#she's so cheerful and she's so calculated

[thatcoloradosunrise]

I've been thinking about Imelda's complete faith and investment in the Trust, and how it allows her to twist anything For The Good Of The Trust, like she full on tortured a guy. It also comes up in these small ways - the hypocrisy runs deep AND it's on the surface plain as day.

The first time she meets Weepe she asks him if a tearror did something to him and then chastises Penny for doing the same. Of course, she's probably also attempting to deflect conversation and speculation away from "how did the Tripotentiary get like that" because she contributed to it, but underlying it is this: "it's totally fine for me to be intrusive and rude but you can't be".

And she could so easily justify why she asked, and why it's good to know about the backstory of people you're bringing into the Trust, and she was asking for her own safety! Imagine if "that kind of thing" could happen on Midst if you didn't have the right light bulbs! The horror!

But like....

Not to get into it on main but it's really reminding me of white American suburban Christianity and how manners are treated as this paramount virtue, while at the same time people are nice without being kind, and the way the hypocrisy is just swept under the rug and pointing out inconsistencies is taboo. And how people with power can get away with anything, from impoliteness to abuse.

[majoringinsarcasm]

The fact that Blake Yang and Weiss are all walking forwards / moving up in the intro from V1 to V9, but Ruby in V1 STARTS closest to the front / the viewer and regresses backwards. Thinking about her being there for Jaune, hyping up her team in volume two and their second semester of school. Comforting Penny and being her first friend. She’s there for Oscar always the first in his corner, she helps give Qrow his huge wake up call and her “I’m not leaving without the lamp!” which I loved in V6.

She started out on an 11 in terms of that upbeat / determined protagonist but she’s not Unaware. She’s never been Unaware. After V3 we do see her somber expressions and looking worried but it’s usually if not always when nobody can see her face. Again V4 when she and Jaune are carrying Qrow and she says that Ren and Nora will be fine after they split up. Jaune expresses doubts and it’s only when she turns her head forward again that worry fills her face. She has always put on that brave face even as she grew from naive clumsy new leader of RWBY to kings leading RNJR, friends who are putting their faith in her and Jaune who was meant to be the leader letting her take center stage. Her mother was the leader of STRQ, she has silver eyes and was trusted with so much. She learned so much. Lies unraveled and she had to make up plans and they failed but she kept going. She kept trying.

And then V8 happened. She saw the Hound. We don’t know for certain that Summer was / is now a Hound but if she went off to fight Salem and never came back then that’s what happened to her right? If the best of the best couldn’t do it when she was the proper age to enter Beacon and not some kid who cheated her way in then what makes her think She can do it. She can’t even fight without her weapon and that has gotten her and others into trouble time and time again.

With each big transition (and outfit change for the visuals) the girls have gotten stronger. They have found some part of themselves they have grown in some way. They had lost some insecurity or fear. And while of course this is not the end of their journey, and Yang I am looking at specifically because poor girl thought she was Dead and was pushed into leaving Patch maybe sooner than she was truly ready for, Ruby’s V4–6 self being behind her V1-3 self is so. That’s when she was making the most leader like decisions. Outside of the school setting with adults and vulnerable citizens now needing to be saved or convinced she and her other band of teenagers can save the day. And then the most recent version who Does have a legal huntress license and Did go on actual missions with other trained huntsmen, is the one farthest back and the most lost and scared and miserable.

Up until now Ruby has had the least amount of big character moments compared to her team, but I do not see her as stagnant so much as…. Her cheerful optimism and drive to keep moving forward was once her sincere true ideology and has now become a mask. She has growth as a fighter and a leader but she was not prepared for the gods and Salem. And in a perfect world she would not have to fight this. But she does, and she has not allowed herself to be seen how she truly feels because there’s no room for a little girl to cry and fret and prove those old hurtful true. She cannot Change from the cheerful go getter she started as because the people around her Need that now.

But that hasn’t been who she really was since the fall of Beacon and it’s catching up to her fast. She pushes the bolder up the hill farther than anyone but now it’s fast in its race to flatten her and she is Tired

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hey! Gosh I love your fics, you are so talented! <3 I have a request after your latest fic haha. The sentences 'It's only a matter of time before he accidentally slips and calls you his spouse in front of people.' would be the perfect plot, actually. When and how would the Harbingers calls their s/o 'their wife' in front of others first time? If you don't like it, you don't have to do it! i hope you have an awesome day!

(hehe, yes, accidentally… mmm. Enjoy!)

✦ They accidentally call you their spouse 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone, Tartaglia

It was a complete and utter accident; just a harmless slip of the tongue. One moment, your beloved was politely introducing you to some of his Fatui subordinates, the other he inadvertently referred to you as “my spouse” in front of others. It would've been a sweet moment of shared laughter, were it not spoken in front of so many people of the Fatui. It’s not like your beloved’s subordinates would start correcting him, he's a Harbinger after all… now how would you navigate this awkward situation? 

✧ The ever-cold and calculating Pierro prevents any mistakes from slipping past him. Yet here he is, standing composed next to you as he gently gestures to you and claims:

“From here on out, my spouse shall reside in the Zapolyarny Palace and I expect all obedience to be directed towards them.” 

You went silent. The servants went silent. Even he went silent. You carefully murmured to him:

“... Pierro, dear. We are not married.” 

Somehow the Jester remained blank, as if the error of his brain eluded him. Or perhaps, he realized it was too late to reprimand his mistake, especially in front of the royal servants of the palace. He simply cleared his throat and nodded woefully: “Indeed, we aren't. My apologies.” 

The hushed murmurs of The Director’s “innocent mistake” spread soundlessly like an inside secret within the Palace's walls. It wasn't news that the Jester adored you, but to witness the typically collected Pierro clear his throat bashfully, while you stood there timidly after correcting his mistake was endearing. 

These rumors, of course, reached the ears of the 3rd of the Fatui Harbingers’ ears, Columbina. Such tales were her delight, a personal pastime, relishing the timid nature of your private relationship with Pierro. She just had to tease you two by reminding him of the incident. Thus, one day, she approached The Jester in his office on an inconspicuous day and asked:

“Oh, cheer up, Director. It's been months since your last mishap. Surely you wouldn't let your composure shatter in front of the one you call beloved so easily?”

“You are correct,” - Pierro replied to the Dove calmly. “It was a mistake. Hence, I amended it and made sure it's no longer an issue.”

That’s when Columbina’s gaze drifted to his hands, where he was not leisurely adjusting his cuffs but subtly displaying an ornament on his ring finger. His engagement ring. If the 3rd Harbinger could open her enigmatic eyes, she would stare absolutely wide-eyed and dumbfounded through her white ribbons. When the hell did he get engaged-?!

“Pierro, dear,” - you suddenly stepped in, that same embarrassed interjection escaping you “Please stop boasting about our engagement. We haven't made it official yet.” 

✧ The poor Fatui soldier under Il Capitano's recruit stood stiffly looking at their Harbinger. Was it dread or the web of discomfort one feels when seeing a couple argue over something entirely beyond their input? Because that's certainly what the current Fatui skirmisher felt when standing between you and Il Capitano. 

“I can't allow this, Capitano,” – you huffed, your head shaking in dismay. “You over-dedicate yourself in battles.” 

“We went over this, my cherished. I have to, it is my duty as the Captain. Not just for the Fatui’s sake, but for your own safety as well!” 

“No, no,” – you clicked your tongue. “Don’t give me that. You know that's not the issue… the issue is that you overwork yourself by beating everyone in a duel and not leaving me anything else to defeat! What am I supposed to do?!”

“But my beloved-!” 

That's how your lover's quarrel underwent, and the Fatui Skirmishers that kept blinking in disbelief, stood helpless as the argument ping-ponged between ‘who gets to defeat more enemies on the battlefield’. Finally, your beloved spoke with an irritated huff at your scolding:

“Well, did you perhaps consider that I do not wish for my spouse to overextend themselves and get recklessly injured over some personal records?”

“Oh, so now you-... What did you just call me?” 

The sudden realization caused a deafening silence between you and Capitano like a blade poised to strike. His pitch-black visage did not help to decipher whether he was grappling with his mistake or masking his shock. You insisted: “Capitano, what did you just call-”

“I did not say anything.” 

“You did, you…Hey-! Don't turn your back on me, come back here!” 

Perhaps The 1st of the Fatui Harbingers does not flee from a challenge like a pathetic coward. However, today was a great chance to use a tactful retreat, to put it softly, all in the hopes of escaping your wrath. How else would he explain his mishaps of calling you his ‘spouse’ so casually? If he confessed that he thought “it sounds so befitting for my one and only” he might as well just reveal every tender plan of a quiet life with you. And he can't have you teasing his affection for a domestic life alongside you. 

For now, fleeing was a wise and honorable choice, especially when you are ready to duel him any moment now.

✧ It was another one of those days in Il Dottore's lab. His fingers tap the surface of the table, chin resting on his palm, while a pen balanced precariously behind his ear. Delegating his final tasks for today, he supervised some final organizational matters in the lab while addressing some lab assistants with his usual air of nonchalant authority.

“Ensure all the surgical sets are properly sanitized and checked in the ultrasonic cleaner. I expect them neatly arranged by day’s end. My spouse prefers the equipment organized this way.”

One of the lab assistants stopped in their tracks, staring at him. 

“And don't inform them how some glassware shattered today. It would be irrelevant for them to worry…”

Mumbling to himself, Dottore only now realized that his lab assistants fell eerily silent, staying motionless as they blinked at him. Humming in confusion, he turned his attention at last, only to realize these unfortunate listeners were not gawing at him, but rather someone behind him.

Lo and behold, you stood there, behind him.

With a hand on your hip, you inquired with deceptive simplicity: “Oh? You have a spouse, dear?”

He pretends he wasn't aware of the conundrum and the absurdity of his slip-up. But even with his eyes covered behind that smooth black mask covering his eyes, you can see the haughty expression on his lips. Thus, he crossed his arms.

“Hm, Perhaps. You could say I do.”

“Then my condolences to your spouse. They must have the patience of a saint.”

The Doctor’s assistant had to repress their little chuckles. The tense atmosphere of the laboratory would always be dismissed with your ease, as you’d knowingly nod to Dottore’s colleagues and allow them to leave you two alone. Not even Dottore’s stern attitude would interfere otherwise, even if he tried to conceal his flustered composure at your mere words: “Well perhaps they are a saint, but also a handful for me to deal with.”

“Well, your hypothetical spouse is telling you it's late already and you should take a break for today.”

Conceding to your playful banter, The harbinger’s shoulders loosened up, a rare smile gracing him as he followed you with a wrapped arm around your shoulder. Your victory is marked by your knowing smile and Dottore would not object or conceal his infatuation by referring to you as his spouse. Even if he denies the marital titles as nothing but superficial formalities, he’d walk with you back to your shared personal quarters mumbling:

“Spouse’s orders it is, then.”

✧ It happened during a busy moment when Pantalone and you were at a tailor shop. After much persuasion that lasted weeks, your beloved succeeded at finally dragging you to a luxurious tailoring workshop, where store attendants welcomed you both and helped take your measurements with utter refinement and class.

You stood still with your arms extended, while the attendants did their swift duty with a measuring tape. In the mirror’s reflection before you, you caught sight of Pantalone standing a few steps away, his hand resting thoughtfully against his chin.

“Perhaps an elegant new blazer, white with golden accents?”

You remained still, looking absent-mindedly at the array of fabrics on display. “Dear, there is no need for every piece of clothing to look like it was made for a soirée. I am perfectly fine with a casual cotton blazer.”

The shop attendant closest to you stepped close with some swatches of fabrics to choose from, offering a polite smile. However, Pantalone had to shake his head and charmingly declare – “Oh, nonsense, my spouse deserves only the highest quality and looks when it comes to tailor-made pieces. Excuse me, may I inspect the catalogs for fabrics?”

With a polite nod, the shop assistant did not question the Harbinger or your baffled expression at the sudden choice of words. She was already moving around: “Most certainly, sir. I am sure you and your partner would love our available options. In fact, we also offer discounts for matching tailored ensembles for betrothed pairs if it's for a wedding or a honeymoon special.”

"Wait, wait… we are not-”

“Ah, wonderful,” Pantalone kept the same polite persona without missing a beat. However, the slight knowing smile did not go unnoticed as he glanced at you. “That will be excellent to keep in mind for the future."

What was promised as a quick visit to the tailor shop turned into Pantalone victoriously dragging you through multiple high-end workshops and analyzing the myriads of ‘honeymoon and wedding’ offers when it came to tailor-made clothes. And you, of course, could only gape at him while he kept that ever-charming grin.

“Pantalone, honey, we are not looking into engagement accessories. We are not married.”

“Oh? We are not?” - He feigned innocence and tilted his head. “Hehe, oops.”

✧ When Tartaglia made his way back with his men to Snezhnaya, the fuzzy white snow provided a stark white contrast to the shedding blood on the ground. Clear ruby red droplets stained the cool white terrain after the Harbinger’s successful expedition. 

“Lord Harbinger Tartaglia,” – a Pyro Agent approached, bowing in recognition. “Our reports are in. The site is clear; all abyssal monstrosities have been eliminated.”

Yet Childe was far from tranquil. The rush of battle was still hot in his blood, his hydro dual blades clutched tightly in his hands. Another mission dispelling any filth at the outskirts of Snezhnaya may be mundane for some Fatui skirmishers, yet for a man like Childe, this was his warm-up. 

“Ha… not bad. We finished much earlier today. And here I suspected this would take a whole day.” 

The Pyro Agent nodded – “Yes, sir, indeed. Judging by estimation, our troop would be back to the city by nightfall.”

“...Hold on, nightfall?” 

Suddenly, Tartaglia froze as if a deep culmination dawned on him. The confirmation from his subordinates did not quell his sudden shock. In mere seconds, all his battle rush and thrill of danger vanished before Tartaglia whipped around and exclaimed loudly to his men: 

“Teucer’s theater performance at school is today! My spouse is gonna kill me!” 

Without further words or thought, the Harbinger literally turned and sprinted as far as the horizon could see, leaving his subordinates baffled. Teucer? Spouse? This young Harbinger was married? 

“What… is he on about? I didn't know our lord Harbinger was married,” - the Pyro Agent mumbled, looking into the distance where the figure of a sprinting young man vanished off comically. An Anemoboxer Vanguard stepped nearby, adjusting his gauntlets. “I am pretty sure he isn't. It could be a family member.”

“Then who is the spouse…?” 

The Fatui colleagues exchanged shrugs before the other remembered – “Ah, could be his partner. Remember, they sometimes come to visit when he's training?”

“Oh, then definitely them.” – the two men stared off in the direction Tartaglia had gone, the bizarre image of their superior, so consumed by his bloodlust moments ago, suddenly halting everything to rush home for some kid’s theater performance. And accidentally calling his sweetheart his spouse would be hard to forget.

“Wanna bet he won't make it in time and his ‘spouse’ would teach him a lesson?” 

[saintobio]

*๑♡՞ i, spy.

pairings. sylus, fem!reader tags. 1.5k wc, mild angst, suggestive ending, jealousy, petnames as usual (kitten, sweetie, baby doll), alcohol consumption, sylus being annoying lmao, loosely inspired by his immobilized memory

sylus can be very petty when he wants to be.

today’s weather was beyond freezing, and the view of the icy mountains in the arctic region stood tall over the hotel grounds where the hunter’s association team-building event was taking place. you had spent the entire day engaged in activities with your team, enjoying every moment, and your laughter mingling with the cheerful atmosphere. it had been awhile since you last went on a snowboarding trip with the rest of your hunter friends, so this day brought about just the perfect quality time to boost camaraderie amongst your team. 

unbeknownst to you, sylus, who had also chosen to stay at the same hotel, was watching from a distance. his red eyes, usually cold and calculating, were now burning with an intensity fueled by jealousy. you had been spending time with xavier, your interactions light and full of warmth, and sylus could barely contain his frustration as he saw how your colleague brought you hot chocolate and used his palms to warm your cheeks.

“tch.” sylus absently swirled his glass of whiskey, the ice making a faint clink as he observed you from the balcony of his room. “seems like a stray kitten has found a new companion.”

then, as the evening arrived, your group gathered for dinner and you were happily chatting with your team, completely unaware of the storm brewing behind the scenes (aka by a certain tall man with grayish hair and crimson eyes). the rest of your hunter friends eventually headed back to their own rooms after finishing their meals, while a couple others chose to spend more time at the hotel bar. your activity of choice for the night was also the latter, telling xavier that it was okay for him to head back to his room knowing how he had been fighting the drowsiness off for the last hour. 

meanwhile, sylus soon made his entrance at the bar, accompanied by a striking woman whose presence was impossible to ignore. her outfit was dazzling, and she seemed to be following sylus’s every command like a pet.

impossible! you thought, eyes widening in panic as soon as you saw the onychinus leader. if your hunter friends found out that the n109 boss was here, this hotel would turn into a battlefield in a heartbeat.  

yet sylus, completely unfazed, walked over to your area in the bar counter with the woman by his side. his smirk was barely concealed as he approached you. “i didn’t expect to see you here, kitten,” he said, his voice smooth and dripping with subtle menace. “i brought a friend along.”

you looked up, your heart sinking as you took in the sight of sylus’s companion. she was effortlessly glamorous with her sleek blonde hair and exquisite fur jacket, her every movement seemingly calculated to draw attention. however, despite her overflowing gorgeous exterior, sylus’s gaze was fixed on you. and the asshole was watching your reaction with an almost predatory intensity.

“oh, sylus,” you said in an attempt to sound casual. “what a surprise.”

“oh, certainly, kitten. and by the way, this is elara,” sylus introduced, gesturing to the woman beside him. “she’s been kind enough to accompany me this evening.”

elara gave you a warm smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. her partner, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the way her presence unsettled you as he took a seat next to her, deliberately placing her between the two of you. “nice to meet you!” 

“likewise,” you replied, shaking her hand and forcing a smile. 

“care to join us, miss hunter?” sylus said with a smirk, his eyes glinting as he watched you hesitate. his arm was draped casually around elara’s shoulders, and the sight made your stomach churn with a strange mix of envy and frustration. “elara and i are just about to get some drinks.”

“join us, please!” the woman next to him encouraged.

“uh, sure.” pressured by the situation, you gave a subtle nod, only to receive a gleam of satisfaction in sylus’s eyes.

this bastard! you didn’t like how his hand was lingering on her arm in a way that was meant to be seen. each laugh they shared, each touch, seemed designed to push you further into a pit of jealousy. and the way stupid sylus kept glancing at you, gauging your reaction, only made the situation more unbearable. that’s it, you silently snickered in your head, i should call him stupid sylus. 

you forced yourself to focus on your blue raspberry cocktail, trying to ignore sylus’s stupid blabbering while rushing to finish your drink. his actions were a blatant attempt to make you feel inferior, and it was working. it was definitely working. but you couldn’t lose your composure now despite him making sure to lavish attention on elara. every time he touched her back and her waist, you felt a pang of jealousy growing more and more intense by the second. it didn’t help that sylus’s presence was also a constant reminder of the way he could manipulate your emotions, and it was driving you to the edge.

“so,” sylus tapped his fingers on the counter, his voice low and intentionally provocative, “how’s your evening been, miss hunter?”

“fine,” you replied tersely, trying to mask the irritation and hurt simmering beneath the surface.

“just fine?” sylus asked, his smirk widening. “i thought you were enjoying yourself today. seeing you with your colleague was quite… interesting.”

“if you’re referring to xav—” you paused, remembering that xavier had a bounty in his head at the n109 zone and it was best to keep him out of conversations with sylus, so you decided to change the topic, “did you have mephisto report all my activities to you again?” 

him and his equally stupid bird. so annoying. 

“there’s no need for that, sweetie. you stick out like a sore thumb, so you’re not that difficult to spot.” he smiled as he talked, like he was having so much fun at mocking you. oh, he’s deliberately pushing my buttons! his actions were a cruel game meant to make you question your feelings and your place in his life. 

before you could retort, elara suddenly tugged his sleeve, focusing all of his misrouted attention back to her. “honey,” she spoke to him sweetly, “what drink do you recommend i should get next?” 

you rolled your eyes and turned away, the old man playing the piano now a much more interesting sight to look at compared to the two lovey-dovey couple next to you. but really, it was suffocating to be anywhere near sylus, and the only way to stop feeling all of these crazy emotions swirling inside of you was to not be around him. 

and so with that, finally, after what felt like an eternity, you excused yourself. but the walk back to your room was quickly interrupted by the figure of a six foot two man, his towering height preventing you from taking another step without his permission. “where do you think you’re going, kitten?” he asked, noticing the sourness in your expression that you tried so hard to conceal. 

“heading back,” you merely responded, trying to find an escape by pointing towards the opposite direction. “look over there, isn’t that luke and kieran?”

as soon as sylus turned his head, you made a swift beeline for the bar’s exit. you even sighed of relief as you managed to free yourself from his presence, now making your way through the empty halls of the hotel. unfortunately for you, sylus wasn’t one to let something like this go. so before you could even think of hiding and running away, he was already walking next to you—the frown on his face growing more pronounced as he grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the nearby elevator. 

“let go—!” you protested, wiggling your hands from his tight hold. “where ‘re you taking me?”

“my suite,” he muttered, pressing the button to the top most floor. “sleep in my room tonight.” 

you let out a loud, sardonic chuckle. “says who?” 

sylus, crossing his arms, looked at you with thin, furrowed brows. “your only choice is to obey me, kitten.” 

an exasperated sigh escaped your lips. “isn’t elara supposed to be with you?” you questioned, “you should bring her to your room, not me!” 

it was too late. because no matter how much you struggled against his iron grip, you were later pushed inside his presidential suite, the grandiose of his room stupefying you. the smell of red roses and wine was a relaxing aroma that continued to pull you inside. yet, before you can take another step, sylus was already pulling you by the waist, leaning in to crash his lips onto yours. 

at first you tried to push him off, but who were you kidding here? of course, you’d eventually melt into the kiss, allowing him to envelop his lips around yours, its soft and tender movements sending shivers down your spine. each kiss was a loud smooch echoing across the room.

“were you jealous?” he asked in a low voice, biting your lower lip and pulling only slightly away. “i don’t have that kind of relationship with elara. she’s just a staff member of mine that i asked to make you jealous.” 

“okay, and?” you frowned at his handsome face, hating how easily he could get under your skin. literally and figuratively. “the way you were still touching her was…” 

“your jealousy is showing, sweetie.” a smile of mischief crept up on sylus’s lips before he extended a hand to squeeze your ass. “and what about the way your male colleague doted on you all day, hm? had fun being treated like a princess by him?” 

“why do you care?” you asked, trying to sound indifferent despite the ticklish kisses he was trailing along your neck. “it’s none of your business who i talk to.”

“oh, it is my business, baby doll.” sylus’s smile faltered for a moment, but he quickly recovered, now unbuttoning his shirt and suggesting a very rough night ahead. “because i care about what i have. and right now, that’s you.”

[ham1lton]

just a normal girl.

pairings: charles leclerc x comedienne!reader.

summary: just a normal girl is a stand-up netflix comedy special performed by actress and comedienne y/n l/n in which she discusses her childhood, her horrible first meeting with her boyfriend and being a twenty something in london.

author’s note: based on that one anon’s dream but i changed it up slightly! also eid mubarak to all my muslim followers celebrating today! this is for you <3 i also have a new taglist so please help me out by filling it if you’d like to be tagged in future works!

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JUST A NORMAL GIRL TRANSCRIPT.

Y/N L/N: so, charles decides to take me shopping. fancy, right? we walk into this chic little boutique and, surprise, the shopkeeper only speaks french. now, i don’t speak french. at all. my entire french vocabulary consists of 'oui' and 'croissant.' meanwhile, charles is chatting away like he’s in a romance film, all suave and shit.

[audience laughs]

Y/N L/N: and there i am, standing there, smiling and nodding like i understand every word. for all i knew, charles could be telling the guy, 'this is my new project. she thinks monaco is in morocco. and i’ve been dared to make her over like that one freddie prinze jr film.' and i’m just like, 'yes, absolutely. très bien.’

[audience laughs harder]

Y/N L/N: so charles is chatting to the guy in french as they go through the boutique and he inevitably finds this gorgeous dress. he hands it to me, all excited, like ‘try it on! you’ll look stunning’ and i look at the price tag. why was this dress more than my rent? for that price the dress needs to fill my fridge, put shelter over my head and fly like a magic carpet.

Y/N L/N: i exit the changing room, because when a cute guy asks me to do something… i can’t say no. i can’t help it! i can’t say no to pretty faces!

[audience laughs]

Y/N L/N: charles is looking at me in this dress like i’m an angel from above and i’m calculating the amount of ramen noodles i’ll have to buy to smooth over my overdraft. maybe if i wear it every day for the next sixty five years, it’ll work itself out? then charles chats to the shopkeeper and points at me and then at charles and i’m thinking… what the hell are they saying about me. he’s probably telling charles ‘this girl is not for you. she’s very clueless and can’t handle the high life you are accustomed to’.

[audience boos the shopkeeper]

Y/N L/N: oh no, don’t boo him. he was right. i was clueless and unable to handle the high life. charles looks at me smiling like ‘should we get the dress?’. on the inside i’m like, NOOOOOOOOOOOO but on the outside i’m like, oh sure, yeah, why not. but he rings it up and says ‘that’ll be 32,489 euros please’ and i want to die. but then charles just hands over his card and i remember… i’m dating a guy who probably earns my life savings in a day. life goals, am i right ladies?

[the ladies in the audience cheer]

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liked by netflix, charles_leclerc and 483,938 others.

yourusername: tfw your netflix special is number one for two weeks so ur man buys u two flower bouquets. guys get please me to three so i can get another <3

also i have had a recent influx of followers? so hi. i’m y/n, i act and i think i’m funny sometimes. if you’ve watched my netflix special? mwah <- that’s me kissing your forehead.

view all 2,737 comments

charles_leclerc: not you cheating on me in your caption ☹️🙁

-> yourusername: sorry you had to find out this way <3

user1: omg is she muslim?? and a hijabi??

-> user2: finding yn… inshallah they find her.

user4: NOOOO HE’S TAKEN….

-> user4: BY A BADDIE TOO…. NOOOOO

maxverstappen1: made a netflix account to watch you and it was good! 👍🏻

-> yourusername: thank you user maxverstappen1. always appreciate the support from grassroots fans such as yourself.

arthur_leclerc: wait was the kidnapping story real?

-> yourusername: obviously! i have never lied in a comedy special. exaggerated, perhaps, but never lied! what sort of woman do you take me for?

user6: why can’t we see your face in any of these pics?

-> yourusername: because you can see my face on netflix in hd in my new comedy special - just a normal girl :)

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JUST A NORMAL GIRL TRANSCRIPT.

[spotlight on y/n l/n standing center stage, audience is attentive]

Y/N L/N: the first time charles invited me to a formula 1 race. i know, right? fancy! i mean, i usually spend my weekends binge-watching netflix in my pajamas, and suddenly, i’m in the vip section at a grand prix. talk about a plot twist.

[audience laughs]

Y/N L/N: so, we get there, and i'm already feeling out of place. everyone is dressed to the nines in designer outfits, and i’m wearing the only fancy dress i own, which is basically just a black dress i got on sale at h&m. but i’m trying to fit in, pretending i know what’s going on. spoiler alert: i have no idea what’s going on.

[audience laughs louder]

Y/N L/N: charles is introducing me to all these important people, and they’re all speaking this mix of french, italian, and who-knows-what. and i'm just standing there, smiling and nodding, because that’s my default mode in these situations.

[audience laughs]

Y/N L/N: then, charles introduces me to his team, and they start explaining all these technical details about the car. and i’m thinking, 'wow, this is fascinating,' but honestly, it sounds like they’re speaking another language. they could be telling me the car runs on unicorn tears, and i’d just nod along, 'ah yes, absolutely. unicorn tears. very efficient. not very sustainable though….’

[audience laughs]

Y/N L/N: alright, so while we’re on the topic of my boyfriend, let me tell you about the time my family found out i was dating a rich formula one driver. you’d think they’d be excited for me, proud even. but no, my family? they just saw dollar signs.

Y/N L/N: so, i’m visiting my family for the holidays, and everything is going well. we’re having dinner, catching up, and then my aunt, bless her heart, leans over and whispers, 'is it true? are you really dating a formula one driver?' and i’m like, 'well yes, aunt sarah, it’s true.'

Y/N L/N: now, my family is not subtle. at all. within minutes, it’s like they’ve formed a council of war. my uncle pulls out his phone and starts googling charles. my mom is like, 'how much money does he make?' and my dad is suddenly very interested in the price of sports cars.

Y/N L/N: i’m sitting there, trying to eat my mashed potatoes, and they’re plotting how to get charles to invest in my cousin’s failed business. my cousin, who once tried to sell homemade kombucha and ended up giving half the neighbourhood food poisoning. that cousin.

[audience laughs heartily]

Y/N L/N: my brother, always the opportunist, chimes in with, 'hey, maybe he can get us a discount on a new ferrari!' like it’s a shein code that you can input on the website and i’m just sinking lower in my chair, wishing i could disappear.

Y/N L/N: so, i finally snap. i stand up and say, 'look, i know i’m broke, but i’m fine. i don’t need to use charles as an atm. he’s not a walking bank account, he’s a person.' and they’re all just staring at me, like i’ve grown two heads.

Y/N L/N: then my grandma, who hasn’t said a word all night, just quietly stands up and says, 'well, if he’s that rich, maybe he could at least buy us a new dishwasher. the old one is on its last legs.' and i’m like, 'seriously, grandma?'

[audience laughs louder]

Y/N L/N: but you know, through all this, charles has been amazing. he’s patient, understanding, and he never makes me feel bad about my financial situation. i’m broke, but i’m fine. and honestly, i think that’s what makes us work. i keep him grounded, and he... well, he reminds me that sometimes, it’s okay to splurge on the extras.

[audience cheers and applauds]

Y/N L/N: but here’s the thing about dating someone like charles. the highs are incredible, but there are lows too. there are moments when you feel like you’re in a fairy tale, and then there are times when reality hits you hard. like, after that amazing day at the race, we got home and charles was still buzzing from the win. and i… i was just exhausted.

[audience quiets down, listening intently]

Y/N L/N: i remember lying in bed that night, charles fast asleep beside me, and i couldn’t help but think about how different our worlds are. he’s out there living his dream, racing cars and traveling the world, and i’m just trying to keep up, trying to fit into a life that sometimes feels so foreign to me.

Y/N L/N: it’s hard, you know? being with someone who’s so extraordinary when you feel so ordinary. there’s this constant fear that one day he’ll wake up and realize he deserves someone who belongs in his world, someone who isn’t just pretending.

[audience is silent, reflective]

Y/N L/N: but then i look at him, and i see how much he loves me, how he looks at me like i’m the only person in the room, and for a moment, all those doubts fade away. because maybe, just maybe, being a normal girl is exactly what he needs in his extraordinary life.

[audience applauds softly]

Y/N L/N: thank you for listening, everyone. you've been amazing! enjoy the rest of your night. i know i will!

[spotlight dims, y/n exits to a heartfelt applause]

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

liked by ynwifey, f1wags and 587,828 others.

yourusername: birds of a feather, we should stick together 🎶

tagged: @charles_leclerc

view all 34,937 comments

user1: SHES SO PRETTY

-> user4: BADDEST BITCH

user9: mashallah sis! you look gorgeous :)

*liked by yourusername.*

user10: a billie fan!!!! omg!!

user89: charlesyn is so cute. funny gf x pretty bf.

-> user12: the way she is also pretty gf but he isn’t funny bf 😔

landonorris: no one wants to see happy couples on the timeline thanks x

-> yourusername: unfollow me x

-> landonorris: but who will make me laugh then 😔

-> yourusername: knock knock 😋

-> landonorris: who’s there 😁

-> yourusername: single 🙀

-> landonorris: single who? 🤨

-> yourusername: single you! still waiting for a punchline and a date 😊

-> landonorris: 😔

-> randomstalkerfan1: i’ll date you lando! :D

-> landonorris: would rather stay single thanks x

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

[krkiiz]

sly swordsman . luke castellan x reader

luke decides to distract you by confessing in the middle of a duel

luke castellan x f!reader , reader is the daughter of apollo , luke being head over heels , confessions , fluff , slight teasing

note : sorry if there are lots of mistakes, i wrote this on my phone with nail extensions and it’s so hard to type pls help 😭😭 apologies for grammars n errors, i’ll edit them tmrw hehe (also this is my first time writing pjo n fight scenes so i hope it’s decent!)

let me know your thoughts ! likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated <3

“Let’s go Kayla! Beat his ass!” Shout one of your fellow half-siblings along with boos from the opposing side.

Clanking of swords can be heard from miles away. Today the children of Hermes and Apollo are scheduled to a joint swordsmanship practice. Where the two cabins will have to engage on a 1v1 duel against another.

Right now stands in the center of the battlefield is your half sister Kayla, along with one of Hermes’ son. Kayla is known to be a skilled archer just like any of Apollo’s children. But that doesn’t mean she can’t beat the swift son of Hermes.

The battle ends her sword pointed right at his throat as he gives a sign of defeat to his opponent. The children of Apollo cheers with glee as they congratulate their half sister.

The two retreat, their places soon replaced by none other than their head counselors. Luke and you approach the center of the battlefield as your fellow half-siblings watch in anticipation.

It is so secret that Luke is an outstanding swordsman. As his skills rivals Ares and Athena’s children themselves, you knew he was a challenging opponent.

Well that’s a good thing you love challenges.

“I admit my defeat on our archery battle last week. But now, let me show you how good I am with the blade, Yn.” He smirks as the two of you start circling one another.

“Must’ve hurt your ego, Castellan.” A chuckle left your lips like honey and Luke suppresses the butterflies swarming in his stomach.

“Let’s see how good you really are, Son of Hermes.”

The two of you got in your positions, fingers tightly gripping on the sword and the shield, waiting for a sign to charge.

The hornet blows and Luke wastes no time to charge forward. The point of his blade almost piercing the epidermis of your skin before you block him with your own sword.

Luke knows better than to underestimate you. Sure, you are the daughter of the god of Archery, not swordsmanship. But everyone knows that you are an outstanding dancer and you treat the battlefield like it is your stage.

Your movements swift and laced with elegance. It’s always extremely difficult to predict your next moves. Your footing carefully calculated as you deflect all of his upcoming attacks.

Luke is also quick to encounter your offense as he blocks the side your blade that was aiming at his neck.

With such close proximity, Luke can see how the sun compliments your e/c irises. Complimenting every contrast and detail of the pupil.

Gods were your eyes always this beautiful? Were you always this beautiful?

Luke feels himself caught in a trance just for a second before earning back his composure. But one second is enough for you trip his leg leading him to fall right on his back as he looses his grip on his sword.

The sides of your blade nearly makes contact with his neck as you lay above him giving him a look of triumph.

“Yn, have I told you how beautiful you look on top of me right now?” The boy starts causing you to roll your eyes and scoff at his antics.

“Yeah, try again because that’s not going to work on me, Luke.” You press the blade against his adam’s apple causing him to wince slightly.

The crowd wonders on what was happening and why hasn’t Luke gave a sign of defeat knowing well that being under your sword doesn’t give him a good chance at winning.

They fail to see how his right hand is slowly reaching discreetly trying to get ahold of his fallen blade.

Luke lets out a lighthearted chuckle, his eyes never leaving yours. “I like you, Yn. Let’s go on a date.”

Now this caught you off guard. “What?”

The sly swordsman took your state to his advantage as he unclasps his knee from your hold and flipped your positions, your sword disregard in the process.

With his blade firm in his right hand, now it’s his turn to reside his sword against your neck, just like you did to him a few seconds ago.

You try fighting back but he just tuts and starts applying more pressure to his blade before you finally give the sign of defeat.

The Hermes cabin roared with glee congratulating their win, knowing that their head counselor will never fail them.

Luke quickly stands his ground giving you a helping hand, in which you accepted with a smile. He pulls you up against him, the sudden movement made you loose your footing but he’s quick to steady you with his free hand placed on your waist.

“So, about that date.”

©️ sirena | krkiiz 2023

[cumikering]

Underground fighter Ghost x reader

3.3k | smut, light bondage The fighter in the balaclava caught you wet handed

Who knew the top floor of the most expensive hotel in the city was an underground fighting ring.

You blinked when your cousin told you, stars in her eyes as she patted her boyfriend’s thick bicep. You’d heard all about it, about people getting absolutely beaten, injured beyond repair in the aftermath. Sure, he made quite the money from fighting, but you didn’t understand why he’d risk his life like that.

It took you a few months to realise that after the nights he came home battered, your cousin would flinch away from you. Shoulders up to her ears, she’d pull down her sleeves that had already gone past her palms, avoiding your eyes.

It was then you wished the bastard would quit his bouncer job and fought full time. The more he fought, the sooner he simply… wouldn’t return home. So when she invited you to his fight that night, you weren’t going to pass up on the small chance of watching him get beaten to a pulp.

While he won his first fight, he didn’t last long at all in the second against an opponent bigger than him. When he fell backwards with a thud from a particularly hard blow, next to you, your cousin gasped. You couldn’t say you sympathised. Motherfucker had it coming.

The crowd cheered as the referee started his count above the coughing meat. When his limp body was hauled off, your cousin broke out of her trance and rushed to the door of the arena with a sob. Blood poured out of his nose, smeared as his feet dragged through it on the white floor of the ring.

You figured she was off tending to him and would soon leave the hotel even when he didn’t warrant the attention. No matter. You remained in place among the crowd. You’d dressed up, and his departure was no reason to end the night early. Also, you probably wouldn’t experience anything like this again.

Waiters in crisp shirts distributed another wave of champagne and dainty finger food in wait of the next and final fight. Did it make you a sadist, that seeing the bastard get thumped brought you unbridled joy and made the blood pump in your veins? That satisfaction bubbled in you when his mouthpiece flew out of him after the finishing blow, knowing he deserved it?

No wonder people paid bank to watch these fights.

You didn’t have a chance to mull your feelings over, because soon, the crowd erupted. The reigning champion, Ghost, entered the ring in his black balaclava to face the winner of the previous round.

He shrugged off his black satin robe, revealing his threatening physique along with his sleeve tattoo and the black boxing shorts that hung low on his hips. A perfect contrast to his milky skin. He didn’t have defined abs, but even under the deceivingly soft layer, he was solid.

He rolled his shoulders, his back, the right half of it covered in burn scars, rippled with the movement. If you thought the last winner was big, well, he didn’t look like he stood much a chance against Ghost.

You’d witnessed the damage he could do, but it was anybody’s guess what Ghost was capable of. It was sick, like watching someone on his last mission, but he wouldn’t have been here if he didn’t have it in him. You found yourself rooting for the underdog.

The round started. The underdog put up the fight of his life, movements frantic while Ghost remained calm and calculating. Between jabs, his arms remained in front of his face, muscles bunching and rippling at his opponent’s impact.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the guilt that simmered from watching the act before you that lit your body on fire. Ghost’s feet were nimble as he dodged the attacks, like he was amusing his challenger, taking his time playing with his food.

The clock ticked away above the arena. The dance went on for the entire around without any meaningful attacks landing when you knew full well Ghost could have ended it. If he wanted to.

Thinking of the sheer power he reserved in his body sent chills down your spine. He could lift you with no problems at all, and more, you decided.

Your gaze followed him as the fighters returned to their corners for their two minute break. He scanned the audience, and when his hard eyes met yours, your heart skipped a beat. The eye contact lingered a moment too long before you could look away.

The next round started. The underdog seemed to have shaken off his panic, more precise now in his attacks, some of which were successful. Ghost, though, continued to dodge and block instead of going on the offense even well into the third round.

Was this a courtship display? Males parading their superiority over others, a promise of security. Whatever it was, it was working. You couldn’t tear your gaze off him.

The announcer proclaimed the last 30 seconds of the round. It was then Ghost landed a big punch, sending his unsuspecting opponent staggering. It was his chance for another, and another, until he straddled the poor lad, barely able to block the blows anymore. Ghost had this look in his eyes, completely locked in, like he only saw one thing.

It was clear who was going to come up on top. You snapped out of it and made your way to the bathroom. You couldn’t hold it anymore. You took the furthest stall, your heels clicked along the sparkling marble floor, past the velvet love seat by the entrance.

You didn’t want to. You cursed yourself as the thought crossed your mind. It was vile. Deranged. But as you sat down and closed your eyes to regulate your breathing, your thighs rubbed together against your will. You shouldn’t feel this way looking at a stranger demonstrating his power, even one with a massive and gorgeous body.

The crowd outside boomed, and it was now or never. You had to do something before people started piling in.

Just a little touch.

You hiked your skirt up, palming your soaked panties. You pressed on your mound, your head tipping back at the pleasure. You let out a shaky exhale, unable to stop yourself from pushing the fabric aside and circling your clit with a finger. Your breath hitched, hips jerking up towards your own touch.

It was then the door busted open. You gasped, heart hammering in your chest. The click of the lock turning echoed in the bathroom.

“Come out, little bird,” a man said, his voice a deep rumble.

Your thighs shut as footsteps approached, coming closer and closer before they stopped right outside your stall.

Chills ran down your spine. You knew no one else here. Did you unknowingly send a signal, some sort of secret code? Private societies often had covert symbols to identify each other.

“I know you’re in there. I don’t bite,” he said, and added in a low voice. “Unless you want me to.”

Heat rose up your neck. You stumbled to your feet and smoothed your dress down. It was humiliating, getting caught wet handed. You inhaled before cracking the door open, eyes on the floor, meaning to squeeze past and avoid the situation with the unknown man.

But nothing prepared you for what awaited. Ghost towered over you, his broad chest still slick with sweat, still in his shorts that hung even lower now as it strained against his growing situation. The light material didn’t leave much to the imagination. His gloves were off, but his hand wraps remained.

You froze, transfixed on the way he palmed himself.

He took a step back. “Door’s right there. If you want to leave, I won’t stop you.”

You let another beat pass. You could have sworn you saw a smirk under that mask.

“Get on your knees.”

He didn’t need to tell you twice.

“Is this what you wanted?” he rasped, pushing the waistband of his shorts and underwear down, freeing his hardening cock in your face. “Don’t be shy now, you were just having fun all on your own. Don’t let me stop you.”

Tentatively, you took his cock, warm and heavy in your hand. You gripped him, pumping lightly as you planted little kissed on his tip. He hardened more as you kissed down the side of his length, pressing your nose against the trimmed hair on the base of his pulsing cock. His musk sent a jolt straight down to your core.

You pressed your other hand flat against his muscular thigh, your tongue swiped over his tip, tonguing him. He let out a deep sigh. You looked up to meet his brown eyes boring down on you.

You opened your mouth, sliding him along your hot, wet tongue, still holding his gaze. His cock twitched in your mouth as he let out a low groan. You could never fit the entirety of him in your mouth, but you were going to try anyway. Your lips wrapped around him, your cheeks hollowed as you slid down his thick shaft. His breathing grew laboured as his hips bucked. You continued to pump him, your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock, grazing the ridge of his tip every time you slid up.

Ghost’s tangled his hands in your hair as his hips jerked, but he held himself back with a stuttered breath. Thinking of him fucking your face made you whimper.

You reached down to your leaking hole, pushing your panties aside. You circled your clit, impossibly slick from the torture you endured. The contact made you hum in pleasure, making his grip tighten on your hair as he hissed.

You couldn’t help but hump your own fingers. Lost in the pleasure, your pace faltered on his cock as you moaned around him.

You let out a weak whimper when he pulled out. Your eyes fluttered open, and he pulled you up to your feet to wipe the corners of your mouth with his thumb. He undressed himself before sweeping you up in a princess carry. You let out a squeal as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

He set you down in front of the loveseat, where he plopped himself down. He leaned back, muscled thighs spread as he stroked his soaking wet cock languidly. Like a predator waiting for his unwitting prey to fall into his trap.

“You want to come on my cock?”

“Yes,” you said breathlessly, climbing over him.

Ghost helped you out of your dress and bra, eyes lingering a moment on your tits.

“The heels stay on,” he said, running his paws down your sides before settling on your hips, his hand wraps rough on your skin. “Set the pace, luv.”

A hand on his hard shoulder, you pulled your panties aside and lined him up with your entrance before lowering yourself. He tipped his head back, intense eyes trained on your face made you bite your lip. You were so painfully ready for him, your dripping hole didn’t put up much a fight despite his size. The initial breach made you gasp, your eyes shut close. You sank further down, bouncing a little each time, coating his already slick cock with your juices.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, aren’t you, doll?”

You nodded, still dizzy with the sensation of being stretched wide around him.

“Naughty girl, what got you so excited?”

The sentence that started with amusement ended with a shudder as you swallowed him down to his base. You panted, your pebbled clit grinding against his soft curls as your eyes flew open.

Up close, the faint dusting of freckles on his collarbones were visible. You ran your fingers along them as you took your time sliding up and down his throbbing cock, getting used to him. Your hands trailed to his bulging biceps, trying to not make it obvious you were feeling him up.

He peeled his mask up, bunching it over his nose. “Call me Simon,” he growled, kneading your ass.

On his cheek was a fading scar that disappeared up into his mask, while his jaw was lined with blonde, trimmed stubble.

“S- Simon.” You met his piercing brown eyes as your fingers traced his soft lower lip.

“Good girl.” He grasped your jaw and leaned in, speaking against your lips as they parted. “Scream it when you come on this cock.”

You picked up your pace, exposing your neck to him as you moaned. Simon planted open mouthed kissed up your neck before licking up your throat. He inhaled sharply, his fingers digging into your hips.

“Tell me your name,” he said, his breath hot against your neck.

You might be on him, but you’d be a fool to think you had the authority here.

You babbled your name and he moved his hand to wrap around the base of your neck. He leaned in, repeating it, tasting it on his tongue before capturing your lips.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle. He took his time with your lower hip, giving it small bites before swiping his tongue across it. You were the first to part your lips, moaning into his mouth. It only spurred him on, his tongue meeting yours as he deepened the kiss.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You were made for me, weren’t you?” He panted, his thumb caressed your hip. “Come on my cock, doll.”

Simon gathered your hands behind your back and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you flush against his firm body. His thighs parted further before he thrusted up, the move knocking the breath out of you.

You threw your head back, the feeling of him ramming your soaking pussy made you heady. His balls, now drenched in your juices, squelched against your ass at every thrust. The familiar heat pooled in your belly as the mewls continued to pour out of you. He was hitting all the right spots.

“Simon- you’re going to make me come,” you said breathlessly.

He bit and sucked on your shoulder, hard enough for it to sting, and you knew it was going to leave a mark. It was enough to push you over the edge.

“Si- I’m coming, ah- Simon!”

You unravelled with a moan that you stifled by biting down on your lip. He let you ride your high, continuing his leisurely thrusts as the tension in your body subsided. You slumped over him as you caught your breath.

“Did a good job for me,” he muttered. He angled you by the chin, kissing your neck for a moment longer before cradling the back of your head.

In a swift motion, he laid you down on the loveseat. You watched as he pushed your shaky legs open, making room for himself to climb over you. His kisses trailed from your collarbones down your sternum. Still buzzing from your orgasm, your back arched as his tongue grazed over your nipple, his hand massaging your other breast.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbled between kisses as he made his way to your hips.

Simon gave them a few gentle sucks before his mouth descended to your pussy. He planted kisses on your mound, inhaling your scent. He licked a strip up your slit before laving at your entrance, teasing, coating his tongue in your juices. When he pursed his lips over your clit, it sent a zap up your spine making your thighs close over his head.

“Simon-“

“Let me eat,” he grumbled, easily holding your legs down for him to feast.

His tongue continued to dance on your clit, still achingly sensitive, but your hips couldn’t help but buck up into him as you continued to leak. He let out a soft laugh and you let out a broken moan from the vibration.

You raised your head, eyes meeting his as he watched you through his pretty, blond lashes. His deep brown eyes glinted this time, like he was having too much fun tormenting you.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he said, planting one last kiss on your clit.

He positioned himself between your thighs, a knee on the couch and a foot on the floor. He slid himself along your slit, painfully slow, but the friction was enough to make your breath stutter.

“You still owe me another one.”

He undid his hand wrap with his teeth, using it to bind your wrist and pushed them above your head. He curled your fingers over the armrest of the loveseat. He sank down on you, his forearm flexing by your head. He brought the tip of his cock to your opening, nudging it playfully as he glazed himself in your arousal.

“Ready, luv?” he rasped into your ear.

“Need you, Simon,” you whined, lifting your hips to him.

He pushed forward, letting out a low groan as he entered you. His hand moved to your hip, pinning you down to the seat. It only took him a few pumps to bottom out in you.

“Love it when you say my name,” he whispered against your lips before capturing them in another gentle kiss.

His thrusts quickened, mouth moving over to the side of your head. You held onto the armrest above you as his hot breath puffed over your ear, heavy as he groaned and panted. Each plunge coaxed a soft whine out of you, pushing you closer and closer to your release. He seemed to feel you clenching on him because he straightened up before circling your clit with the pad of his thumb, making you gasp.

“Give me another one, luv,” he breathed, his half-lidded eyes trained on you. “No need to be quiet.”

He swiped up and down over your pulsing clit, the pace of his hips unrelenting. Small whimpers spilt out of you before you came undone with a moan, your body shook as your face twisted in pleasure. The pretty face he hadn’t been able to tear his gaze away from.

It was all he needed to chase his own high as he leaned back in, driving mercilessly into you. You thought you felt the loveseat skidding on the floor as he threaded his fingers with yours, still wet from making you come.

Simon pressed his forehead against yours as his eyes bored down on yours. He closed his mouth over yours, groaning into you.

“Come for me, Simon,” you said against his lips. “Want your come on me.”

His hips stuttered, whimpers tumbling out of his parted lips. He pulled out with a low moan, spilling on you before continuing to softly hump your belly to ride out his high.

He collapsed, squashing one side of your body under his weight. He nuzzled your neck, as his chest stopped heaving.

“You’re crushing me.”

He let out a small laugh, pushing himself off you and untying your wrists, his shoulders and neck still flushed. He took you by the hand to the sink to help you clean up and get dressed before minding himself.

You stood there facing each other wordlessly for a moment, unsure where to look. You didn’t want to be caught ogling him even when you were dying to, but your eyes cut to him when he pulled his mask off. You took his face in: his pale skin, his nose with the little bump on it, the way the cut on his cheek ran up next to his left eye.

Simon took a step towards you, pushing you against the sink and lifting you up to sit on its edge before giving you a chase kiss.

“Sorry about this,” he pressed his lips against the small bruise on your shoulder and the inside of your left wrist. “Would you come watch me again next week?” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“If you want me to,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Let’s get dinner.” He kissed your cheek, smiling against your skin. “I’ll drive you home after.”

Neighbour Simon if he still had his family Ghost gave you a piggyback ride Ghost's online fantasies came true Masterlist

@tiredmetalenthusiast @astraluminaaa

[pickingupmymercedes]

She's not here, but she'll be - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Series: She's here and she's ours / She's here and she's not only ours / She's here and she's just like you / She's not here, but she'll be / She's here and she won't be the only one / She's here and he won't let her give up / She's here and so is he / She's here and so are we - (they can all be read as one-shots)

requests: "hello can i request one with lewis where he has been having a baby fever ... fluff and smut of course. and can we have a very slow and sexy one because he wants to take his time with her 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻" - anon 2 ;

"hi, can I request a prequel to She's here and she's ours ... maybe it was hard to conceive and things weren't always all flowers" - anon 1

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: mentions of troubles with infertility, unprotected sexual activities (all sorts)

Also, wrap it before you tap it guys

wordcount: +2K

a/n: Combined requests again because anon 2 asked for something that gave me the idea for the prequeal (sorry for how long it took anon 1, but hope the wait was worth it)

a/n.2: The tone of this whole series is mixing angst and fluff, this time I added a bit of smut too, hope you guys like it

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

The discarded ovulation test lay on the bathroom counter, a white plastic screaming what her ovulation app had already warned to. Y/n stared at it, not really sure she even wanted to know about it that month.

The more you want something, the harder it is. That's what they said anyway, and apparently it wasn't any different when it came to “trying” to get pregnant, a euphemism that felt increasingly hollow with each passing cycle.

Doctors assured her a year was still considered normal, but the constant hum of wanting, the way it colored every conversation, every shared glance, was starting to wear on them both.

Six months. Six months of basal body temperatures, ovulation predictors, and Lewis’ frustrated attempts at scheduling "baby time" around his chaotic schedule.

“Again?” as Lewis emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he saw her face, then the test on her hands and his smile faltered.

He sighed, walking over to wrap his arms around Y/n. She leaned into him, but the spark of hope she usually felt was absent.

"It's been too long, Lew" she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. " The schedules, apps, and ovulation calendars. It's driving me insane."

“Maybe we just need to try harder” he suggested, trying to be optimistic. But the forced cheer didn't fool her.

“Harder?” Y/n pulled back slightly, the edge in her voice surprising even herself. “Lewis, it's like we're robots. Everything's always timed, charted…”

Lewis turned to face her. "You think I enjoy this? Every time we fail, it's like there's this... pressure. Like if it doesn't work, it's my fault."

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting his. "It's not about fault. It's about us. It feels like we’re losing sight of why we wanted this in the first place."

"It's not supposed to feel calculated, is it?" he said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his tone. "We both want this, right?"

"Of course, we do," Y/n insisted, her voice a touch too sharp. "But it's like we're robots following a program instead of… you know, a couple."

He took a step back, his face contorting with hurt. "That's not fair, Y/N. We’re trying our best here. Circumstances might not be the most ideal but it’s what we got"

Tears welled up in her eyes, her frustration boiling over. Lewis's shoulders slumped as he saw the evident fear in her eyes, his anger giving way to hopelessness. "I just... I don't know what else to do."

"Maybe," Y/N's voice held such certainty that surprised even herself, "maybe we should take a break.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise starting to take hold in his eyes. "A break? From trying?"

"Yeah," she took a deep breath before continuing, a growing conviction in her tone. "From the apps, schedules, calendar, the whole... stress. We just focus on us, and why we want this."

He was silent for a moment, considering her words. "What if it takes even longer?"

"Then... we'll deal with that when we get there," she said, her hand gently touching his cheek. "I want this pregnancy, but not like this. Not at the cost of us."

Lewis closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of their struggles hanging heavy in the air. He shook his head with an understanding nod "We've been so caught up in this that we've forgotten about us." he whispered, his voice breaking slightly.

"I love you; you know ?!" she whispered, the words catching him by surprise in their suddenness. She hadn't said them in days, maybe weeks, the unspoken worry choking the words back.

Lewis tilted his head, his gaze searching hers. "I love you, always." His voice was laced with tenderness. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. "We'll get there " he whispered. "We'll have our family. I believe that with all my heart."

The positive pregnancy test felt surreal. Lewis and Y/n sat on the bed, the silence in the room only broken by the soft hum of the air conditioner. The digital test lay between them, its stark message still blinking: "Pregnant 5-6 weeks."

Y/n turned to Lewis, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and disbelief. "This can’t be real," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I’ve been on the pill... we weren’t even trying."

Lewis stared at the test, then at her, his mind struggling to process the information. "We haven't thought about having kids for over a year." he stated, his voice filled with bewilderment

Tears filled Y/n’s eyes, but this time a mix of confusion and hope. "I didn’t even think about missing my period." she confessed. "I thought it was just the stress of the season, the move, the change in routines…"

Lewis wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "This is real," he said, his voice trembling with emotion. "We’re really going to be parents."

They sat there for a while, holding each other, the reality of their news slowly sinking in. The past months of not even considering pregnancy, of relying on birth control, seemed to amplify the miracle of this moment. The weight of their previous struggles felt lighter, replaced by the shock and anticipation of the new life they had miraculously created.

"Five to six weeks," Y/n murmured, looking at the test again. "How could this happen?"

Lewis frowned, trying to remember. "What were we doing around then?" he asked, his brow furrowing in thought.

Y/n bit her lip, feeling a pang of guilt. "I don’t know... maybe I missed a pill or something. But I really thought I was careful."

Lewis looked at her thoughtfully, his fingers tracing soothing circles on her hands “That’s not on you love, we decided on no condoms, remember?! We knew it could happen”.

Then, out of the blue with a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Wait a minute," he said, his eyes lighting up with realization. "Silverstone."

Y/n’s eyes widened as she remembered and stated "Silverstone!” Lewis nodded, a grin spreading across his face. Y/n's cheeks flushed as she recalled the night. She looked at Lewis, a smile spreading across her face despite the lingering shock.

Lewis looked at her, his grin widening. "It makes sense, doesn't it?"

Y/n laughed softly, shaking her head in disbelief. "I guess we were celebrating more than just you that night."

"We were celebrating us" Lewis said, his voice filled with warmth and love. "And now, we have even more to celebrate."

He leaned in, kissing her tenderly, resting their foreheads against each other when they pulled back.

"We're going to be parents," she whispered, the reality finally settling in.

"We're going to be parents," Lewis echoed, his heart swelling with joy and excitement. "I love you, Y/n. And I love our little one so much already."

The Silverstone circuit buzzed with the electric energy of a crowd celebrating a hero’s homecoming. Lewis, now a Ferrari driver, had held his own, going from p3 at the starting line to the tallest step of the podium, beaming as the Union Jack waved above him.

After the race, the celebration shifted to a more intimate setting. Lewis’s family, Y/n, and a tight-knit group of friends gathered at a house in the countryside nearby. The energy of the race lingered, laughter and music filling the air. It was a night of toasts.

As the party slowly wound down, the house fell silent. Guests retired to their rooms, and the sun began to hint at its arrival on the horizon, leaving Lewis and Y/n by themselves in the garden, the weight of the day finally sinking in.

“Can you believe it?” Lewis whispered, his voice hoarse from cheering. He was sprawled on the couch, Y/n nestled against him.

“You were amazing,” she murmured, her fingers tracing the lines of his jaw. “I’m so proud of you.”

He kissed her forehead gently, his eyes closing as he felt the exhaustion wash over him. “Let’s get some sleep. We’ll celebrate properly tomorrow.”

Y/n nodded, her eyelids heavy and he led them to their bedroom.

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the unknown room. Y/n stirred, her body snug against Lewis’s as he spooned her, one arms securely holding her close and the other serving as her pillow.

As she shifted, she felt a familiar pressure against her back. She turned slightly, her eyes opening to find Lewis still asleep, his breathing was steady, but she could feel his arousal pressing into her. A soft moan escaped his lips as he dreamt, his hips subtly moving against her.

Y/n smiled to herself, a gentle warmth spreading through her at the feeling of him. She shifted again, trying not to wake him, but his eyes fluttered open. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning, champ,” she replied softly, turning her head to look at him.

He grinned, his eyes twinkling despite the lingering fatigue. “I must have been having a really good dream,” he joked, his hand sliding down to rest on her hip.

Y/n chuckled, pressing back against him. “I noticed” she teased rubbing her ass with a bit more vigor against him.

She could feel his arousal growing more insistent as his breaths came out in hisses. She bit her lip, considering their options. “Do you think anyone’s awake?” she whispered, glancing towards the door.

“Probably,” Lewis replied, his hand slipping under the hem of her shirt to caress her skin. “But we can be quiet.”

A shiver ran through her at his touch, and she nodded. “I doubt you’ll let me” her voice dropping to a whisper. He smiled mischievously, his fingers trailing up her side. “I’ll try,” he promised.

Slowly, he rolled her onto her side, spooning her again from behind. He nuzzled into her neck, his hand sliding down to the waistband of her shorts. She held her breath as his fingers slipped inside, brushing against her most sensitive spot.

She gasped softly, biting her lip to stifle the sound. “Lew” she breathed, her hips instinctively pressing back against him.

“Shh,” he whispered, his lips grazing her ear. His fingers moved with deliberate slowness, teasing and exploring until she was panting with need. Her hands gripped the sheets, trying to stay quiet as he worked her up.

When he finally slid a finger inside her, she had to bite down on the pillow to keep from crying out. He added another finger, stretching her gently, his movements unhurried and tender. She could feel his breath hot against her neck, his own restraint evident in the way he held her.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Are you ready for me?”

“Yeah” she whispered, barely able to speak. “Please.”

He positioned himself at her entrance, his hands gripping her hips as he slowly pushed inside. She moaned softly, the feeling of him filling her almost overwhelming. He paused once he was fully seated, giving her time to adjust, the pause also helping him control his breathing.

When she took a deep breath, relaxing into the sensation of him with a “You can move.” he started with slow, gentle thrusts, his arms wrapped tightly around her. The rhythm was languid, each movement measured and precise. Y/n’s breaths came in short, quiet gasps, her body trembling with each stroke.

The room was filled with the sound of their breathing, the occasional creak of the bed as they moved together. Every so often, she had to remind him to stay quiet, her whispers blending with his low grunts.

When he hit a particularly sensitive spot, she bit back a cry, his hand reaching to cover her mouth. She licked her fingers, his thrusts becoming more insistent with the scene.

“I can’t… I’m so close,” she panted, her voice muffled against his hand, her body arching against him.

“Just a little longer, love, I’m almost there.” He quickened his pace, each movement somehow reaching deeper.

Lewis’s body tensed, his toes curling as he felt her walls starting to flutter, and with a final, deep thrust, he came shortly after her, their bodies shaking with the intensity of it. She buried her face in the pillow, stifling her cries as Lewis held her tightly and lowly grunted into her neck.

For a moment, they lay there, catching their breath, the room filled with the soft glow of morning light. Finally, Lewis pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder, just below where he had left his mark, his arms still wrapped around her.

“Best celebration ever,” he whispered, a satisfied smile on his face. Y/n laughed softly, turning her head to kiss him. “Next time though, we’ll wait until I can have my way with you, no muffed moans”

She chuckled, nuzzling into his neck. “Deal.”

______________________________________________________________

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[natsaffection]

Please can we have something with top!reader please?

Reversed. | N.R

Warnings: 18+! MINORS DNI!, Oral (n receiving) fingering (n receiving) begging, edging multiple orgasm.

Word count: 4,8k

A/n: Actually found this in my notes..

You found yourself in a circle with other agents and Avengers, the excitement in the air amplifying as the night progressed. The game of Truth or Dare was in full swing, and when it was your turn, all eyes fell on you. "Y/n.." Clint Barton grinned mischievously, "I dare you to seduce Natasha."

The group erupted into a chorus of whoops and cheers, their eyes darting between you and the redhead seated across the room. You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you accepted the challenge with a nod. It wasn’t the dare that was the challenge. It was Natasha herself. The Black Widow was an enigma, her emotions as guarded as her past, and yet you felt a thrill at the idea of unraveling that mystery, even if just for a night. You stood, smoothing the fabric of your dress, and made your way toward the bar where Natasha sat. Each step was calculated, purposeful, as you approached the formidable assassin. Natasha didn’t look up as you neared, but you knew she was already aware of your presence. It was in the way Natasha’s posture shifted ever so slightly, her body attuned to the movements around her.

"Mind if I join you?" you asked, your voice low and smooth. Natasha’s eyes flicked up, meeting yours with an intensity that could stop a lesser person in their tracks. She studied you for a moment before nodding, a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips. "Be my guest." You slid onto the barstool beside Natasha, signaling the bartender for a drink. The silence between you was thick, not with discomfort, but with the weight of unspoken words and mutual intrigue.

"I hear you’ve got quite a reputation, Y/n." Natasha said, finally breaking the silence. Her voice was calm, measured, but there was an undercurrent of curiosity. "I could say the same about you." you replied, your tone equally measured, though with a hint of playfulness. "But I’m not interested in what everyone else says. I prefer to form my own opinions." Natasha chuckled softly, taking a sip of her drink. "And what opinion are you forming now?"

You leaned in slightly, your eyes never leaving Natasha’s. "That you’re even more intriguing up close." Natasha’s eyes flashed with amusement, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she tilted her head, studying you with a new intensity. "And what is it you’re hoping to find, Agent Y/l/n?"

"Maybe I’m hoping to find out if the Black Widow is as untouchable as everyone says." you replied, your voice dropping to a near whisper, an edge of challenge lacing your words. Natasha set her glass down, turning in her seat to face you fully. The air between you crackled with electricity, a tension that was palpable and undeniable. "You might find that some things are better left untouched." You smiled, a slow, confident curve of your lips. "Maybe, but I’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge."

For a moment, the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you, locked in a battle of wills and desire. Natasha’s gaze softened, just a fraction, as she considered your words. Then, she leaned in, her lips brushing lightly against your ear as she spoke. "Careful what you wish for." Natasha whispered, her voice sending a shiver down your spine. "You just might get it."

With that, Natasha pulled back, her smirk widening as she took in the subtle flush on your cheeks. Your heart raced, but you kept your composure, matching Natasha’s smirk with one of your own. "That’s what I’m counting on." you replied.

When you and Natasha finally stood from the bar, walking together toward the private rooms that lined the edge of Stark Tower’s upper floors, a knowing grin spread across Tony’s face. He nudged Clint with an elbow. "Looks like you might be losing this one, Barton." Clint groaned but couldn't suppress his smirk. "Never thought I'd see the day someone could match Natasha like that." The team exchanged glances, some amused, others a little concerned. But they all knew that whatever was about to happen, it was going to be explosive.

You and Natasha slipped into one of the private rooms, the door closing softly behind you as the sound of the party faded into the distance. The room was luxurious, dimly lit with plush furniture and a large bed dominating the space. But it was the air between you both that was thickest of all, humming with anticipation. Natasha turned to face you, her eyes dark with intent. She took a slow step forward, her movements deliberate and predatory, like a panther stalking its prey. You felt your breath catch, but you weren’t about to back down. Not when the game was just getting interesting.

"I’m impressed." Natasha said, her voice low and sultry. She reached out, trailing a finger down your arm, sending shivers through your body. "But I think it’s time you realized who you’re dealing with." There was a challenge in her words, one that you weren’t about to ignore. Natasha was the Black Widow, used to being in control, to being the one who dictated how things went. But you had your own reputation, and you weren’t about to let Natasha take the lead so easily.

You took a step closer, closing the distance. You reached up, cupping Natasha’s face with one hand, your thumb brushing over the assassin’s bottom lip. "Oh, I know exactly who I’m dealing with." you whispered, "But maybe you should see that I’m not the type to be dominated so easily." Natasha’s eyes flashed with a mixture of surprise and intrigue. She wasn’t used to being challenged in this way, and you could see the gears turning in her mind. But before Natasha could make a move, you pressed forward, your bodies nearly touching, your hand slipping around to the back of Natasha’s neck, pulling her in close.

"I know you like control, Romanoff." you whispered against Natasha’s ear, "But tonight, you’re going to let go of that. I’m not here to play by your rules, Natasha."

For a moment, Natasha hesitated, her body stiffening as she processed your words. She was torn between her instinct to dominate and the strange, electrifying thrill of someone standing up to her in this way. You felt the tension in Natasha’s body and leaned in, your lips brushing against Natasha’s in a feather-light touch that was more of a tease than a kiss. The touch seemed to spark something in Natasha, something raw and primal. But instead of trying to regain control, she found herself curious, curious about what it would feel like to let someone else take the reins, if only for a moment. Her lips parted slightly, and you took that as your cue.

With a firm but gentle hand, you pushed Natasha back against the wall, pinning her there with your body. Natasha’s breath hitched, a flicker of surprise and something else..something akin to excitement passing through her eyes. "You might be the Black Widow.." you murmured, your lips grazing the sensitive skin of Natasha’s neck, "but right now, you’re mine."

Natasha let out a shaky breath, her hands instinctively moving to grasp your hips, pulling you closer. But you weren’t about to let Natasha dictate the pace. You moved your hands, pinning Natasha’s wrists against the wall, holding them there with a strength that belied your appearance. "You wanted to see what I’m capable of," you continued, your voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down Natasha’s spine. "so let me show you."

Natasha’s eyes darkened with a mix of emotions, lust, curiosity, and a grudging respect. You weren’t like anyone she’d ever encountered before, and that was enough to make her relinquish control, if only for a little while. With a slow, deliberate motion, you captured Natasha’s lips in a searing kiss, one that was more of a claim than anything else. Natasha responded with equal passion, but there was no mistaking that, in this moment, you were in charge. You deepened the kiss, your hands roaming over Natasha’s body, touching, teasing, and exploring with a confidence that left Natasha breathless.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, the air between you thick with the promise of what was to come. Your gaze was steady, your control unshakable, as you looked into Natasha’s eyes. "Tonight, I’m in control." you whispered, "And you’re going to love every second of it." Your gaze bore into Natasha, a smirk playing on your lips as you reveled in the fact that you had one of the most dangerous women in the world at your mercy. Without warning, your hands moved with surprising strength and precision, pushing Natasha back until she was forced to her knees on the plush carpeted floor.

Natasha's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise and defiance crossing her face. "You-" she started, her voice carrying that edge of command she was so accustomed to wielding. But you weren’t having it. You silenced Natasha with a firm hand on her shoulder, leaning down to whisper in her ear, your voice low and laced with authority. "I told you, Natasha. Tonight, you’re mine. You’re going to do exactly what I say."

Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest. This was unfamiliar territory for her, being on her knees, looking up at someone with power over her. Her instincts screamed at her to regain control, to flip the situation and take charge, but there was something intoxicating about the way you commanded her, leaving no room for negotiation. Your hand slid into Natasha’s hair, tugging lightly, forcing the assassin to look up at you. The dominance in your eyes was unmistakable, a sharp contrast to the playfulness that had marked your earlier exchanges. "Now, Natasha," you murmured, your tone soft but firm, "I want you to eat me out."

She tensed, her muscles coiled, ready to flip the script and take back control. But you sensed the shift, and with a quick, forceful tug on Natasha’s hair, you brought the redhead’s attention back to you. "Don’t even think about it." you warned, your voice a growl that sent a shiver down Natasha’s spine. "You’re going to stay right there, on your knees, and do exactly what I tell you. You wanted to see if you could handle me, didn’t you?"

You watched the battle play out in Natasha’s eyes, a knowing smile curving your lips. "Good girl." you purred, your voice soothing, as if coaxing a wild animal to submit. You released your grip on Natasha’s hair, sliding your hands down to cup Natasha’s face. "Now, do as you’re told." Natasha hesitated for a fraction of a second, her pride flaring one last time. But there was something in your touch, in the way you exerted control with such confidence and precision, that made Natasha’s resolve falter. Slowly, she leaned forward, her hands gripping your thighs for support as she obeyed the command she had been given.

You let out a soft sigh of satisfaction as Natasha’s lips pressed against your inner thigh, moving closer to where you wanted her most. The feeling of Natasha at your mercy, doing exactly as you commanded, was intoxicating. Your hand found its way back into Natasha’s hair, guiding her with a gentle but firm touch. But just as Natasha was about to take things further, you suddenly tightened your grip, pulling Natasha back slightly, just enough to remind her who was in control. "Not so fast." you whispered, your voice teasing, as if savoring the moment. "You’ll go at my pace, Natasha."

A frustrated growl escaped Natasha’s lips, but she complied, her body betraying her desire as she leaned in again, slower this time, more deliberate. Your breath hitched as Natasha began, her touch both skilled and tentative, as if testing the limits of her submission. You arched your back slightly, your grip tightening in Natasha’s hair as the pleasure began to build. "That’s it," you murmured, your voice breathy, "just like that.."

Natasha’s pride still burned, but it was smothered by the heat of the moment, by the way you commanded her with such skill, reducing her to a vessel of pleasure. Natasha's instincts told her to take back control, but each time she thought about it, you would tighten your grip or whisper something that sent a thrill through her, reminding her exactly who was in charge. You reveled in the power you held, knowing that you had reduced the Black Widow to this..on her knees, fully compliant, her every move dictated by your will. And as the pleasure mounted, you knew there was no going back from this. You had won, and Natasha knew it too.

Your control never wavered, not even as you felt the crescendo building within you. Natasha’s skilled tongue and lips worked wonders, but it was your dominance, your control over the situation, that pushed you over the edge. As the waves of pleasure crashed over you, your grip on Natasha’s hair tightened one last time, holding her in place, forcing her to continue until you were completely spent. Only then did you release her, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you looked down at her.

Natasha pulled back slightly, her lips swollen, her breathing just as heavy. She looked up at you with a mixture of satisfaction and submission, her pride wounded but not broken. There was a new understanding between you, a bond forged in the heat of your encounter. You smirked, brushing a thumb over Natasha’s lips, which were still glistening with your essence. "I told you," you said, your voice a soft purr, "I’m not like the others. You’re not the only one who knows how to take control."

You stepped back slightly, taking in the sight of Natasha, her usually composed and powerful demeanor now slightly frayed at the edges. But even now, there was a resistance in Natasha, a stubborn refusal to fully submit. You could see it in the way Natasha held herself, in the tight line of her jaw, and in the steely resolve in her eyes. But you were determined to break through that last barrier. You wanted to hear Natasha, to feel the powerful assassin surrender completely, not just physically, but emotionally. You wanted to push Natasha to the edge, to the point where she had no choice but to beg.

You reached down, taking Natasha’s chin in your hand, tilting her head up so your eyes met. "You’re strong, Natasha.." you murmured, your voice low and filled with a dark promise. "But even you have limits. I’m going to find them." Natasha’s breath caught, her eyes narrowing as she stared up at you. She wasn’t about to back down, not even now, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze. You smiled, a slow, predatory grin, before you leaned down, capturing Natasha’s lips in a fierce, possessive kiss.

As you pulled Natasha to her feet, your bodies pressed together, you felt the tension in Natasha’s muscles, the way she held herself taut, as if bracing for what was to come. You wasted no time, your hands moving with practiced ease as you led Natasha toward the large bed in the center of the room. Natasha followed, her movements reluctant but inevitable, like a moth drawn to a flame.

When you reached the bed, you spun Natasha around, pushing her down onto the soft mattress with a force that left no room for protest. Natasha landed on her back, her hair splayed out around her like a fiery halo, her breath coming in shallow gasps. You climbed on top of her, pinning Natasha’s wrists above her head with one hand, while the other trailed down her body, tracing the curve of her waist. "You can fight all you want," you whispered, your voice a dark, seductive murmur in Natasha’s ear, "but we both know how this ends. You’re going to beg for me, whether you want to or not."

Natasha’s eyes flashed with defiance, her lips parting as if to argue, but you silenced her with a searing kiss, one that left no room for resistance. Your hand slipped between Natasha’s thighs, your fingers finding the wetness there, and Natasha gasped, her body betraying her with its response. You smirked against Natasha’s lips, your fingers moving with deliberate slowness, teasing but never quite giving Natasha what she craved. You could feel the tension building in Natasha’s body, the way her hips subtly bucked, trying to get more, trying to take back some control.

But you weren’t going to let her. You wanted Natasha to break, to give in completely. "Comon, Natasha.." you murmured, your lips brushing against Natasha’s ear as you spoke. "Stop fighting it. You know you want this. You know you want me." Natasha groaned, her head tossing back against the pillows, but she still didn’t give you what you wanted.

"I..won't..!" You could feel the struggle within her..the battle between pride and desire, between control and submission. And you were determined to make sure desire won out. You increased the pressure, your fingers moving faster, more insistently, driving Natasha closer and closer to the edge. Natasha’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling beneath your relentless touch. You could feel how close she was, how much Natasha was holding back, and it only spurred you on.

"Don’t hold back." you commanded, your voice sharp and authoritative. "I want to hear you, Natasha. I want to hear you beg." Natasha’s eyes squeezed shut, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as if to keep herself silent. But you weren’t about to let that happen. You slowed your movements, your fingers stilling just enough to keep Natasha on the edge without letting her fall over it. "Say it." you whispered, your voice a tantalizing caress. "Beg me, Natasha."

Natasha’s breath hitched, her body quivering with the need to release, but still, she held on, her pride refusing to let her give in. You admired her strength, but you also knew it was only a matter of time. You leaned down, your lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Natasha’s neck, your teeth grazing lightly. "Beg me." you repeated, your voice a dark command. "Or I’ll stop."

The threat hung in the air, and you could feel Natasha’s resolve cracking, the thin veneer of control slipping away. Your fingers moved again, this time with a precision that had Natasha gasping, her back arching off the bed as pleasure shot through her.

"F-Fuck..Please.." Natasha finally whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop it. Her voice was strained, thick with need and the remnants of her shattered pride. But you weren’t satisfied with just that. You wanted more. You needed to hear Natasha fully surrender.

"Louder." you demanded, your fingers pushing Natasha closer to the brink, her body writhing beneath you. Natasha’s breath came in harsh pants, her mind clouded with desire, her body aching for release. The last of her resistance crumbled as she finally gave in, her voice breaking as she cried out.

"Please!" she begged, her voice hoarse, desperate. "Please, I need it.." The sound of Natasha’s surrender sent a thrill through you, a heady rush of satisfaction as you pushed her over the edge. Natasha’s body tensed, a strangled cry escaping her lips as she climaxed, her entire being consumed by the intense pleasure that wracked through her. You didn’t stop, drawing out Natasha’s orgasm, making sure she felt every last wave of pleasure until Natasha was left trembling and spent, her body limp beneath yours.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair away from Natasha’s flushed face. "There you go " you murmured, your voice soft but filled with the satisfaction of victory. "Was that so hard?"

Natasha lay there, her body still trembling from the intense orgasm that had ripped through her. Her breath was ragged, her mind swirling in a haze of pleasure and confusion. But as the aftershocks began to fade, the familiar desire to regain control, to be the one in charge, crept back into her consciousness. She shifted slightly beneath you, her muscles tensing as she prepared to turn the tables. But you, ever vigilant, sensed the shift immediately. A sly smile tugged at your lips as you watched the fire flicker back into Natasha’s eyes, the determination to reclaim her dominance clear. You weren’t about to let that happen. Not yet.

"Oh, no you don’t." you murmured, your voice laced with authority as you tightened your grip on Natasha’s wrists, pressing them back into the mattress. "We’re not done here. You think you can just switch back to being in control after one orgasm? Think again."

Natasha’s breath hitched, her body still sensitive from the overwhelming pleasure, but she couldn’t help the small flicker of defiance that flashed in her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, to protest, but you silenced her with a firm kiss, one that left no room for argument. Your hand moved with purpose, sliding down Natasha’s body, your fingers finding the slickness between Natasha’s thighs once more. Natasha gasped against your lips, her hips instinctively bucking as a fresh wave of pleasure surged through her. She wasn’t ready, she thought she was, but the intensity of your touch was too much, too soon, and her mind scrambled to catch up with the sensations overwhelming her.

"Y/n-" Natasha tried to protest, her voice cracking as she attempted to regain some semblance of control. But you weren’t having any of it. You pulled back just enough to look into Natasha’s eyes, your gaze sharp and commanding. "You’re going to stay right here, Natasha. You’re not going anywhere until I say so." Natasha’s pride flared up, but your relentless fingers left her no room to argue. You expertly teased her, bringing her close to the edge once more, only to back off slightly, leaving Natasha teetering on the brink. It was maddening, this push and pull, the way you held her at the precipice of release without letting her fall over.

"F-Fuck, Y/n comon.." Natasha finally whispered, the word slipping out unbidden as her need began to overpower her pride. You smirked, your fingers increasing their pace, knowing exactly how to push Natasha to the edge and keep her there. "What’s that, Natasha?" you taunted, your voice dripping with dark amusement. "I didn’t quite hear you."

Natasha’s body trembled, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as she fought to hold on to whatever sliver of control she had left. But you were relentless, your fingers working in tandem with your lips as they traced a hot path down Natasha’s neck, sucking lightly on the sensitive skin. "Please, let me cum.." Her voice more desperate now, her body aching for release.

"That’s more like it." you whispered against Natasha’s lips, your voice thick with satisfaction. Your fingers curled just right, pressing against that spot that made Natasha cry out, her body bucking uncontrollably as the second orgasm ripped through her.

Natasha’s world exploded in a blinding haze of white, hot pleasure, her mind shattering as she was pulled under by the sheer intensity of it. But even as she climaxed, you didn’t stop. You kept going, your fingers never pausing, drawing out Natasha’s orgasm until the assassin was left a trembling, quivering mess beneath you. Natasha’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body completely at your mercy. She thought..hoped that it was over, that you would finally let her rest. But you had other plans.

Before Natasha could even catch her breath, your fingers were moving again, relentless in their pursuit of Natasha’s total surrender. Natasha whimpered, her body oversensitive, her mind struggling to keep up with the onslaught of sensations. "P-Please!" Natasha pleaded, her voice broken, her body trembling uncontrollably as you pushed her closer to the edge once more. "Please, I can’t-"

"Yes, you can.." you whispered, your voice a soft command as you leaned down to kiss Natasha’s neck. "You’re strong, Natasha. Strong enough to take everything I give you."

Natasha’s pride was shattered, her body and mind pushed beyond their limits. She had never been this vulnerable, this out of control, and yet she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. "That’s it, Natasha.." you murmured, your voice soothing as you brought Natasha to the brink one last time. "Let go. Give it to me."

Natasha couldn’t hold back anymore. Her body tensed, a strangled cry escaping her lips as the third orgasm hit her like a tidal wave, crashing over her with a force that left her gasping for air. You held her through it, your fingers never stopping, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until Natasha was left utterly spent, her body limp and trembling. You finally slowed, your touch becoming gentle, soothing, as you leaned down to press soft kisses to Natasha’s flushed skin. Natasha’s eyes fluttered open, her gaze dazed, her body still humming with the aftershocks of the intense pleasure you had wrought.

"You did so well, Natasha.." you whispered, your voice filled with warmth as you brushed a strand of hair away from Natasha’s face. "You took everything I gave you." Natasha’s breath hitched, her chest rising and falling with the effort of trying to catch her breath. She felt utterly exposed, completely vulnerable, but there was also a strange sense of peace, a peace that came with knowing she had given everything, that she had let go completely.

You smiled down at her, a soft, satisfied smile, before leaning in to capture Natasha’s lips in a gentle, lingering kiss. It wasn’t about dominance or control anymore..it was about the connection you had forged in those intense moments, a connection that neither of you could deny. When you finally pulled back, you brushed your thumb over Natasha’s cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped during the intensity of your encounter. Natasha looked up at you, her eyes still wide with the remnants of her vulnerability, but there was also a newfound respect and trust in her gaze.

You slid down beside Natasha, pulling her close, letting the silence of the room envelop you both. For now, there was no need for words. You had said everything that needed to be said through your bodies, through the way you had challenged and ultimately surrendered to each other.

[moviecritc]

after midnight ⋆ lestappen

pairing: lestappen x driver!reader

summary: charles doesn't want to accept that he has feelings for both of max and you

word count: 1.8K

warnings: making out, grope? (idk how to saying in english, but in spanish would be meter mano o manosear)

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

part 1 | part 2

Max and Y/N had once again achieved a 1-2, it was the third consecutive race they had achieved this result.

Everyone was cheering their names, and then there was Charles. He had managed to finish third because George DNF'd on the last lap and he took his place in the race.

Charles had always felt a mixture of envy and admiration for the Red Bull duo.

Envy for their driving style and tactics to win all the races and admiration for their personalities. Max stood out simply for being himself, calculating and fierce both on and off the track, his blue eyes sent shivers down Charles' spine. Even more so when he saw him without the fireproofs.

Y/N was slighty warmer than him, but still he feared her, with a somewhat rebellious driving style, Y/N had won the championship last year and was fighting for her second. She was much more open than Max and she was the one who humanized the team, separating her person from her race number very well. Most of the time she was Y/N L/N, when she got into the car she was simply the 1. It was impossible not to fall in love with her, from the moment she joined the competition she had become the girl of the paddock, the representative of all women in motorsport, and she wore it with pride. She has collaborated to form the F1 Academy, has financed dozens of girls to make a place for themselves in the sport and now she was forming her own F1 Academy team with Rare Beauty as a collaborator. She was an ambitious, determined, and also beautiful woman, Charles had found it impossible to resist her.

The most surprising thing was how well Max and Y/N got along off the track, they lived relatively close in Monaco and there had been several times when they had been seen having dinner together. Most of the people said they only had common friends, a few said there was something more than friendship.

The chemistry was undeniable, Y/N brought out the best side of Max in interviews and Max knew how to stop Y/N when she talked too much.

Charles knew the podium was going to be uncomfortable, Max and Y/N celebrating their victories and pouring champagne on each other, and Charles just being there, knowing that neither of them cared at all about his P3.

Surprisingly, Y/N approached him and patted him on the shoulder as she congratulated him, but immediately Max once again drew all of Y/N's attention by soaking her with champagne. Charles drank from his bottle as he watched Max half-kneeling and Y/N pouring champagne from her bottle into his mouth.

That scene caused Charles a strange sensation. Seeing Max like that, slightly kneeling with his hair and suit dampened by a mixture of alcohol and sweat. Y/N with the glow of victory in her eyes and her suit adapting to the curves of her body.

There was something so sexual about that scene that it overwhelmed Charles. His attraction to Y/N he had assimilated, with just a couple of words he knew she would be the woman of his dreams. The problem was that when he was with Max that feeling doubled. The idea of ​​not being a spectator anymore and being with both of them made his heart race.

After finishing all the interviews, Y/N approached Charles. "Hey, we're going to get a drink, wanna come?"

Charles blinked. "Me?"

He pointed to himself, surprised by the invitation and interaction. In all those years he had hardly ever spoken to Y/N, except for business matters, which made her even more ethereal.

Y/N laughed in a natural way and brushed her hair away from her face. "Sure. Max and I usually have a drink with whoever comes third, and today it was you." By the way she said it, it seemed like it was already a routine. "So? Do you feel like it?"

"Uh, yes, yes. I'd love to," he nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly.

"Great!" she said with a smile. Charles was impressed by her constant naturalness. "We'll get dressed up and then see you at the club."

Y/N gave him a squeeze on the shoulder and left the paddock with Max, who had been present throughout the conversation from a prudent distance.

At the after-party - for lack of a better term - there were many people from Red Bull, too many, and Charles felt like an intruder. He locked eyes with Y/N, who gestured to him as soon as she saw him. She was at a table almost in the center of the place with Max, some friends, and Lando Norris. That guy was always everywhere.

"Charles! Come here, come on. What do you want to drink?" exclaimed Y/N.

Charles approached, somewhat impressed by all of this. Y/N made room for him next to her and instead of fist-bumping, she gave him two kisses. Max, on the other hand, stretched his arm over Y/N to greet him and then left his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to his chest. Y/N didn't mind.

"P3, huh? That was very good," commented Max.

Y/N groaned immediately. "We always talk about races, let's talk about something interesting."

"Isn't Formula interesting?" Max spoke, tilting his head.

"Not with you," said Y/N.

They all laughed and Max made a face.

Y/N once again focused all her attention on Charles, he noticed how Y/N's heel was circling around his calf.

"What about your love life, Charlie?" she asked, without hesitation.

The nickname caught Charles off guard, and even more so the question. If she was asking, it was because she cared.

Max clicked his tongue, telling him he didn't have to answer.

How was Charles going to explain that every time he had felt some sexual desire it had been because of her and her teammate? "Boring," he ended up saying, with a slight frown.

"Oh, come on!" she exclaimed, almost disappointed. "How can it be boring? You're too handsome for your love life to be boring."

Charles lowered his gaze with a silly smile, noticing that Max hadn't stopped looking at him, as if he too were expectant of the answer.

"Don't listen to her, Charles. She rambles when she's drunk," commented Max, rolling his eyes a bit.

"And you get a thousand times more boring when you drink," Y/N gave Max a pat on the thigh, too close to the crotch for some to think.

Y/N drank from Max's gin and tonic and relaxed against his chest because no one was starting a conversation. She quickly got bored and looked at Max with a pout. "Will you dance with me?"

"No," he replied immediately.

"You asshole," Y/N wasted no time. "Charles?"

Charles looked up from his drink. "Huh?"

"Let's dance," she didn't even ask, she got up and pulled Charles' arm while flipping Max off before heading to the dance floor.

Charles knew she had only pulled him to dance to mess with Max, but that moment was like living a fever dream. The music hardly had any lyrics, it was pure beats on instruments. Y/N pressed her body against his in time with the music, so much so that sometimes it seemed like she was rubbing against him.

"You have beautiful eyes, Charlie," Y/N said, getting close to his ear so much that he could almost hear her saliva. She put an arm over his shoulder and kept dancing.

"Thank you," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

Their faces were getting closer and closer, while both could feel Max's gaze on them. When their noses brushed, it was Y/N who stopped, looking at him for a few seconds. She removed her arm from Charles's shoulder and bit her lip, as if she were nervous.

"Hold on, I have to talk to Max," she declared, before leaving the dance floor, leaving Charles stranded and confused.

He returned to the table, not knowing what had happened, but Max and YN were no longer sitting there. Lando pointed in the direction they had gone. He found them leaning against the door of what seemed to be a private room in the club; for a moment, he thought they were arguing because of the tone of their voices, but as he listened to the conversation, he began to feel chills.

"You like him too," Y/N insisted. "Deny it. Deny that it doesn't turn you on when you see him in the fireproofs."

"Damn, yes. But it doesn't matter, I've already told you he won't want to," Max grumbled, with a distressed expression.

"You don't know that," Y/N clenched her jaw.

"He's very uptight, and insecure."

Those two words echoed in Charles's head. Insecure… he knew he was, but he hadn't realized until now that other people might notice it.

"Max, I really want him," Y/N complained. "Just imagining him watching us fuck already turns me on, imagine with us in bed." She pressed herself against Max's chest, with a grimace.

Charles felt an instant satisfaction knowing that they also fantasized about him, at least he wasn't the only weird one. He thought about the possibilities of joining the conversation, or just letting them know he was there.

"Are you Charles Leclerc? Can we take a photo?"

Before Charles could react, Y/N and Max peeked their faces around the door, her with a little smile and him slightly nervous. It was an awkward moment while the fan took the photo, but when he left, both Max and Y/N were looking at him with crossed arms and feline eyes.

"How long have you been there?" Max questioned, raising his eyebrows. He thought his friendship with Charles was going to become quite awkward after that.

Charles didn't waste time. "I… I want to,"

Max and Y/N looked at each other, with a devilish smile.

"Really?" confirmed Max.

"Yes,"

Max didn't need anything else to pull him into the room and close the door behind them. Surprisingly, Charles and he were the first to kiss while Y/N watched them. Then Y/N attacked Charles's lips at the same time as Max left marks on his girlfriend's neck. Being in the middle of the two was too much for her; having so many hands on her made her messy. Eager for more, she pulled Charles's hand towards her inner thigh. He stopped at that exact moment.

A feeling of guilt, almost shame, overwhelmed him. The other two noticed it and stopped as well. "Is something wrong?" Y/N placed her hand on Charles's thigh, but that only made him stand up as soon as he felt the contact.

"I can't…" Charles didn't finish the sentence. "I better go."

[kiesbrainjuice]

hey hey hey 💆🏻‍♀️ i saw you wrote something about “them reacting to you at your first match as a their gf”(hope it’s understandable 😭😭) with fukurodani so can i request the same but with inarizaki ? particularly with the twins

thank you have a good day ! ♡

—THEM REACTING TO YOU AT YOUR FIRST MATCH AS HIS GIRLFRIEND ! inarizaki

pr : atsumu x fem!reader; osamu x fem!reader; suna x fem!reader; kita x fem!reader

syn : them reacting to you playing volleyball for the first time since you got together

wc : 3.8k

tw : none, just some jealousy and tease ykkk, pure fluff

a/n : sure! i wanted to do it for a long time! anyway i did the twins in particularity :) enjoy reading!

As they entered the bustling gymnasium, the air thick with excitement and the chatter of spectators, he felt a surge of pride. He might not be on the court today, but he was here for something equally important - to support the person who had become such a significant part of his life.

The Inarizaki team made their way to their seats, ... positioning himself for the best view of the court. As they settled in, the atmosphere electric with anticipation, he allowed himself a moment of reflection. He thought about the countless hours of practice you'd put in, the late-night strategy discussions you'd shared, the unwavering determination he'd seen in your eyes. A warmth spread through his chest, a feeling he was still getting used to but cherished nonetheless.

The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, introducing the teams. Kita leaned forward slightly, his eyes fixed on the court entrance. Any moment now, you would step out, ready to show the world what he already knew - that you were a force to be reckoned with, both on and off the court.

ATSUMU MIYA

The gymnasium buzzed with anticipation, its air thick with the scent of excitement and nervous energy. Amidst the sea of spectators, one figure stood out - Atsumu Miya, the talented setter from Inarizaki High. He couldn't contain his enthusiasm, his body practically vibrating with excitement as he perched on the edge of his seat. His honey-brown eyes, usually sharp and calculating on the court, were now wide with childlike wonder.

"There she is! That's her!" Atsumu exclaimed, his voice cracking slightly with emotion. His arm shot out, finger pointing eagerly as you stepped onto the polished wooden court. "Did you see that serve warm-up? She's gonna crush 'em!" 

Atsumu's teammates, seated in a row beside him, exchanged knowing glances and suppressed smiles. They had endured weeks of Atsumu's endless chatter about you, his voice always taking on a dreamy quality when he spoke your name. Now, finally witnessing the object of their setter's affections in person, they couldn't help but be curious.

Osamu, Atsumu's twin brother, leaned back in his seat with a smirk playing on his lips. He ran a hand through his dyed gray hair, a stark contrast to Atsumu's blonde locks. "You've been yammering about her nonstop, 'Tsumu," he drawled. "Time to see if she's as good as ya say."

Atsumu whirled to face his twin, indignation flashing in his eyes. "She ain't just good, you scrub! She's freaking amazing!" he declared, puffing out his chest like a proud peacock. "Watch 'n learn, 'Samu!"

As the shrill whistle pierced the air, signaling the start of the match, all eyes turned to the court. You immediately took center stage, your presence commanding attention. Your serves were nothing short of spectacular - powerful and precise, they cut through the air like missiles, leaving your opponents scrambling. When you spiked, it was with a ferocity that belied your frame, the ball slamming onto the opposite court with resounding force. On defense, you were a wall, your receives steady and your blocks impenetrable.

Atsumu's voice rose above the cacophony of the crowd, his cheers the loudest and most enthusiastic. "That's my girl! Show ‘em what you're made of, [Y/N]!" he shouted, his face flushed with pride and exertion from his constant yelling.

As the match progressed, however, the Inarizaki team couldn't resist the opportunity for some playful banter. Suna Rintarou, known for his deadpan humor, leaned over with a mischievous glint in his usually sleepy eyes. "Damn, Atsumu," he commented, nudging the setter with his elbow, "She's a real catch!"

Atsumu's reaction was instantaneous. His cheeks flamed red, clashing adorably with his blonde hair. He tried to sound nonchalant but failed miserably, his voice coming out squeaky. "Course she is! She's perfect... Got the best setter in Japan teaching her, after all!"

Kita Shinsuke, the team's stoic captain, surprised everyone with a chuckle. His usually stern face softened with amusement as he added, "Careful, Atsumu, he might steal her away from you."

The effect on Atsumu was electric. His eyes narrowed dangerously, a pout forming on his lips as he clutched the armrests of his seat. "Hey! Don't even think about it!" he declared vehemently. "She's mine, you hear?"

Despite the constant teasing from his teammates, Atsumu's focus remained unwaveringly on you. His eyes tracked your every movement on the court, drinking in the sight of you in your element. You were a force of nature - fierce yet graceful, your movements fluid and purposeful. There was no doubt in anyone's mind about your skill and dedication.

"I taught her that move!" Atsumu often retorted when you executed a particularly impressive play, his chest swelling with pride and admiration. "Well, mostly. She's a natural, you know?"

As the match drew to its climactic close, tension mounted in the gymnasium. The scores were tight, but your team had the slight edge. In a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, you leapt high into the air, your arm drawn back like a loaded spring. Time seemed to slow as you connected with the ball, sending it hurtling across the net with a resounding crack. The ball slammed onto the opposite court, untouched by the opposing team's defenders.

The gymnasium erupted into a deafening roar as the final whistle blew, signaling your team's victory. But even amidst the chaos, Atsumu's voice rang out clear and jubilant. He jumped up from his seat, nearly toppling over in his excitement, his fist pumping the air triumphantly. "You did it! That's my girl! Told ya she was the best!"

As the crowd began to disperse, still buzzing with excitement from the match, you made your way over to where Atsumu and his teammates were seated. Your face was flushed from exertion, wisps of hair escaping from your ponytail, but your eyes shone with happiness and pride.

The moment Atsumu saw you approaching, he bounded down the bleachers, taking the steps two at a time in his haste to reach you. Without hesitation, he swept you up into a tight embrace, his strong arms lifting you clean off your feet. You felt the rumble of his laughter against your chest as he spun you around, uncaring of the amused looks from passersby.

"Ya were amazing, [Y/N]!" Atsumu exclaimed, his voice thick with emotion. "Knew you had it in ya! Bet those scrubs didn't know what hit them!"

You laughed, the sound muffled against his shoulder as you wrapped your arms around his neck. "Thanks, Atsumu," you replied, your heart swelling with affection. "Means a lot that you were here."

As Atsumu set you back on your feet, his teammates approached, each offering their congratulations. Suna stepped forward first, a genuine smile replacing his usual deadpan expression as he offered you a high five. "Great game, [Y/N]," he said, impressed. "You're as impressive as Atsumu said. Maybe even more so."

You returned the high five with a warm smile. "Thanks, Suna. That means a lot coming from you guys."

Osamu grinned, throwing a muscular arm around his twin's shoulder. His eyes twinkled with mischief as he said, "Ya know, [Your Name], with skills like that, we might have to recruit ya."

Atsumu's reaction was immediate and predictable. "Back off, ‘samu!" he protested loudly, pulling you closer to his side possessively. His cheeks puffed out in annoyance, reminiscent of a child protecting his favorite toy. "She's mine, and she's staying right where she is! Go find your own amazing girlfriend if you can!"

Aran Ojiro, the team's powerful wing spiker, let out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Looks like Atsumu's getting protective," he observed, his kind eyes crinkling at the corners. "Can't blame him, though. You're quite the player, [Y/N]."

You felt a blush creeping up your neck at all the attention and praise. Squeezing Atsumu's hand reassuringly, you chuckled. "Don't worry, 'Tsumu, I'm not going' anywhere," you assured him, before adding with a playful wink, "But maybe I'll join a practice or two. Could be fun to spike your sets for a change."

Atsumu's face lit up like a Christmas tree, his grin threatening to split his face in two. His eyes, usually sharp and focused, now shone with unbridled affection and pride. "You're the best, [Y/N]," he declared, pressing a quick kiss to your temple. "Let's go celebrate! I'm buying! Gonna treat my star player right!"

As you walked off the court hand in hand with Atsumu, surrounded by his boisterous teammates, you felt a profound sense of belonging. The victory was sweet, but the knowledge that you had such unwavering support - especially from Atsumu - was even sweeter. 

OSAMU MIYA

The Sendai City Gymnasium hummed with anticipation, its vast interior a cacophony of excited chatter. Amidst the sea of spectators, Miya Osamu sat with uncharacteristic restlessness, his usually calm demeanor betrayed by the slight tapping of his foot. His grey eyes, typically laid-back, now held an intensity that matched his twin's on the volleyball court.

"There she is," Osamu said quietly, a soft smile playing on his lips as you stepped onto the gleaming court, your team's colors vivid against your skin.

Beside him, his twin brother Atsumu leaned forward, honey-brown eyes wide with curiosity. "So that's her, huh? The girl who's got my brother all soft and mushy?"

Osamu's elbow found Atsumu's ribs with practiced ease. "Shut it, ya scrub," he muttered, but there was no real heat in his words. His eyes remained fixed on you, drinking in your pre-game ritual.

Suna, seated on Osamu's other side, smirked. "Never thought I'd see the day Osamu got all worked up over something other than food."

"I'm not worked up," Osamu protested, his calm voice at odds with the slight blush creeping up his neck. "I'm just... supportive."

Atsumu snorted. "Yeah, real supportive. That's why you've been fussing with your hair for the past ten minutes, right?"

Osamu's hand, which had indeed been absently running through his grey locks, dropped to his lap. "I don't fuss," he grumbled.

As the teams gathered for their pre-game huddles, Atsumu's curiosity got the better of him. "So, what's she like on the court? Any good?"

For the first time since arriving, Osamu's eyes left you, turning to his brother with a hint of pride. "She's amazing," he said simply. "Just watch."

The shrill whistle cut through the air, signaling the start of the match. From the very first serve - yours, as it happened - it was clear that Osamu's assessment wasn't just lovestruck bias. Your serve rocketed across the net, leaving the opposing team scrambling.

"Woah," Atsumu breathed, genuinely impressed. "That was-"

"I know," Osamu interrupted, unable to keep the smugness from his voice.

As the match progressed, Osamu's teammates couldn't help but notice the changes in him. The usually stoic middle blocker was on the edge of his seat, grey eyes tracking your every move. When you scored a particularly impressive point, a rare, unguarded grin split his face.

"Look at that," Suna drawled, nudging Atsumu. "I think we've found something Osamu loves more than fatty tuna."

Atsumu snickered. "Nah, that's impossible. But maybe it's a close second."

Osamu ignored them, too focused on the match to rise to their bait. But when you executed a perfect cut shot, threading the ball between two blockers, he couldn't contain himself. "That's my girl!" he shouted, startling those around him with his uncharacteristic volume.

Atsumu's eyebrows shot up. "Wow, 'Samu. I didn't know ya could yell like that."

"Learned from the best," Osamu retorted dryly, earning a laugh from his teammates.

As the match drew to its climactic close, even Atsumu and Suna found themselves caught up in the excitement. The scores were tight, but your team had the edge. In a heart-stopping moment, you leapt high, arm drawn back. The gymnasium seemed to hold its breath as you connected with the ball, sending it hurtling past the opponents' defenses.

The final whistle blew, signaling your team's victory. The crowd erupted, but no one cheered louder than Osamu. He was on his feet in an instant, pumping his fist in the air. "That's it! Ya did it!"

Atsumu stared at his twin in amused disbelief. "Who are you and what have ya done with my brother?"

As the crowd began to disperse, you made your way over to where Osamu and his teammates were seated. Osamu vaulted over the railing, ignoring Kita's reproachful look, and met you halfway. Without hesitation, he swept you up into a tight embrace, spinning you around.

"You were incredible," he murmured, setting you down but keeping his arms around you.

You laughed, flushed with victory and affection. "Thanks for coming, 'Samu. Means a lot."

"Wouldn't have missed it for anything'," he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Oi, oi," Atsumu called, approaching with the rest of the team. "Don't I get to meet the girl who's turned my brother into a cheerin' softie?"

Osamu rolled his eyes but kept an arm around your waist as he turned to face his team. "Guys, this is [Y/N]. [Y/N], these are the scrubs I put up with."

As introductions were made, Atsumu couldn't resist teasing his twin. "Ya know, [Y/N], if you ever get tired of this guy's cooking, I make a mean-"

"Don't even think about it," Osamu cut in, pulling you closer. "My cooking skills are part of the package deal."

You laughed, leaning into Osamu's side. "Don't worry, 'Samu. You had me at onigiri."

Suna smirked. "Now that's true love."

As the group headed out to celebrate your victory, you found yourself in the middle of the twins' familiar bickering, Osamu's arm a comforting weight around your shoulders.

RINTARO SUNA

The Sendai City Gymnasium buzzed with anticipation, its vast interior filled with excited chatter. Amidst the sea of spectators, Suna Rintarou sat with his usual languid posture, but his typically half-lidded eyes were wide open and alert, fixed intently on the court entrance.

As you stepped onto the gleaming court, your team's colors bold against your skin, a small, genuine smile tugged at Suna's lips - a rare sight that didn't go unnoticed by his teammates.

"Woah, is Suna actually showing emotion?" Atsumu teased, nudging the middle blocker with his elbow.

Suna's expression immediately smoothed back into his characteristic deadpan. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he drawled, though his eyes never left you.

Osamu leaned forward, intrigued. "So that's her, huh? The one who's got our Suna staying awake during matches he's not playing in?"

"I always stay awake," Suna retorted, finally tearing his gaze away to give Osamu an unimpressed look.

"Yeah, but ya usually look like yer wishing you were asleep," Atsumu chimed in. "Now ya actually look... interested."

Suna shrugged, a hint of pride seeping into his voice despite his best efforts. "She's worth staying awake for."

As the teams gathered for their pre-game huddles, Atsumu's curiosity got the better of him. "So, what's she like on the court? Any good?"

For a moment, Suna's usual bored expression gave way to a smirk. "Just watch," he said simply, settling back in his seat.

The shrill whistle cut through the air, signaling the start of the match. From your very first move, it was clear that Suna's confidence in your abilities wasn't misplaced. Your plays were sharp, your reflexes quick, and your game sense impressive.

"Damn," Osamu muttered after you pulled off a particularly clever feint. "She's good."

"Of course she is," Suna replied, unable to keep a note of smugness from his voice. "We practice together sometimes."

Atsumu's eyes widened. "You mean ya actually voluntarily do extra practice? Who are you and what have ya done with the real Suna?"

Suna merely shrugged, but the soft look in his eyes as he watched you play spoke volumes.

As the match progressed, Suna's teammates couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in his demeanor. While he wasn't as openly expressive as Atsumu might be, the tension in his shoulders when you were up to serve, the way he leaned forward during crucial points, and the ghost of a smile when you scored - it all painted a picture of a Suna they rarely saw.

When you executed a perfect block that sent the ball spinning back to the opponent's court, Suna actually stood up, a rare grin spreading across his face. "Nice kill," he said, loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

Kita raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I've ever heard Suna cheer before."

"It's not cheering," Suna protested weakly, sinking back into his seat. "It's... appreciating good volleyball."

"Sure, sure," Atsumu snickered. "And I'm sure it has nothing to do with who's playing that good volleyball, right?"

As the match drew to its climactic close, even Suna couldn't maintain his usual nonchalance. The scores were tight, but your team had the edge. In a heart-stopping moment, you leapt high for a spike, your form perfect. The gymnasium seemed to hold its breath as you connected with the ball, sending it hurtling past the opponents' defenses.

The final whistle blew, signaling your team's victory. While the crowd erupted in cheers, Suna's reaction was more subdued but no less meaningful. He was on his feet, a genuine smile on his face, clapping with more enthusiasm than his teammates had ever seen from him.

"Way to go, [Y/N]," he said softly, though his eyes shone with pride.

As the crowd began to disperse, you made your way over to where Suna and his teammates were seated. Suna met you halfway, his usual languid movements quickened by excitement he couldn't quite hide.

"Nice game," he said, pulling you into a hug that surprised his watching teammates. "You were amazing out there."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him. "Thanks for coming, Rin. Means a lot."

"Wouldn't have missed it," he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before pulling back, aware of his teammates' eyes on you both.

"So this is the famous [Y/N]," Atsumu said, approaching with a grin. "The girl who's got our Suna actually showing interest in something besides blocking and napping."

Suna rolled his eyes, but kept an arm around your waist. "Guys, this is [Y/N]. [Y/N], these are the idiots I'm forced to play with."

As introductions were made, the twins couldn't resist teasing Suna.

"Ya know, [Y/N]," Osamu started, a mischievous glint in his eye, "if ya ever want to see what it's like to date someone with actual energy-"

"I have plenty of energy for what matters," Suna cut in smoothly, pulling you closer. 

You chuckled, leaning into Suna's side. "Don't worry, guys. I like my volleyball players tall, skilled, and delightfully snarky."

Atsumu clutched his chest in mock hurt. "Ouch, what about us?"

"I said skilled, didn't I?" you retorted with a grin, causing Suna to snort in amusement.

As the group headed out to celebrate your victory, you found yourself in the middle of the team's friendly banter, Suna's arm a comforting weight around your shoulders. 

SHINSUKE KITA

The Sendai City Gymnasium hummed with anticipation, its vast interior a sea of excited spectators. Among them sat the Inarizaki team, with Kita Shinsuke at the center, his posture perfect and his expression serene. Yet, those who knew him well could detect a subtle tension in his shoulders, a barely perceptible eagerness in his usually calm eyes.

As you stepped onto the gleaming court, your team's colors vibrant against your skin, the corners of Kita's mouth turned up in a small, but unmistakably warm smile.

Aran, seated beside Kita, noticed the change immediately. "I don't think I've ever seen you smile before a match you're not playing in, Kita," he remarked quietly.

Kita's expression remained soft as he replied, "There's a first time for everything, Aran."

Atsumu, never one for subtlety, leaned forward with a grin. "So that's her, Kita-san? The one who's got our captain all starry-eyed?"

"I wouldn't say starry-eyed," Kita responded evenly, though his gaze never left you. "But yes, that's [Y/N]."

Osamu, more perceptive than his twin, noted, "Ya look proud, Kita-san."

Kita nodded, a hint of warmth coloring his voice. "I am. [Y/N] works hard and plays with integrity. There's a lot to be proud of."

As the teams gathered for their pre-game huddles, Suna couldn't resist asking, "So, what's she like on the court, Kita-san? As disciplined as you?"

For a moment, a flash of affectionate amusement crossed Kita's face. "She has her own style," he said simply. "Watch, and you'll see."

The shrill whistle signaled the start of the match. From your very first move, it was clear that Kita's pride wasn't misplaced. Your plays were precise, your movements efficient, and your game sense impressive.

"Wow," Atsumu muttered after you executed a particularly well-timed set. "She's really good."

"Of course," Kita replied, his tone matter-of-fact but tinged with warmth. "She practices diligently every day."

Aran chuckled. "Sounds like someone else we know."

As the match progressed, Kita's teammates couldn't help but notice the subtle changes in their usually stoic captain. While he remained composed, there was an intensity in his gaze as he watched you play, a slight lean forward during crucial points, and a barely audible intake of breath when you were up to serve.

When you pulled off a perfect receive that turned the tide of a rally, Kita actually stood up, applauding softly but earnestly. "Excellent form," he said, loud enough for his teammates to hear.

Atsumu's eyes widened in surprise. "Woah, Kita-san actually cheered!"

"It's not cheering," Kita corrected calmly, settling back into his seat. "It's acknowledging good volleyball."

"Right," Osamu smirked. "And I'm sure it has nothing to do with who's playing that good volleyball."

Kita's response was a serene smile that somehow managed to silence even the rambunctious twins.

As the match reached its climax, even Kita couldn't maintain his usual calm demeanor entirely. The scores were tight, but your team had the edge. In a critical moment, you positioned yourself perfectly for a block, your timing impeccable. The gymnasium held its breath as you jumped, your hands forming a solid wall that sent the ball spinning back to the opponent's court.

The final whistle blew, signaling your team's victory. While the crowd erupted in cheers, Kita's reaction was more subdued but no less meaningful. He stood, applauding with genuine enthusiasm, a proud smile gracing his features.

"Well done, [Y/N]," he said softly, his eyes shining with admiration.

As the crowd began to disperse, you made your way over to where Kita and his teammates were seated. Kita met you halfway, his usual measured stride quickened by an eagerness he couldn't quite conceal.

"Congratulations," he said warmly, reaching out to take your hand. "You played beautifully."

You beamed at him, squeezing his hand. "Thanks for coming, Shin. It means a lot."

"I wouldn't have missed it," he replied, his thumb brushing over your knuckles affectionately.

"So this is the famous [Y/N]," Aran said, approaching with a friendly smile. "The one who's managed to make our Kita break his composure."

Kita's expression remained serene, but a faint blush colored his cheeks. "Everyone, this is [Y/N]. [Y/N], these are my teammates."

As introductions were made, the twins couldn't resist some gentle teasing.

"Ya know, [Y/N]," Atsumu started with a mischievous grin, "if ya ever want tips on how to get Kita-san to loosen up a bit-"

"I assure you, she doesn't need any tips," Kita interjected smoothly, his calm tone belied by the protective way he stepped closer to you.

You chuckled, leaning slightly into Kita's side. "Don't worry, guys. I appreciate Shin just as he is - reliable, hardworking, and wonderfully supportive."

Osamu nodded approvingly. "You've got good taste, [Y/N]-san."

As the group headed out to celebrate your victory, you found yourself walking beside Kita, his steady presence a comforting constant amidst the team's lively chatter. 

Ⓡ kiesbrainjuice all rights reserved. please to not plagiarize, repost, or translate !

tag : @haechansbbg

[latanyalove]

When You're Injured

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

This may have a part 2 so if you want a continuous of this, please support me by liking, reblogging and commenting this!

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ 

Trafalgar D Water Law was the captain of the Heart Pirates and a former member of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. Law was a highly intelligent and cunning pirate, often outsmarting his opponents and using his wit to his advantage in a fight. He was also known to be a master strategist, capable of coming up with elaborate plans to defeat his enemies.

So why were you, one of his crew members, trying to hide the fact that you were dead sick?

The crew had taken a toll after being ambushed by a carefully calculated group of pirates. Even though they won the battle, people were still heavily injured and needed to be taken care of. The crew had been pushed to their limits and the captain was already doing all he could to nurse most of them back to health.

Your injury didn't seem severe compared to some of the other members of the crew who had sustained more serious wounds, including broken bones and deep lacerations.

In comparison, your injury was just a graze, and so you felt it would be better to hide it from the captain and not add to his already heavy workload.

Law looked around the deck, his gaze taking in each crew member. "Is everyone ready?" he asked, his voice steady but concerned.

The crew nodded in agreement, some with a slight grimace of pain as they shifted to get comfortable. "Yes, Captain," they replied in unison. You also said "Yes, Captain," trying to make your voice sound as steady as possible while your arm throbbed painfully in your grip.

Law looked around the deck one more time before speaking. "We're going to make camp on the island that we've anchored by," he said. "Get some rest, and I'll make a plan in the morning."

With a collective sigh of relief, the crew members cheered in appreciation of not having to move for more. Everyone was exhausted and the thought of having to move further was daunting. They welcomed the chance to rest and regain their strength, even if it was just for a few hours.

After the plan was laid out, the crew split up into two groups. One group would stay behind and set up camp while the other group was able to explore the island. The group that stayed behind worked quickly and efficiently to get the camp set up. Meanwhile, the other group was able to explore the island and enjoy its natural beauty.

You and Ikkaku were part of the group exploring the island, and were both excited to be able to take in the sights and sounds of the environment. You were also happy to have an opportunity to take your mind off of your injury and get away from the hustle and bustle of the submarine. You and Ikkaku walked around the island, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the environment.

Ikkaku looked over at you with a concerned expression. "Are you sure you weren't injured?" she asked as she walked. You shook your head and smiled.

"No, I'm fine," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

"That's good," she said. "We don't need any more injuries on top of what we already have."

You nodded in agreement, feeling a rush of relief that your injury had gone unnoticed.

Both of you came across a patch of bright flowers, and you were immediately fascinated. You were able to identify half of them with just a glance, but for the ones you didn't know, you quickly plucked them and placed them in your bag.

Ikkaku smiled as you carefully collected the flowers, noting your interest in the environment around you. You smiled back, feeling a sense of satisfaction that you were able to recognize and appreciate the beauty of the island.

Seeing how enthralled you were with the flowers, Ikkaku decided to mess with you.

Ikkaku glanced over at you with a mischievous grin. "So, what do you think of the Captain?" she asked. You blushed, feeling your cheeks heat up. "He's... he's a good leader," you said, trying to avoid the conversation and focus on the flowers.

Ikkaku chuckled. "Come on, admit it," she said. "You have a crush on him!" You shook your head, feeling a little embarrassed.

"No, I don't," you said, but you couldn't stop the smile that spread across your face.

Ikkaku laughed. "It's okay, I won't tell anyone," she said. You laughed and rolled your eyes, feeling relieved that the conversation had shifted to something a bit less serious.

Ikkaku was right though. Even though you were the most recent to join the Heart Pirates, you were quick to befriend Law and quickly developed a strong bond with him.

You didn't care if it was because of your devil fruit powers or not; you were quickly enamored with the Heart Pirates and grateful for the opportunity to join them.

You had eaten the Yume Yume no Mi (Dream-Dream Fruit), which gave you the ability to shoot a cosmic ray to make people fall asleep for an desired amount of time or fall sleep so deep that they can die. You had seen first-hand how powerful your ability was, and you had to be extra careful to not let your powers get out of control.

Law was intrigued by your devil fruit power and was eager to learn more about it. After some research, he discovered that you could also use your powers to control people's emotions, but with a catch - a flower was needed in order to do so.

For example, with a lavender flower, you can make someone feel calm and relaxed. The specific emotion that the flower induces depends on the type of flower used. A rose can make someone feel more passionate or in love, while a chrysanthemum can make someone feel more joy or happiness.

With the discovery of your devil fruit's power, you and Law became even closer. Whenever Law would get overwhelmed by the amount of paperwork, you would use your power to calm him down with a lavender flower. Law was amazed at how effective your power was, and how it could be used to help him manage his stress.

Law knew exactly when to give you a subtle glance when he was arguing with someone, like telepathy, "Use it on me now before I cut this person in two," would transfer to your mind and you would quickly wave a flower at him to help him relax before he lost his temper.

He was grateful for your devil fruit powers and the calming effect it had on him in those intense moments, allowing him to get back to a more level-headed state.

But these recent days, you could feel your heart beat faster when he would look at you or when he would lean towards you to whisper what flower to use against the enemy. You were surprised by these feelings and although you tried to keep them under control, the more you were around Law, the more your heart seemed to flutter with anticipation.

You knew that you were developing feelings for him, but you were unsure of how to act on them. You were scared of the consequences of your actions and you were hesitant to express your emotions.

You knew that your devil fruit power could help Law, but you also knew that it could not help you express how you truly felt.

You carefully examined the petals of the flower, trying to distract yourself from the thoughts that had been running through your head. You knew that your feelings for Law were strong, but you were not sure if he felt the same way. You were scared to make a move and risk ruining the friendship that you had built over the years.

With a sigh, you looked up from the flower and replied, "Me and Law are just... friends."

Ikkaku replied, "Are you sure about that? Because the way he looks at you says something else. It's like he can't keep his eyes off you. I think he may have feelings for you too."

You were shocked by Ikkaku's words and couldn't believe what she was suggesting. You had never considered the possibility that Law could have feelings for you, and you were left speechless.

You felt your cheeks heat up and you quickly looked away, not wanting to face the truth. You felt a mixture of emotions, ranging from joy to fear, and you were unsure of how to proceed.

"Let's separate to get more materials," you said, trying to come up with an excuse to be alone and process your thoughts.

You knew that the material was important, but you also wanted to take this opportunity to think about what Ikkaku said and to figure out how you could proceed in this situation.

She nodded and went off to the left, while you headed to the right. You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves and clear your head.

As you walked, you thought about what Ikkaku had said and your feelings for Law. You were unsure of what to do, but you knew that whatever you did, it would have to be carefully considered.

Suddenly, you felt a sharp pain from your injured arm that brought you back to reality. The pain was sharp and pulsing, radiating from your arm and throughout your body. You winced and gritted your teeth, trying to bear the pain.

You felt a tightness in your chest and your breathing became shallow as you tried to cope with the pain. You felt a wave of nausea wash over you and your vision started to blur, but you forced yourself to take a few deep breaths and focus on the situation.

What was going on? Why had the pain suddenly become so intense? Was this pain connected to the emotions you were feeling?

As the pain intensified, you felt yourself beginning to lose consciousness. You felt your body swaying and you put out a hand to steady yourself, but it was too late. You felt yourself slipping away as the world around you started to blur and fade.

You tried to fight it, but you felt yourself slowly sinking into a deep fog. You heard a distant voice, but it was too faint to make out what it was saying. With one last effort, you tried to open your eyes, but you could not.

Darkness descended and you felt yourself slipping away into unconsciousness.

"Oh my! You will be my wife!" A familiar voice stated happily, "Oh, this must be fate! I knew the moment I saw you that you were the one for me. I can't believe I've finally found you again, my one and only true love!"

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ 

[hedgehog-moss]

In my neverending quest to keep Pampérigouste from achieving her dreams, I have launched a formal investigation into her last escape, which I had no explanations for at the time.

I figured it out! At the far far end of her pasture, near the road, a few fence posts have become more or less horizontal (the ground is quite wet / muddy there so they've never been very stable, especially with Pirlouit using them to scratch his forehead)—so instead of a high jump + long jump combo to get to the road, Pampe just had to clear the long jump over the ditch. Which is still impressive.

I also suspect that she chose to escape from this place near the road on a snowy morning as a deliberate strategy, knowing the snow plough would erase any traces of her jump, thus preventing me from discovering where the weak spot in the fence was. Well done.

You need 2 people to fix these fence posts so in the meantime I decided to kill two birds with one stone: cut all the broom and thorny bushes in this corner of the pasture and use them to form a discouraging barrier. I set to work earlier this week, and here's the same place as above, mid-process:

When I texted my mum to tell her about my new thorn-based anti-Pampe plan of action, she said "Like the Maasai who make fences with thorny acacia branches to keep out lions!" and it made me feel even more confident. I mean, I have neither acacia nor Maasai fencing techniques but my thorny shrubs are pretty aggressive, they pricked my fingers even through my thick work gloves—which felt satisfying in an anticipatory way. Excellent! prick Pampe's nose exactly like this. How could a llama not be deterred by a fence material that deters apex predators?

Vexingly enough, she seemed quite supportive of my efforts. At one point she breathed some warm air against my shoulder in a gentle, patronising way.

We were engaged in psychological warfare all afternoon—every time I stepped away from my vegetal fence, feeling like it was now good enough, Pampe would immediately come to inspect it, cheerful and impatient, which sapped my confidence so I would go and add a few more shrubs. (Note that I sort of plaited the first / biggest shrubs with the pre-existing fence so they don't go flying on the road, and so Pampe can't just push them aside.)

On the right: Poldine, looking for little fresh leaves to eat amidst the chaos. On the left: Pampérigouste, thinking.

(At this point the barrier was only 20% thorns, and 80% broom—the fact that she waded through it without a care and didn't prick her belly made me go and add more thorny shrubs, and pack them more densely)

It's kind of fun watching Pampe think, honestly. Can I jump over this? Do I have enough visibility? Can I eat my way to freedom (again)? But these shrubs are disgusting. Am I above exploiting my daughter's lack of culinary discernment to achieve my goals? Maybe I should go back to my calculations re: probability of wild boar destruction. I may have pincushions for hands after handling prickly bushes for two hours but I'm helping stimulate my llama's intellect and creativity and that's so important.

I tried to alternate broom and thorny branches so that the non-thorny broom became tangled up with thorns and brambles to form an impenetrable and incomprehensible wall. I will call it this method the salmagundi-fence.

Poldine is in awe of my vegetal installation.

Can I just say, compared to Pampérigouste who constantly has a devilish glint in her eye, Pampelune's face exudes wholesome politeness and moral goodness. It's still hard to believe they're mother and daughter.

I went home once my fence started looking like Maleficent's forest of thorns and Pampe had long stopped trying to wade through it, but I still felt antsy and ended up coming back one hour later to have my apéritif with the llamas so I could keep an eye on Pampe until nightfall.

... where is Pampe?

Oh. Here. No worries!

Still staring at the road. Still thinking.

...

With all that said, please admire my beautifully delirious Forest of Thorns-fence and let me know what you think.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 17

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: Suicide character.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Author Note: After this, you will hate Steve more.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

"Historic Victory! Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes Elected with Record-Breaking Votes."

You stood among the crowd in awe, feeling the gravity of the moment as Bucky stepped up first to take his oath. His right hand rested on the Bible, and his voice was steady, resonating across the packed hall and through the media broadcasted nationwide.

“I, James Buchanan Barnes, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic, that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same, and that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion.”

He glanced at you briefly, pride mingling with disbelief in his eyes as he finished, “I pledge to faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter, so help me God.”

It was almost surreal, watching Bucky stand here, on the cusp of history. You could hardly believe it. He had done it; he was now the Vice President of the United States.

Then came Steve’s turn. He took his oath with an unwavering focus, his voice rich with conviction:

“I, Steven Grant Rogers, do solemnly swear to faithfully execute the Office of President of the United States and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States.”

As Steve finished his oath, the crowd erupted into applause. He stepped forward, eyes fierce with resolve, and gave his inaugural speech. "Today, we embark on a new journey,” he began, his words confident and calculated. “I promise to carve out every rotten part to make this country stronger and more flourishing than ever.” The crowd cheered wildly, the energy of the historic day surging through the masses.

Standing close to Bucky, you leaned toward him and whispered, “I hate him.”

He gave a small, amused smirk, clearing his throat as he pulled you closer, his arm draping protectively over your shoulder. “Stay calm, dear,” he whispered back. “We don’t want your bitter expression captured for posterity.” He pressed his hand gently against your back as you both moved through the crowd.

Across the room, Peggy watched the two of you, noting the way Bucky’s hand never left yours, even when he greeted others. The warmth and easy familiarity between you were evident to all. Peggy, however, stood isolated beside Steve, even as every camera focused on them as the new First Couple. She was now the First Lady, yet she felt utterly invisible.

Because in Steve's eyes, he only looked for Hazel. She remembered the disappointment on his face when he learned that the woman and the little boy were not joining him for the inauguration.

Then Caroline Barnes and her husband Julius approached her, their expressions triumphant. Caroline, with a rare, large smile, was the first to speak. “Congratulations, Peggy,” she said, her tone sweet yet cold.

She’d been Peggy’s confidante for years—long before the politics, the campaigns, and all the layers of public life that followed. They shared memories that went back to the days when they were just two young women navigating life and love, laughing over coffee and late-night conversations.

You couldn’t help but notice Caroline’s rare smile as she looked at you next, her eyes flashing with satisfaction. The silent message was clear: you had fulfilled your promise, standing beside her son as the Vice President’s wife.

Bucky, noticing her cold glare toward you, leaned in and murmured, “Seems like you’ve won her over.”

Just then, Natasha, a familiar figure in her sleek Secret Service uniform, approached you both. Her tone was clipped and professional. “The President would like to see you,” she said, giving you a pointed look.

You felt Bucky tense slightly beside you. As you moved to follow Natasha, Bucky instinctively stepped forward too.

“Alone,” Natasha added, her gaze shifting to Bucky.

You exchanged a confused look with him, both of you uncertain as to why you were being called without him. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before letting go. With one last glance, you followed Natasha toward the Oval Office.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The Oval Office was imposing, vast and elegant. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the room, yet the weight of history and power was palpable in every corner. The walls were lined with portraits of past leaders, and every polished surface seemed to reflect Steve’s ascendant status. He stood before the massive, iconic desk, hands clasped behind his back, exuding an air of unyielding authority. In this space, he looked like a man who could command nations—a conqueror with the world at his feet.

As you entered, Steve turned, offering you a polished smile that held no warmth. “I imagine you’re wondering why I wanted you here alone,” he said, voice smooth yet laced with an edge that left no room for misinterpretation.

Your thoughts were racing. Being in this room with him—Steve Rogers, the man who had climbed to the highest seat of power while leaving a wake of destruction in his path—felt surreal. You could feel the walls closing in, every inch of the Oval Office amplifying the cold reality of his ambition.

Steve raised a single finger, his tone shifting to one of playful scorn. "Not once did you congratulate me." He let the silence hang, watching you. "I know why. You blame me for your friend’s death.”

Your fists clenched, nails digging into your palms as his accusation hit you. “So you admit it?” you shot back, unable to mask the tremor of anger in your voice.

He scoffed, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “Admit it? That man almost sabotaged the campaign. He betrayed you, and when he paid the price, I’m the one you despise? Most people would thank me.”

The words stung, each syllable a twist of the knife. He continued, almost mockingly, his voice lowering as he leaned slightly forward. “Are you sure you’re up for this fight?” His gaze sharpened, piercing. “Find a better reason to hate me.”

Every word he spoke grated against you, each line deliberately crafted to sting. But you swallowed, forcing yourself to keep your expression steady, refusing to let him see the turmoil swirling inside.

He shook his head, dismissing your anger with a faint chuckle, then leaned back against the desk. “What’s your plan, then? After you bring me down—let’s say you even succeed—what’s next? Do you want Nate to grow up with a criminal for a father?”

Your mind raced, the walls of the Oval Office seeming to close in even further as his words lingered in the air. Steve's gaze was fixed on you, measuring, calculating your silence. And then, as if sensing your hesitation, he gave a triumphant smile, his voice like velvet but colder. “I’m glad we could come to an understanding.”

He turned his back, leaving you standing there, stunned. 🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Four Months Later

You sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the TV as Steve’s face filled the screen. Every channel was the same, broadcasting praise for him, with pundits and newscasters barely containing their admiration. It was unsettling. The media, usually fierce in their critiques, seemed almost reverent. You clenched your jaw, your annoyance simmering under the polished surface of his televised speeches and the careful flattery of his supporters.

From behind you, Bucky spoke up, his tone casual yet knowing. “That’s why people like him,” he said, coming closer. “He never once said he’d make this country fair or just. But he’s proving himself, little by little.”

You looked up, catching his serious expression. He continued, “Steve knew that every leader who vows fairness and justice ends up being despised as soon as they’re in power. They turn into exactly what they swore they’d destroy.”

You couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of your voice. “So… can we abdicate him?”

Bucky laughed softly. “Abdicate Steve?” He smirked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Honey, that’s a little extreme, even for you.”

“Steve’s ascension was legitimate. He fits the role, and from what the surveys say, voter turnout was historic.” He paused, meeting your gaze with a measured seriousness. “Overthrowing him would shatter public trust—not just in him, but in the entire government.”

“Would it, though?” you asked, challenging him with a raised eyebrow.

Bucky sighed, crossing over to sit beside you. He rested his hand over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Don’t focus on Steve alone—consider what my position means now too. I’m still seen as ‘the new kid,’ the one who made it here because of him. Plenty of people are watching, eager to see me stumble.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the determination there, but also the caution. Bucky knew the stakes, perhaps even more than you. You could feel the weight he carried, the delicate balancing act of supporting Steve while laying the groundwork for his own ambitions.

He took a deep breath, leaning closer, his voice low and resolute. “People may believe in me, but if we move too fast, we’ll lose them. And I won’t let that happen. I know you believe I could make a good president—and I plan to get there. But…” He paused, looking into your eyes, “we have to be patient.”

You remembered the priest’s words: ‘Believe in God’s timing.’ Patience, the one thing you struggled with most in a situation like this. But you trusted Bucky. You could feel his strength, his restraint, his understanding of the game they were all playing.

Bucky’s gaze softened, but his words were firm. “To succeed, I have to publicly support Steve, at least for now. In politics, loyalty and trust are everything. We need them on our side.”

As you processed his words, a chilling realization sank in. Steve’s mocking question echoed in your mind: “Are you sure you’re a match for me?” He was right—his plans were meticulous, every move calculated for safety. And Bucky was right too. This was a game of patience, timing, and subtlety.

But the question remained: Who would be powerful enough to finally bring Steve down?

🌸🌸🌸🌸

At the White House, Peggy approached the front entrance, only to be stopped by two Secret Service agents, their expressions impassive.

“I'm here to see my husband,” she said, her voice firm, though a tremor betrayed her unease.

One of the agents cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, ma’am. You don’t have clearance to enter.”

She blinked, the words sinking in like a slap. “Excuse me? This is my husband's residence. I have every right to be here.”

The agent’s face remained unreadable. “I understand, but orders are orders. Mr. Rogers specified… no access.”

Humiliated, Peggy took a step back, heat rising to her cheeks as a cold realization struck her: Steve was truly keeping his word. She was being kept out of his life, and now, out of his home. She turned, bitterness flooding her chest, and started down the steps, fighting to keep her composure.

As she walked toward her car, laughter drifted from the garden. Curiosity sparked, and she moved toward a nearby window, peeking inside. There, in the garden, was Steve, laughing as he played with Nate, while Hazel sat on a bench, watching them, her smile soft and warm.

The scene twisted like a knife in Peggy’s heart. They look like a family.

She clenched her fists, forcing down a surge of fury and grief. In a voice barely more than a whisper, she asked the guard at her side, “How often do they come here?”

“Every weekend, ma’am,” the guard replied softly.

Her voice cracked as she stammered, “D-Do they… stay the night?”

The guard’s silence was enough, but he finally nodded, “Yes.”

The words struck her like a blow to the gut. She stays here? She sleeps in the White House? Peggy had never once been allowed to spend the night here, but Hazel—Hazel could? The injustice stung in a way that words couldn’t capture.

On her drive back, the scenes replayed over and over, thoughts like poison seeping into her mind. She remembered a press conference where Steve had passionately pledged to support local manufacturing, calling out Hazel as a shining example.

“Like one designer, Hazel Barnes,” he had said, the admiration in his voice unmistakable. “She’s the kind of woman who understands her privilege and uses it to lift others up. Her business is 100% local, supporting homegrown talent. If we had more people like her, this country would thrive.”

The memory burned, the admiration in his tone a raw wound. Not once had he praised her. Not when he was in the military, not when he became governor, not when he ran for Senate, and certainly not now, when he was president. Hazel was now his example, his ideal, the woman he chose to highlight.

By the time she finally reached home, it was close to midnight. She entered the house in a daze, weary from her own broken heart. Yet despite the pain, she clung to her duties, driven to exhaustion by a schedule that seemed never-ending. As she set her bag down, her assistant approached her, offering a warm, sympathetic smile.

“The twins had a good day today,” her assistant said softly. “They finished their study sessions and met with the psychiatrist. They’re making great progress."

Peggy’s tired eyes softened at the news. “Thank you. That’s… that’s wonderful.” She gave a slight nod, the smallest glimmer of peace settling in her chest.

Quietly, she made her way to the twins’ room and opened the door to find them still awake, caught in the glow of a handheld game console.

“Hi, Mom,” one of them greeted her, quickly hiding the console behind his back. Both boys looked at her with guilty smiles, expecting a reprimand.

But instead of scolding them, she stepped forward, placing a soft kiss on each of their foreheads before wrapping her arms around them in a rare, tender hug.

“Mom?” they asked, voices laced with concern as they took in her weary expression.

She managed a small, tired smile. “I’m just… tired. That’s all.”

One of the boys squeezed her hand. “Take a hot bath, Mom. We’ll make you some milk with honey.”

The gesture nearly brought tears to her eyes. “Thank you, boys,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur. “Thank you so much.”

They left, shooting her worried looks over their shoulders as they went downstairs to prepare her drink. Peggy moved into her room, slipping off her heels and sitting at her vanity, removing her makeup with slow, methodical movements, as though going through the motions might somehow soothe her mind.

A knock came at her door, and she turned to see the twins standing there with a warm mug in hand, faces bright with concern. She mustered a smile, taking the milk from them. “Thank you,” she said, taking a sip. “It’s delicious.”

The twins lingered, watching her carefully, but after a moment, they seemed reassured. She looked the same as always—tired, maybe a little worn—but still their mother. With quiet “goodnights,” they slipped away to their room, leaving her alone in the silence of her own thoughts.

Peggy finished the drink, placing the empty mug down with trembling hands. She reached into her desk drawer, fingers brushing over an object she hadn’t touched in months. She pulled it out slowly, staring down at it for a long, heavy moment before standing and making her way to the bathroom.

She undressed and stepped into the hot bath, letting the warmth soak her weary body. But as the heat wrapped around her, it couldn’t reach the coldness embedded in her heart. She leaned her head back, staring up at the ceiling, her mind swirling with everything she had once hoped for Steve, all the faith she'd placed in him.

He was supposed to be different. She’d thought that becoming president would have brought out wisdom and fairness in him, but instead, he clung to his principles, more ruthless than ever. Memories of the admiration in his voice when he praised Hazel flooded her thoughts, a contrast so sharp it was almost cruel. Steve had never looked at her that way, never spoken her name with that warmth, that pride.

For a moment, her mind drifted to Bucky and you, the loyalty he had shown you, unwavering, year after year. In the past five years, through everything, he had remained faithful, and you had accepted him fully, supporting him in ways Peggy could hardly fathom. She had never known that kind of love with Steve.

She looked down at her wrist, fingers tightening around the object from her desk. Her phone lay beside her, and she typed a short message before putting it aside. She traced the edge of the object against her wrist, whispering, “I’ll set you free.” Her voice was barely audible, fragile against the silence.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

At 2 a.m., Steve was pulled from sleep by the sound of his bedroom door opening. He sat up, irritation flashing in his eyes, ready to reprimand whoever had dared disturb him. But then he saw Natasha standing there, her face pale, eyes wide with urgency.

“Mr. President… I’m sorry,” she stammered, her voice tight, “but this is very urgent.”

A chill crept through him as her words seemed to hang in the air. He got out of bed and followed her, feeling as though he was moving through a thick fog.

Moments later, Steve found himself staring down at Peggy in the bathtub, her body pale and lifeless, the water around her a deep, dark red. His knees buckled, and he collapsed beside her, reaching for her, his arms wrapping around her as if he could somehow bring her back.

“Peggy…” he whispered, his voice breaking. He tightened his hold on her, feeling the unbearable weight of the silence that filled the room.

The twins, William and Charles, stood just outside, tears streaming down their faces, unable to fully grasp the scene before them. They looked at their mother, broken and cold, the life drained from her, and their father, on his knees, clutching her like a lifeline.

Natasha cleared her throat, eyes averted as she whispered, “Mr. President… we should make an announcement.”

Steve’s head snapped up, his eyes sharp and commanding. “Stop.” The firmness in his voice was absolute, leaving no room for argument.

The room fell into stunned silence.

“Tell the public that the First Lady has collapsed from exhaustion,” Steve said coldly. “She was tireless, supporting me without a moment’s rest. Now… she’s taking time to recover.”

The twins’ eyes widened, shock and betrayal mingling with their grief.

“Dad?!” William’s voice cracked, staring at his father in disbelief.

“It would be disastrous for this country to know that the First Lady took her own life,” Steve continued, his tone as unyielding as steel. “It would tarnish her memory. She’d be seen as unstable, weak. This is for her legacy, for the image she worked so hard to uphold.”

The twins shook their heads, voices choked with pain. “No. Mother isn’t like that. She’s not some unstable woman.”

Steve knelt beside them, putting a hand on each of their shoulders, his voice soft but unyielding. “Boys, trust me. This is for the best. We want people to remember your mother’s dedication, her strength. Not… this.”

He pulled them into an embrace, eyes glistening as he held them close, as if his grip alone could silence their pain. Over their shoulders, his gaze drifted back to Peggy’s lifeless form, his expression unreadable. For a split second, a small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips as he thought, Her sacrifice won’t be forgotten.

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[satowooo]

ii. down bad

Satoru was so sure that he finally got over you, but why does he feel his heart beating again whenever he sees you walking down the room as if you own the place, the way you own his heart? Reminiscing the past feels like voluntarily falling down the edge of a high mountain, except Gojo Satoru was more than willing to welcome the pain that he thought was long gone and buried in the depths of the sea.

contents. angst, fluff, maid!reader x gojo satoru, difference in social class, past events, flashbacks, modern au, not proofread.

‘Cause fuck it I was in love, so fuck you if I can't have us.

previous chapter → next chapter

JANUARY 2009

It was probably love at first sight for Gojo Satoru. Or maybe just a small interest. Maybe he just wanted to be friends with you. Or maybe you really just caught his attention.

It was probably because it's the first time for Satoru to see a maid the same age as him, which makes it more intriguing because he usually has old ones who are at least 10 years older, most of them who raised him since he was just a child. And then there's you walking in with your chin up, eyes set in front, your moves calculated, and you're not sparing him a glance every time he walks by, your head always lowered in a polite bow.

It felt like you were a robot. A cold demeanour of a woman who seems to be dolled up and built to be a servant who will obediently obey any orders from its master. To Gojo Satoru, you were an emotionless, uninteresting, boring woman.

So why is he so drawn to you?

There's something about you that makes you feel different. Sure, he has met other girls too. They were all lively and admired him like he's the prettiest person in the whole world. Quirky and cheerful girls unlike you who were… nothing.

He wants to know what's this force pulling him to come to you. And he needs to be at a near distance, he needs to get to know you, to talk to you, just so he could answer these questions in his head.

It's been exactly two weeks since the first time he saw you back in the garden, and he still hasn't talked to you even once. He's been watching from afar, call him a stalker or a creep, but those are none of his intentions. You caught his eye, that's for sure.

It was one of those leisurely days wherein Satoru was just taking a walk around the estate, breathing in the fresh air of his palace-like home. Everyone who walked by bowed down to greet their master, whispering amongst themselves and putting up their best behaviours.

“The tea is ready, Young Master.” A maid approached him, eyes down on the floor. “Do you want us to set it up on the tables at the pavilion?”

Satoru raised his hand as if to wave them off, motioning the maid to raise her head. “No need for that. Take it to my chambers. I'll follow shortly.”

The maid nodded before she took her leave, until Satoru was left alone in the gardens once again. His eyes roamed around for a presence, hoping to see the familiar silhouette of a lady that he longed to see. Days of observing you, he had noticed well enough that you spent a lot of your time here, where all the flowers bloomed in the softest colours that pleased the eyes. And he wanted to see you here, perhaps make a small talk if he was lucky enough for you to grace him with your presence.

But to no avail. Satoru let out a sigh after a few minutes of waiting around, his head darting from left to right one last time to see if you're coming or not, and you still didn't. His chest heaves as he tucks his hands in his pockets, walking back to his chambers to have his tea.

The silence around the estate had always been deafening, hearing only footsteps from the servants or the clinks of cups. Every step he took made quite a sound that reached the walls, his aura alone could startle even the small ants that roamed around the corner of his house as he dragged the door open, revealing his neatly cleaned bedroom.

He sat cross legged on the soft mattress on the floor before his tea table, grabbing a book as he waited for the maids to bring his afternoon snacks.

And oh is it his lucky day?

“Young Master…”

A voice so soft and unfamiliar came by the door, knocking three times. Despite how Satoru didn't know the owner of the voice behind his door, his heartbeat suddenly started to rise from his chest.

He cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “Come in.”

He felt like he caught his breath when the doors opened, revealing the woman he had been looking for quite some time now. Your hair up in a ponytail, your kimono hanging on your body as your small hands carry the tray of tea cups and a kettle. Right before him stands the most beautiful woman he had seen his whole life.

He gulped, sweat forming in his forehead. For a second, he didn't know what to do or say.

Satoru felt stupid. Crazy. Bewildered. And astonished. And enthralled. By you. For you.

He didn't realise his mouth was gape open for a few seconds, a faint shade of pink flushed on his cheek. He gulped once more before he finally had the courage to talk.

“Come in. Place them on the table” He patted the empty table, waiting for you to take the tea to him. You kept your head lowered, not looking him in the eye again.

You swiftly placed the tray on his table, kneeling down on the opposite side in front of him. You took the kettle, pouring down the tea skillfully on his cup. You almost felt yourself spill the tea when you heard his voice that seemed to echo around the room.

“I heard, you're new here?”

Obviously, you are. He knew it for quite some time now. But what else does he have to say? He wants a conversation and that's what he's doing to get your attention. Even though it made him sound like he's stupid.

“Yes, Young Master.” Your answer was short and precise, leaving no room to keep the conversation afloat. But it's Gojo Satoru talking, you can't expect him to shut up with just one question.

“As from what I know, you're here to take your mother's place while she's receiving medical treatments as of the moment. How is she?” He takes a sip from his cup, his eyes never leaving yours as he watches your every movement.

“She's recovering well.”

He raised an eyebrow, nodding his head. Your short answers made him dumbfounded for quite a reason, unable to think of another question that might keep you talking.

He clenched his jaw, tilting his head to the side as he said, “Lift your head.”

You gulped, hands falling down on your thighs as you slowly looked up. Oceanic blue eyes beneath his snowy lashes met with yours as if a light was shining directly at your face for how blinding his gaze felt like. Your breath hitched for a moment. His beauty was nothing like a normal man you see on televisions. Neither artists nor models.

He was breathtaking. Gojo Satoru was the epitome of beauty. A piece of art that never fades even as centuries pass.

“What's your name, Miss?” He asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. “As your master, I should know at least the names of who I associate myself with inside our home, no?”

You blinked a few times before you uttered your name out of your mouth, feeling out of breath all of a sudden. Despite how calm his gaze looked into you, you felt like he was trying to freeze you with his eyes alone. “Y/N…”

His lips curled into a delightful smile. There was a satisfaction laced in his eyes as he nodded his head, his fingers circling on the edge of his teacup. “A beautiful name, Miss Y/N. You probably know me already, but I'm Satoru Gojo. Pleasure to meet you.”

You smiled politely, your eyes looking anywhere but his. While Satoru Gojo basked himself in your beauty, looking directly into your appearance as if you'd be gone any moment now if he tears his eyes away from you. It took Satoru quite awhile before he finally came back to his senses to finally let you take your leave.

“Now, I'm sure you have other things to do. You may go now.” Satoru raised his cup like he was doing a toast before he took another sip. “I'll let you know if I need anything.”

He somehow made a good first impression, he thought. You didn't talk much yet your presence alone filled the silence as he stared at you for quite some time and Satoru is just glad he didn't embarrass himself.

It was more than enough. At least for now. He'll make sure to take all the chances he gets to talk to you and climb the walls you've built around yourself. He doesn't mind.

FEBRUARY 2009

“It's nice to see you again.”

You jolted in shock when a presence suddenly came beside you while you were picking some flowers. A low manly voice of a man that you're now familiar with ever since you worked here.

You stayed calm, facing him so you could properly greet him as you bowed your head. “Young Master, is there anything you need?”

“Your presence, if I may.”

Now, Satoru Gojo was definitely playing with fire. His words shooting out of his mouth before he could think about how it could affect this so-called relationship you two had that hasn't even started yet. But then, he still felt cool about it. Biting his lip as he shrugs smugly as you look at him confused.

“My presence?”

“Indeed. I hope you don't mind if I… stay around with you while you do your tasks.” He looks down at the basket you're holding filled with different types of flowers, smiling to himself at the thought of you might make a bouquet of it. “But of course, if you don't want me to, I will leave.”

“No, Sir. How can I refuse?” You laughed nervously, waving your hands to say no. “Stay if you must. I don't mind at all.”

Satoru chuckled and nodded his head. “Well then…”

He looked down the basket, his gaze locked on the extra scissors. Without further ado, he took them by his hands, proceeding to help you pick the same flowers that you were collecting.

“Do you have any flowers that you like here?” He asks, his eyes focused on the plant that he was cutting.

Your eyes quickly caught what he was trying to do, your mouth flying open as he cut the stem of a flower. “Young Master, please let me do the work. You're not supposed to–”

“Relax, Miss.” He turned to you with a chuckle, pushing his hand in the air in front of you where he was holding the flower that he picked. “I want to help. And don't worry, you won't get into trouble for this.”

You hesitated at first, but seeing him pushing his hands forward where he offered you the flower made you relent. You sigh in defeat, nodding your head as you take the flower from him, putting it down the basket. “Then I shall oblige.”

“So are you going to answer my question?” He asked as he continued his work.

“Question?”

“Flowers. Any flowers in here that you had taken a liking to?”

You purse your lips together, looking over at the other side of the garden, where different colours of tulips are starting to bloom. “That one.”

“The tulips?”

“Mhmm…”

Satoru smiled to himself, taking a mental note to give you one some of these days. “Nice choice. They're beautiful, aren't they?”

“They are. My brother loves them.” You blurted, starting to open up into the conversation with him.

“You have a brother?” Satoru asked in curiosity as he plucked another flower, then tossed it down the basket. “How old is he?”

“Yes, I have an eight-year-old brother.” Your heart warms at the thought of your sibling, a person who's probably waiting for you to come home during the weekend.

He glances at you, noticing the warm smile that crossed your lips, feeling something tugging at his chest at this sight of you. Relaxed and comfortable in his presence, it made him confident that you were somehow warming up a bit with him.

“You should take him here some time.”

Your eyes widened at his invitation, quickly looking over at him only to find that he was already staring at you, his eyes showing that he was serious. You take a sharp breath, feeling his gaze burning into you as he waits for your answer.

“I cannot… I'm here to work–”

“I insist.” Satoru cutted her off, before he went back to plucking some more flowers. “I enjoy company once in a while. He can have as many tulips as he wants. I promise you won't get into trouble for it, I'm the master in here after all, aren't I?”

Did he easily sway you like that? You hoped he didn't.

“Right…” You looked down, your fingers fidgeting. “I'll let him know.”

There was a moment of silence. Only the sounds of the scissors trimming and leaves falling down the ground could be heard. You focused on your work as Satoru helps you, and minutes passed until the basket was already overflowing because your mind was too preoccupied with your conversation with him.

You sighed, bidding him farewell as the work was done. You left as soon as he dismissed you, your heart racing the same way as your steps quickly travelled back to your room.

Your chest was heaving, and you don't know if you're breathing this heavy because of the way you hurriedly ran to your abode or was it because of the way he made you feel. Nonetheless, you don't want to know the answer just yet.

MARCH 2009

That wasn't the last time that you saw Gojo Satoru. After that interaction, you seem to cross paths with him more frequently than before. And everytime it happens, he always engages in conversations with you. His advances didn't bother you so much, in fact, it made you comfortable enough ever since you started working as a maid and he made you feel less lonely. Gradually, you became casual with him, yet still remaining professional.

Satoru liked it. The company. Your presence. The casualty. And the friendship that's starting to bloom between the two of you. It wasn't easy at first, but he got the hang of your personality.

He notices how you seem to not be close with anyone among the maids, since they're either older than you by a few years or… simply old enough to be your mother. He watched you talk to them at some point, asking about things that you're not yet familiar with in the estate, and following their orders if you're needed. You were perfect and obedient and he never saw you complaining about any task laid in front of you.

As a sound came from the front door, Satoru jerked his head up from where he sat on the grass. He saw you walking out in more casual clothes, piquing his interest immediately as he stood to go to you.

“Are you going somewhere?” Satoru curiously asked as soon as he got to your side. He noticed the way you jumped back a bit, clearly not expecting his sudden appearance.

“Uh, yeah… I'm going out a bit.” You answered shortly.

“Where?” Satoru glanced in front of the two of you where a familiar face was waiting at the car, their family driver, waiting for you.

“The grocery store.”

“Right. I'll take you.”

“What?”

You both stopped on your tracks as you looked at him confused. You tried to read his expression, but Satoru only offered you a cheeky smile. He walked ahead so he could talk to the driver before taking the keys from him. He strode to the passenger seat and opened the door for you without a word.

“Aren't you coming?”

And that's simply how you found yourself at the grocery store, with a tall man tailing behind you.

From the way he talks, and the way he carries himself into the room, every other woman that you two would walk past will sneak a glance at him. You'd hear teenage girls shrieking, even mothers with their child seated in a cart will look over at him. Satoru Gojo was just so majestic that everyone couldn't take their eyes away from him.

You felt awkward from the attention, even though you know that it's not for you, but they were still glancing over at your direction. You don't even know how you handled his little conversations all throughout the ride and even now at the store.

“Y/N! You should get some of this for yourself!” Satoru held up a bar of chocolate, practically shaking it in front of your face. “You know, so you can have some sweetness in your body. You always looked salty in the face.”

“Is that a joke?” You watched as he snickered at himself. You took the chocolate and put it back on the shelf. “Young Master, I strictly have to follow what's on the list that they gave me, so I'm sorry but I can't just rashly take something for myself.”

Satoru’s lips formed into a pout, crossing his arms at you like a child. “You're no fun.”

He follows you as you start to push the cart again, walking over another aisle. “And why the sudden formality? We're in public, Y/N.”

“That does not change the dynamics.” You replied shortly, not even entertaining the thought of informally calling him by his name.

“Why? We can't act like normal people outside?” He argues, taking the cart from you as he nudges you to the side. He pushed the cart instead, having you walk next to him instead.

His eyes narrowed intently while his eyes were looking over ahead. An unsettling feeling was tugging on his chest, his hands gripping on the cart while he pushed it forward. He let out an exasperated sigh.

“We are acting like normal people.”

“No. You're acting like we're not even friends. Like I'm just a business partner to you.” He scoffs, stopping to look at you. “Like you're a lowly servant and I'm the bad boss. I don't like it.”

You gazed back at his eyes and you don't understand why he looked so upset. You were just acting normal, like how you usually do when you're working around the estate, so what's got him so worked up?

But anyhow, you didn't want him to feel this way. So the best thing you could do was to talk calmly, trying to make him explain more.

“Why? I mean, am I not the servant and you the boss? Except the bad part.”

“We're not just that.”

Satoru gritted his teeth, and you noticed the way his jaw clenched which took you aback. You blinked a few times at him as you tried to read his expression, but all you could just see was him struggling to even find the right words to say.

You sighed, looking away from his face. “I’m sorry if I made you feel–”

“We're friends, aren't we?” Satoru cuts you off, his neck flushing red in embarrassment over the emotions stirring in his mind. His heart thumped off his chest and he hoped you couldn't hear it. “I mean… to me, we're friends. We've been talking for quite awhile now. So maybe… I thought you might feel the same… Don't you?”

You looked stunned by his words as he left you with a question that you were also asking yourself for quite some time now. He's right. You did feel the same. But worry gnaws on your skin that maybe you might've been just assuming his kindness for friendship, because you know all too well that a friendship between a low class woman like you and someone high standard like him would be impossible.

He's out of your league. Way too out of your league. And you always thought of him. Always hoped for him. Because you can't grasp him with your hands. The way he was always so close yet still so far.

But here he is. The beautiful man pouting his lips at you as he anticipates your answer. Because all Satoru wants is just for you to feel the same way as him.

You nodded reluctantly, turning your body away from him so you could continue your stroll in the store. “Okay… Sure…”

A smile finally etched on his lips. There was a small glint of happiness tainted on his blue eyes, shining brightly while he followed you from behind, pushing the cart with him. “Sure, what? I want to hear it!”

And there he was, back again to his usual personality. He nudges and bothers you like a child the whole time, trying to pull tricks on how he'll get you to say the words he wants to hear.

In the end, he simply just gave up when you showed no signs of relenting over to him. He knew you wouldn't, but the moment made him smile. He was satisfied and happy enough that at least you admitted it, even not directly. But to Gojo Satoru, small things still mattered and he wouldn't ask for anything more as long as it's you.

PRESENT

Satoru Gojo still remembers how vulnerable he had been. Well, can he blame himself? He was young, and naive.

He doesn't understand why he wanted you so much to notice him. He didn't understand how you made him feel that way… and he didn't want to feel the same anymore.

Satoru looks at you from afar painfully. His eyes shutting tightly at all the memories that still haunted his already tired heart, haunting the heart that still threatens to beat for you.

He was so mad. Still mad at you for leaving. Mad at you for making him feel so hopeless and weak. Mad at you for leaving him alone to deal with the consequences of falling in love.

But he's so… desperately… utterly… helplessly in love. His heart always ached and longed for you. The woman who swept him off his feet, the woman with gentle smiles and soft hands that touched his heart, the woman who used to utter her words of affection right before his ears. Why? Why did you even leave?

He's so, so mad at you. Because even until now, he still longs for the day that you might have looked at him the same way that you used to before.

He watched as you slowly poured him his tea, your hands still graciously performing the move.

But your hands were shaking, your eyes trembling as you tried to get a hold of yourself. Pouring tea for him like you used to do seemed to be the hardest task now that everything has changed between you. You gulped, focusing on the cup that was about to be full.

You didn't expect your hands to fail you just then. Your hand suddenly moves in nervousness causing you to nudge the cup and spill the tea right over the table. You jolted in shock as you shakily put the kettle down and quickly muttered apologies.

Satoru stared you down. And for a moment he wanted to pity the woman before him who seemed to have lost herself. But no, he can't just be weak for you again after all these years.

“How bothersome.” He scoffs at you, making you stop. The air was thick with tension and Satoru’s irritation was evident in his expression while you gulped in nervousness. It was the first time that you ever felt so defenceless before him.

“I'm… so sorry…” You muttered slowly, your gaze locked on the mess that you've made.

“I don't need your sorry, Y/N.” The words rolled off his tongue bitterly, and he didn't even think about the way he sounded so harsh. “Clean the mess, and get your face out of my sight.”

he's down bad crying at the gym lol let me know if you want to be added on the taglist !!

tagging: @blankwashed @mshitachin @mumblepingu @mimooyi @makimamybelovedwife @prettylvne @em-asian @tojisworm-5 @numblytemporary @tqd4455 @hyunsuks-beanie @flmdrva @bubera974 @yuuuumii @catobsessedlady

[xvysarene]

𝕌𝕟𝕤𝕖𝕖𝕟 𝔹𝕠𝕟𝕕

Pairing: Zayne x Fem!Reader Prompt: “I’ve built walls, and yet they crumble when I see you.” Words: ~2.5k Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff Notice: Y/N is not MC, Antagonist MC, Mentions of wounds

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

His childhood friend exuded energy just as vibrant as her Anhausen class Evol, captivating those around her with her bubbly demeanor.

However, beneath the cheerful façade lay a calculated use of charm, a trait you couldn't help but notice, especially in her interactions with Zayne.

As a senior hunter, your responsibilities included supervising new recruits, and you discerned her manipulative tendencies over time.

“Just because you've seen me at my weakest, you’re not entitled to pass judgment on those dear to me. It proves how I've known her longer and better, as she would never stoop so low as to speak ill of you. I don’t need you babysitting me.”

Quick to defend his adored friend and seemingly caught up in emotion, he voiced those unfavorable words your way.

You knew Zayne was a direct person, but being on the receiving end of those words hurt. Especially as you later realized that you harbored feelings towards the cold doctor, feelings that had unknowingly woven into what you had always believed to be a purely platonic friendship between the two of you.

“—and you’re here because?”

His voice jolted you out of your reverie.

Somehow, standing in the exact spot where your last conversation occurred, resulting in months of silence between the two of you, had clouded your thoughts.

You cleared your throat, trying to focus back on the present moment. “Greyson and Yvonne have been trying to get in touch with you.”

When news about Dr. Zayne taking recuperative leave had spread like wildfire throughout the UNICORNS, you had considered reaching out to him. 

Your fingers had hovered over the phone, composing and deleting messages repeatedly.

In the end, you completely abandoned the notion altogether when you heard his childhood friend’s not-so-subtly mentioning her plan to visit and cook for him while chatting with the short-haired girl from the Data Analysis sector.

“I’m fine,” he managed to huff out after a while.

Taking a swift glance at the unexpected mess on his kitchen counters—scattered papers and remnants of food packaging—you challenged him. “I thought we had moved beyond the superficial ‘I’m fine’ responses when asking about each other's well-being.”

Zayne didn’t reply and you noted that he had absentmindedly leaned his long legs against the kitchen counter as if seeking support from it.

“You, the Chief Cardiac Surgeon of Akso Hospital, someone who enjoys his lack of free time, couldn't possibly have felt ‘just fine’ after being placed on recuperative leave.”

“I wasn't aware that you still kept tabs on my whatabouts," he retorted, eyes slightly gleaming competitively. However, they lacked the usual spark; instead, they hinted at tiredness and something indefinable that looked familiar but you couldn't quite pinpoint.

“I understand that your friend has probably visited you, but my great buddies insisted I come and check on you. They didn’t want to pester, but after two days of no answer, they are beginning to worry.” You raised your hands in a gesture of surrender. “Though if I’m not welcome, I’ll leave you be.”

As you moved past him towards the front door, you felt yourself emotionally drained from the brief exchange.

“Why you, specifically?” his whisper caused you to stop in your tracks.

“They know we are—” you stopped yourself, “used to be each other’s confidant. They thought you might be willing to speak to me if not to them.”

He chuckled dryly. “Used to…”

His muttered words compelled you to turn. Your hunter’s awareness noticed how he had subtly shifted, leaning more against the counter with one hand supporting his weight while his body slightly hunched forward, facing your retreating figure.

His body trembled with involuntary shivers, and the silver-framed glasses that had been perched on his nose earlier now lay discarded on top of the black granite.

“What’s wrong?” The words spilled out of your mouth before you could stop them.

Your eyes instantly snapped to his arms, expecting to see the familiar bluish hue and the delicate, yet deadly patterns of ice crystals.

Instead, you saw fresh cuts on the back of his hand. Both of them.

A sound must have escaped your lips because Zayne quickly tugged at his light gray pajama sleeves, trying to cover his hands. He took a step back as he heard you stomping towards him.

Helplessly, he played a brief game of tug-of-war with you before yielding to your unexpected strength.

“What the hell,” you breathed out as you took the angry red marks marring his pale skin, making them stand out more. When you rolled up his sleeves further, you discovered fresh lacerations, a chilling reminder of the frost's icy grip.

You cupped his cheeks. It took his gaze a moment to gradually refocus on you, seemingly startled by the sudden skin contact. “Zayne, what happened?”

His lips were sealed shut. He began to resist, however, as you guided him towards his bedroom, but your hunter strength slightly won over his sluggish state.

Zayne watched you intensively check his wounds after you managed to get him to bed. They were more severe than the scratches you saw after you had cradled his frozen arms and succeeded in defrosting them using your Evol. It was when you found him beating himself up in regret for failing to save your partner during surgery.

As you stood up to fetch the medical supplies, his hand swiftly caught your forearm, surprising you with its speed. "You don’t have to take care of me," he insisted.

“Respectfully, Zayne,” you began, knowing he'd grimace at your next choice of words, “Fuck your pride and let me look after you.”

Seeing his familiar disapproving grimace at the brash word, you chuckled quietly to yourself. 

Your boldness and recklessness often clashed with his calm and collected nature, one that left people wondering how a friendship could blossom between two such opposites.

As the antiseptic scent filled the air and silence enveloped the room while you tended to his arms, memories flooded back to the griefful night when you had lost your partner.

He had treated your temporarily forgotten battle wounds after the frost had thawed from his arms.

“It’s not your fault,” Zayne had spoken softly as he cleaned your wounds.

Your breath stuttered, surprised by the doctor's attempt to console you. Many people regarded him as highly reserved due to the carefully crafted mask of indifference he wore.

"The other staff told me what happened. You couldn’t have known that he was bitten; a child Chlorostaga leaves a very small puncture, and it would only feel like an ant has bitten you. With adrenaline running high, he wouldn’t have felt a thing."

“He told me that his heart was racing unusually fast during the transport back,” you whispered, feeling the tears clouding your vision. “And I jokingly suggested he needed to do more exercise.

“He laughed at it until—” you forced down the bile rising in your throat before being able to continue, “until he suddenly collapsed from cardiac arrest. We were only a few minutes out before arriving here to treat our wounds.”

Zayne continued gently dressing your gashes as you recounted the last moment with your partner. “His last memory was of happiness with you, feeling fulfilled knowing he had once again protected Linkon City from Wanderers... With his trusted partner."

The tears you had struggled to contain finally broke through, cascading down your cheeks in torrents. He held you close that day, offering comfort until every tear was dried.

From that moment, a bond seemed to form between both of you, drawing you closer from mere acquaintances to individuals you could trust with your deepest emotions. Only a few had ever witnessed each other's vulnerable state.

In the present, you noticed his breathing had calmed, and the hazel eyes that had been watching you carefully moments earlier had closed as you finished tending the last cut.

Gently smoothing out the crease between his brows, you couldn't help but wonder how troubled he must have been. “I’ve built walls, and yet they crumble when I see you,” you whispered, afraid of him hearing your secret.

You had tried to shield yourself from future heartache after you slammed his front door the day he had spoken harshly. Yet, seeing him so vulnerable, your caring for him only deepened.

Listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing, an unexpected exhaustion washed over you like a tidal wave.

Sleep claimed you swiftly, and it wasn't until you felt Zayne's gentle touch on your shoulder that you awoke.

“You’re going to strain the muscle in the back of your neck sleeping like that.”

Still groggy from the unplanned nap, you couldn’t protest as Zayne easily deposited you to the space he occupied earlier, as if you weighed nothing.

Your skin flushed hot feeling his fleeting touch behind your knees. Blinking, you met his gaze as he settled back beside your feet on the bed, already looking much better than before.

As the heat from his body permeated the wool blend of his pajama pants, you could feel it warming the tips of your toes. “Are you feeling any better?”

He nodded, casting a glance down at his arms adorned with scattered adhesive strips. Awkwardness filled the air as you both grappled with the ever-present unresolved tension.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled softly. You looked up, startled.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated more clearly. His hazel eyes, appearing browner under the dim lighting, seeking yours. “For saying those hurtful words to you, for failing to accompany you on mourning day.”

Your eyes widened, surprised that he even remembered about the day that had occurred months earlier.

When he didn’t appear at the cemetery of fallen hunters on mourning day, an annual tradition to honor your late partner whom he couldn't save, you learned just how much he cherished his childhood friend.

While he hadn't explicitly promised to join every year, he had always done so without fail. At that time, you couldn't help but feel disappointed when you discovered he had spent the day with his childhood friend instead.

And perhaps, an ugly thorn of jealousy had begun to bloom inside your heart.

“Greyson gave me an earful after he found out about our... conflict, and then he pieced together why I was absent that day. Why didn’t you remind me?”

You broke away from his gaze, not prepared for the sudden query. “You are under no obligation to accompany me, so there's nothing to apologise for.”

“I absolutely have to apologise, for on the day you mourn for your late partner the most, I callously had fun with my friend.”

And there it was, his childhood friend once again stealing the spotlight in your conversation. You felt the barriers you erected creeping back into place.

“It's getting dark outside, I should head home,” you said, retracting your legs and hurriedly standing up.

However, a warm hand on your wrist carefully pulled you back down, knee bumping with yours.

“I was ensnared by my memory of her innocence from our childhood,” he confessed, voice heavy with regret. “She envied the deep connection we share and after overhearing your conversation with Yvonne, purposefully suggested a day trip to our hometown that exact day. She exploited my weakness for her gain, knowing my fond memories of our past together.”

Zayne tenderly unraveled each of your tightly clenched fingers, soothing the nail marks that had etched into your palm.

It was one of your bad habits, surfacing whenever anxiety and stress took hold. Ever the observant person that he was, it was something he was well aware of.

Your breath hitched as he wove his fingers with yours, larger palm easily covering your smaller one.

“I'm the one who foolishly let myself be blinded and stooped so low, wrongly accusing you when your intentions were nothing but good-hearted.” He swiped a hand over his face in frustration. “People praised me for my good judgement, but I evidently failed to make the most important one.”

“And so this happened?” you gestured towards his arms with your other unoccupied hand. “Punishing yourself because you felt guilty for your lapse in judgment?”

She had heard bits and pieces of what happened from Greyson. The Chief Psychologist in the hospital had noticed Zayne’s peculiar behaviour for weeks—moments of zoning out and evident emotional distress.

Not wanting to jeopardise his patient’s health, he agreed to take a leave until he felt mentally prepared to return to his responsibilities, which required a clear mind above all else.

“No, it's me losing myself because I've taken advantage of the only person who understands me; to the extent of hurting that one person who, despite knowing her for a shorter time, has selflessly always been there for me.” He placed a kiss on the back of your hand. “And fearing I may have already lost her, as I come to realize the depth of my feelings for her.”

You whipped your head to fully face him, face flushed at his confession. His gaze unwavering, trapping you with fierce affection.

“You don’t need to say anything—”

“Zayne—”

“I just want to let you know that I’m sorry for causing you pain—”

“Zayne, I—”

“And I would understand if you don’t want to do anything with me again after everything that’s happened—”

"Zayne!" You moved to cover his mouth and lost your balance in the process, tumbling together onto the bed.

Him beneath you.

As you stumbled, his hand found the curve of your hip, supporting you from falling on top of him. While his other arm remained thrown over him, fingers still intertwined with yours amidst the sudden movement.

You could see him trying to mask his discomfort, no doubt feeling some of the deeper slashes being tugged.

“God, you really need to shut up sometime,” you blurted out, catching Zayne off guard with your abrupt remark following his heartfelt revelation.

This close, you could see his pupils dilating at your close proximity, almost consuming the green in his eyes.

With profound confidence and a fuzzy feeling spreading inside your heart, you eased his mind. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The content smile painting his lips tugged at your heart. It was a genuine happiness that chipped away his usual cold demeanor. 

He squeezed your hip and slowly urged you to lay on top of him, a silent invitation to be closer. Strong arms circled around as you nestled your head against his throat, enveloping you in his scent—grounding, and slightly musky, like the scent of a forest after rainfall.

“I never want you to lose control of your Evol over me again,” you warned him, eyes closing as you felt his lips pressing on your forehead.

“I can’t promise, but—” he interjected before you could interrupt him. “I’ll work on myself for the better. It’s the least I can do for the one who holds the dearest place in my heart.”

When you opened your eyes again, you could finally pinpoint that familiar glint in his eyes, the one you noticed when you confronted him hours earlier in the living room; it was endearment.

As you lay down on his bed that night, fingers gently combing through his tousled midnight-black hair as he rested against your chest, it dawned on you that the glow of affection had been there all along, subtly shimmering in his eyes throughout the years whenever you were by his side.

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST