong?" Leah said, quickly coming up to you and taking the coffees from your hand. She put them on the counter and kneeled beside you as you had slipped down to the floor. You explained to her between hiccups what had happened. That night, you feel asleep with your bodies tangled, Leah holding you tightly, and her words of love in your ear. "I’ll take care of you. You’ll be okay."

In a year…

One year together. One year with Leah. How did you celebrate? Hiking. You both loved hiking. You rented a convertible, drove one hour to the best hiking spot in England, blasted music on the drive there and then climbed up the most breathtaking mountain. Once you got to the top, you installed a picnic and watched the sunset together. "You could?" Leah said to you. "No. I dont get cold." You lied, goose bumps on your arms. Leah trailed her fingers up your arm. "You sure about that?" It was a bit colder now that the sun had set, and you could only see Leah through a lamp you guys had brought. "Okay i’m a tad cold." You said. Leah pulled out her hoodie from her bag and handed it to you. You slipped it on and then both decided to get going back to the car. The hike back down was filled with laughter, teasing and kisses, and as you drove back home in the dark, the stars bright, the roof down, the air warm, you watched Leah sleep out of the corner of your eyes.

…or two,

Leah’s POV:

Two years with y/n. Two years with the girl that makes my world spin every day. Two years with the girl that makes my heart beat, and sometimes, my blood boil. But I wouldn’t trade her for the world. For our anniversary, we took a week off and went to spain. We visited Lucy and Keira and hung out with the Barcelona squad. We sightseed, hiked, and went to see the Barca men’s team play Real Madrid. It was a very exciting game. Eventually, we went out to eat supper on your last day. Eating late made y/n grumpy, but we didn’t really have a choice due to everything opening so late. When we had had a supper of tapas, i walked back, hand in hand with y/n, to our hotel and she fell asleep right away in your bed. I smiled at her tired figure, slipping off her shoes and socks and throwing a cover over her. I took a quick picture of her and gathered my favorite photographs of her to make an anniversary post. I looked down at her beautiful person, smiling at her slightly open mouth. I sat down beside her in bed, pulling the covers over us. I played with her scattered hair on her pillow, looking at her with nothing but love. "I love you. I love you so much. I love how you sleep, and how you play football. And I love how you smell and how you look disgusted when your confused. I. Love. You." I told her, before falling asleep.

You say swimming in the lake, we’ll come across a snake

Leah’s only secret from you was her fear of snakes. She hated them, but it was embarrassing to her, so she never told anyone. Most of the Arsenal girls had rented a big cottage together for a week they had off, it was chaotic, but amazing. The cottage had its own personal lake, and the girls were going to take advantage of it. You were sharing a room with Leah, Beth and Viv. It would not be a romantic holiday. But you didn’t mind, you were happy for this team bonding opportunity with the girls. In the washroom, you and Leah were taking your turn to change. Leah slipped on a black bikini that you tied in the back, you loved how they showed off her tattoos and her abs. You followed suite by putting on blue bikini with white flowers on them. You loved this bikini. "I can’t believe you didn’t bring the one I got you!" Leah whined as you both walked out of the room with jean shorts on. "Leah that bikini is for when our friends aren’t around." You laughed.

The lake was surprisingly warm, and some people swam and splashed around for a while, while other chose to just tan. Katie, Viv, you, Beth, Leah, Gio and Rafa were in the water the longest, playing with a ball, doing chicken fights and just messing around. But eventually you got tired. "I’m going out." You told the girls who whined. Leah grabbed your waist and spun you around as you tried to walk away, brining you in to a kiss as the girls cheered. "I’ll join you in a few minutes." Leah said. "Okay then." You smiled. You walked out of the water and onto the beach and lied down on your towel beside Lotte and Sabrina. You laid on your stomach, soaking in the sun when you heard a loud screech and splashing. You sat up to see Leah running out of the water and toward you. You stood up quickly and Leah took the opportunity to tackle you into a hug. You put your hands over her head, holding her steady. You knew it was nothing serious as you saw the girls in the water chuckle. "What is it baby?" You asked, laughing a bit. "It’s not funny! There was a snake in the water!" Leah said, still holding you tightly against her. "Water snakes aren’t poisonous. Not in this part of the world anyways." You whispered to her, gently strolling her wet hair. She eventually pulled away and looked at you with a frown. "I don’t like snakes. At all." She said. "I know." You answered. Leah looked at you suspiciously. "No you don’t. It’s my secret. I’ve never told anyone." Leah said. You smiled at her lovingly and tapped the towel beside you. She sat down beside you, resting her head on your shoulder. "You refuse to watch the second harry potter movie and when we watch any of the other movies you excuse yourself to the washroom, or to get more snacks every time Nagini is on screen. I was looking to get another tattoo and you were adamant on not letting me get a snake tattoo. I know you." You told her. Leah stayed silent for a while before lifting her head from your shoulder and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "I take care of you, Leah. You know that."

Feel it’s heartbeat, feel what you hear, far so fast it feels too late

Today had been a bad day. You were experiencing horrible period pain and all of training you were making mistake after mistake. It got so bad you took yourself off the pitch an hour in. You had asked Leah for a moment to yourself as she tried to follow you into the changing room and she respected that which you were thankful for. You were unhappy, in pain and angry. You had thrown your cleat against the wall and then doubled over from the cramps. Now, it was 9:00 pm and your head was lying on Leah’s chest. Your hand was over her heart, you liked feeling what you could hear, and her heart beating, knowing it was beating for you, that was the most comforting thing ever.

I’d take care of you, if you asked me too, in a year or two

Leceister v Arsenal. It was the 47th minute when a corner was taken for Arsenal. The ball was sent in and Leah made a run towards the front post, the ball hitting her head awkwardly. She didn’t go down but you jogged over to her, noticing the dazed and foggy look in her eyes. "You okay?" You told her, a hand on her back. "Yeah. Get back to your position." She said almost incomprehensibly. You nodded but made a point of walking close to her. She only made it to the outside of the box when she started falling to her knees, clearly having passed out. You were expecting that to happen, or at least, you were ready for it. you grabbed her under the arms and caught her fall. She leaned forward on her arms as medics came running over. Head injuries were taken very seriously. You stayed by her side the whole time as the woman too a look at Leah’s head. Eventually, she got back up and was okay to continue. You clapped her on the back and smiled at her, leaving your position. When the game ended and both teams made it to the tunnel, you found Leah and hugged her. "Shit. Don’t do that again." You told her, pulling away and cupping her face. "I’ll try." Leah laughed.

#woso fic #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso #arsenal fcw #katie mccabe #leah williamson #woso community #woso fanfics

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