#shouting out into the void would love others takes on this
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All I wanted | Joao Felix x Reader
pairing . . . joao felix x ex!reader
summary . . . Joao was tired; tired of the memories, tired of the dreams, tired of the flashbacks. Everything led back to you and the moment where he lost you. It drove him insane, but all he could was reminisce the time you had together in solus.
request . . . no!!
word count . . . 758
warnings . . . angst!
faceclaim . . . N/A
alexavia yaps . . . a little short but yeah!! wrote this in school in a little hurry so ignore any typos or mistakes!!
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. . . It was after training and Joao had just come home, his bones aching and breath ragged. He shivered slightly, the cold air of the house hitting his skin. The usual warmth was gone, now replaced with a cold, empty presence. No one was there to fill the absence.
He could hear his breathing echo throughout the walls, the quietness of the house louder than he thought, more than he thought it would be. For a second, he waited to hear your voice, stopping whatever you were doing and coming out to hug him.
But it wasn't there. The lack of your presence was obvious; no sounds, no footsteps, and certainly no rush to greet him.
He sighed slowly, taking off his shoes and walking into the kitchen. He subtly noted the mug out of place, which would normally be in the cupboard by now. As he walked to the fridge, he prepared himself to step on one of your hair clips, except they weren't there.
Joao felt like a stranger in his own home, as if he was intruding. Something was missing.
You were missing.
The living room felt too dark, too cold without you, and as he sat on the couch, he groaned at the uncomfort he felt. What once felt like a cozy, safe haven was now a lumpy, stuffy thing under him.
He hesitated, debating whether he should actually sit down or if he should sit on the chair to his right, as if he’s unsure whether it's still his space.
As he sank into the couch, he felt a weight he didn't expect, like it’s not quite the same anymore. It smelled faintly like you, the scent throwing him into a haze of memories and flashbacks
Ache filled his chest, heart longing for you. But you weren't there anymore, and it was all his fault.
Memories of you two flashed through his mind; laughing till you couldn't breath, laying down under the stars, holding each other to sleep, the simple comfort of just being around you.
Every single thing around him reminded him of you, even things he didn't realise were yours. Once, he felt warm and lovable, but now? Now he felt like a cold, empty void filled his heart. Everything seemed different, even the air.
Everything led back to you.
It was him who pushed you away, who told you he needed space, when all he needed was you. He regretted everything he said that night, so much. He knew he was hurting, and took it on you. The only person who actually understood him.
And just like, you were gone out of his life. He remembers the door banging shut as you left, his voice hoarse from shouting and arguing with you, a crumpled tissue in his hand, full of the tears you wiped away from your eyes and threw at him.
He didn't know why he did it, why he ended things. But he knew he wanted you back, so badly. And now, he's left wondering if you two could've fixed it, or if it was already too late by the time he finally realized.
He felt his heart tighten, the longing pain taking a hold of him. Everything seemed to suffocate him, as if a snake was being around his body, its hold tight and choking. His surroundings felt empty. Dark. Overwhelming.
The silence was deafening. Joao couldn't take it anymore.
The remote was laying beside him, and he grabbed it, switching on the large TV screen in front of him. The light shining at his face was too bright, and the show that was on was your favourite.
He'd do anything to get you to come home to him. To kiss him. To hug him. To love him.
Joao regretted his actions, he knew he messed up. He should've gathered his thoughts and followed you out as you shut the door. He should've went to your apartment and begged you for forgiveness. If he had done that, maybe he wouldn't be thinking about it now.
The idea haunts him, that everything between you could've been fixed with a few words, a little patience. He could be with you now, but no, he was and idiot and he lost you because of it.
The reality hits: it’s over. He knows you can’t go back to what you were. He tries to distract himself with everything around him, but it feels pointless. Everything felt pointless.
For now, all he could do was spend his days in a haze, reminiscing you
taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaaa ,, @notm4d1 ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @bernalswifeyy ,, @nngkay ,, @justaf1girl (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)
#alexavia writes 🍒#alexavia yaps 🍒#x reader#breakup#fic#fanfic#angst#oneshot#football#serie a#ac milan#angsty#joao felix#joao felix x reader#joao felix x you#joao felix x y/n#joao felix fic#joao felix fanfic#x y/n#x you#x reader oneshot#joao felix oneshot#joao felix angst#joão félix x reader#joão félix x you#joão félix x y/n#joão félix oneshot#joão félix fanfic#joão félix angst#joão félix
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Do you think that Cerberus while piecing back together Shepard would have gotten rid of all physical “flaws” or bodily marks or whatever.
Like I headcanon my shep to have some tattoos, beauty marks, and one dimple. And I can’t help but think they may have smoothed out the imperfections. They do get rid of any scars you have from me1.
Dimples are a abnormality, completely harmless, but not how the muscles “should” be formed. So would the scientists keep it.
And Tattoos! the idea of them re-tatting shep while unconscious is kinda hilarious but I feel like they wouldn’t. Tattoos can be harmful to your immune system so I don’t think they would while their trying to save shep. Unless future sci-fi stuff makes this point useless. Or maybe they just didn’t get to them in time.
What about body hair?! or cellulite?!
Either way just imagine Shepard finally getting a chance to look in a mirror and realizing they are missing all scars that reminded them of past trauma. Idk if that would be a relief or something that makes them feel dissociated from their new body like its not quite their own.
Realizing their quirks (birthmarks, freckles, moles) have all been smoothed out, things that have defined them since they were a kid.
The utter rage they feel at having to get all of their tattoos done again.
Then again the Illusive Man is real obsessive so he might have demanded everything else except the scars to be kept.
#shouting out into the void would love others takes on this#mass effect#mass effect 2#commander shepard#femshep#mshep#my shepard#the illusive man#me2#me1#mass effect 3#me3#jane shepard#john shepard#miranda lawson#male shepard#mas effect headcanons#mass effect imagines
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You Know How There Are Those AU? Where SUPER Injured Ghosts Need To Retreat To Their Core?
No one seems to be USING that to its fullest potential! For SHENANIGANS! Because! Who?? Could POSSIBLY carry a Halfa's Core safely... but another Halfa?! A FULL ghost would KILL them. A human would be killed! What terribly precarious peril we find ourselves in! Oh nooooooo!
Well, no worry!
As much as Dani fuckin HATES this. That there is her brother. Her Template. Her Clone Daddy and Bestest of Bros. Like HECK she's gonna let him suffer for centuries and possibly DIE. She can take it, Doc! Pop him in! We'll go road tripping and-
What do you MEAN "No"?
Unstable??! Of course she's unstable! But the-.... Oh.
Turns OUT? Dani? Can hitch a ride in DANNY for Emergency Medical Aid... but NOT the other way around. Her body is too loosely held together. He would parasiticly consume her from within. Instead of feeding off her Ecto System like injured ghosts are supposed too, because she's a CLONE? AND an unstable one at that? His Core would just... see her body as free ectoplasm. All of it.
He'd eat her.
Which mean Frostbite can not and WILL NOT allow that.
But he's HURT! That big, off screen, cataclysmic Fight To Save Everybody From *cough cough mumbles* and settle us all in the DC universe, REALLY messed him up! What are we supposed to DO!? He can't STAY like this!!!
Enter-> My FAVORITE DCxDP Trash Ship! Vlad&Lex!!! *horrified screaming from the crowds, someone shouts "oh god, no! Please!"* Ha! There are no gods here, silly billys! Only two terrible, terrible HIGHLY Dramatic, self serving, incredibly damaged, gay peacocks. In Business Suits that cost more then your house is worth.
They're AWFUL~♡
And! Vlad was sent ahead to lay the ground work. Insure there would be no GIWs. Also because no one could stand him and his EXTENSIVE criminal record. But that's besides the point.
But!
You know what he found? A Business Nemesis. Who he routinely dates and/or Dramatically Hate Fu-*coughs* I mean, attempts a Corporate Take Over(tm) off. You know how it is. Business. He ALSO gets to make it no secret he's a "Meta", thanks to the INCOMPETENCE of one Jack Fenton, because that- *seething rant*
Yet? Dispite his STILL burning hatred for Jack? And his finally letting go of Maddie? You know what he STILL wants?
For Danny to be his Son.
*Gets a call from Frostbite*
...............soooooo........ what you're SAYING is..... I can be pregnant with Daniel.
You, Frostbite, need ME, Vladimir Masters, THE ONLY OTHER HALFA, to carry Daniel around inside my body, in what to all appearances resembles a pregnancy, in order to heal him. Because I am an Older And Stronger Halfa Upon Which He Relies.
:)
*instantly begins plotting*
Just? Imagine. Vlad is a FUCKIN LIAR. No one but him would even KNOW what was going on! He just? Rocks up one day, like? *falsely demure* "oh I couldn't POSSIBLY has any scotch, Lex! >:) I'm eating for Two~☆" and just? Deals the MAXIMUM amount of psychic damage he can.
Probably says it at their weekly, public, Veiled Threats Brunch.
It makes front page news. Luthor choked on his eggs. The paparazzi lost their SHIT. Vlad is doing the FULL Celebrity Mom Thing. The classes. The photo shoots. The Gucci sunglasses as he peruses high end strollers. All while HEAVILY suggesting that not only is "The Baby" Lex's.... but that he's going to withhold the child and deny Lex any access.
Danny isn't even aware. He's in a lovely lil medical coma. Dani is trying to find a good spot to plop down Amity. She just know Vlad is being... Vlad. Meh. He can handle it. Dan? He's not even IN the human realm and is not sure he wants to be.
But over in the LEAGUE? Everything's on fuckin FIRE.
Kon is losing his SHIT and Clark is thousand yard staring into the void. Kon's half brother is in the hands of a... Less Then Ideal... Meta that Batman is PRETTY sure is highly suspect. Might be a deliberate weapons experiment. Certainly is a hostage. And the DRAMA.
Lex has never been worse.
He might actually stab his...partner? Vlad. At the hospital. The SECOND the child is born. There are already long term kidnapping plans in the making. He's hiring lawyers. Getting VICIOUS. There have been talks with DEATHSTROKE. By BOTH OF THEM.
Clark wants to cry.
@hypewinter @ailithnight @nerdpoe @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @mutable-manifestation @babbling-babull
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WAiTiN’ ON CALLS — S. JAEYUN 𓂃 ⭑
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( 엔하이픈 제이크 ) : jake misses you — too much for his own liking. he tries to move on, and by doing so, he gives you one last call. usually it would go directly to voicemail, but instead, he was greeted with you on the other line.
──── ex!jake x gn ! r . . . ⌕ ex 2 lovers, second chance, angst, fluff ∿ 𝔀ord count 2.1K+ ( 2196 ) ╱ HAPPY BF JAKE DAY 🤍 i’ve been dying to write a fic using this pic of jake ever since it got posted … so this is for me and my jake baes 🤍
Jake knew he was beyond exhausted—so tired that all he could manage after work was to head straight for his bed, not even bothering to take off his suit.
But despite the dim lighting and the comfort of sinking into his mattress, sleep refused to come. He tossed and turned, tried counting sheep, but nothing worked. Frustrated, he sat up, turning on the radio to a soft, quiet tune as he stared at his phone.
He already knew what was on his mind.
His gaze settled on his contact list, focusing on one name—yours.
He missed you, more than he cared to admit. His eyes lingered on your icon, a picture he’d secretly taken during one of your dates. You’d demanded he delete it, but he never did. Instead, he kept it as a reminder of you, proudly showing it off whenever he got the chance.
A small, bittersweet smile crept onto his lips as his eyes trailed down to your name, the ache in his chest growing a little heavier.
My Love. He never bothered changing it—that name was reserved for you, and only you. Was it strange for him to keep it that way? He wasn't sure, but what he did know was that no matter what, you’d always be his love, even if he was the only one who still believed it.
Should he call you again?
His finger hovered over your name, hesitating—a rare feeling for him. He’d always called before, whenever he had a free moment. It was supposed to be a one-time thing, just a way to clear his head, but it had become a habit. Strangely enough, he found relief in those calls. They always went straight to voicemail, and he was certain you never listened to them.
That’s where he poured his heart out, leaving messages that no one would hear. It was sad, but in a way, comforting—like shouting into the void, knowing there'd be no echo, no response.
He often wondered why you hadn’t blocked him yet. Maybe, if you did, it would finally force him to move on.
Maybe that would give him the push he needed to let go.
But deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. He was the one holding onto the past, the one clinging to old habits. Why did he think calling you, of all things, would help him get over you? Even if someone asked him, he wouldn’t know how to explain it.
Maybe he didn’t really want to.
Maybe, just maybe, he was still hoping for something—anything—from you.
He just wanted to hear your voice again, even though it felt impossible at this point. Pressing his lips together, he finally tapped the call button. Placing the phone on his thigh, Jake ran a hand through his hair, unable to look at the screen as the rings buzzed in the quiet room.
As usual, he fully expected you wouldn’t answer.
Normally, the sting of disappointment would hit him when you let his calls go unanswered, but tonight felt different. Tonight, everything was going to change.
This would be the last time he stared at your contact, the last time he pressed your number, and the last voicemail he'd leave. Tonight, he was finally going to say goodbye.
Tonight—
"Hello?"
His body went still.
For a moment, Jake couldn’t believe it. Your voice, so familiar yet distant, cut through the static of the call. He had rehearsed this moment over and over in his mind, but now that it was real, his words were trapped in his throat.
"Jake?" you repeated, sounding confused, maybe even concerned. "Are you there?"
He swallowed, trying to collect himself. "Hey," he finally managed, his voice barely a whisper. "I... I didn’t expect you to pick up."
There was a brief silence on the other end, making his heart race, before you spoke again. "I didn’t expect to get so many calls... or all the voicemails."
"You... you listened to them?" he asked, barely able to believe it.
“Caught up on all of it yesterday,” you admitted, your voice surprisingly calm. “You really sent a lot, huh?”
Jake’s heart was pounding so loudly that it drowned out his own thoughts. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The plan to say goodbye, the resolution he had built up in his mind, seemed to dissolve the moment he heard your voice.
He didn’t want to mess this up—he couldn’t.
“I still didn’t expect you to actually listen to them,” he said, his voice shakier than he wanted it to be.
“How could I not?” you chuckled softly, attempting to ease the awkward tension. It was strange, both of you knew it. Talking to your ex, someone you swore you’d never contact again, felt surreal.
And yet, here you were—on the phone, waiting for him to say something more.
Jake took a breath, the weight of his next words heavy on his chest. "I was planning on this being the last call,” he confessed. “Since you never really picked up... I figured I was just bothering you."
There was a pause on the other end, and he held his breath, wondering what you’d say next.
"Would it be wrong to say I had a feeling?" you finally replied, voice soft.
"How could you tell?"
"Just... a gut feeling," you said, as if searching for the right words. "Or maybe because… I knew you."
His heart couldn’t help but falter—he knew you were not lying. You did know him, deeply once. But that closeness had slipped away when life had led you down different paths.
"Yeah," was all he could muster, the simplicity of the word masking the storm of emotions within him. He wasn’t sure how to move forward, or if he even wanted to.
“Do you mean every single voice message?” you asked, breaking the silence that had settled between you two. Jake’s eyes widened, caught off guard by the question.
“Of course I do,” he replied, gripping his phone tightly, as if it could somehow bridge the distance between you. His heart was pounding; he needed to make this count. “There isn’t a single thing I’ve sent to you that I’d ever want to take back. Every word was real. It’s exactly how I feel about you... about us.”
For a moment, vulnerability hung between you, both knowing this conversation could change everything. Jake could only hope you’d feel it too, that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to turn this into something more.
“Come see me then.”
“Huh?” Jake’s breath hitched, unsure if he’d heard you right.
“You’re not going to leave me hanging this time, are you?” you asked with a light chuckle, though your voice held a hint of nervousness. You hoped the laughter would mask how your heart was pounding, racing in anticipation.
Jake barely registered the words before he was scrambling to grab his keys, his phone pressed tightly to his ear. “Not this time,” he stammered, his voice shaking with excitement and a touch of panic. He could feel his pulse hammering as he fumbled with his shoes, trying to keep his hands steady.
The thought of seeing you, of finally closing the distance he’d been feeling for so long, filled him with both anticipation and nervous energy.
"Take your time," you teased, though he could hear the faintest tremor in your voice, as if you were trying to calm yourself, too. But he knew he wouldn’t—couldn’t—wait.
He barely managed to lock his door, nearly tripping as he rushed down the stairs. His mind raced, playing over every word, every message he’d sent, wondering if this was finally his chance to make things right.
As he reached his car, hands fumbling for his keys, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus, to drive safely. But his heart wouldn’t slow, each beat pushing him forward with a desperate urgency.
Jake barely remembered the drive over, his mind racing faster than the car itself. As he pulled up in front of your house, he felt a fresh wave of nerves settle over him. He sat there for a second, gripping the steering wheel, trying to steady his breath.
This was it.
With a final deep breath, he stepped out of the car and walked up the path to your door, his heart pounding with every step. He hesitated before raising his hand to knock, his mind swirling with questions.
But before he could overthink it, the door swung open, and there you were, standing there in the soft glow of your porch light. For a split second, neither of you spoke, caught up in the quiet intensity of the moment.
“Hi,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips, though he could see the same nervousness reflected in your eyes. “Still in your work attire?”
Jake looked down, realizing for the first time that he was still in his slightly rumpled shirt and loosened tie, his rushed appearance suddenly feeling a bit ridiculous. He let out a small, embarrassed laugh, reaching up to grab his tie as if he could somehow hide it from you. But when he looked back up, he wore a shy smile, his eyes creasing in that gentle way that had always made your heart skip.
Before he could say anything else, you stepped closer, reaching up to fix his tie, your fingers brushing against the fabric with a delicate touch that sent a shiver down his spine. He swallowed, feeling his pulse quicken. It was such a simple gesture, yet it felt like slipping back into something deeply familiar, a memory that had never truly faded.
“There,” you murmured softly as you adjusted the tie, smoothing out the collar. Your hand lingered for just a second longer, and in that moment, Jake felt everything—the unspoken words, the history, the quiet yearning.
“Thank you,” he managed, his voice a little rough.
"I didn’t realize you wanted to see me that badly… especially after just finishing your shift,” you said with a hint of surprise. “You’ve always loved your job.”
Jake let out a small, wistful laugh, meeting your gaze. “Even after a long shift, that isn’t enough to distract me from you,” he admitted. You both knew how deeply he was dedicated to his work, how it had once been the thing that drew him away from you, consuming his time and energy. Something he loved had taken his real love away from him. But he couldn’t dwell on regrets now, not when this chance was standing right in front of him.
“Every time I get back from work, I have to leave a voicemail,” he confessed quietly, his words hanging between you both.
“Every night?” you asked, startled. You hadn’t realized just how much he’d been reaching out in those messages, hadn’t counted the days it had spanned. “That’s… a lot, Jake.”
He nodded, his gaze steady and sincere. “There hasn’t been a single day I haven’t thought about you, Y/N,” he said softly, his voice raw with honesty.
You looked at him, noticing how he pressed his lips together, a nervous habit he’d never quite outgrown. His hair was neatly parted, and his suit fit him perfectly, accentuating the small changes time had brought to him. Somehow, he looked even better than you remembered—or maybe it was simply because you’d missed him more than you’d realized.
“Jake,” you murmured, almost as if testing his name again, letting it fill the space between you both. “I really missed you too.”
At your words, Jake’s face lit up, his cheeks lifting with a smile he couldn’t contain, no matter how hard he tried to keep his composure. He quickly looked away, clearing his throat, but when he turned back, his grin only grew wider as he saw your own smile mirroring his.
“Then… would you let me stay the night?” he asked softly, his voice hopeful, though almost immediately he seemed to second-guess himself. His smile faltered as he began to backpedal, a nervous laugh escaping. “Or, if that’s too much, we could just sit outside, or… in my car? Just to talk, to catch up—or maybe just to let me finally say all these things I’ve kept hidden.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, finding his nervous rambling unexpectedly endearing. It was hard to remember the last time you’d seen Jake like this—unsure, almost shy. Without another word, you reached out and grabbed his arm, gently tugging him inside.
“You can stay,” you said, a warmth in your voice that eased the lingering tension in the air.
Jake blinked in surprise, his nervous expression melting into something more tender as he stepped inside. The familiar warmth of your home wrapped around him, but it was the simple presence of you that truly eased him. He hadn’t realized how much he'd longed for this—just to be near you again.
As he looked at you, a quiet realization washed over him, clear and undeniable. He wasn’t just here because he needed to be; he was here because he wanted to be.
Wherever you were, that was where he wanted to be too.
‘💬’ ─── may active soph come back after this one 😖!
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Would you Fall in Love with Me Again (Alternate) || Worst!Logan x Reader
I will fall in love with you over and over again I don't care how, where, or when No matter how long it's been, you're mine
warnings: angst to fluff, description of violence, Wade being wade, he calls you princess
wc: 2.5k
a/n: This is the alternate plot to the other fic I wrote of the same name. You can find that here! I just really liked both plots and I think this turned out pretty good :) This is also 1k words more than the other one idk what happened there lol
Logan was having a really shitty day. All he wanted was to get drunk but some asshole in red spandex decided to come and ruin his day. Now he's sitting in someone's fucking hideout with no hope of getting out of this hell hole. At least there's booze here.
"You always take shit that doesn't belong to you?" He growls as he takes another chug.
"Fuck off." He turns to berate the unknown voice but stops dead in his tracks.
He sobers up real fucking quick as he takes in the figure before him. Without thinking your name slips from his lips. It feels so foreign coming from him. He hasn't said your name in years.
"Logan?" You take a step forward, could this really be him? No...I can't.
Your Logan would never be caught dead in that uniform. He refused to wear it, no matter how much you begged him to wear it. But this man, he just felt so familiar.
“Thor!” Your attention snaps to the other man in red.
As the commotion begins you slip back into the shadows. You don’t bother to listen to whatever nonsense is coming from the guy in red. Laura brought them here.
You knew she had a Logan, just like you. Except her Logan died. You didn’t know he could. It made you think about your Logan. They sounded pretty similar. Mean, angry, drunk. But had that softer side almost no one else saw but a select few. Your eyes land on the Wolverine standing by Red.
He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. Maybe this was him. You want it to be him, but that little glimmer of hope refuses to shine. What if its not. You can’t lose him again. You think back to that night. That awful night.
He was going off to the bars again and you all asked him to stay. You begged him for one night to stay home with the team, with you. But he walked away. It was the dead of night when you heard them. You had been waiting for Logan to come home when you heard the footsteps and the shouting.
In a blink of an eye everything was gone. Friends dead. Mansion destroyed. You had fought back as best you could but they killed everyone. Everyone except you. You don’t know how or why you survived but apart of you wished you hadn’t. Then your thoughts drifted to Logan. What would happen when he came home? What if they had gotten to him too?
Before you could even think of finding him. Some assholes in these weird suits showed up. Zapping you with some thing and sending you here. Its been a long time since then. The void was your home now and these people were your family. Every day you wished you could go back to your world, find your Logan. But it seems he might have been brought back to you.
“I know this movie is R rated but if you two could keep the eye fucking to a minimum that would be great.” Red pipes up.
“Shut the fuck up.” Both you and Logan say. Glaring at the loudmouth man.
“Aww how cute, twining!.” He coos at Logan who raises his fist, ready to stick three claws right into his face. Red lets out a shriek and runs to hide behind you.
“What the fuck?” You ask as he peeks over your shoulder.
“Sorry honey bunches but I’m not ready to go another round with peanut over there so you’re my human shield.” You raise your eyebrow at Logan who puts away his claws.
“Fucking coward.” He stares at you before shaking his head and leaving.
“How rude, you think he’s be happy to see you and we’d get one of those notebook pride and prejudice style romance scenes.” He says before leaving you alone.
Seemingly unaware of the bomb he had dropped on you. A plan forms but you don’t pay any mind. So this is him. That is your Logan. He’s so different. Sure he was never the nicest man but he just seemed, broken now. Like all hope and love had been drained from his mind. Leaving only rage in its wake.
As night falls you see him outside, drinking by the fire. Laura sits with him. You wonder what it’s like for her to see him. If it was as jarring for her as it feels for you. Slowly you walk outside, not wanting to interrupt their conversation. Catching only a few words here and there. When Laura leaves he calls out.
“Whoever you think I am, you got the wrong guy.” She turns, catching your gaze for a moment before looking back at him.
"You were always the wrong guy." As she walks away you slowly walk towards him.
This isn't the reunion you expected. When you imagined seeing him again it was a lot nicer. You would find your way out of here and go home, find him and tell him how much you missed him.
"You just gonna stand there?" Logan's voice feels so much colder.
Though you see the instant regret in his eyes as he looks at you. He darts around before staring back down at the fire. You make your way over and sit on the log next to him. His sleeves are ripped and his suit bloodied. This was the suit you never thought you'd see on him.
"Logan, is it really you." You reach out to touch his cheek but he ducks his head away from you.
"Please, I've been dreaming of this day ever since I landed in his hell hole. Tell me that this is real." He can barely meet your eyes as he swirls the brown liquid in the bottle around.
He nods his head. A small part of him says to lie. Look you in the eyes and tell you he's not from the same universe. That he isn't the Logan who abandoned you, walked away from you. But fuck has he missed you.
"You look different, tired. Can it really be you?" You say softly as you turn your body towards him, moving closer. The grip on his bottle tightens as he builds up the courage to look at you. You're just as beautiful as he remembered.
"I...I'm not the man you remember." He says lowly. His face feels heavy in your hands. Like he's letting you bare the weight he's been holding.
"You're still my husband." You hum as you bring your other hand to scratch behind his ear.
"No, I've changed. I'm not the husband you remember." He closes his eyes, relishing in your touch. You used to do this to calm him down.
"Princess..." He takes your hands away from his face.
"I've done things. Horrible things. I...I'm no hero. I wanted to be one, for you but..." He stops.
"I was weak. But I've missed you. Every fucking day I think about you." The angry quips and drunken growls were gone. This was the Logan only you got to see. The tired, broken, vulnerable Logan.
"Would you still love me? Would you fall for me again? If you knew." He whispers. He's terrified of the answer. He became a monster. He didn't have the team or Charles or you to ground him anymore.
"What did you do my love?" You ask. His eyes darken, head hanging in shame.
"I came home and you were all dead. Every single one of you. I-" He stops, the memories pouring into his head.
"I looked for your body, through the smell of blood and death I could still smell your perfume. But I couldn't find you." He remembers staining his clothes with blood. Hands soaked as he searched the mansion for you.
"When I couldn't find you, I thought they had taken you. To experiment or something. So I tracked them down. I found them and I killed them." His eyes lit with a fiery rage. Tears were pooling in your eyes as you listened to what your husband had to go through.
"I killed every last one of them. Hunted them down until I was sure they were all dead for what they did. But I couldn't find you. You were gone and I didn't even have a body to bury." He spits.
He takes his hands away from you, closing himself off again as he chugs the rest of the bottle. Old habits die hard.
"After they were all dead, I couldn't rest. I was so angry. So I kept killing. Didn't matter who. I left a trail of blood and turned the whole world against mutants." He laughs bitterly as he tosses the bottle over his shoulder.
It shatters and a piece digs itself into his shoulder. He barely even notices. Like the pain is something he's used to at this point. Gently you take the piece and tug it out.
"So much for being a hero huh?" He looks at you, expecting the worst as he builds back the walls he had just taken down.
"Logan..." To his shock you weren't angry or disgusted. You were crying. Tears are falling down your face, a look of utter heartbreak as you see the ghost of the man you once knew.
"I'm so sorry." You cry as you wrap your arms around him. He's stiffens at your touch. Your sobs break his damn heart.
"Please don't cry princess," He begs.
"I lived. That night I survived and I tried to find you but they sent me here." Logan tenses. Those bastards sent you here. Alone and afraid. A part of him wants to tear those fuckers limb from limb, but the other part knows that if you hadn't been sent here. You'd be dead. He takes your face and wipes away the tears.
"I'm not worth crying over. Shedding tears for a monster..."
"My husband is not a monster!" You say angrily.
"I told you before I'm not your fucking husband anymore!" Logan snaps back.
You wipe your eyes and stuff your hand into your pocket. Logan's breath hitches as he sees your wedding ring. It wasn't much, he couldn't afford the diamond he thought you deserved. Instead he made it, carved the band from a piece of wood and found the prettiest gem he could.
"Are you not the man who gave this to me?!" You shout.
"Till death do us part Logan. I'm not dead, I'm right here. I've been waiting to see you again for years." You take the ring and shove it against his chest.
His hand curls around yours. You were sick of this, you love this man more than life itself. When will he get that? You never wanted the hero, you want Logan.
"If you're not my husband anymore than take it back." His hand grabs your wrist, refusing to let you go. He reaches into his suit, around his neck is a chain and sitting between his dog tags was his ring.
The one that matched yours. He says your name again. This time much quieter, much sadder. There's no doubt in his mind that he isn't good enough for you. He's never been enough for you. The day you said your vows chased away those fears but they always lingered.
Then he lost you and he had just been repeating it in his head over and over again since then. But now you're here, alive and somehow you're looking past it all. Somehow, you still love him.
"Don't you get it Logan. I love you. I love you so much it hurts." You sink to the ground and Logan follows.
Sweeping you up in his arms, protecting you from the dirt and leaves. You're in his lap, hands caressing his face as he holds onto you, arms wrapped around your waist.
"I'd pick you over and over, I don't care how long its been or who you think you are now. You will always be my husband and I will always love you." You lean your forehead against his. Closing your eyes you just take it in. This is real. You’ve found each other again and you won’t let go ever again.
“I’ve fucking missed you.” He growls as he smashes his lips onto you. His hands travel anywhere he can touch.
It’s been so long since he’s felt so desperate. His hand cups the back of your head as he leans you back onto the ground. Crawling over you as he uses his elbows to prop himself up. Your hands are tangled in his hair as he deepens the kiss. Breathless you pull away, ready to kiss him again. Footsteps grab both of your attention. Logan covers you as best as he can as he unsheathes his claws.
“Woah there, let us get the intimacy coordinator here before the two of you start the devils dance.”
“Shut the fuck up Wade.” Logan growls as he sits back up. You try and avoid Wade’s gaze as you sit up.
“I didn’t know they made Viagra for 200 year old men.” He says while unashamedly staring at Logan’s crotch.
“Get the fuck out Red.” You hiss.
“Sorry angel, big fan by the way, just came out here to check on peanut.” Logan makes a move to get up and Wade jumps back.
“Fine jesus sorry for being a concerned friend!” He huffs before marching back to the hideout.
“Does he ever shut up?” You ask and Logan grunts.
“No.”
The fire has been slowly dying and the light is fading fast.
“We’re leaving at sunrise for Cassandras. We’re getting out of here.” Logan looks at you with unease. He just got you back and now you’re going to risk your life again.
“We could stay here. This place ain’t so bad.” Not when you’re here. He could make this place a home if you’re with him.
“They need you Logan, they don’t stand a chance without you.” You hum as you pick a leaf out of his hair.
“What if I lose you again? I just got you back.” He can’t let you slip through his fingers.
“You won’t lose me my love. I swear. Laura believes in you and so do I.” He thinks about Laura. The girl who lost her own version of him. Whoever that man was, he was a hero. If he could be a fraction of him, then maybe he could prove he’s more than what he’s become. You love him but he could be the man he always wanted to be for you. He could be proud of the suit , of his title. He can make you proud.
“Okay. But you’re staying by my side the whole time.” You smile and kiss him once again. Sighing as you get to relish being in the arms of your lover again.
“Deal. Now, let’s get some rest.” You guide him to your bed, he curls up next to you.
Burying his face in your chest as you try and sleep. Logan's hold on you is iron clad, he's afraid that when he wakes tomorrow you won't be here, that this was all some strange dream. You place your hand over his, cooing soft words in his ear until he relaxes.
"I love you Logan." You whisper as you close your eyes. Ready to face whatever comes tomorrow with your husband by your side.
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A NON-SEPARATION²
DadLewis Hamilton X Mom!fem!reader
Summary: When Lewis and the girls return from their trip, and things with Y/n start to improve. And then, he confesses something that was on his mind during the days they were apart.
Words: 5.8K+
Warnings: Mentions of the past fight, Lewis being a loving husband, Pietra being very funny, Marie's cuteness and a happy ending.
Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. You can request stories on my profile, in questions. By the way, I loved writing for these four, if you want, I can make a parallel world and write more stories about this family!!!!! (Comment if you want, so I know)
Part 1
MASTERLIST
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/17c64dc82dd93d4c9a69b612230bff69/e2666b5b5583aa44-d4/s540x810/388c38d10733ba387c9e9a1ffd6870d8cc53eb33.jpg)
The weekend passed more quickly than Y/n expected. With Anne in town, she had a chance to take her mind off things, even though the silence in the house still bothered her. They went out to lunch, watched movies, and talked about everything but Lewis—at least until the last day, when Y/n finally admitted that she missed him. Anne wasn’t surprised, but she didn’t press her either.
Meanwhile, Lewis and the girls had an emotional weekend. The race was intense, and the girls cheered in the Ferrari garage alongside grandma Carmen, cheering for their father.
Pietra, always spontaneous, made a point of shouting "Go, daddy!" right in the middle of the post-race interview, making the journalists laugh. Marie, more reserved, just covered her face with her hands, pretending she didn't know her sister.
Now it was Tuesday, and Y/n had already returned to her routine—or at least she tried to. She was on vacation from the office, Anne had already left, and the big house was silent again. Too silent.
She had never spent so much time away from her daughters, and every corner of the house felt empty without them. Roscoe was her only company, but not even the dog could fill the void left by Marie and Pietra. And, of course, by Lewis.
Y/n sighed, sitting on the couch, fiddling with her phone without really paying attention. But suddenly, a loud horn echoed through the condominium, and she practically jumped off the couch, running to the door. Roscoe ran after her, knowing exactly who had arrived.
Opening the door, Y/n saw the two girls getting out of the car, their faces lit up with huge smiles.
Marie wore the denim jacket she had asked her mother to pack, paired with her black pants and white sneakers. Always stylish and authentic. Pietra, on the other hand, well, she looked different. Very different.
The sparkly dress was expected. But braids in her hair?
Yes. The same braids Lewis wore.
Y/n's eyes widened, holding back a laugh as Pietra and Marie ran to hug her. She bent down, wrapping her arms around her daughters, feeling their familiar scent.
"I missed you guys so much" She murmured, closing her eyes.
"We miss you too, Mommy!" Marie replied, squeezing her tighter.
In the middle of the hug, Y/n looked up and found Lewis. He was leaning against the car, watching the scene with a smile. And God, how handsome he was. How handsome he IS.
His eyes lit up when he saw his wife looking at him like that, and he smiled even wider when she whispered a brief "Hi."
Lewis returned the greeting with a loving look, but then Y/n looked at Pietra's braids again. She arched an eyebrow and pointed at her youngest daughter's hair, exchanging an amused look with Lewis.
He just laughed and gestured with his hand, signaling that he would explain later.
Marie pulled out of the hug and looked at her sister. "Grandma took Pietra to the salon and she wanted to do the same as daddy."
"Exactly the same!" Pietra said excitedly, bending down to pet Roscoe.
Y/n smiled, running her fingers through Marie's straight hair. "And you, my love? You look beautiful in that jacket." Marie smiled shyly and pulled her mother into another hug.
Y/n melted. Since the girls were born, it was like this: Marie was her shadow, and Pietra was her father's copy. Even though physically the two had inherited more of Lewis's features, their personalities balanced everything out.
Suddenly, Pietra looked up at her mother, excited. "Daddy bought you flowers, Mommy!"
Lewis rolled his eyes near the car, while Yin looked at her daughter and then at him, holding back a laugh.
"Oh, really?"
"Yes! And they're red flowers and they have a pretty bow and..."
"PIETRA!" Marie and Lewis said together. The girl's tone was one of authority, her father's was one of amusement.
Lewis chuckled, shaking his head. "That little girl needs to learn how to keep secrets."
Y/n laughed, standing up, but still keeping one hand in Marie's hair. Pietra, oblivious to the small chaos she caused, ran with Roscoe into the house.
Marie looked up at her mother. "I'll go in too."
Y/n kissed the top of her head. "It's okay, love."
As Marie entered, Y/n looked at her eldest daughter and then, Lewis finally approached. He was holding a beautiful bouquet of red roses. Y/n's favorites.
He handed it to her, his gaze soft. "I know a bouquet can't fix everything...but I want you to remember that I still love you very much."
Y/n's heart sank. She held the flowers tenderly, inhaling their scent and blinking back a few tears. "Thank you, Lew. They're beautiful." There was a brief silence between the two, just the soft wind blowing through the garden. "Do you want to come in and talk about it?"
He hesitated for a moment, as if choosing the right words. His gaze softened, and the way he held his car keys indicated he was more nervous than he wanted to show.
"I don't want to talk about this here, with the girls around," he said, his voice filled with genuine regret. "I want to do this right, without rushing, without distractions. I want to take you out to dinner, like before. So we can have some time alone."
There was something vulnerable in his expression, a mixture of guilt and a sincere desire to make amends for whatever harm he had caused. As much as they had both said hurtful words, he clearly carried the weight of it in a deeper way.
Y/n felt her chest warm, gripping the bouquet tighter. Lewis had never been good with words when it came to deep feelings, but she knew that when he tried like that, it was because it really meant something.
He didn't just want to settle the fight. He wanted to reaffirm that, despite everything, the love between them was still unshakable.
Y/n took a deep breath and nodded, her voice as soft as his. "I'd also rather we not talk about this in front of the girls."
Lewis nodded silently, and Y/n stepped aside, making room in the doorway for him to enter.
But he smiled and shook his head. "Actually, I just came to drop off the girls and the bags. My dad is in town with Linda, we planned to meet up."
Y/n smiled slightly, knowing that Lewis didn't see his father that often and that those moments were important.
However, he sighed and ran his hand over the back of his neck, suddenly looking uneasy. "But I promised that nothing would be more important than you. That I would pay more attention to you and the girls." He began to stumble over his words nervously. "If you want, I'll cancel. It's no problem, really. I-"
Y/n's eyes widened, smiling at his sudden rambling. She gently reached up and touched Lewis's face, calming him down. "Lew, it's okay," She said, looking deep into his eyes. "Your father and Linda are your family too. They deserve priority sometimes."
Lewis blinked, absorbing her words, before letting out a small sigh of relief. A grateful smile appeared on his face.
"Thank you, love."
The nickname came out so natural and full of affection that Y/n felt her heart beat faster.
It was as if he were truly giving himself over, breaking the distance that had formed between them over the past few days. The way he called her, with the softness and vulnerability that touched her so much, made her feel reconnected to him, as if everything that had happened up until that moment was something temporary, a storm that would soon pass.
Before they could say anything else, Pietra shouted something inside, making them both laugh.
Y/n laughed and shook her head, calling out, "Marie, help your sister with whatever she's asking for, please!"
Lewis smiled and went to the car to get the girls' bags, placing them in the entrance hall. When he returned, he approached his wife and placed a light kiss on her cheek.
“You’re free tomorrow night” He said, a twinkle in his eye. “I already have some restaurant ideas for us.”
Y/n smiled. "I'll stay."
Lewis gave one last smile before leaving, and Y/n closed the door, now surrounded by the sound of her daughters' cute laughter echoing through the house. But even so, she felt like something was still missing. And she knew exactly what it was.
Holding the bouquet, she walked to the kitchen to put the flowers in water. The girls followed her, excited.
She smiled at the two of them, leaning slightly over the counter. "Now, girls... tell us all the cool things you did on your trip!"
••••••••••••••••••••••••
The day dawned softly, with the first rays of sunlight crossing the bedroom curtains. The house, previously silent, was filled with lively laughter and small, hurried footsteps down the hallway.
Marie and Pietra, full of energy, ran to their mother's room and, without hesitation, jumped on the bed. Roscoe, excited by the excitement, climbed right behind, wagging his tail and settling down next to Y/n.
The daughters' laughter mixed with the dog's low, happy barks, while Y/n, still sleepy, received the girls' excited hugs. She felt the warmth and love in the contact, enjoying that moment of purity before finally promising to get up.
At the mention of breakfast, the girls rushed down the hallway, eagerly leaving the room in an instant. As Y/n turned to get out of bed, her gaze fell on the empty side of the mattress. Still empty.
She knew what she wanted. And no matter what conversation they would have later, one thing was certain: she wanted Lewis back there. With her. With her daughters.
And before she could get out of bed, her cell phone beeped and a message from her husband appeared.
'Linda and my dad are excited to see the girls. They want to hang out with them tonight, and that's a good thing because we have plans later too. I'll pick you up at 7pm. Love you, babe!'
Night fell quickly and the house was silent, except for the distant sound of water running in the girls' bathroom. In the bedroom, Y/n looked at the clothing options spread out on the armchair: an elegant long dress and a more casual combination consisting of a black satin shirt, jeans and heels.
She ran her fingers through the fabric of his shirt, a soft smile playing on her lips. She felt as if she were preparing for a first date. Her heart was pounding with anticipation, something she hadn’t felt in a while. She closed her eyes for a moment, remembering the first time she had gone out with Lewis, all those years ago. She remembered the way he had looked at her that night, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.
The sound of footsteps interrupted her thoughts. Before she could react, a voice came from behind her. “Satin shirt and heels, Mommy.”
Y/n turned around and found Marie standing in the doorway, wrapped in a fluffy robe, with a towel too big for her head. The sight made Y/n laugh softly. Marie looked so small in the midst of so much fabric.
The girl shrugged, a shy smile on her lips. "You look beautiful in both, but I like it better when you wear a shirt. It makes you look... powerful."
Y/n let out a laugh and walked over to Marie, placing a loving hand on her shoulder. Her chest hurt a little from seeing her first baby girl grow up so fast.
"Thank you for the compliment, little one. Then I'll choose that one." She led her daughter out of the room and toward the girls' room. "Now it's your turn, Marie. Choose something just as powerful." Marie laughed and nodded, following her mother.
In the girls' room, Pietra was already wearing her going out clothes and Y/n just needed to help her put on her shoes, since she had her braids done.
As she tied her shoelaces, Y/n couldn't help but smile. The braids were still flawless, and she made a mental note to ask Lewis whose idea it had been in the first place.
She always made sure to respect her daughters’ personalities, helping them get ready with care and patience. As she adjusted Pietra’s clothes and fixed Marie’s hair, she felt grateful for those simple but loving moments.
Suddenly, the sound of a horn echoed outside. Marie and Pietra looked at each other and then looked at their mother.
"Daddy can't come yet!" Pietra exclaimed, starting to leave the room. "Mommy hasn't gotten ready yet!"
Y/n and Marie exchanged an amused look before laughing together. "It's Grandpa and Grandma Linda," Y/n said loudly, so that Pietra could hear her.
Marie smiled and left the room with her mother, she went downstairs excitedly too, happy to see Grandpa and Grandma Linda. When Y/n got to the door, Pietra was already anxious, jumping up and down.
"Open up, Mommy! Open up, Mommy!"
On the other side of the door, she heard the familiar laughter, they probably heard P's excited screams. As soon as she opened it, Pietra let out an excited little scream and threw herself into her grandfather and grandmother's arms.
Linda and Anthony laughed, hugging the little girl.
"You were really excited to see us, huh?" Linda joked.
Y/n laughs. "When Lew said you guys were coming to get them she wouldn't stop talking about you guys!"
Anthony and Linda give Y/n a warm smile as they hug their youngest granddaughter.
Marie soon joined in the group hug. "Miss you, Grandpa and Grandma Linda!"
"I miss you too, little one." Linda hugs her eldest and Anthony strokes his eldest granddaughter's straight hair.
Y/n smiled as she saw the scene.
Linda stepped back a little, studying Pietra and smiling. "I love the braids."
The little girl smiled proudly. "Right? Just like daddy's!" Everyone laughed.
Anthony then bent down and asked, "So, are you guys excited to go out?" The girls smiled and nodded excitedly.
Y/n bent down to their level, fixing Marie's hair and caressing Pietra's cheek, while giving some instructions to her daughters. "Behave yourselves and have fun, okay?"
Linda smiled. "They always behave, don't they, girls?"
They both nodded with shy smiles.
Anthony smiled and they walked towards the car, while Y/n watched the scene with a sweet smile on her face. Linda helps Marie and Pietra put on their seatbelts. Lewis's father waves to Y/n as he starts the car.
Y/n smiles friendly and when they leave the condominium, she closes the door behind her and runs to the stairs, climbing quickly, as now it was her turn to get ready.
When he arrived at his room, he stopped for a moment, looking at the clothes he had laid out earlier. The long dress was still there, but her eyes returned to the black satin shirt and jeans, already deciding what to wear. Marie was right—there was something powerful about that combination, something that made her feel confident and beautiful.
Calmly, Y/n took off the comfortable clothes she was wearing and put on the shirt, feeling the soft fabric slide over her skin. She continued to change her clothes and think about what awaited her tonight.
Y/n went to the large vanity she had and began to put on some light makeup, but something that matched the night and the outfit she was wearing.
As she finished applying mascara to her eyes, her cell phone beeped next to the products on the table, when she picked up the device and smiled when she saw Lewis's name on the screen, along with a message.
'Honey, coming in 10 minutes. Can't wait to see you.'
Her heart warmed, and the smile on her lips became even bigger, feeling a good shiver at the thought that, in a few minutes, she would be with her husband.
And exactly ten minutes later, when she finished arranging her hair in loose waves, a horn echoed outside her house. Y/n smiles and stands up, grabbing her bag and walking down the stairs excitedly, because Lewis had arrived.
When she opened it, she found Lewis standing a few feet from the door and a smile from someone who knew exactly the effect he was having on her. He wore an elegant formal outfit, but what caught her attention most were his loose braids, giving him a charming and relaxed look.
Y/n raised an eyebrow and smiled, tilting her head slightly. "Look at you... You look handsome, huh? Are you going out with someone special today?" She closed the door behind her and approached her husband.
Lewis chuckled softly, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. "Only with the love of my life and mother of our children." The touch was brief, but full of affection. "You look beautiful in that outfit!" He grabbed his wife's hand and twirled around. Making Y/n laugh and her heels make a satisfying click as she twirled around.
"Your eldest daughter chose the outfit" He said, shaking the shirt slightly, with an amused look.
Lewis smiled even wider, his eyes shining. "Marie has good taste." He leaned close to her ear. "But honestly? You'd look beautiful in anything. Even without."
Y/n laughed, feeling completely melted and hit by Lewis's teasing comment. He noticed and smiled. Satisfied that he had that effect on her for so many years.
Arriving near the car, Lewis opens the passenger door for Y/n and she gets in, smiling in gratitude and resting her bag on her lap, as she watches her husband walk around the Ferrari they had and get in on the driver's side.
Automatically placing one hand on Y/n's thigh, while with the other he put on his seatbelt and started the car.
The night was calm and illuminated by the silver lights of the streetlights and the luxurious facades of the buildings. The city glowed with a sophisticated charm, reflecting in the city's lakes.
Y/n, leaning comfortably on the bench, looked away at her husband and smiled. "Okay, now tell me... Whose idea was it for P's braids?"
Lewis laughed, shaking his head as he remembered the scene in the paddock. "Oh, that's a good story! I don't know if the girls told you," he began, still laughing. "While I was in the pit, Charles came out of nowhere saying that I had a "mini-me" walking around the paddock with my mother. I didn't understand until I looked to the side and saw Pietra with a Ferrari cap, sunglasses and her hair tied back, with defined curls." Y/n laughed out loud, already imagining the scene. "And it doesn't stop there! Pietra looked at me and said: "Daddy, I need to have braids like yours! So everyone knows that I'm your real daughter!"
Y/n covered her mouth, trying to contain her laughter. "Oh my God, Pietra!"
"And of course my mother was thrilled and the next day took her to get her braids done. You should have seen her happiness when she came back to the paddock showing off her hair."
"And what was Marie's reaction?" Y/n asked, amused. As she looked at her husband, with the tattoos of the girls' names tattooed on his neck, made on the day they were born.
"Ah, Marie rolled her eyes and said, "You don't need to have braids to look like Daddy, everyone already knows you look just like him!" Lewis imitated his eldest daughter's intonation, drawing more laughter from Y/n.
"Our daughter has an old soul, Lew!"
He chuckled, nodding. "I know, she talks like she's had 40 years of life experience." Lewis looks at his wife with amusement.
As the laughter faded, Y/n leaned over to fiddle with the car's dashboard, putting on some low music that matched the lightness of the moment.
Her eyes wandered around the brightly lit city, and suddenly she recognized the road. Her lips parted in surprise, and she turned her gaze to Lewis, who was driving with a smirk on the corner of her eye, clearly expecting this reaction.
"Lew..." Y/n began, suspicious. He just kept driving, keeping the suspense.
When they finally approached the restaurant, Y/n's eyes widened and she turned completely to him. "The restaurant where we first met!"
Lewis parked and looked at her with a warm glow in his eyes. "If you're going to work things out, let's go back a little bit." The comforting answer made Y/n's heart warm.
Lewis gently cupped her face and placed a kiss on her cheek before getting out of the car and walking around to open the door for his wife.
"Always the gentleman, Sir Hamilton." Y/n joked as she left.
"For you? Always."
He handed the keys to the valet and took Y/n's hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. The feeling of home, of belonging, of everything returning to its rightful place, took over Y/n.
As soon as they entered, Lewis approached the front desk. "I have a reservation for tonight. In the name of Lewis Hamilton and Y/n Hamilton."
The receptionist checked the list and smiled, nodding. "Of course, Mr. Hamilton. This way, please."
They followed the man through the restaurant, which had a welcoming yet elegant ambiance. The space combined warm wood tones with modern touches of glass and soft lighting. The tables were arranged to provide couples with some privacy, without losing the vibrant atmosphere of the place.
The receptionist led them to an outdoor area, a secluded balcony, where a few tables were set up. The lighting was perfect: fairy lights entwined in the trees around the large lake, which reflected the soft glow of the city. The setting was magical and captivating.
"I hope you enjoy the atmosphere. The waiter will be here to serve you soon." The receptionist said politely before walking away.
Lewis pulled out a chair for Y/n, who sat across from him. Seconds later, the waiter arrived with menus and a bottle of wine, serving them both before leaving.
"Thank you!" Lewis smiles gently.
When they were alone, a comfortable silence hung in the air, until, at the same time, they both opened their mouths to speak.
"I'm sorry!" They stopped and looked at each other, surprised that they had spoken at the same time, and then laughed.
"I guess that means we feel the same way." Y/n smiled, holding the wine glass.
"I guess so." Lewis agreed, leaning his elbows on the table and looking at her fondly.
Y/n lightly swirled the wine glass between her fingers, watching the red liquid move. She took a deep breath before looking up at Lewis.
"I'm... I'm so sorry it got to this point. Spending days apart and putting the girls through it too." Her voice was soft, but full of sincerity. "I hate fighting with you, I hate when things get like this between us." Lewis didn't answer right away, just watched her, allowing her to continue. "I didn't mean to turn our conversation into an argument. I just... I was just tired and frustrated, work was taking its toll on me and I ended up taking it out on you. It wasn't fair."
Lewis sighed, running his hand over his face before finally answering.
"I'm sorry too, love." Her voice sounded full of regret. "When you asked me to leave home... that was a shock. But thinking back now, I understand." Y/n he fell silent, allowing him to continue. “You were right.” He let out a weak, humorless laugh. “I was spending too much time in Maranello. I was so focused on work, on the team, on training… that I didn’t even realize what I was leaving behind.”
He looked away for a moment, staring at the reflection of the light on the wine glasses on the table.
"Three weeks away from you made me realize how much I was wrong. How much I was missing. I only really realized this when Pietra called me crying because I wasn't home to tell her the story before bed."
Y/n felt her chest tighten. She remembered that night. Pietra had clung to her, sobbing softly and asking if Daddy still liked them.
"Lewis..."
He shook his head, his eyes shining with restrained emotion.
"It destroyed me. Knowing that my daughter thought I didn't like her because I wasn't there. And it wasn't just her... Marie too. I realized how distant I was, how much I was letting you carry everything on your own."
Y/n took a deep breath, squeezing the glass a little between her fingers. "But you were also right..." She admitted, her voice lower. "I also buried myself in work. I was frustrated because I felt like you were distant, but the truth is, sometimes I was too."
Lewis reached across the table, waiting for her to take it. "I don't want this anymore, Y/n. I don't want to fight with you anymore, or put our daughters through this. I want to be a present father, I want to be a better husband."
Y/n's eyes filled with tears, but she smiled, holding his hand tightly. "I want to be a better mother and wife too."
Lewis squeezed her fingers between his, as if afraid that if he let go, everything would fall apart again. "Shall we fix this together?"
Y/n nodded, her heart pounding. "Sure. Of course." She smiled.
Lewis smiled, bringing her hand to his lips and placing a soft kiss on her fingers.
"I love you, Y/n."
"I love you, Lewis"
In that moment, they knew they were on the right path to finding each other again, to rebuilding what they had almost lost. Because, at the end of the day, they were still a team. They always had been.
"Now, let's enjoy our evening." Lewis smiled and looked at the menu. "So, do you want the same order as the first time?"
Y/n laughs at the memory and shakes her head. "No! You know, I didn't know you were allergic to shrimp and you had to spend two days with me in the hospital. And we were only on our first date, how embarrassing." She puts her hand over her face.
Lewis laughs out loud. "But that was a reminder, wasn't it? That no matter what, I'd be by your side."
Y/n smiles lovingly. "It was, and I love it."
Dinner was lighthearted, the weight of the argument that had kept them apart for weeks seemed to have been lifted, giving way to smiles and natural conversations. They talked about past moments, laughed at old stories and shared knowing glances, as if they had rediscovered the comfort of each other's company.
Between a glass of wine and another, they also discussed ways to better balance their routine so that the family could spend more time together. It was a sincere dialogue, without demands, just with the mutual desire to do better.
As they left the restaurant, Lewis linked his fingers with Y/n's, walking with her to where the car was parked. The valet handed over the keys, and Lewis nodded in thanks before opening the car door for his wife.
"I had an idea on how we can spend more time together, especially with the girls." He says as he walks in too.
Y/n turned her face to him, curious. "Oh yeah? What did you think?"
"Well... I realized that I need to organize my schedule better so that I don't spend so much time away from home. So, I want to reduce the number of days in Maranello and make up for that time by being here more. Also, I thought about taking Pietra and Marie to see the Ferrari factory. They always ask what it's like there, and I think it would be an incredible experience for them."
"They'll love it. They'll want to touch everything and ask every detail about the cars." Y/n smiled at the idea. "Marie especially, she loves taking part in the races"
Lewis laughed.
"Yes, I'm already preparing to answer a thousand questions about engines and front wings. He starts driving around the city.
Y/n leaned her head back against the bench, thoughtful. "I can also adjust my office routine better so I can spend more time at home. We can arrange a few days to do something just the four of us."
Lewis nodded, satisfied. "That sounds perfect."
They talked a little more about the details of the plan, and when the topic came to an end, Lewis asked, "Do you want to go anywhere else before we go home?"
Y/n smiled and shook her head. "No, we're too old to stay out all night."
Lewis laughed, shaking his head. "Speak for yourself. I could hold out for a few more hours."
"Oh, sure, Lew. As if. Another half hour and you'd be asleep in the middle of the conversation."
He laughed and, without arguing, turned around and headed home.
The journey was peaceful and surrounded by a pleasant atmosphere, the feeling between them was light, filled with genuine joy, as if the storm of the last few weeks had finally dissipated.
When they arrived home, Lewis parked the car in the garage and got out, accompanying Y/n to the door. Even on the short journey, he kept one of his hands on her waist, a natural and instinctive gesture.
"Anne brought some great wine back from France when she traveled. I saved it for us to open together. Would you like to try it?"
"Sure" Lewis replied, following his wife into the kitchen.
Before they could do anything, Roscoe came running up to Lewis, barking and wagging his tail excitedly.
"Hey, buddy" Lewis smiled, bending down to pet the dog, who soon settled down next to him.
"He missed you too, you know? You're the oldest son in the house, Roscoe."
"Good to know at least he wasn't mad at me." Lewis laughed.
As Y/n opened the wine, Lewis approached from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his head on her shoulder. She smiled, enjoying that affection, and handed him a glass before turning around, facing her husband.
It was then that she realized he was deep in thought. His expression changed subtly, his eyebrows slightly furrowed.
"What it was?"
"There's something I've been thinking about since our fight..." Y/n waited, curious, until he finally revealed: "I want to retire from racing."
Y/n's world seemed to stop for a second. "WHAT?!" She exclaimed, looking at him in surprise. And almost dropping the glass she was holding.
Lewis remained calm and repeated: "I want to retire."
Y/n blinked, processing that, and stepped back a little, starting to pace around the kitchen. "Lewis, you can't do this!" Her voice came out fast, almost nervous. "You're only in your second season with Ferrari! You can still win so many titles! And, my God, I never wanted you to give up on your dream because of a silly fight we had. We've worked this out! You can't give up on your dreams!"
Her words came out in a rush, her mind wandering, and she felt her eyes fill with tears.
Lewis smiled and walked closer to her, cupping her face gently. "Y/n, I'm not letting go of a dream," he said softly. "Because everything I've ever dreamed of is right here, right in front of me."
Her eyes filled even more, and a tear fell silently.
"But..." She whispered, not knowing exactly what to say. Without the strength to argue any further, she let herself be wrapped in Lewis's arms, resting her head on his shoulder. "You've always dreamed of this..." Her voice was muffled against his chest.
Lewis stroked her hair and smiled against the side of her head. "My dream has always been to have a family. To have you guys. Racing has been a big part of my life, but it's not my whole life. I want to be here for every moment of the girls, for every phase of our life together. That...that's what really matters to me."
Y/n closed her eyes, absorbing those words, feeling herself overcome by an intense wave of emotion.
"Do you really want this?"
"I do. With all my heart." She pulled back a little, looking into his eyes, and Lewis smiled, touching her face tenderly. "I love you" he said softly.
Y/n smiled, still with tears in her eyes, and shook her head. "I love you too, Lewis."
Lewis slid his fingers down Y/n's face before finally sealing his lips on hers. The kiss was slow, full of feelings, as if it sealed everything they had just said. Their lips moved in perfect sync, and a small smile formed in the middle of the kiss, as if they were celebrating that moment. It was a kiss of love, of understanding, of silent promises.
Suddenly, a horn honked loudly from outside, breaking the moment. Y/n smiled against Lewis's lips and pulled away, chuckling softly.
"The girls are here" she said, giving him one last peck before walking away completely. "I'll go get them."
Lewis smiled, watching her rush towards the door. As soon as she opened it, the girls practically threw themselves into her arms, laughing and hugging their mother tightly.
"Mommy!" Pietra exclaimed excitedly, while Marie held tightly onto Y/n's waist.
Y/n laughed and bent down, planting kisses on them before saying in a mysterious voice, "I think there's something waiting for you in the kitchen."
Pietra's eyes widened, always the most excited, and suddenly screamed: "OH MY GOD, IS THERE STRAWBERRY ICE CREAM?"
She ran into the house with her sister, running towards the kitchen without even confirming if what she said was true. Linda, Anthony and Y/n burst out laughing, infected by the girl's naive excitement.
"Thank you for keeping them" Y/n said, smiling at them.
"Imagine, dear" Linda replied. "We are the ones who appreciate you spending time with our granddaughters."
Y/n smiles. "We can arrange dinner here tomorrow. Are you up for it?"
"Sure!" Linda says smiling.
"We'd love it!"
"Great then" Y/n smiles. With that, they say their goodbyes, exchanging hugs before Linda and Anthony leave.
Y/n closed the door and began walking to the kitchen, hearing the mix of her daughters' and Lewis' voices echoing through the room. The sound filled her chest with a cozy warmth, and an involuntary smile appeared on her face.
When he entered the kitchen, he saw a scene that made his heart warm even more: Marie was on Lewis' lap, along with Pietra, while the two laughed and chatted excitedly.
Suddenly, Marie turned to Y/n with a bright smile and asked, "Did Daddy come home?"
Y/n looked at Lewis, who was already watching her with a tender smile. Her heart clenched with love.
"Yes, my dear. Daddy's back!" She said softly.
The girls squealed excitedly and wrapped their father in a tight hug, making Lewis laugh. He then looked at Y/n and extended one of his arms to her.
"Come here, love"
Y/n smiled and walked over to them, joining the family's embrace. Between laughter, kisses and hugs, she knew, in that moment, that they were exactly where they were supposed to be.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/9f3c67040a8a520d57ea49f8caee9de1/e2666b5b5583aa44-0b/s540x810/292d0987ae82e3db8bfcf5000ced9fcb1d330352.jpg)
Author: So, my initial idea was to have the ending with Y/n saying she was pregnant with her third child, but I didn't know if you guys would like it, so I changed it to the idea of Lewis retiring. I don't know, which one would you like more? (By the way, whoever read the introduction above, could you answer the question I left? About continuing with a parallel universe of this family?)
#fanfiction#y/n#romance#imagines#one shot#marriage#formula 1#formula one#fem reader#female reader#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x y/n#dad and daughter#mom and dad
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true love's kiss
pairing: azriel x reader
summary: when azriel is hit with a powerful poison what - or who - will be able to save him?
warnings: talks of death, angst
words: 2.8k (buckle up)
a/n: my first azriel story and I'm so excited!! this idea just popped in my head the other day, and I ran with it lol. it was so much fun to write, so I hope you have just as much fun reading it!
(p.s. requests are open if you'd like to send anything in!)
oOoOo
Without warning, your heart began to pump furiously and an uneasy feeling settled over your body. Your muscles tensed up, as if preparing for an attack, and only moments later, you noticed Feyre's glazed over eyes widened in fear. Lunch suddenly postponed, she shot to her feet and ran towards the living room while you, Mor, and Amren quickly trailed behind.
Before you even stepped foot in the room, your suspicions were confirmed as the scent of blood and fear smacked you in the face. There was a brief space of time in which you mourned for the anguish Feyre would feel over an injured Rhys. However, the image of Rhys and Cass heaving an unconscious Azriel onto the couch suddenly seared itself into your mind.
"What happened?" you whispered the words over the commotion, though it rang out loud and clear to the Inner Circle despite its wobble.
"We were ambushed in Windhaven." Cass explained while Rhys reached into the void to call for Madja. "Az's side was struck with a sword, but it must have been laced with poison. One second he was standing behind me, and the next thing I knew, he let out a shout before collapsing almost immediately."
Tears lined your eyes at the thought, and the pain didn't register when you dropped to the ground beside Azirel, hands hovering over his body. The dark swirl of shadows that nearly obscured him from view parted for you, allowing you access to their master.
"Oh, Azriel." you breathed out, only distinguishable to you and his shadows. The later wisping gently around your face, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. You leaned into the gesture, wishing it was Azriel's palm against your skin.
Suddenly, you felt strong arms pull your shoulders away from Azriel as Madja stepped in and took your place, her gaze instantly drawn to his wound. Meanwhile, your family stepped back in fear. Rhys held Feyre tight in his grasp, and Cassian offered you and Mor each a comforting hand.
The only sounds for the next few minutes were Madja's grunts and huffs as she did her best to treat the injury. You couldn't help but cringe into Cass' side as her hands turned a dark-red, tinted from the blood that should have long ago clotted. It felt like an eternity before the healer turned around to face all of you, her face worn.
"I've done what I can to stabilize him, but the sword that struck our Shadowsinger was indeed laced with a poison I have yet to see. Unfortunately, it still seems to be working his way through his system. I can't say for certain how much time he has, but I will work swiftly to find an answer." she explained solemnly, taking in the pained expressions of you and your friends. "All I do know is whatever the cure ends up being, it needs to be a strong source of magic. I'm sorry I can't offer better news."
Rhys was the first to break through the stunned silence. "Thank you, Madja. C-can we move him somewhere more comfortable?"
The healer nodded before taking her leave. In her stead, all of you gaped in shock before Rhys and Cass worked together to move Azriel to a bed where they thought he would be more comfortable. Once they got him settled, you pulled a chair up, next to his bed, a stack of thick, dusty books beside you. If there was nothing you could do at the moment, by the cauldron you would at least help Madja research a cure.
When your focus couldn't get past the first few sentences on a page, you shut the book with a sigh and furiously wiped at your eyes. The tears wouldn't stop, no matter what you did. Carefully, you reached out and interlaced your hand with one of Azriel's, placing a soft kiss against the marred skin.
"Please, please wake up, Azriel." you whispered into the room. "I don't know what we'd do - what I'd do - without you." you told him, praying to the Mother and anyone else listening to heal your best friend.
As day bled into night, Rhys and Cass came into the room, trying to relieve you even just for an hour. They tempted you with food, rest, or even just a moment alone, but you refused. How could you leave Azriel alone in his moment of need? Eventually they got the hint, and slowly, the rest of your family began to take up residence in the room alongside you.
oOoOo
"How can there be nothing on this subject?" you shouted, tossing the book to the floor with a loud thump.
The rest of the Night Court looked up at your outburst, their own eyes red and bleary from the hours and hours of research. It had been three days since Madja first examined Azriel, and even the experienced healer was coming up empty. With every hour that passed, you felt the hope in your soul drain even further.
"There has to be an answer somewhere." Cass placated, stretching out his wings from where he sat. "Someone has to have used this poison before."
"That doesn't mean they had to write the antidote down, boy." Amren spoke cooly from her spot, ignoring your pointed glare.
"What is it, Feyre?" Rhys asked, taking note of her trance like state. She shook her head slightly at her mate before turning her attention to the rest of the group.
"Well...I was just thinking. Madja said whatever the cure ends up being will have to be powerful, but maybe we've been thinking about this too literally. Maybe it's not an answer that can be found in a book. What has been a powerful motivator for all of us over the years? Was even the answer to end Amarantha's reign?" she asked, the group shuddered at the mention of the name of that devil. "Love."
You stared at your High Lady, head titled to the side. "Okay, but how is that going to help us now? It's not like any of us don't love Azriel."
"And it's not exactly a position we can give him." Mor chimed in.
Feyre reached out a tattooed hand and grasped Rhys' hand. "Or maybe it is." she countered. "I don't know about here in the Night Court, but haven't you ever heard fairytales? True love conquering all with a kiss, and all that?"
"Do you think it would really work?" you ask, your tone warm and face full of light for the first time in days.
All eyes fell to Rhys and Ameren for guidance. The two shared a look, silently communicating their opinions on the matter, but it was Rhys who spoke first. "I've never heard of an instance of true love's kiss being the answer, but since when have we been known to do anything traditionally?" he said with a small grin, inspiring a soft chuckle in the room.
"Well," Cass dragged out. "I would try, but I don't think Az would appreciate me waking him up with a kiss."
You rolled your eyes at the general, before considering the impact of his words. "Doesn't that leave us with a problem? Azriel hasn't found his mate, so we're still stuck and unable to break though." A small pang shot through you at the idea of Azriel's mated to an unknown female, but you quickly tamped that down. This was a matter of life or death.
All eyes of the Inner Circle turned to face you. Looks of disbelief, amusement, and even understanding from Rhys, came your way. You caved in on yourself, suddenly feeling your cheeks heat under the scrutiny. This was not the time for their games.
"What?"
Mor spoke your name, gently, as her hand reached out to grasp yours. "Do we really need to spell it out?" she asked in your silence.
"Spell what out?"
Amren, having had enough of the tiptoeing, finally spat it out. "That you're in love with the Shadowsinger, and have been for decades. If anyone in this room has the power to break this curse, it's you."
A laugh bubbled up and out of your throat at her words, born out of sheer nerves that shot through your body. "N-no, no. I am not in love with Azriel. I mean, yes, I care for him - of course I do! I love him the way I love all of you. I'd do anything to help, but I really don't think this is going to work." you stuttered and stumbled over your words, bashful from the accusation.
"We've all seen the way you look at each other, y/n." Feyre spoke gently, her eyes soft and she stared at you. "I think you love Azriel a bit differently than the rest of us."
Her words brought tears to your eyes. Yes, you were in love with your best friend - how cliche. It had been that way for decades, but you never had the courage to speak up and say anything to him. And now, all these feelings were being dredged up in such a tense situation. What if it wasn't enough? What if you weren't enough to save him?
"Okay, fine, you've caught me." you conceded, throwing your hands up in the air as your voice grew thick and heavy once more. "Is that what you want me to say? That I've been in love with Azriel for years, and it's killed me to just stay by his side as just a friend?" a defensive anger rose in your body as you looked at each member of your family. "But you're forgetting an important piece to this puzzle. Just because I'm in love with Azriel, doesn't mean I'm his true love."
With that, you ran out of the room, collapsing against the wall in the hallway. You tried to take deep, steady breaths to calm your breathing, but it did little to help the situation. A few minutes later, you heard soft footsteps come up to your side, and Mor pulled you into a giant hug. The two of you stayed in silence for a few moments, grateful for the anchor she acted as in the moment.
"I know that was a lot to throw on you, and for you to have to admit to us." she spoke, softly and cautiously. "And nobody judges you for how you feel or how you're reacting."
"I'm so scared." you confessed. "W-what if I try and it doesn't work?"
Mor looks at you with a gentle smile. "What if you try and it does work?" she countered. "I think you underestimate the extent of Azriel's feelings for you. And, if, Mother forbid, it doesn't work, then we'll figure something else out."
Her words gave you a sense of comfort and the courage to wipe your tears and walk back towards Az's room. Before you stepped back in, you gave Mor's hand a grateful squeeze then rolled your shoulders back.
All talking ceased as you walked back in, and you knew your family had to have been discussing what to do if you didn't agree with their plan. But this was Azriel's life on the line, and you would do anything to protect it. Even if that meant having your feelings revealed, or rejected.
"Okay, let's try this." you told the Inner Circle, calmly and with conviction you tried to convince yourself you had. "But, all of you are waiting outside."
There were no laughs or jokes at your expense, which surprised you, especially coming from Cassian. Instead, they all nodded their heads and solemnly and filed outside to wait. On his way out, Cassian squeezed your shoulder and nodded.
"Bring him back to us." he whispered, board line pleading with you to save his brother's life.
When it was just you and Azriel alone in the room, you took a deep breath and crossed the space until you knelt before his bed. You took the moment to study his features. His hazel eyes, normally full of life and mischief, now were shut off from you. His skin looked more swallow and the rise and fall of his chest seemed to slow with each breath that passed. Even the presence of his shadows seemed dimmer as Azriel's life slowly drained before your eyes.
With a shaky hand, you reached out to brush away soft tendrils of hair that had fallen into Azriel's face. "Can you hear me, Az?"
The air was heavy as you waited a response that never came.
"We all miss you so much. I miss you - my best friend. I-I know it's not fair of me to ask, but just keep holding on, keep fighting. Please." you whispered, leaning down to rest your forehead against his body, gathering your courage. "Look, Feyre has this crazy theory about what could save you. It's uh, true love's kiss."
Again, no response.
"This was not the way I expected to tell you, not that I thought I'd tell you if I'm being honest. But even though I don't want to jeopardize our friendship, I'd rather have you alive and never speak to me again than gone forever. So, here it goes." you took a deep breath. "I love you Azriel, I think I always have. You are so good and kind, and the kind of male I've dreamed about for years. I-it's okay if you don't feel the same," you forced yourself to say. "but I thought you should know given our situation."
Not sure what else to say, you took one more look at the male in front of you, placed a gentle kiss against his cheek, and then dipped your head down to meet his lips. They were chapped against your own after a few days without enough water. Az's normal smell of cedar and mist was faint, but still there, and comforted you as it surrounded your senses.
You poured as much love and hope into the kiss as possible before slowly pulling away, falling to sit on your legs. The next few seconds that passed seemed to stretch for hours, waiting for a sign, a movement, anything. Just as you were about to sag and give up hope, a loud gasp sounded next to you and Azriel's frame jolted up.
"Azriel!" you shouted, watching as the color returned to his face and his eyes darted around the room.
Those hazel eyes finally landed on your frame, and Azriel quirked a small, albeit, sleepy smile at you. "y/n." he whispered, holding out a hand.
Wasting no time, you grasped onto the anchor for dear life, and the tears immediately began to pour down your face. "I can't believe you're awake. Oh, I was so scared for you Azriel. How are you feeling? Are you in pain? We have to get Madja and the other's here. I'll go-" you rambled, before being cutting off my Azriel.
"Hey, hey, calm down." he soothed, pulling you up onto the bed, flush against him. "I feel fine, considering I was just on the brink of death." he chuckled.
"Don't make jokes like that." you swatted at his chest. "We almost lost you."
"Yeah, but you saved me." he said, looking down at you in awe.
Suddenly bashful again, you began to stutter. "Oh, no, I didn't do much. It was all Feyre's idea, and we all were here helping to research."
"But Rhys and Cass weren't the one's to bring me back with a kiss." he said, and you felt as though your entire body was on fire at Azriel's words.
"Y-you heard all that?"
"I did." he nodded, nuzzling his nose against your neck. "And, I can't believe it took us until now to say anything, but I love you, y/n." he admitted, turning your face so you stared into his eyes.
As the words left Azriel's lips, both of your gasped. This time, however, it wasn't because of a sleeping curse, but because of the taught, golden thread you felt connecting your soul to Azriel's. Your mind swirled with a thousand thoughts, but the loudest one was "mate, mate, mate."
You stared at the male before you in awe, and Azriel grinned. "My mate. My knight in shining armor." he teased, then leaned down to capture your lips once more.
This time, the kiss sent butterflies to your stomach and you revealed in the feeling of Azriel's strong arms around your body. His kiss was long and unhurried, as though you had all the time in the world to explore. And as you kissed him back, you found yourself giddy at the thought of the rest of your immortal life with Azriel.
It was only when the doors had been thrown open and the rest of your family came stumbling in did you and Azriel pull apart. The two of you looked at each other, then busted out laughing at the shocked faces of your family.
"It worked!"
"You're awake."
"The two of you are mates?!"
Their voices all overlapped, and you felt Az sigh against you, hugging you close. Yes, your family was a lot, but they meant well. And now, you could live happily ever after.
oOoOo
a/n: ahh, I'm pretty impressed by how quickly this went from an idea to a story! kinda feel like I rushed the end, but oh well! hope you enjoyed!
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she broke my heart ~ daniel ricciardo (dr3)
my masterlist | my f1 masterlist
pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!reader
song inspiration: she broke my heart ~ noah schnacky
summary: the story of how daniel met that someone just because a girl broke his heart
words: 2.6K
warnings: the title is deceiving a bit, i know, but it is pure fluff really
a/n: visa rb kicked danny out and didn't give him the respect and the goodbye he deserved, so i had to write something to help with the pain and kinda make myself forget about what is going on with him at the moment. and what is a better cure than a short fic with some heartwarming fluff?
please, don't be a ghost reader, leave a comment or rb!
His friends invited him to go to a bar with them, but drowning in his misery, he felt like staying in. Well, that's what he thought at 6pm. A few hours later, feeling more bitter than he's done in a very long time, he realises he could do with the distraction.
He doesn't want to admit it to his friends, though, because first of all, it was him who was unpersuadable about going out, and secondly, they would just joke around, trying to find him a girl to make up for the void her girlfriend – well, ex-girlfriend now – left behind. And he definitely doesn't want that. It's been a week already, but the pain hasn't subsided. And to be honest, he doesn't want the pain to go, not just yet. It's a great reminder of what he's lost, of what he's done wrong. He takes the free time her absence means to reflect on what could've gone differently, if he'd just paid a bit more attention, if he was there more.
Or maybe there's nothing he could've done otherwise. Maybe it wasn't his fault in the end, but hers.
Deep down, he knows it was most probably both of them, but he would've tried. He wanted to fight, in order to keep what they still had, fight for them. She didn't, it seems like.
It was a phone call, a simple, short, goddamn phone call. He was just about to board the flight home from a long race weekend when it happened. Didn't even know what to say. He was exhausted, all he wanted was some sleep and then landing in his girlfriend's arms when he woke up, many hours later. He couldn't find the words, so when she finished describing what wasn't working in their relationship, he just hummed.
And right when he opened his lips finally to say something actually coherent, she just swiftly said, "there's no need to make it harder than it needs to be. I'll be out of here before you get ho- before you get back", like it's no big deal. Like it didn't feel like a twist of the knife on his chest how she corrected herself before she could've said home. The place they shared for two and a half years. Now it's not her home anymore, so it seems.
She really did move out by the time he arrived at his front door. All her belongings were gone like they have never been there in the first place. Like she never existed. Even though she was the centre of the universe for him, or so he thought. Now he's starting to see everything in a new light.
His whole life changed in twenty seconds. That's how long the phone call lasted.
And now, a week later, he can still hear her words in his ear, on repeat, echoing around, making him want to shout, punch the wall, kick the trash can, anything, just to make it disappear.
So he gets dressed, and goes to a bar – one that he knows his friends most definitely aren't going to be at –, and sits down at the counter, ordering something strong, something that will burn its way down to his stomach, melting away the painful knots in his throat and chest along the way.
After one drink, it only feels worse. He's looking at the happy couples dancing away on this lovely Friday night, holding each other, looking like they aren't aware of anyone else in the bar, like they're the only two people left on the planet. It used to be like that for him and her as well. But not anymore.
After two drinks, the echo of her words seems to quieten a bit. Some words missing from the sentences she said, and the blissful memories of their time together fading from the front of his mind that have been playing on repeat until then.
After three drinks, the welcomed distraction finally comes. He's not thinking about her any longer, he's not watching the couples dancing sorrowfully, he's just nodding his head to the rhythm of the music playing, his feet also tapping the beat on the foot-rest of the bar stool he's perching on.
After four drinks, he finally gets up, the fifth in his hands, though it's not the same thing anymore, he's changed his order to something more fun, something more unique.
What he doesn't notice though, too focused on the way the fancy little drink swirls in the glass, reflecting the lights of the dance floor, creating a tiny rainbow in their wake, is the person trying to move behind him
Daniel swiftly turns around, eager to get on the floor as a song he loves starts playing, and with that same movement, crashes into that person, all his drink spilling out from the glass, right onto the girl.
"Oh my god, I'm so terribly sorry!" he slurs, a blush creeping on his already pink coloured cheeks, just as she lets out a gasp.
The girl looks down, trying to see the damage, as if she's in slow motion, still recovering from the surprise of their crash. Her mind is just as slow to catch up to what happened, her lips widening into the shape of an O, when it finally does.
"Shoot," she mumbles – at least, that's what Daniel can read from her lips, as the music is way too loud for him to hear her.
"I truly am sorry," he repeats, and as if she only notices him in that very moment, she looks up at him.
"It's okay," she says, and suddenly a bright, warm smile spreads on her face, one that Daniel didn't expect. Not at all. He's figured there will be a long string of curses, an annoyed glance his way, eyebrows furrowed, a huff of anger maybe, then her storming off, maybe to the bathroom, to save what can be saved of her outfit. Instead, he got that smile, one that spreads warmth in his chest, one that makes his heart skip a beat, and one that he can't help but mirror.
With lips curving into his signature smile, he places the now mostly empty glass back on the counter. "Can I do anything to repay you for the mess I've caused?" he asks, turning his eyes back towards her.
"No, thanks, it's all fine. I was just about to go soon, anyway."
"I feel awful, though," he presses on, not really understanding why all of a sudden he feels scared about that plan – the one where she leaves soon. Maybe it's because if she leaves, she'll take that bright smile away from him, along with the warmth in his chest, and he will fall back into his depressed, desperate state of mind, drowning in sorrow. "Let me at least buy a drink, maybe a coffee, some other time, if you don't wanna stay here any longer."
She ponders about his offer for a second or two, weighing the options. Her friend has just called an Uber for the two of them, but she doesn't have to go with her, does she? She can stay a bit longer, it's not her that has to attend a wedding tomorrow, but her friend, so she can just go ahead, and she can stay with this handsome stranger. Maybe her top is drenched in something alcoholic, something that makes her skin sticky, she can already feel it, but it's not every day she meets a cute man, offering to buy her a drink. This might be her little meet cute, the one she's been dreaming about for as long as she's seen The Holiday, oh so many years ago.
"Give me a sec," she says in the end, turning on her heels, and making her way through the crowd towards her friend waiting at the entrance.
Daniel looks after her dumbfounded, not sure what's happening, and as the crowd closes behind her, he wonders if she'll ever come back.
She does, a couple minutes later – just enough time to make Daniel feel foolish for still standing around waiting in the exact same position she's left him in, but not enough time to make him actually do something about this awkward feeling.
His eyes light up at the sight of her, curiosity peaking in his whole body in the shape of electricity, or so it feels, about what she's going to say to his offer. Joyous, excited disbelief is still written on her face from what she's about to do, and in the next moment, she leans in closer to his ear. "I don't have to go, not really, so what was that you said about a drink?"
A mischievous sparkle in her eyes, and relief filling up his brain like fog. His much awaited, proper distraction, finally.
One drink turns into two, with the conversation just flowing. They soon move to a booth, to have a bit more privacy and comfort, and though they're sitting opposite each other, their feet are touching under the table, and they're both leaning in to be closer to each other. Neither can deny this magnetic attraction they feel, pulling them like one of them is a planet while the other is a meteor that can't fight the gravitational pull, both of them just awaiting that unavoidable crash.
Her fingers play with the empty glass, spinning it around, or circling the rim. He can't help but think about how much he wishes that he could touch those fingers. That he could be the one to stop their nervous – or excited? – fiddling. That he can wrap his much larger hand around hers, and see how it feels to have skin on skin contact with her. But it's only a wish.
He tells her about all the funny stories he can remember at the top of his head from the past couple years of his life, and revels in the sound of her laughter, ringing loud and clear even above all the noise and thumping beat. Tears form in her eyes from all the laughing, and she's clutching her sides, asking him to stop because she just can't breathe.
Daniel ends the story, and watches her with a smile on his face as she catches her breath, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach. He doesn't recognise himself. Who is this person, and where's the heartbroken, pathetic remains of a human being that he's been this past week? He can't find that version of him anymore. A few hours spent in her company, and it's like she changed the person he was.
"Wanna dance?" she asks when she's regained her composure, nodding towards the dance floor.
Daniel raises an eyebrow, thinking of the question as more of a challenge, then nods eagerly, already moving to get up from his seat. She follows suit, and they join the people still dancing, sing-shouting the lyrics of a song he didn't even think he knows the words to.
He lets go of all inhibitions, and just enjoys being in this feeling. Who knows what tomorrow brings? Maybe he'll go back to his sorrow, pitifully sitting in his house, looking at the empty walls – well, empty except the nails that used to hold their shared pictures with his ex-girlfriend. That's really all that's left of her.
He's brought back to reality with her fingers gently touching his arm as she doubles over in laughter, and when he looks at her with a questioning look in his eyes, she just pants out "your dancing", pointing at him. He glances down, as if he could see exactly what she means, and though he's not sure what she found so funny, he just accepts gracefully that he's made her laugh, again, even if he did so unintentionally.
Hoping to be imperceptible in his motives, he moves closer to the girl with the help of his dance moves, wondering what might happen if he brushed his fingers against hers. In an act of who cares bravery, he just goes for it. She stayed with him for a reason, it's not like she doesn't want him to be there. And holding hands isn't that big of a leap to take, he's not trying to kiss her or something.
So his fingers move, and weave their way around hers until he's finally found a proper hold on them. She gives him a reassuring squeeze only a moment later, and her smile gets even wider, if that's possible. Daniel feels happiness fill his chest, a kind that he hasn't felt in a long time, not in his career, not in his personal life. Maybe there's a way to move past his ex and the past few years. Maybe all he needs is her.
And looking into those gorgeous, sparkling eyes, he feels like he's right. For once in his life, he's finally going to make the right decision.
Close to their third anniversary Daniel finds a little souvenir that he once got for his previous girlfriend, and the memories come flooding back. This time though, he's not filled with misery, thinking of all those months, and with a small grin on his face, he realises that his current relationship has already lasted more than the one he had with that girl did. For some inexplicable reason, he finds this reassuring. Exciting. Happy.
He slides down to the rug beneath his feet, pressing his back against the side of the sofa – the one he got quite fond of in the past few months, something that he won't ever admit to her, as she had to spend weeks to convince him to let her buy it –, and though his eyes are open, he doesn't really see what's in front of him.
His fingers play with the little figurine, and lets his mind travel back in time to that very day when he met the love of his life. All thanks to another girl he once loved. There's quite a bit of irony in that, he has to admit.
If he wasn't deep in sadness that day, being left by a girl, he wouldn't have gone to that bar. If he was still in a relationship, he would've been at home, enjoying time with his girlfriend of the time. Hell, he almost stayed at home anyway, in his sorrow, all alone. It feels like he won the lottery by that small decision that he eventually got up and went out on that fateful Friday night. He would've missed out on the almost exactly 1100 days of happiness he got just by knowing the girl who he spilled his drink on.
If there was still a her back then, and he wasn't single, there definitely wouldn't have been a them now. It's crazy to think, and makes him ponder if in an other universe, it all played out differently. He feels pity for the version of him in those other lives. This is definitely the best variety of how his life could have gone.
Then he hears keys jingling at the front door, signalling that this wonder of a woman he gets to call his own is just about to walk through and flash a smile worth a million diamonds at him.
"Well, thank God she broke my heart," he mumbles to no one in particular, as he pushes himself up from the floor, eager to see her as soon as possible.
a/n: i'm back from the dead again! gosh, can't believe how insane and busy this year has been for me, i'm so determined to write more now though, hopefully i can actually do it. until then, here we go with another short fic for all your reading pleasure! xx
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#daniel ricciardo#dr3#blurb#daniel ricciardo x reader#daniel ricciardo fic#daniel ricciardo x you#daniel ricciardo fanfic#daniel ricciardo x y/n#daniel ricciardo fanfiction#daniel ricciardo imagine#dr3 fic#dr3 x reader#dr3 x you#dr3 x y/n#dr3 imagine#dr3 fanfic#dr3 fanfiction#f1#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x y/n#f1 imagine#formula one#formula one fanfic#formula one fic#formula one x reader#formula one x you
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A/SMR.
synop: reader lost her hearing after an explosion, simon has an idea to help her ‘hear’ him again
warnings: none i think ? canon typical violence & loss of hearing maybe knda spicy
not proofread we die like men
Adjusting to life without sound had been a trial on its own. It was something no-one really prepared for — silly as it seemed, now. Bombs and guns going off right next to a person for any amount of time was bound to cause damage at one point or another. Or, maybe, she just had shit luck.
The blast had come and gone so quickly, she had no time to react. No one did. It missed anything vital, but it had sent her rocketing into a wall; promptly breaking her arm, a few ribs, and rupturing her eardrums all in one fell swoop. If nothing else, recovery went relatively smoothly. As smoothly as it could have, at any rate, what with Soap and Gaz being absolutely glued to the chairs in the infirmary. Even getting kicked out a few times — luckily, Price and the Lt. were a little less chaotic. Be it because the medic on-site had a soft spot, or because Simon had intimidated the poor guy, he had been allowed to spend the first two nights in the infirm with her.
Being tucked away in his arms did wonders for her anxiety, but the cot was a bit small for him alone, let alone the pair of them. Blessedly, she had been given the okay to return to her own quarters after that.
A few months later, and her bones were good and well healed, but her ears were another story. The specialist kind. The off-duty kind. The waitlist was long, and going home, alone, in the quiet, sounded like her own personal hell. So, she stayed on base to wait it out.
The silence was her enemy, deafening in its lack of any and everything. She swore she could forget the music the world made in a moment without it. It was cold, void and lonely. Missing out on jokes, not ever hearing the booming shouts and laughter of the boys. Sounds she never thought she’d miss.
It didn’t go unnoticed. For all his grumbling and brooding, Ghost was terribly good at being good company. She was thankful for him, at least. Perhaps now more than ever. He was . . . oddly tentative of her. Making a point to brush a hand against her when he was near, what was previously a hovering palm near her back was now an open-handed reminder someone was there.
He made learning to sign feel so much easier. Subbing out some signs for military signals. A natural transition, when the other person knew how to speak it — even when he didn’t need to.
It was a kindness done solely for her benefit; a fact in which he would never admit, but she knew it to be true nevertheless.
• • •
She felt out of practice. Clumsy and uncertain of herself when he touched her, nothing like herself, and he noticed. He pulls back from her, hands curving through the space between their chests to say, “You okay?”
She swallows, looking away. Embarrassment flushes her cheeks a shade of maroon, the heat of it crawling up her neck.
“It’s not you.” she signs back after a beat, eyes finding his with nothing short of pleading in her irises, “I miss you. But the sound - ”
Lithe hands flop into her lap. She feels . . . inadequate. Incomplete. Hateful, to herself, knowing that she can’t be who he loved first anymore, “I miss hearing you.” it was a cruel thing for the universe to do to her; give her a man to fall in love with, a voice that lulled her to sleep, filled her heart, tightened her legs — and then take it away from her. Leaving her in this muffled prison.
He makes a face at that - not one of ill intent or anything of the sort - rather, one of confusion. She missed hearing him?
He never thought his voice to be something worth missing; though, he quickly understands when his mind wonders what never hearing her again would be like. His girl is quieter now, to be sure. But he can still hear her - the little noises she makes, when she hums to herself without noticing . . . among other noises . . .
There’s a moment where he stays still, only his eyes moving between the two. She’s about to lift her hands so say something else, but he promptly cuts her off by taking one of her wrists between his fingers. Encouraging her to open her hand and bringing her palm up to rest around his throat.
She pauses, wide eyes blinking between their hands and his face — that frustrating little smirk of his curling his lips upward at the corners. She can’t make sense of what he’s doing at first, canting her head to the side like a confused dog, and then, he hums. The sound vibrating against her fingers. Her jaws drops open slightly in shock, eyes locked between her hand and his mouth, wanting to say ‘again’.
Alas, he was a step ahead of her, and mumbles out her name in a breath. Feeling her name in his throat before reading it on his lips.
Hm.
A/N: i dont know its 1am !!
#drabble#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x oc#cod mw2#cod modern warfare#cod#ghost cod#ghost fluff#simon riley fluff#ghost smut#simon riley smut#cod imagine
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just fairer than death
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/004161948ee7b18bd21485c7400f982d/530728bff7359965-47/s540x810/196300fdba6ef210997d825148e14e5c53c37011.jpg)
summary: One night, you pull a dying sailor from the depths of the sea.
pairing: james norrington x siren!reader
word count: 2.3k
warnings: set right after james' canon departure; slight dubcon because sirens; brief blood licking; i think this qualifies as soft dark? please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.
a/n: crawling out of my void with this fic that absolutely no one asked for 🫶🏼 i first wrote this in may so that's how i'm doing at the moment. @brandycranby and @scrumptious-delusion thank you for actually making me finish this story, i love you both so immensely x
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It was said, among your kind, that there was nothing more dangerous than a sailor; for you were destined to either love him or kill him.
That is, if he did not kill you first.
Your life had already been long, then, and you’d never even seen a human up close. You’d learned to understand how the seas would change when they had to carry a ship, how the waves would moan under its weight, and you’d taken great pains to avoid watchful eyes in the dark every single time. The odds were stacked against you, and you weren’t ready to risk your life for a notion as abstract as love.
Others, you knew, had been bolder than you. Several of your sisters liked to venture out to take a closer look at a passing vessel and its crew, and some of them had never made it back afterwards. You didn’t like to think what might have happened to them.
It was worse, though, when they did return. Blood on their gills and flesh still stuck between their sharp teeth, a mad, angry, horrified look in their eyes. See what they made me do, it seemed to say. See how they conjure violence from thin air.
Passion, you learned, was a dangerous current to get caught up in.
Night fell early that day, like the goddess herself wanted to hide what was about to happen underneath a shroud of darkness. The sea was quiet. The stars were hiding as you let yourself get carried by the waves with your face turned towards an empty sky, far enough from the cursed ship to stay out of sight. The Flying Dutchman made you shiver in your scales, no matter how many times you smelled her rotten wood from afar. There was nothing good on that ship; nothing good could ever come from it.
You never knew what strange tides carried you closer. These waters had their own sense of humour, sometimes, cruel and biting like medusa venom.
A shout cut through the night, clearly audible even from where you were floating at a distance. Normally, you would’ve taken this as your sign to leave, but for some reason, you hesitated. An icy chill went through you and stopped you from slipping away into the safety of the deep. Instead, you turned your head towards the source of the sound.
Something had plummeted into the water.
You squinted. Yes, you could see several figures, their heads just bobbing above the surface as they moved hastily away from the abominable ship.
Good, you thought. Not even humans deserved the likes of Davy Jones.
Then the wind picked up. It carried the coppery stench of blood and steel mixing with seawater, and the fine hairs covering your neck stood up in response. Every cell of your body was screaming at you to flee, and yet you were unable to move, the ocean gently pushing you closer still.
You couldn’t see anything else in this murky darkness, but a few minutes passed in tense silence before you heard a hollow, ghostly laugh followed by another splash. The sea tasted of iron, too, now; and of something else.
It was that other, undetermined thing that made you swim closer against your every instinct. You were still far enough from the Dutchman to be out of sight, the tides moving in your favour, when you saw the shape in the water.
It was drifting away from the vessel as well, but in a way much more uncoordinated than the ones you’d seen earlier, barely staying afloat for another moment before the ocean swallowed it whole.
You did not hesitate this time.
Underwater, it was much easier for your eyes to make out the shape, sinking heavily as the ship’s wake pushed it down, down towards the bottom of the ocean. A muscle strained in your tail, your gills protesting as you shot through the waters to get a proper look before it fell out of sight. You still didn’t understand why.
Goddess help you, you should’ve known.
For something as terrible as a sailor, he didn’t look all that intimidating. He only looked decidedly lifeless, his eyes closed, limbs floating loosely. Blood tinted the water around him, coming from a hole in his chest that probably wasn’t supposed to be there. Then again, what did you know about humans?
You wondered if all of them looked this beautiful.
Then, like a shockwave, you remembered that they needed air to breathe.
Before you could consciously decide on it, you had grabbed the sailor under his shoulders and dragged him back up. He was heavier than a grown reef shark, unresponsive dead weight, the ocean refusing to loosen her grip on him.
Finally, you burst through the surface again, a gasp of relief escaping you when you spotted a sandbank not that far away. The Dutchman, thankfully, was far off in the distance by now. No ghostly eye saw you taking off into the opposite direction with the lifeless sailor the ship had spat out.
You couldn’t help but glance at your charge every now and again as you struggled to keep him afloat. He had lost part of his hair to the currents, and the rest of it had another colour underneath, dark like sea weeds. You could only hope that he didn’t need the upper part.
But need it for what, exactly? This man was dead; or at least mostly so. He still smelled slightly alive, and his skin was warm against yours.
"What am I doing?" you whispered to yourself as you tightened your grasp around his shoulders.
Careful, sang the waves. Do not play with things you don’t understand.
But what a ridiculous warning that was. You knew this man was in no shape to harm you, so how could your curiosity be something terrible?
After what felt like hours, your hands touched rock and sand. With great effort, you managed to heave the sailor onto it. No matter how much you scowled at the waves, his head kept rolling back under water, until you lifted yourself up and carefully put it in your lap.
Your tail was aching with exhaustion and your uncomfortable position, but you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Breathe, you thought, holding his face in your hands, breathe.
The sailor didn’t listen, but then again, he was mostly dead.
You could feel your heart racing as desperation started to rise. What had you done this for, then, if he refused to cling to life after all? It was as if something had possessed you, and now that you were halfway through the motions it dictated, you’d been once again left alone with your thoughts and the rush of the sea around you.
Something compelled you to push a strand of wet, dark hair away from his face. No; he didn’t look intimidating at all.
Love him or kill him.
You were a simple creature steered by fate as much as anyone, and right now, you were a helpless guppy between her fingers. You wondered what colour his eyes might be.
He was so heavy on you, like his weight was trying to remind you of the odd reality of this situation. You had no idea what to do, and so you kept staring at him.
Like small fish lured in by photophore, your fingers trailed inevitably downwards to that strange hole in his chest. Human blood smelled the same as yours, and it had the same colour, as far as you could tell; but it was warm.
Hesitantly, you pulled your hand back and licked it up.
An involuntary sigh left your lips.
Sweet. Maddeningly sweet. Even after just a few drops, you could see why your sisters would lose their minds over this. You could feel your mouth watering as you savoured the taste, your mind going blissfully blank.
This was like nothing you’d ever experienced.
Your heart was beating a frenzy as you heaved the sailor up in your lap and leaned over his chest, dipping your tongue against the hole. Each lick of blood intensified the gentle buzz in your head, a giddy lightness spreading through your limbs, your chest, your very core.
Just before you lost yourself entirely to this sensation, you heard a low rumbling noise. Gurgling, like stuck water. The sound faded again almost instantly.
Around you, the wind picked up, the waves rumbling menacingly, and you looked up to see the clouds darkening overhead. A storm was coming, after all.
You went to continue your meal and found that the hole had closed up. Soft, reddened skin covered it like it had never been there in the first place. Only a small, shimmering scar remained, and you traced your fingers along it in wistful wonderment, blinking as you wiped your mouth and came to your senses again.
How strange, indeed.
Still, your appetite had been wet, now. You looked at the sailor’s face again, craving more of his sweetness. Maybe …
Slowly, you brushed your lips against his, breathing into him as you carefully nipped at his flesh. He tasted like the sea, here, salt and brine and something else entirely, something that made you press closer as you exhaled into him.
Perfect, you thought because you’d never felt anything so true, all things falling into place for the first time in your life. It sent a pleasant tingle up your spine.
A sound again; this time, it reverberated in your mouth. The sea lashed at you but you ignored it, pushing into the noise as if going to smother it, and then something moved in your lap and the mostly dead sailor grunted weakly against your lips.
You flinched backwards as he sputtered before you, his entire body convulsing as he coughed up seawater and blood. Each rattled breath ended with another fit of coughs until finally, he calmed, slumping back into his previous position in your lap.
It was then, for the first time, that he opened his eyes.
They were green, green like the deep sea on a particularly fine day, green like a palm leaf on the beach at Whitecap Bay, green like shards of smooth seaglass, polished and shimmering. Even in the darkness, they were bright, and they were looking up at you in confusion.
You were confused, too. Something very odd was happening, and so you leaned in and you did the only thing your mind could think of at that moment. You pressed your lips against his once more.
Again, you were filled with that feeling of rightness as you pressed closer, as his mouth gently moved against yours as if in an unheard question before answering you in equal. Yes, yes.
You didn’t understand but this was the way things should be, how they were always meant to go, how—
Cool hands pulled your face away and an involuntary whine escaped you. The sea green eyes had darkened, softened, and they blinked at you several times before the sailor asked, "Am I dead?"
"Not anymore," you said, making to move closer again. He didn’t let you, his hand solid against your cheek.
"I don’t—I’m not sure what happened." His voice was hoarse with the salt of the ocean. His thumb kept tracing your cheekbone like he wasn’t able to comprehend you were actually here. "I thought I was dead."
"Does it matter?" you asked. Your voice was gaining a sing-songy quality entirely of its own accord, and it made his seaglass eyes glaze over a little.
He made to sit up and even though some deep, primal instinct didn’t want him to withdraw even a little, you helped steady his shaking arms until he was upright. Still, your tail was relieved at the lifted weight, giving an involuntary spasm that splashed in the water.
The sailor barely seemed to notice, even as he looked around at his surroundings. The wind howled and dark waves kept lapping at his legs as he tried to get his bearings.
It was a long time before his eyes settled on you again.
"Who are you?" he said, and there was wonder in his voice, incredulity.
Beautiful, you thought again.
You told him your name, quickly, without even thinking about it. Your kind wasn’t usually supposed to share this information; names held power, after all. But this was different. He was different.
"What about you, sailor?" you asked softly. "What do they call you?"
"I … James," he said, his brow furrowed in concentration, like he wasn’t all that sure at all. "Admiral James Norrington of the EC … the EITC. I think."
"Don’t think," you said, putting a hand on his chest. You could feel his heartbeat in there, fast enough for it to sound as if he, like some creatures, had three of them. Unlikely, of course, but what did you know?
In time, he might spare one of them for you.
For some reason, that thought didn’t shock you.
"I should …" he said, his eyes half-shut again. You wanted to kiss away that frown. You wondered if his smile was as magnificent as you imagined, hidden somewhere beneath that stern face. "There was something … someone …"
It broke your heart, the way that worry weighed on him. You needed to take care of him. Take him somewhere safe, somewhere he could rest.
"Don’t worry, James Norrington," you said gently, slowly leaning in once more; he didn’t stop you. "It’s going to be all right."
This time, when your mouths connected, he sighed, like he was letting go of whatever burden his memory was trying to remind him of. This time, his arms came around you and wrapped tightly around your shoulders so that when you slipped into the water, he clung to you, your lips still moving in perfect tandem. He tasted divine.
Yes, you thought, maybe there was a point to these stories about sailors after all.
But this one … he was good. He was yours.
And you intended to keep him.
thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!! remember to stay hydrated and reblog the fics you read to make a writer smile today 💛
#james norrington x reader#james norrington fic#james norrington x you#james norrington fanfiction#james norrington oneshot#pirates of the caribbean fanfic#potc fanfic#just fairer than death
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Logan idea- reader has very similar traumas I.e trained as a weapon, memories wiped, has bad nightmares, slower aging, modified healing.
They find healing with the X-men and get close with Logan because of their similarities the reader is more sunshine to Logan’s I don’t know if pessimism is the right word. They go on a mission, goes missing for a period, and when they show back up they’ve been brain washed and are fighting the X-men but Logan recognizes them instantly. And does the whole this isn’t you sweetheart while taking a beating cause they can both kick ass and that’s one of the things Logan loves about them. He gets the mask off of them cause he realizes that’s part of the issue for them not recognizing everyone and then it’s hurt/comfort them feeling horrible for getting caught and Logan feeling horrible for letting them get caught. And even though they hadn’t been together before just very close friends/testing the waters this brings them together cause they realize they want to be with each other after some healing and Logan be soft with the reader while they heal from the brainwashing fiasco.
I dunno I love the idea of Logan feeling horrible about not being able to rescue the reader and then recognizing them fighting his allies and helps bring them back from the void. I’m a sucker for two people relating to eachother having a friendship that a hard time brings out their true feelings with lots of fluff and healing cause Logan understands that.
this made me think of some of my favourite wolverine scenes from different media so it's all inspired by that i guess. hope you like it :3
warnings: angst. mind control. reader presumed dead. swearing. violence. hospital-setting. guilt.
Masterlist ~ X-Men Requests are Open
‘What the hell are you doing? We have to go back!’ Logan started yelling as soon as he realised you hadn’t made it back to the jet.
‘It’s too late,’ Scott shouted back at him from the pilot seat. ‘We won’t make it.’
‘She won’t make it,’ Logan retorted, already lunging at the cockpit, claws itching to come out. And they would have if it wasn’t for the cold hand touching his skin. He looked up to meet Rogue’s eyes. They were filled with sadness–pity– as she held his hand. He tried to pull out of her hold, but the longer it went on, the more frail he felt. Everything around him began to spin, his vision blurred until it all turned black, and his head hit the steel flooring of the plane.
⮿
Rogue had held on for too long. That much she had realised as soon as Logan had passed out.
It took a whole day for him to come by, but not even her powerful narcosis had suppressed his rage. As soon as Logan had woken up and his senses had felt Scott’s presence, he was on his feet, grabbing the team leader by the collar of his shirt, pushing him against
‘You proud of yourself, punk?’ he spat in Scott’s face. ‘Got your sorry ass out all safe and sound, huh?’
‘There was no other way. We would have all died if we had stayed, Logan,’ Storm clawed at his shoulders to pull him back, but none of her methods sufficed. ‘This was the only way.’
‘No the fuck, it wasn’t!’ He saw red with anger. ‘We could have saved her.’ He had pulled out of saying that one word at the last minute. I could have saved her. That was the only thing on his mind for weeks. How you still would have been there if it wasn’t for him.
The plan had been simple; that much had been clear in your face as you suggested it the last time he saw you. But he never should have gone along with it. He never should have let you go on your own. If he had just stayed— ran after you— maybe…
A pitiful portion of him still kept up hope. That one day, the heavy doors to the mansion would open, and you would stand in the middle. Perhaps a bit bruised up and tired, but all there. And he would pull you into his arms like he had wanted to all those times before.
But you never did show up. Days turned into weeks turned into months, and there had been no news, no sightings. Even the Professor had stopped seeking Cerebro’s help as nothing turned up anyway, no matter how hard he looked.
⮿
His heart was in his chest as he raced through the dark corridors of the bunker complex. Logan looked around him for the way out with the least henchmen as chances of there being none were slim. He had already left a trail of bodies behind him and was ready for the next wave of men to beat into a pulp.
He turned the corner, but what he saw was the last thing he had expected.
For a second, he thought he was dreaming; perhaps it was a hallucination brought on by some chemicals they pumped into the air to get to him. It wasn’t possible. His mouth had already fallen open, ready to call out your name, but as you got into a stance of attack, eyes blank except for a fury deep inside them, Logan realised it wasn’t a dream at all. It was a bloody terror.
It was the hardest fight he had ever been in, trying to block all of your attacks while pulling himself back. He couldn’t het himself to hurt you. All he found himself doing was calling your name, but it was useless. It was you, but it wasn’t. Nothing he said seemed to matter, seemed to take any effect on you. You lunged at him, punching and kicking.
It was futile to try and argue with you, and so, against every muscle and nerve in his body screaming against it, Logan started to place his movements harder, fighting against you until you went limp in his arms. He cursed himself out as he looked down at your unconscious body, pushing some of your loose hair out of your face. But as he looked at you, he also saw that it really was you still in there. And so he didn’t waste a second thinking about it as he picked you up in his arms and ran as fast as his body could take him. Out of the tortuous underground maze and back to that godforsaken jet that had been the scene of the dreams that had plagued his mind for the past months.
⮿
Everyone had practically stopped in their tracks at the sight of you in Logan’s arms. He stumbled into the jet, nearly falling over, having had, as predicted, to deal with a number more nameless jackasses, but with you in his arms, it made beating them up a bit more challenging.
‘What—’ Storm’s eyes were nearly as pale of shock as they would have been of her powers.
‘She’s been brainwashed,’ Logan explained before anything else, ‘or controlled. I don’t know, but he’s hostile. We need to keep her down.’ He laid you down on the ground, sitting right beside you, wiping the sweat off his forehead with a deep heave, and only then he noticed the looks of everyone around him. ‘What?’
No one said a thing, but he knew what they were all thinking. For he was thinking it, too. Was it safe to bring you back home? Could whatever they had done to you be reversed, or was he just putting everyone at the school in danger by taking you back?
‘Is everyone back?’ He just said after no one had dared to say another word.
⮿
Logan didn’t know what had possessed him. Why he had suddenly grown so protective over you, but he could not stand the idea of you being alone in the hospital wing. It took nearly half a week just for Jean and the Professor to understand what had happened to you, and the treatment itself took far longer than Logan would have liked.
He didn’t know why he came to visit you every night, far outside the regular visiting hours, past when anyone would be awake to see him sneak in and sit by your side, holding your hand, hoping you could feel and hear him as the apologies spilt out of him.
‘I’m so sorry, bub.’ He kissed your knuckles. ‘I should have gone back for you. I should have–’ He stilled as you stirred in your bed.
‘Logan?’ You croaked out, throat dry and hoarse. In slight shock, Logan said nothing. You blinked and tried to find him in the darkness of the room. ‘Logan? Is that you?’
‘Yeah, it’s me.’ He chuckled softly to himself, squeezing your hand.
‘What happened?’ You tried to sit up, orientating yourself to where exactly it was that you were, but he quickly pushed at your shoulder to stay put.
‘It’s a long story, kid.’ Never before was Logan happy to be sitting in the dark as the tears he had subdued for months finally fell down his cheeks in extreme relief. ‘You uh– you’d been gone for a while.’
‘I was?’ you tried to remember, ‘I can’t recall anything. It’s all—’
‘I know.’ He kept your hand in his, rubbing your skin with his thumb. Logan knew to call for someone as soon as he saw you stir awake, but he needed this moment alone with you. Make sure you are doing alright himself. Besides, the professor was probably already on his way.
‘It’s okay. You’re alright now.’ He continued, happy you had finally come back home.
the end.
thank you for reading 💗
if you enjoyed the fic, please consider reblogging and leaving a comment. or send a message via my inbox. requests are also more than welcome. 💗
#logan howlett#logan howlett fanfiction#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine fanfiction#logan howlett x reader#x-men fanfiction#fanfiction#fanfic#angst#fluff#imagine#request#logan howlett fanfic#wolverine#wolverine fanfic#x men#x men fanfiction
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Yandere!Gojo Satoru -Drabble?
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/7c9321c5b8115c5de65da77e40f648c8/f10c4d608a0e0fb5-88/s540x810/e2a9f23af93fb8813a05789ac51c2bfe23b981f3.jpg)
❤️🩹 CW: Gojo is a Warning, Cheating, Slight NSFW, Yandere Tendencies, threats, dub/noncon?
❤️🩹 Word Count: 🤷🏾♀️girl idk...no wc today.
❤️🩹 Author's notes: This was COMPLETELY out of no where, I was bored and instead of finishing this Toji fic I randomly decided to write Yandere Gojo. So enjoy and don't ask me to write for Gojo 🙄 this is a one time thing...
I don't think y'all understand how TERRIFYING yandere Gojo could actually be- like I'm not a Gojo girlie, but I pay attention to him enough to know this nga is real deal terrifying. Like let's say you and him had a bad break up and he pops up at your house after you blocked him on everything, trying to explain himself and you close the door in his face. Now the RATIONAL thing to do would just be to leave. But Satoru? Chile his only rational thoughts are he either hollow purple the house or simply teleport inside and continue where he left off. Cause what the fuck does he look like letting you go?
Nah, he'll teleport in the house and of course scare tf outta you- and whatchu gone do about it? Nothing, you can't even touch this man. Like yeah you can scream, shout, throw shit at him all you want, but it's not like you can touch the nga. You gone hear him, you gone listen to every word he has to say and even if you do decide to reject his advances he WILL stay in your house, all up in your face, all up in your bed, eating your food, etc. He's gonna make you take him back whether you like him or not, but you not leaving him. Whatchu gone do? He's the strongest, nobody can step to him except Suguru, but where is he? Nobody knows. So really all you can do is deal with him being there, annoying you, trying to talk your panties off, the mood swings I mean really you have to watch what you say to him cause his cheerful mood can switch to unhinged so quick and you know exactly how bad he can get so it's better to just play along with him until you're no longer mad at him.
I mean just the other day he told you he loved you so much but you- you clearly forgot who you were dealing with and slipped up saying you didn't love him. Now why would you slip up and say that to him? Now he's all eerily quiet and you were standing there washing the dishes like you didn't just piss off a monster? Next thing you know he's got your head in the dish water and his dick buried in your pussy, His blindfold restricting your hands, every now in then he feels you pushing your head against his hand he pulls your head up from the water only to ask you in a serious tone of you love him or not. Now... There's a right answer for everything so even if you didn't love him it would be very.. Wise to say you do- unless you want this blue eyed, white haired demon to drown you?
Or the time he caught you swiping on tinder? Are you out of your mind? You have to be- ain't no way you forgot who's in your house. Gojo had half a mind to trap you in his infinite void for a second, but listen- he's trying, he's trying to not be so impulsive, trying to communicate better, trying to not show you how weak you are compared to him. He tried to communicate to you how much it hurts him to see you on tinder, and what did you say to him?
"We're not together so it doesn't matter, Satoru. "
It's something wrong witcho dumbass like do you just forget how much danger you're in fuckin around with Gojo? THEE strongest? The Six Eyes? Head of the Gojo Clan? Now you're sitting here wondering why you can't breathe and seeing stars. He literally took you're phone and shattered it, now he's knocking the Sonic Rings out your pussy. Do you still wanna keep playing with this man? Because after this you're sure as hell going to watch what you say or do around him now.
Only after you get done getting the Chaos Emeralds knocked out your pussy. I mean he is ruthless, turning your ever which way but loose, knees always behind your heads while he's quite literally bullying your cervix, but the way that you're a babbling mess underneath him turned him on even more, but I guess that's you're fault you should have watched what you said, and now here you are getting stuffed to the brim with his cum, those bright blue eyes, that crazied smile stretched across his face, forcing you to make eye contact with him. Gojo enjoyed seeing that expression you were making, he knows he's the only only who could ever fuck you like this, his dick is the best you've ever had nobody could compare to him no matter how mad you were.
"That's right baby, you're my girl, aren't 'cha? Mine, Mine, Mine. You.. Fuck.. You and this pussy mean so much to me!"
"Say it, Y/N, Say you love me baby, say it, say it, say it!"
"Fuck- This pussy s'good, s'good baby, just for me."
"You'll t-take me back, be a family again, you'd like that wouldn't you? Putting a fuckin baby in you- wouldn't you?!"
Out of everything he said that's the only thing that caught your attention, your panic? You were never ready for a baby- But what were you gonna do? Deny him? You've already fucked up denying him a relationship, Yeah he cheated, but in your current situation was it really ever that deep? He never showed his crazy until now and too be honest it was scary and arousing at the same time. But you had to come back to earth before he ACTUALLY baby traps you. Maybe tricking him into giving you a break? You had just the idea, asking him in strangled moans to let you ride it, damn near begging.
Surprisingly- it did work, you were engaging with him instead of fighting against him, Gojo thought to himself as he sat up pulling you on of him. His demeanor seemed a bit more cheerful than deranged like earlier. But now that you've come back to your senses and realized who you're fucking with.. It was time to play along, maybe even reason with him. Once you were on top of him finally able to catch your breath- your fingers interlaced with his, impatient as ever he bucked his hips up into you making you plead with him to wait a second.
*Pant* "Sa- Satoru wait, just a second lemme talk!"
He looked so annoyed, so irritated with you, but way not he'll bite.
"Fine, what more important than me putting this fat cock in your stomach?" Oh that devious look only his face.
"Satoru, you're right, I do wanna get back together, I was just being jealous, Toru- I wanna fix us before we ever consider having a baby, okay? Please?" God he loved the way you pleaded with him, even saying please? Man it made his dick jump, but it also mad him so happy, you wanted to be with him again.
You watched his facial expressions in worry since he hadn't said anything yet. That was until he bucked his hips into you again ... Repeatedly. But at least he had on his usual joyful expression- he seemed happy now. Nothing could ruin it just as long as you were cautious about the things you say or do. There's no use in being petty or angry with him because will always without missing beat show you his crazy.
But you should be glad you don't live in an apartment, because babeh.. The noise complaints y'all would be getting right now, I mean the headboard is literally banging against the wall. Your screams were nothing to talk about either you two were being so loud right now, you were his again and even though he didn't respond to your statement beforehand, his actions would surely speak for him. Like instead of his baby trapping you Gojo pulls out cumming all over your stomach and himself.
"My Girl.. Now how about we try for a baby when you move in with me tomorrow?" He said so cheerfully like it was nothing.
"HUH?!"
Yeah... Gojo Satoru was insane and you're the only person that has EVER seen this side of him. You're stuck with this monster now, but at least his dick is good, right?
Tags: no tags this time we'll see what the algorithm does with this and again do not bother asking me to write more Gojo I literally hate this dude. 💕
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk drabbles#satoru gojo#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#yandere
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PLEASE HEAR ME OUT; we saw the stream of tee listention to bmf by sza; so an imagine request could be; reader in her universe or wtv wrote that bc yk her and tee are together. and tee didn't know, and she just randomly posted new song out go enjoy, and when its released let's see tee is on stream and everyone's saying like tee reader dropped a new songs and he goes huh and so he calls her and is like did you just drop a song and she goes maybe and he goes to listen to and is like wait, is this about me and then gets really cute and excited that its about him
imagine writing a song about tee.
Tee was bored out of his mind.
The quietness of the off-season was usually a welcome reprieve from the chaos of football, but today, it felt like a prison sentence. His eyes darted from the TV playing the Notre Dame game to his phone and back again, searching for anything to fill the void. That's when he decided to set up his chair, pop his headset on, and start up his Twitch, hoping the time would fly by.
"Yo, what's good," Tee greeted his viewers with his usual enthusiasm. His screen flickered to life, displaying his face and the den behind him. The chatter in the chat grew as fans typed away, eager to interact with the star wide receiver.
Mid-game, the notifications started pouring in. "YOUR GIRL SURPRISE DROPPED," one fan exclaimed. "It's trending on Twitter," added another. Tee's heart skipped a beat. He paused the game and leaned in closer to the camera, his eyes searching the chat for more information. He hadn't heard a peep from you about this. You were in New York, tucked away upstate to finish recording your third album.
"Fuck is y'all talkin' about? My girl dropped?" Tee said into the mic, his eyes darting between the chat and his phone. He sent you a text, his thumbs moving at the speed of light. "Nobody told me nothing," he muttered under his breath. The notifications on his phone went wild, with fans sending links to Spotify and Apple Music.
After deciding you were taking too long to answer his text, he dialed your number, putting the call on speaker. It rang twice before you picked up, your voice as smooth as honey. "Hi, baby," you drawled out, playing it cool.
"Don't 'hi, baby' me," Tee said, trying to keep his own cool. "Did you really drop a new song?"
You giggled, the sound echoing through the room. "Maybe," you hummed coyly.
Tee rolled his eyes. "You playing with me?"
Your laughter grew. "I don't know. I miss you though."
Tee felt a tug at his heart. "Miss you too, but tell me about this song," he urged, trying to ignore the flutters in his chest.
"Why don't you play it and see?" you suggested, your voice dripping with mischief.
Tee's heart was racing. He pulled up Spotify on his other screen and searched for the new release. Sure enough, there it was: "BMF". He hit play and put the phone back on speaker. The song started off pleasant before the beat dropped, and your velvety voice filled the room.
Young and fine and dark and handsome The boy from Tennessee keeps bossing And I can't keep my panties from dropping
Tee's hand came down to press pause before the rest of the verse could reach his ears. "Hold on, is this about me?" He was grinning wide, a laugh bubbling up from his chest in disbelief.
Your giggles grew louder over the phone. "You're supposed to play it, listen with your ears, baby," you teased, your voice full of excitement and a hint of nerves.
Tee's smile was uncontainable as he hit play again. He leaned back into his chair, eyes on the lyrics scrolling by. The song continued as Tee continued smiling wide. He listened intently as the words painted a picture of your feelings for him. The fans in his chat went wild, posting heart-eye emojis and shouting out their love for the couple.
Know my baby packing, why I'm stuck That's why he my man
He couldn't help but press pause again, rising out of his chair to do a little victory dance. "Chat, y'all hearing this shit? This is about me!" The room was alive with the energy of his laughter and the thumping bass of the track. "Baby girl, you out here talking crazy. Goddamn!"
Your giggles turned into full-blown laughter. "I had to," you said, the sweetness in your voice contrasting with the explicit nature of the lyrics. "Just finish the song."
By the time the song wrapped up, Tee couldn't help but feel over the moon. He had heard rumors about artists writing songs for their significant others, but never thought it would happen to him. His cheeks were sore from smiling so much. He sat back down, his eyes gleaming with pride and love.
"So, what do you think?" You asked.
Tee looked at the screen, his mind racing with thoughts. "Baby girl, that shit is fire. Like, for real," he said, nodding his head in time with the beat that he decided to loop for a second play.
"You like it?" Your voice was a mix of relief and excitement.
"Like it?" Tee scoffed, his laughter still echoing in the room. "I love it, baby. You went off, baby, damn." His chest puffed out a bit, unable to contain his pride. The fans in the chat were going crazy, sending love to the couple and praising the song. Tee read some of the comments out loud, his smile growing wider with each one.
Your laugh was music to his ears. "Thank you, baby. I wanted to surprise you."
Tee leaned in closer to the mic. "Surprise? You could've just called me to tell me this. You ain't have to go and make a whole song about it," he joked, winking at the camera.
"Mute yourself for a second?" you said, your voice taking on a more sweet tone. Tee's eyes widened, and he quickly muted the stream before you could say anything more.
#&. tee.#i'm working on more tee stuff dw <3#tee higgins x reader#tee higgins#tee higgins imagine#tee higgins fic#x black reader#black!reader
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— 𝜗𝜚 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐔𝐓 - lucifer worships you. every inch, every curve, every flaw and impurity is perfection in his eyes. and that includes your pussy. the man is whipped, for you, for your body. hopelessly pathetic when it comes to you, void of all real control other than to make you feel good. from buying you flowers to sweet simple kisses stolen between hidden moments when no one could see. but most importantly when he has his face pressed so deep between your thighs and his tongue lapping so fluently on your cunt it had you screaming.
it was lucifers favourite thing in the world. your taste flowing to his tongue whilst he greedily hungers for more, forcing your thighs to spread impossibly wide just so he could gauge more of your pretty pussy. “you taste so good, baby,” he’d mumble hungrily against your lips, drinking you in like you would be taken away from him.
your moans sound loudly through his head, edging him on more and more the longer his mouth is on you. “keep making those pretty sounds, don’t stop, fuck, please don’t stop.” he’d sound so desperate, so needy in you although it would be you laying helplessly, letting him give you whatever he pleased. he’d notice every hitch in your breath and every slight twitch your thighs would make around his head, sensing your orgasm before even you could. relishing in it, thrusting his tongue into you, moving one of his hands to circle your clit, eager to have you spilling all over his tongue. “you better not be trying not to cum,” he’d growl, pulling his tongue from your cunt momentarily to utter the words, becoming even more frustrated with desire. “come on baby, give it to me, no holding back.” a loud shout and panting leaving your lips, “please, fuck, i need it.” and with that, you’d explode on his tongue. letting him feel all the pulsing and gushing of your release flooding his tastebuds and senses. and he’d moan. he would fucking moan.
lucifer would never stop there. how could he when he’s only just tasting your cum? how could he when he could make you cum again and again so this would never have to end, your taste the only thing on his tongue? his hand on your clit would slip back to keeping your spasming thighs spread, pinning you and forcing your pussy to take more. pants of ‘its too much’, and ‘please luci’, staining the air but he doesn’t care. his tongue swirling your clit, lapping all your slick and focusing on nothing but that and your adorable sensitive cries. “one more baby, please just one more, i know you can pretty thing, please- shit, please.” your head lolling and thighs losing their fight meant he won, succumbing to the mind numbing pleasure he, too, was losing himself in.
turning feral, grip turning rough and primal, strength overpowering you with an ease you loved. two of his fingers finding themselves fucking deep into you, pushing on that cute bundle of nerves to have your head spinning, his tongue cat licking your clit in perfect flicks to match the aching thrust of his hand. and it wasn’t long til you were there, teetering on the edge ready to let go and with a perfect suck of his lips over your bud, you did. lucifer quick to move his fingers and fuck into where they left with his tongue, milking every ounce of cum you had left in you, moaning and growling against you.
pulling back, panting, messy and lovingly looking at his little girl, lucifer would let his fingers that were once inside you drag up to your lips, pushing past the soft flesh to make you taste yourself too. “look at you, feeling how good you taste, so cute.” and when you’d let your eyes fall down, you’d see it wasn’t just you that enjoyed yourself. the king of hell himself, standing over you, having just cum in his pants like a teenager from eating you out and tongue fucking your cunt.
#mine ♡#⁺˳✧༚ dolly’s drabbles#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel reader insert#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin hotel reader x lucifer#hazbin hotel lucifer x you#hazbin hotel you x lucifer#hazbin lucifer#hazbin lucifer x reader#hazbin reader x lucifer#hazbin lucifer x you#hazbin you x lucifer#lucifer#lucifer x y/n#reader x lucifer#lucifer x you#lucifer x reader#you x lucifer#lucifer magne#lucifer morningstar
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A Naming
Rated Teen, Papa Emeritus II’s Son and Family
Tags: Halloween Hijinks, Eldest Kid Anxiety, Suburban Dad Secondo, Disabled Secondo, Post-Retirement Life, Magic Rituals, My AU
CW: Underage Drinking
Dedicated to @kissingghouls thanks for cheering me on you’re my little Hell Pumpkin🎃 I’m on AO3 with all my other fics but Tumblr gets mad at me when I post links
Part One (of 5)
Oct 31, 2017
The Leider residence was the only one on the cheery suburban block that was bare of decoration. The house year round was neat, sensible; a single floor ranch with the occasional hearse out front. Neighbors thought the lack of decoration, especially during Halloween, was a choice made out of propriety. One would hope the family responsible for interring your loved ones would have a sober outlook on the macabre. Their entire modus seemed to be one of complete disregard for any happenings outside their own home. Unavailable, discreet, out of the way. A little fortress meant only for its occupants.
And in a way, it was. Its unassuming nature was by design. The patriarch of the house, known to his neighbors as Michael Leider, was a severe man in appearance and temper. His entire family was full of noise and cheer and life but he himself preferred to stay out of the way. The only completely peculiar thing about him was each morning just after sunrise he’d step out onto his back concrete patio and scowl at the sky. A journal would come out, he’d scrawl a few lines, and then return to his kitchen to make that morning’s coffee.
What his neighbors didn’t know was that the man had journaled daily about the weather for fifteen thousand one hundred and seventy-eight days so far, give or take a few due to illness or inconvenience. It wasn’t that neighbors didn’t know, it was more what they have not seen. Or were allowed to see. Mr. Leider’s life was carefully constructed, like the life of any true magician. He had been once the hub of arcane power as Papa Emeritus II, known as Secondo; master magician and the spiritual leader of the Satanic Church of the Void. The Void itself was closer to a true hell than any suburbanite could ever comprehend, but it had been a large part of most of his previous life. For over forty years Secondo had balanced this world and beyond this world. Spirits called to him, demons obeyed his commands. Now all that was left was the old practicum of documenting the weather, but this ordinariness was his choice.
Because a seasoned magician knows of the dangers of attracting attention.
“Yesterday…” Eden Leider’s eyes got wide. The half-nibbled pizza was abandoned on her plate as the eight year old regaled a tale slowly and with great reverence. “Yesterday…there was a kid…at my school…at recess…”
She was surrounded by her family, as always, in the kitchen strewn with handmade Halloween art projects. She had hurried home with her younger brother Sam from the bus and immediately wanted to try on her costume, only to be met with the torture of having to eat before she went out tonight. Pizza AND the green beans. If she was going to be doused in sugar later that night then at least some half-attempt at healthy food was a requirement. Her father Secondo had insisted on it.
“Oh I saw this!” hissed her younger brother Sam. “I saw this!”
“No you didn't you were in gym,” snapped Eden.
“No I saw, I saw the ambulance!”
“He fell…and his arm? His arm was like this!” Eden held out her arm crooked, a primal little grin stretching across her face. “There was his bone sticking out.”
“Bone sticking out?” Their mother Sandra lowered her pizza slice, her eyes wide in amused interest. There was nothing more she enjoyed than encouraging her younger children’s odd sense of wonder. It was like watching kittens attempt to navigate themselves out of a paper bag.
“His bone! Was sticking! Out!” shouted Sam.
The eldest brother Paul let out a too aggressive sigh, subtly glancing down at his phone on his lap. There was another message. He disguised his gasp as a cough.
Dana: u coming
Paul L: trying
Paul nervously cycled through his apps, arriving at Dana’s photo again. A perfect face, a winning smile adorned a photo of her in a theatrical costume. Below, her favorite quote that Paul recently decided was evidence of her profound understanding of reality: Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world! Let your soul take you where you long to be!
I will, Paul always thought.
His father didn’t even have to make a noise for Paul to know he was watching him. Paul looked up and met the Eye embedded in his father Secondo’s skull, white and shark-like. It was usually concealed behind a colored lens but still burned through all the same. Paul was not normally afraid of it, but in this circumstance he swore it could read his mind. It was something that existed beyond his father, an interloper perched on the man’s broad shoulder. The human eye beside it had its normal expression of cool assessment. While his father’s left eye expressed an understanding of the beyond, the rest of the body was that of an intelligent stoic. Someone not interested in seeing their son look at their phone at the dinner table. Paul smiled thinly back.
“We can't even have a jack-o'-lantern?” Eden’s whines came into focus once more. “Not even one?”
“I'm not encouraging anything or anyone to enter this house,” Secondo reminded her stiffly, releasing Paul from his gaze. “Our home is our domain and I keep it well tended.”
Secondo, known in the past as Papa Emeritus II and leader of the Satanic Church of the Void, had always been a serious man. Serious, but never humorless. His wife Sandra has gifted him a bright orange shirt that said “This is My Halloween Costume” and he wore it now as he cut his pizza slice with the grace of some sort of aristocrat. His younger children had dumped tribute drawings around him: scrawled images of him as a skeleton man surrounded by assortments of demons and pools of blood. Eden idolized him, and his youngest idolized his sister and so the two of them had become his most loyal cultists whether he liked it or not.
Paul took the chance to answer Dana back.
Paul L: my dad is
Dana: yeah
ill ask
Dana:🙂
“If you’ll excuse me,” Secondo muttered with a regal bow of his head. He unhooked his forearm crutch from the back of his chair and maneuvered himself to his feet, politely grabbing empty dishes to deliver them delicately to the sink as he left the kitchen.
Paul turned quickly to his mother. “There’s a party tonight and…”
Sandra smiled wryly. “I’m always happy when you want to be social. But your dad will have to drive you.”
Right. Secondo had retired to his study for an hour before taking the younger kids out. In Paul’s experience of suburban fathers, there was a seasonal quality to all of their domestic obsessions. Some dads fretted over lawns, or snowfall, or their collection of vehicles in various states of disrepair. Secondo’s special interest at this time of year was obscure arcane protections. Paul had never once experienced any sort of supernatural event in their home, but as he grew up he suddenly became responsible for helping his father with his weird chores. Burying recycled jars filled with nails and rat bones. Standing on ladders to hand specifically colored yarns around the outside perimeter of the house while Secondo commented on ideal placement. Collecting perfectly good specimens of mullein or rue from the side of the road with the shovel Secondo always kept in the backseat of the truck. In his mind’s eye Paul wondered what strangers thought of the impromptu highway gardening, or the digging, or all the rock arrangement. Maybe they assumed the teen was enduring some old time tough love father-son punishment.
Honestly that would be far less embarrassing.
Paul found Secondo in his office. The room was dimly lit, with scarves draped across the computer and all of his work things. There were more books and journals than wall space, and so some were stacked neatly in piles besides the shelves that went right to the ceiling. Said ceiling was stained with areas of candle soot, the walls doubly so. Secondo stood in the far corner of the room, the doors to an old TV hutch open to reveal the magical seat of his home: his altar place.
“Dad, can I go out tonight?”
Paul saw the familiar diagrams and charts taped on the inside walls, along with some twig and twine poppets right out of a horror film. Deeper into the hutch lay even more oddities: deer jawbones, rocks of Significance. Some desiccated bundles of herbs. A mason jar of old buttons.
Secondo was whispering something into a waterclear crystal skull. He lowered it and stared into Paul, the white Infernal Eye settling in to regard the teen like an old crow. “Hm?”
“Yeah uh…a party. It’s everyone from theater club. Tonight.”
“Parents will be there?”
Shit. Paul wrung his hands. “Uh…I think so?”
Secondo let out a puff of air through his nose, a wordless sign of him mulling over facts. He didn’t speak much, but his elegant movements and subtle expressions spoke more than any words could. He gently replaced the skull on his altar and closed the doors, tying a red ribbon across the knobs. Paul waited with bated breath.
“All your homework done?”
“Yes.”
“Are you certain?”
“I—” The two little ones bounded into the office. Sam launched himself at his brother’s knees and squeezed.
“Put our facepaint on, Paul!” said his sister.
“Yes, please,” Sam added. Paul looked up to meet his father’s eyes once again.
Secondo was smiling.
“What did Daddy’s face look like? I want it to look like that,” Eden insisted. In the bathroom Paul applied the white makeup to the entirety of her face while she frowned and got into character.
“I dunno, some kinda…skull or something.” Paul was deeply indifferent to their father’s past life. He didn't remember the pageantry, or the tours he was dragged on as a young child. He barely understood nor cared that his father was someone who wandered the space between two worlds, who channeled dark powers through his body, who captivated thousands with twisted tales of death and demons.
All Paul really remembered was seeing his father decline. He saw his father have days of extreme pain he chose to conceal, watched his mother help her husband as good as any nurse or wife could. As the Void wracked his body Secondo couldn't do much anymore. Couldn't play with Paul or carry him or do anything more than preserve himself for when he was on stage. So Paul was indifferent to Papa Emeritus II. In some way his earliest thoughts were of happiness now that his father could be around.
And they could finally all be somewhat normal.
Paul darked the hollows of her eyes with black face paint and added long lines across her mouth to simulate snagged teeth. He recalled the exaggerated lines across the jaw. Satisfied, he turned his sister around to show her in the mirror. She nearly jumped out of her skin the moment she saw the face that was no longer hers. But then she laughed wickedly.
“Oh I want to be a skull now!” crowed Sam, tugging at Paul’s clothes. “Make me a skull face!”
“No you're not allowed,” Eden said. “Pumpkin Skull? I'm the skull. Paul tell him I'm the skull!”
“Wouldn't make sense on you, Sammy,” Paul explained. “I'll give you a jack-o'-lantern face.”
“Yeah okay but make it scary,” Sam muttered.
Eden had worked for days on her costume. It was of course an homage to the towering glory of her father’s previous life, in miniature form. She had fashioned a cereal box into a decent miter. Secondo had coaxed her out of applying true upsidedown crucifixes to her outfit, and so wrathful skull heads scowled down the pillowcase chasuble and bats adorned the miter. “I'm a…Hell Priest.”
“She made it herself.” Sandra shrugged. “Turn around, honey, you're the cutest little hell priest I've ever seen since your father.”
Sam extended his little arms and wiggled his fingers, grinning. “And I'm a…Hell. Pumpkin.”
“My adorable little freaks,” said Sandra of her children, nudging Secondo next to her on the couch. Secondo had his usual severe frown as he watched the little ones scurry around the carpet and howl. Sandra addressed Paul. “And you're wearing that? To a Halloween party?”
Paul looked down at his jeans and band tee, old ratty hoodie and sneakers. “Halloween’s for kids, mom.”
“At least the shirt’s clean,” said Secondo.
“You two are really boring, you know that?” Sandra ribbed over the rim of her coffee mug. “But have fun? Extra fun for me.” Out of all of them she loved Halloween the most. It was a love of the macabre that drove her to join a Satanic Church, after all. Sandra held the work phone for the memorial home in her hand as her family got ready to leave for the night. She had selflessly volunteered to be on call so her brothers and husband could bring all their kids around the neighborhood. Then again, watching the goriest horror films at home without the prying eyes of her children was a decent consolation prize.
Sandra caught her youngest in her arms and brought his little body into a hug. “You know, you can die… but no one really stays dead on Halloween.” She immediately pretended to bite him all over, and Sam screamed and laughed.
“You're deeply unprofessional, dear,” muttered Secondo, yet a small rare smile hovered across his face. He gave his wife a peck on the cheek and pulled himself to his feet. “Let’s go. Paul, help me get your siblings in the car.” The younger ones let out shrill shrieks and jumped towards the door, grabbing their candy pails while already whining.
Sandra gave a soft chuckle, then reached out to gently touch her eldest son's hand. “Paul, have fun alright? You need it.”
Paul smiled faintly and returned her affection with a hug. “I’ll be fine. Thanks. I hope you…don't have to work tonight.”
“Same,” replied his mother. “But you got to take everything as it comes, right? Be always ready.”
“Paul,” said Secondo.
“Hm?” Paul had been staring out the window as they drove across town. Behind them in the backseat the younger kids were chatting wildly about all the candy they were going to eat later. By this time in his life Paul was used to drowning it out. Ever since Sam could talk, Paul finally got a break and Eden got a perfect little peon to hang on to her every word.
Secondo had both hands on the wheel as he drove sensibly. He never looked up from his task but he never had to do more than slight gestures or certain tones of his voice for Paul to know what came next. “Name it,” he said.
Secondo was talking about the feelings rolling around in Paul’s insides. From a young age this was a common ritual he shared with all of his children. Paul realized more and more that Secondo now didn’t demand a vocal response to this request anymore the way he did of the younger ones. After years of this, Paul had an automatic cool response to any sort of restlessness in his mind.
Paul let out a soft breath, imagining himself holding the feeling in his hands, like always. It felt prickly, hot. Torn right from his chest and squirming like an impatient puppy. So he looked down and named it. Apprehension. Worry.
The little feeling stopped jostling him. But there was something else tugging at him, gripping its sharp little teeth into his pant leg and pulling. Dana’s picture on his phone came to mind. He swallowed.
Crush.
The truck stopped, Secondo put it in park. High school kids idled out on the front porch of a large house cheerfully decorated with pumpkins and the warm glow of string lights. The little demons of feeling that tugged at him skittered away to wait in the shadows. Paul gave a weak goodbye utterance to his family and stepped out onto the sidewalk.
Secondo spoke. “And Paul.”
“Yeah?”
The intensity of the whitened eye in his father’s skull never ceased, even when freed for an instant as he blinked. “You are a person of integrity.”
Paul gave a half-hearted nod, slamming the door. He watched the red lights of the truck veer slowly away and occasionally stop to avoid throngs of trick-or-treaters. Now before the house, before this strange new world, his nerves began to circle.
Like it? Reblog it! Thanks so much, see you in Part 2…..
Next chapter link in comments!
#papa emeritus ii#ghost band headcanons#Halloween fic#domestic fic#my art#ghost scenes from the void#sfw fic#anamelessfool halloween#anamelessfool halloween start
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Hello again my little butterfly 🦋✨
I came to place another order if that's ok! so, the scenario is a One Piece AU, where YN has an arranged marriage with Shanks, who is one of the richest men in town, but even so, YN decides to run away on her wedding day and throw herself off a bridge, but she can't, they find her and the family manages to bring her back to the wedding, Shanks is a man very much in love with YN, the moment he sees the sadness in YN's eyes when she walks up the aisle and puts the ring on her finger Shanks, he decides to conquer her and make her the happiest wife in the world! ( PS: Shanks is in a desperate situation when he learns that his beloved literally decided to throw herself off a bridge rather than stay with him, even little sad :( )
─Shanks x wife!reader
─Summary: you didn't want to be part of that ceremony, but you're not brave enough to run away either
─Warnings: slight mention of suicide attempt, modern AU
Oh hi hi love!! 🫶🏻🦋 you really like angst 😳
You ignored the perplexed looks of people, without stopping or thinking about a second option, you gripped the thin white fabric of your wedding dress harder so as not to trip over it, your shoes had long since disappeared so you could run more comfortably. You didn't want this, you didn't want to marry an unknown guy, no one thought about your feelings? It's not something your parents have the right to play with and you weren't going to let them ruin your life for financial convenience.
The moment adrenaline started to increase when you saw how you were now being persecuted, probably due to the absence in the ceremony that was taking place in the nearby church, you felt bad for the man you had been engaged to, since it wasn't his fault either and you didn't even know him enough to determine that he was a horrible person, but this decision was too hasty and you definitely didn't agree to this.
With your heart in your throat you ran until you tripped over your own sore feet, your breathing accelerated even more when you heard shouts of your name, taking courage again you stood up with a new impetus, although when you noticed how the distance between your pursuers was shortening more and more, your brain began to draw an extreme line in your thoughts.
Would it hurt? Could you die? Well, you were going to see for yourself what it felt like to jump off a bridge just to avoid facing an unwanted fate.
You quickly climbed onto the thick railing, stabilizing yourself standing on it, the next few seconds felt like a blur, like a part of memory that was difficult to remember, the fear of possible death and the indecision that comes with taking a long time to jump into the void made one of the guys chasing you caught you before you did something crazy.
The next thing you know after that, you were back in one of the private rooms of the church, being yelled at by your mother while your father looked on disapprovingly, you didn't care, nothing mattered to you at that moment, you let them go back to put on your makeup, you let them put new shoes on you and they changed the dirty surface fabric of your dress as if you were a doll, lifeless.
The ceremony returned to its course, Shanks waited awkwardly all this time at the altar, and when he saw you appear next to him his heart shattered, you weren't even looking at him, your eyes were lost somewhere far away in this unwanted reality, you lacked any kind of expression. He knew it, he knew how you felt, and yet he felt a little selfish for wanting to be your husband, for wanting to love you unconditionally, this marriage may be arranged, but he admired every drop of courage you poured out to prevent this event, every anger and every fierce response you gave to the first meetings between both families.
"Now… husband and wife, you can kiss each other."
You were both so absorbed in your own thoughts that you barely heard the priest's last words. Shanks was the first to step forward, holding your waist slowly as if he were asking permission and asking if it was okay to do so. You didn't move an inch, your eyes were still lost even when he sealed your fate with a cold kiss devoid of love, at least, lacking on your part.
Shanks knew it wouldn't be easy, that you weren't going to trust, that he wasn't going to receive tons of affection, even looks, he knew you were in a delicate state, after all, you'd rather almost kill yourself than get married.
You didn't bother with his emotions, you didn't bother to ask about his tastes, his hobbies or how his day had been, you just spent the days dead, repeating your routine, your life remained the same in a way, a few more numbers in the account. but in exchange of what? Your freedom and decision. You were hurt, you had been damaged by your own parents, your emotional wounds would not heal overnight and you would refuse to show a modicum of affection until you recovered.
Shanks knew that he would have to sleep alone for months, that an empty house would await him, that all his praise and gifts would be quickly discarded, but it doesn't matter, maybe you didn't look for him or you didn't want him, but as your husband, he would do everything he could to at least help you cope with the situation, he really loves you, but it won't be easy to win your affection because you never wanted this.
Your heart began to heal over time, it took a long time, you decided to completely break the relationship with your family, although before they were the only ones you could turn to, Shanks showed you that he would be there, that despite not being the husband that you chose as such, made you trust him, made you feel loved again.
He wasn't a bad man, he wasn't the most wonderful person in the world either, but he proved to be enough for you to stop feeling that emptiness inside your heart, step by step he managed to break the walls that you built around your emotions, Shanks turned out to be something unexpected in your life, someone you didn't think would be so important and he was able to grant some peace, some happiness back into your life.
Maybe you are not yet ready to accept that he is your husband, but you slowly began to meet someone you could voluntarily fall in love with.
#one piece#op#one piece x reader#one piece modern au#modern au#shanks#shanks x reader#x reader#husband shanks#wife reader#fem reader#request#one piece x fem reader#shanks x wife reader#sfw#reader insert#xreader#angst?
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