#well - I hope whoever you are if you're still out there following me - that you see this :)

[celerydays]

long time no see…

Hey, hi, hello~

I don't know if anyone is still around this little blog o' mine or if I'm just showing up suddenly on the dash and whoever is seeing this might not recall ever even following me lol.

But – whether you remember me or not – I'm just dropping by to say that...I've missed you and that I truly hope you're doing well 🫂💗

I...have not been doing so well. But I've been working on it.

In a way, it's been healing to reshape my approach to things like journaling and capturing photos. I've been taking the time to develop a practice in documenting daily life – the people I care about, the places we visit, and all the random little moments in between – with more intentionality and care than I have in recent years.

(tw: grief and loss/death under cut)

We lost my mother very suddenly last November – and things have been unbearably hard the last few months.

In a lot of ways, 2024 was one of the best years: my partner and I traveled to Japan for the first time ever, my family had a small reunion in our hometown to watch the total solar eclipse together, my best friends got married, and we went on so many amazing trips and had the type of outings that made me so inspired, optimistic, and excited about life and the future.

But in so many other ways, it was also one of the worst years I've had in a long time: starting with a hard-learned (but perhaps overdue) firsthand lesson and reminder on how scary and mean the internet can be, followed by losing both my grandfather in the spring and then my mother just before the winter holidays.

I'm not particularly good when it comes to emotions– forget about even processing grief or putting into any sort of meaningful words how it all feels. But I guess all of this has made me shift my mindset when it comes to wanting to just...remember. To not forget.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

On documenting life through journaling...

I had always journaled in some way or another all my life, but I only really started considering it a serious practice and hobby sometime around 2020. But I had lost my way with it in recent years, treating it solely as some kind of aesthetic-only venture, and only dedicating the time if I knew that I could make it "pretty" and "palatable for sharing".

And so, many entries were missed; days and weeks lost to fuzzy recollection, months bled into each other, and little moments only existed as vague and passing snapshots on my phone gallery (if I even remembered to take a photo).

But I now wish I had just written it down; whatever it was – big, small, angry, funny, sad, happy – just wrote it all down. It didn't have to be an aesthetically collaged spread or artful doodle or drawing. I wish I had documented some of the last times I had seen or spoken with my mother; what she had said, did, or how she reacted to silly news or quips I told her. I barely remember anything even just from the last year.

So now I write it all down, day after day: I'll write what's on my mind, what we did before, what I'm doing currently, what I'm planning to do. If someone calls or my partner walks in to my studio while I'm working and tells me something that has me reacting in the moment I'll jot down a little "omg!!" or "lol" or "holy shit" next to whatever they said or did.

If I get little scraps from the day – receipts, tags, tickets, wrappers – I'll paste it in wherever it happens to fit in my journal, with a little note of the date or what the outing was. And every so often, I'll print out photos to paste in with notes relating back to past entries or junk journal spreads.

Is always pretty? No, but it's pretty in its chaos. Is it always even chronological? Not at all. Does it always make sense? Not really. But I love every page so, so much more than anything I had carefully curated before in my previous journals.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

On documenting life through photos...

I had once carried a camera with me everywhere before phone cameras became decent enough that I didn't feel the need to have a dedicated tool for just taking pictures anymore.

It wasn't until we were all looking through our collective family photos to use for my mother's memorial service and headstone that it hit me that I just don't take as many pictures as I used to– and when I did, they just don't compare to the ones that I used to take years ago when I did carry a camera with me on every outing and trip.

We ended up choosing a photo of her that I had taken on my once-beloved dSLR camera I used to haul around with me almost 10 years ago; she was smiling, strong, radiant, beautiful– and it was just a random moment I took my camera out in a Taiwan salon while she was waiting as my sister and I were both getting our hair done for our cousin's wedding.

A bit indescribable – and not even something I realized was missing – but there's something about having an actual camera on hand that pushes me to take more photos, and somehow better and more mindful photos at that.

And so I made the decision to invest in a new camera. An absolute necessity to take photos? No, of course not; I do still have my phone camera after all. But they say (apparently) that "the best camera is the one that you actually use"– and I was most definitely not using my phone as much as I could have been.

This new camera though? Only time will truly tell, but the past has shown that I've worked better with a dedicated camera on hand and already I can't begin to explain the difference it's made in the last week alone since I picked up the habit of carrying a camera around with me again.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

This was a crazy long post that sort of got away from me. Not sure where I want to go from here – I guess I just want to say that if you ever felt called to document your life in some way, it's never too late to start; you'll only wish that you had begun sooner.

If you're still here– I love you. I hope you're taking care of yourself.

And thank you for reading along with my incredibly longwinded life update of what was essentially just "I'm grieving so I started journaling more and also bought a camera" lol.

💗

[krockat]

(to the tune of ymca)

it is fun to draw OOBJECTHEADS

So yea i am drawing out some designs for objecthead characters.

The scissor head one I think I'm gonna call Sax, which is swedish for scissors, and I think it sounds cool pronounced both in english and swedish.

Also yea i Ship them, but mostly Sax and another lightbulb character, which i might make siblings with the one featured here, unsure.

but most of the art ive drawn of that char is nsft haha.

they were the one who made me wanna continue drawing this objecthead story to begin with :D

I'm having fun!!

[azsazz]

Drown in Me

Garrick (Fourth Wing) x Virgin!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: well I absolutely love Garrick. I just know he is such a softie with his partner. Just imagine that you too hate each other but something change during a mission or something and in a two simple word,, you fucked ". And you're virgin and he is so gentle and after he is so sweet.. Ohh I love this man

Warnings: Angst, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, consensual sex.

Word Count: 4417

Notes: DOES NOT CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR ONYX STORM.

I hope whoever requested this actually ages ago is still around. Sorry it took me so long. I'm obsessed with the beginning, it was so much fun to write 💙

_________________________________________

Chradh lands in the middle of the flight field with a roar that shakes the walls of Basgiath.

It’s directed at you, you know it is.

There’s no ducking away from the golden, narrowed gaze of the brown scorpiontail, nor his equally pissed rider. You swear Chradh is glaring at you, and he huffs a breath that reeks of sulfur.

Uisge, your green daggertail growls low in his throat. He stands tall behind you and equal parts of you want to preen and run, because standing between two dragons is never a good idea.

The Section Leader is not pleased, Uisge notes, and yeah, you already knew that.

Tell me something I don’t know, you retort, but lift your chin as you watch Chradh’s rider dismount with a grace you can only wish to emulate someday.

Your breath sticks in your throat at the sight of Garrick, despite the anger written clear on his face. He runs a hand through his now dry, wind-blown black hair, and you’d laugh at the way it sticks straight up if yours wasn’t still plastered to your skull after the unexpected dip you took during flight lessons today.

The Section Leader is not a strong swimmer. You wince. Yeah, that was found out during flight lessons today, too.

You’re frozen beneath that harsh look Garrick pins you with as soon as his boots hit the ground, his hazel eyes glowing with fire. He’s more than angry, he’s fucking fuming, and your boots squelch as you shift your weight to your other foot. You wince as the water from the soles of your boots floods your feet again. You hope you don’t look like a drowned rat.

More like a tiny, water-logged sheep, Uisge adds unhelpfully. Your shoulders fall in defeat. But a tiny sheep with sharp teeth. Head up, little one.

And well, a sheep with sharp teeth is better than a sheep with no teeth at all, so you raise your chin and patiently await your punishment.

Chradh pounds his strong wings, lifting from the ground, his annoyance with you and Uisge clearly over with. You’re sure the two male dragons are speaking through their mind connection, but you’re thankful that Garrick’s dragon is leaving the scene, even if everything that happens here will be seen through your section leader’s eyes.

It’s better not to have the audience for the reaming out you know you’re going to receive.

Much to your chagrin, Uisge follows.

Wait. Where are you going? We should be bearing punishment together! You can’t leave the sheep to face the wolf, you argue, because Garrick most definitely looks like a wolf right now.

I eat sheep and wolves for breakfast, Uisge replies. Is he insinuating that he’d like to eat you? You’re sure you wouldn’t taste good. And neither of them is secretly trying to fuck the other.

You gape, swinging your gaze to your dragon, but Uisge’s back is to you as he flies toward the vale, his daggertail sweeping in the wind.

Garrick approaches, the hilts of twin swords glow in the sun as it beams across the flight field. He could kill you in more ways than one with those weapons, and others, too, according to the neatly aligned patches that trail down the right arm of his flight jacket. Your jacket is bare, with the exception of the lousy wing and year patches you carefully sewed on. You’ve been awaiting receiving your signet patch, and maybe after what happened in training today, Garrick will get on that for you.

A distant roar has you realizing that you shouldn’t be lingering in the flight field lest the next wing prepare for training, so you spin on your heel and start for the courtyard.

Garrick catches up to you quickly, his strides longer than yours. His fingers are tucked into fists at his sides and there’s a low warning growl in his throat that tells you he’s not pleased with the way you walked away from him.

“What the fuck was that back there?” He questions, and you can hear him struggling to keep the anger from eking into his voice. Too late for that, you can hear his frustration clear as day.

Your boots squeak with each step you take and your damp leathers are beginning to chafe against your skin. Being in the blistering sun isn’t helping in the slightest, and you really wish your room was closer to the flight field right now.

And yeah, perhaps slipping off of Uisge’s back during flight maneuvers wasn’t your smartest decision, but you needed a bigger body of water than the bathtub to work on channeling your signet, and this was the only way you were going to get that done.

You didn’t expect Garrick to dive after you.

“I already told you; I slipped.”

“And I already told you,” Garrick scowls, and it twists the pink scar on his jaw in a way that makes you want to trace it. “I don’t believe you.”

You set your jaw as you make your way up the stone stairs, trying not to cringe when every step fills your boots with water. You release your tense shoulders and attempt to drain the liquid from your clothing with a flick of your hand, but all you can manage to do is propel the water from your leathers into your boots.

It’s infuriating.

“You haven’t fallen off Uisge once during flight training, and all of a sudden, a few weeks after your water wielding signet appears, you go tumbling off into a lake?” He asks it like you think he’s stupid. You think he’s far from stupid.

I don’t, Uisge says, and you force your walls up with all of your might.

He’s been watching you?

You mutter, “I didn’t think you’d follow me.”

“It looked like you really fell off! You were under the water for longer than you should’ve!” Garrick says, and you frown. You couldn’t have been under the surface of the water for more than a few seconds. “What the hell was I supposed to do? Let you drown?”

He was much closer to drowning than you were, little one, Uisge’s voice creeps through your mind and you have to force the smile threatening to split your lips away.

“Uisge knows what I’m capable of,” you argue, but it falls flat at the outright disbelief on Garrick’s face.

“He knows what you’re capable of?” He scoffs, then tacks on a dry, mocking laugh. “You can barely even power an ink pen, for Amari’s sake.”

That’s because you’ve been focusing all of your energy on training your signet. Much more important that being able to power a stupid ink pen, in your opinion.

You stay silent so long that you’re on your floor before you know it. With an angered flick of your wrist, your locks click and your door opens an inch. You want to growl in frustration, that door should’ve swung open and stuck in the wall with the anger you attempted to force into it.

You’ll get there, little one, Uisge’s voice trickles through your walls. There really is no getting rid of him.

Leave me alone, Uisge.

I do not take orders from you, he retorts, but you feel him draw away nonetheless.

“Look,” Garrick sighs, shutting the door behind you with lesser magic. It’s an easy move that you have yet to master. “I can’t lose one of my riders to their own stupidity. I won’t let you.”

As his words settle in, you’re all too aware that he’s standing in the middle of your room, only a few feet from you, and the door is closed.

“I wasn’t going to die, Garrick. I knew what I was doing,” you answer, shrugging out of your flight jacket. Although it is no longer water-laden, the temperature in the room has risen, and you need out. You hang it on the back of your chair, missing the way that Garrick’s hazel eyes drink in the sight of the rest of your flight uniform. Today, you chose something thin and lightweight so you aren’t weighed down by the water you knew you were going to practice in. “I promise. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I do, though,” Garrick swallows, and you watch the way his throat bobs. Fuck, he can’t believe he’s doing this, but here the fuck he is, about to confess what’s been haunting him for weeks. You.

“Why?” You surprise him by saying. You cross your arms over your chest, not realizing that the move pushes your breasts higher. In your haze of annoyance, you fail to catch the way his eyes dip down for a peek. “I don’t see you jumping off dragons after any of the other riders!”

“That’s because I don’t have to worry about them,” he argues, taking a step closer. You’re a defiant little thing, so you move closer, too, which leaves your crossed forearms brushing his chest.

“You don’t have to worry about me!”

“I do!” He all but roars. You rock back on your heels in surprise but catch yourself.

Garrick runs a nervous hand through his hair. He’s no longer meeting your gaze, instead staring out the window over your shoulder. Something’s wrong. Something he clearly doesn’t want to tell you.

“Why?” You whisper.

“What?” He croaks; throat raw.

You glare up at him. You wish he would look at you. “Why do you have to worry about me?”

“I—” he trails off, helplessly, and you can see the way he’s talking himself out of admitting what’s on his mind. Maybe he’s even talking to Chradh.

“You what, Garrick?” You prod, an icy bite to your tone. “You think I’m weak?”

“No,” he answers vehemently. His gaze zeroes in on yours and he looks at you like he can’t believe you even said that.

“Then what is it?” You demand. “If it’s not because I’m the weakest link, then why are you worried about me?”

“Because,” Garrick roars, crowing in on you. You fall back but he keeps pushing forward, until your spine slams into the wall and there’s nowhere else for you to go.

Your arms fall as you brace yourself against the wall. Garrick’s chest heaves, and you swear you can feel the rapid beat of his heart from how close you stand. His front is plastered to yours, and there’s a flutter in your stomach that swirls at the fire in his eyes.

“Because I can’t get you out of my fucking head,” he admits, tone taking on a soft edge that converges right between your thighs. Your gaze flickers from one hazel eye to the other, confused at his sudden revelation. “Doesn’t matter where you are, what time of the day it is, you’re always on my mind.” He lifts a hand and gently brushes a strand of wet hair back that clings stubbornly to your cheek. The heat of his skin is searing, just like his words. “It’s like you’re a second Chradh,” he laughs drily, “Though you’re much prettier than him.”

You’re pretty sure that this isn’t real life. That your section leader didn’t just admit the very same thing you’ve been feeling for him since the first moment you laid eyes on him. It must be real, because you’re here, pinned to the wall by his big, strong body, and he’s looking at you like you might just reject him.

And you don’t know what the fuck to do. Sure, you’ve kissed people before, but you’ve never done anything more. You know for a fact that Garrick is well-practiced, with those broad shoulders and handsome face, his deep, dark hair and bright eyes that could surely turn anyone into a puddle.

The words stick in your throat. You don’t know what to say, where to start, and the longer you’re silent in front of him, the more apprehension creeps into his eyes. He shifts uneasily, and you wrack your mind for a response.

Ugh, just kiss him already, Uisge’s voice pops into your head.

Not now, Uisge, you bite, and then you heed your nosey dragon’s advice, and kiss Garrick.

You can tell he’s caught off guard by the way his body stills against yours. Still, you push onward, making it known that you’ve wanted him just as long as he’s wanted you by dragging your palms up his chest, reveling in every ripple of muscle you can feel through his flight jacket.

By the time your hands lock at the nape of his neck, Garrick’s hands are on your hips and his mouth moves against yours.

He lifts you into his arms, pinning you against the wall. Your legs wrap around his waist and he rolls his hips into yours as his tongue traces the seams of your lips. You gasp and Garrick slides his tongue into your mouth like he’s done it a million times. He brushes against yours tentatively, and when you don’t shy away from him, he advances.

One of his large hands slides up your waist, finding its way beneath the thin fabric of your shirt, exploring the smooth skin of your sides.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to kiss you,” Garrick mutters against the nape of your neck before sucking a harsh mark there. Your head thumps against the wall and your back arches into his body at the feeling of being claimed. It feels like threshing all over again, but this is better. Sorry Uisge.

Other than a rumble of protest down the bond, your stubborn daggertail doesn’t interrupt.

“How long?” you gasp when his lips find the spot that makes you melt into him. Your fingers scrabble against his flight jacket, nails scratching the thick fabric. Garrick growls in frustration, pulling back just far enough to drop his swords, unzip himself, and tear the fabric form his back. His black shirt follows, exposing those beautiful broad shoulders of his. You can’t help but trail your fingers across his pectorals and down his chest, admiring every inch of his body. Zihnal must be with you right now, because you’ve never felt luckier than you do right now.

“Since the day you chose Uisge,” he pants, helping you discard your own shirt. Your bra quickly follows, and Garrick’s hazel eyes latch onto your body like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. Your nipples pucker under his heady gaze and he loses his train of thought in favor of bending down to suck a pert bud into his mouth, reveling in the way that you gasp and wriggle as he circles his tongue around the hard nub.

Threshing. He’s liked you since threshing, when you chose Uisge. You think it’s an odd way to phrase what happened that day, but in Garrick’s eyes, that’s exactly what it was. You, stubborn thing that you are, staring down the green daggertail with that look in your eye, the same one you always give him. The same one that makes his cock ache.

“Garrick,” you gasp, arching into him. He’s not close enough, not with your trousers still acting as a barrier from where he ruts his thick cock into you. Your fingers claw at the waistband of his pants. “Off.”

Garrick peels you from the wall, trailing his mouth back up to meet yours in a kiss that steals your breath. He’s very good at this, gentle, too, as he lies you on your bed and he works your pants loose from your hips.

“Fuck me,” he breathes when you’re fully exposed. A flush of red crawls up your body from your toes to your cheeks under that scrutinizing gaze of his. “Look at you.”

The sudden urge to cover yourself flares to life. You’re nervous, even more so when he drops his trousers and his cock bobs, heavy and swollen. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, all rippling muscle and perfect cock, his eyes only for you.

“Garrick,” you whisper, unable to keep the fear from your tone. While his cock is pretty, it looks like it’s big enough to rip you in half. You scramble away from him as he places a knee on the bed, feeling guilty at the confusion on his face. “I’ve never…” you trail off, cheeks burning red.

His uncertainty melts into understanding. “That’s okay, we don’t have to if you don’t—”

“No,” you protest, almost too quickly. Your voice has taken on a desperate volume, and you lower it before continuing. “I want to have sex with you, I really do,” you swallow, eyes dipping to his cock. It’s glistening at the tip. “I just wanted you to know, in case…” you trail off. In case he doesn’t fuck virgins.

The furrow between his brows creeps back. “I want you,” he presses, holding your eyes so that you know exactly how much this moment means to him. “If you want me, I want you. I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You nod, almost dazed. Even though he’s told you this already, the words send a current of excitement zipping down your body where it converges between your thighs.

You want him too.

“Come here, then, Garrick.”

He doesn’t have to be told twice.

Garrick kneels at the foot of the bed. He hooks his fingers around your ankles and carefully drags you closer to him, hazel eyes heady with lust. The effortless way that he tugs you to him has your pussy fluttering with need, a movement that he tracks.

When you near him, he slips from the bed, sliding to his knees. Carefully, Garrick tucks your legs over each of his shoulders, and you can feel each exhale he makes brushing your core. You bite your lip so you don’t release an impatient whine, but for Amari’s sake, you’ve never needed something so badly in your life.

“Is this okay?” he asks, tracing soothing circles into the meat of your thighs with his thumbs. He peppers kisses across the sensitive skin, grinning wildly when your hips buck beneath his mouth.

“Yes,” you moan, circling your hips as if to chase his lips. You want him on you now, licking you and teasing you and making you come on his tongue. “Please, Garrick, I—oh!”

You moan loud and wanton as the tip of his tongue flicks across your clit in an explorative swipe. Garrick locks that sound away in the back of his mind and dips down for another taste, scooping your slick up with his tongue. He’s going to enjoy the fuck out of drawing all these noises from you.

You’re fucking wet. The wettest pussy he’s ever had. You writhe against his tongue, panting and moaning at the different ways he uses his tongue. True to your stubborn nature, it isn’t long before your fingers are locked into his hair, guiding him while you chase your pleasure.

“That’s it, baby,” he says as he switches from tongue fucking you to sucking harshly at your clit. He nips at the joint of your hip when you keen in frustration. You even go so far as to lift your head from the mattress to glare down at him. His eyes fucking glow in response and he holds your needy gaze. “Take what you need.”

There’s a smart retort on the tip of your tongue but it melts into a moan of pleasure when his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks. Garrick adds his tongue into the mix, flicking it across your clit like he’s flipping through a never-ending deck of cards. When he adds a finger, your pleasure grows. When he adds a second, your orgasm crashes down around you in pure bliss. He doesn’t stop his attention on your clit until you’re a whining mess and trying to shove him off for a moment of reprieve.

“You did so good for me,” he murmurs across your skin, lips brushing your navel, your breasts as he climbs onto the bed. Your hands relax, melting down his shoulders, tracing the rebellion relic. “Do you need to stop, or can I put my cock in you?” He asks gently, with a firm kiss to your lips.

“Cock,” you echo, still lost in the throes of your orgasm. You’ll be damned if you miss that chance to have him wholly. “Need your cock.”

“That’s my girl,” Garrick whispers, and you preen.

He guides you into a better position, a pillow beneath your hips. His hand is warm on your calf as he directs you to hook your legs around his taut waist. You peer down at his cock, red and leaking and you’re more than ready for him. You’re a mess for him.

Your breath catches in your chest as he guides his tip in. His words are soothing, gentle as he runs his cock through your slick for easier entry. “That’s it, just like that. It might hurt at first, but I promise I’ll take care of you.” He says, and how the fuck can you not melt for him with those pretty words?

Each inch he presses into you punches the air from your lungs. Your body tightens as you stretch around his girth. His cock is hot, branding your insides.

Garrick senses your discomfort and pauses. The halt makes you whine. “How are you doing?”

“Need you closer,” you admit, screwing your eyes shut. You lift your hands and Garrick carefully lowers himself, trying not to lose his head and fuck all the way into you until his hips meet yours. He’s so gentle, so caring, and your heart swells because of it.

He presses his forehead to yours, thumbing a soft pattern against your cheek. “Relax,” he coaxes softly. Your eyes pop open, meeting those lovely hazel ones. “I can stop anytime you want.”

“I don’t want you to stop,” you answer, slowly unlocking your limbs. You didn’t realize that you were digging your nails into the meat of his shoulders, and you carefully retract your claws. “I want you to keep going.”

It takes agonizing minutes until his pelvis rests against yours. Garrick’s reassuring praises helped keep you calm, even made you wetter for him with that wicked tongue of his. He distracted you with kisses and promises, lingering touches and admissions.

Gods, you feel so full. You didn’t think that you’d be able to take him all the way yet here you are with his cock fully sheathed inside of you. It feels right. He feels like home.

On your own time, you give a tentative roll of your hips. Garrick bites his lip to contain the moan that creeps up his throat, but you do nothing to hide yours. Yes, you get why sex is amazing, and you’re about to find out what sex with Garrick is like.

“If you keep squeezing my cock like that, I’m going to meet Malek sooner than intended,” Garrick pants, but fuck if he doesn’t love the way you’re squirming on his cock, drunk off of the sheer size of him.

“Move,” you gasp, fingers tightening on the back of his biceps. “I need you to move, Garrick.”

He heeds your direction like the good rider he is.

He starts out slow, letting you get used to his size. He kisses the furrow between your brow, rocking in and out until it disappears and you’re whimpering for him to move faster. You’re soaking his cock, which makes it all too easy to maneuver quicker, shifting his hips until you’re crying out and your nails are locked into his skin of his back again, raking down his spine.

He doesn’t even care if you leave red traces down his back. He’d rather be reminded of this moment than the scar that’s forever marred into his skin.

“Yes,” you hiss, arching into him. Garrick sucks a mark into the plush skin of your breast before sucking your nipple into his mouth. “Yes yes yes!” He’s ravaging you in every way, feels like he’s using his air wielding to steal the air from your lungs. You know that your lack of breath is simply just from being in his presence, his dashing good looks have always managed to take your breath away.

Garrick is attentive, tracing every part of your body he can reach. He draws a map in his mind, committing exactly what places and noises correspond. He would stay buried in you for fucking days if he could, but the harder you let him fuck into you has his gut coiling, that familiar heat buzzing down his spine.

He slides a hand between your bodies and finds your clit like he’s been fucking you for way longer than one night. You tug his head down in a desperate kiss, whimpering in pleasure into his mouth as his finger draws tight circles around your sensitive nub, chasing you toward that edge that still feels foreign yet so familiar at the same time.

“Come for me,” Garrick whispers, and you have no choice but to listen to your section leader.

You topple over the edge of oblivion. It’s similar to the feeling you experienced earlier, when you let yourself slip from Uisge’s back. A freefall, yet it’s so much more than that. It’s strong arms crashing down with you, a cock between your legs that’s hitting all the right spots. It’s soft words of encouragement from a man you’d never thought you’d get to see this much of. Hazel eyes that you’re falling into.

Garrick comes shortly after you, when he’s sure that you’ve experienced the best first orgasm of your life with him. There will be no one who will treat you like this, he’s vowed to ruin sex with any other man for you. But he’s ready to stick around if you are, as long as you don’t go jumping from your dragon with a death wish without letting him know first.

“That was…” you trail off in bliss. There’s a satisfied smile on your face, one that makes Garrick preen. Your eyes are shut and the lazy way you stroke his hair makes him fall harder, melt further into your body. “Thank you.”

“No,” he counters gently, brushing your hair from your face. It’s damp for an entirely different reason than the lake now, stuck to your skin with sweat. “Thank you,” he says, and leans down for one more intoxicating kiss.

[ladcedes]

lowkey - ln4

lando norris x reader

request Hi could you write a lando Norris x younger mexican/irish gf reader (21) fc (rae cambra )where they keep things private because she doesnt want hate and her instagram is private too and shes always seen with lando and they went on holiday together smau pls.

note first request ever omg... thank you so much for this anon! pretty sure whoever requested actually forgot abt it atp... im sooo sorry this took me like half a year to get to I actually never check my inbox 😭😭😭

set in the summer bcs why tf not!

paddockwags 14hrs ago | 4hrs ago

paddockwags 3hrs ago | 3hrs ago

paddockwags

liked by dhsj.77 and 32.887 others

paddockwags lando norris and his girlfriend, yn ln, seen in monaco 📸

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starlandos how did they even meet bruh 😭

⤷ bownorris exactly she has like zero social media presence how are they even together

⤷ paddockwags @.bownorris lots of athletes meet their wags through mutual friends so it’s likely that

amourln4 i give them another week 🥱

f1.wagspot

liked by 41.826 others

f1.wagspot lando norris’ girlfriend, yn ln’s, instagram account revealed!

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favspiastri hold up does anyone think they meet through alex?? since they follow each other…

lncult WAITTT if u look back at some of alex’s posts u can find a glimpse of her

⤷ fourclaren so what she used her friend to get herself a famous bf? social climber 😒😐

f1.wagspot

liked by f1wagsfashion and others

f1.wagspot lando norris spotted enjoying the sun with his girlfriend in mallorca ahead of the azerbaijan gp!

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4norrism are him and charles in the same place??

⤷ princeleclerc omg lando and charles vacation meetup?!?

silverstonel4n icb he’s stayed this long with a girl who’s so hidden from the spotlight

⤷ mcl4ren she’s so different from his past gfs it’s crazy

yourusername

tagged: alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 5 others

liked by riabish and 216 others

yourusername when your schedules all line up >>>>

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alexandrasaintmleux bestie holidays ❤️

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⤷ yourusername cheers to more! 🥂

landonorris hope you liked your graduation gift ml ❤️

⤷ yourusername calling it a graduation gift really isn’t helping the allegations yk…

⤷ landonorris @.yourusername well in your defense i only paid for the plane and the guys split yacht costs so i think we’re good 🤓 you deserve it anyway 🤷‍♂️

landonorris trip finally made it out of the gc!

⤷ alex_albon stop trying to be relatable your trips always make it out of the gc. you're rich.

⤷ landonorris @.alex_albon then how come our golfing trips rarely happen :(

⤷ georgerussell63 @.landonorris have you thought about not planning them spontaneously, during race weeks, in a range halfway across the world?

⤷ yourusername @.georgerussell @.landonorris were you silent, or were you SILENCED

landonorris

liked by georgerussell63 and others

landonorris sun’s out… summer break!

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ln4tion don’t be shy lando… finish the phrase 😁

⤷ formulamclaren fr when did this guy get pr training 😂😂

fourrari is this finally the official hard launch

⤷ gr63atest does it count as a hard launch if her face still isnt visible 😭😭

⤷ fourrari @.gr63atest 😭 at least we got confirmation tho

ladcedes keeping up with the 'comments as an author's note' tradition: I really hope this one meets expectations! I think it's a bit short but I didn't rly know what to do...

slightly suggestive bonus :]

[rosenclaws]

Congratulations on the 600 followers!!!

Can I request a smut/NSFW drabble.. I'm thinking worst logan..

Neighbour(?) Reader got asked out as a joke and he finds her upset.. (plus size if possible if not no worriessss!!!!)

Love your work!!

And congrats again on all the followers that's AMAZING!!

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DNI, fem!reader, plus sized!reader, oral (f!receiving), dirty talk, logan low key has a thigh kink, pet names (princess and pretty girl)

600 follower drabble masterlist

wc: 1.3k

a/n: Worst logan my love. Also this is my first time writing explicitly plus sized so please let me know if I need to change anything!! I hope you like it <33 Also this turned into way more than a drabble lol.

Men really were the fucking worst. Actually the fucking worst. What reason could someone have to do something so cruel? For a joke? A laugh? To hurt someone so badly just for fun? You sat at the damn restaurant for an hour checking your phone.

When you finally did get ahold of that asshole he just laughed at you. Told you it was a joke, that he'd never seriously be into someone like you. Your eyes welled with tears but you refused to let them fall in public. God, you can still feel the stares of people around you. The whispers.

How sad, that poor girl.

Did you see her check her phone over and over again?

Don't stare, she probably already feels bad enough...

Their words stung more than that assholes. You aren't stupid, you know that you aren't stereotypically attractive. You don't match the girls in magazines.

But that doesn't mean you don't deserve basic human respect. You didn't even like the guy, in fact, based on his horrible personality you were really doing him a favor.

You angrily stomped up the stairs and through the hallway. You should feel bad about the noise but you just can't bring yourself to care. You slam your door closed and toss your things onto your couch. A knock on the door almost makes you scream. Whoever it was needs to take the hint.

"What." You say as you rip open your door.

"Oh. It's you." You say flatly.

Any other time you'd be thrilled to see your hot neighbor at your door but right now it felt like another reminder of your failed love life.

"What crawled up your ass? Could hear you muttering a mile away." He asks and you roll your eyes.

"Brought you a peace offering." He holds up a bottle of wine and you decide to let him in.

"You're a man Logan. Why are men such shallow assholes?" You take another sip.

"Date gone bad princess?"

"I wouldn't even call it a date." You swirl your drink around in the glass.

To admit what really happened feels embarrassing. Especially to Logan. You had a massive crush on the man. That started the minute you met him. Your nice but weird neighbor Wade introduced the two of you one night. The second you looked into those gorgeous eyes and shook his big hands it was over.

"Hello? You still there?" Logan waves his hand in front of your face and you snap out of your thoughts. Deciding this day couldn't get any worse so you might as well just tell him.

"I got stood up. Turns out he asked me out as a joke."

"What a fucking dick." Logan growls. His hand tightened around the beer can in his hand.

"He said he'd never be into someone like me." You say with a huff. Drinking the last of your wine.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

“Come on Logan, you’re a million years old you know what I’m talking about.” You gesture to yourself and it seems to click in his head.

“So what? Who fucking cares about that.” The can crushes under his intense grip the longer he thinks about it. You pour yourself more wine before answering him.

“Apparently, most people do.” 

“Well, he’s an idiot. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” He sees you brush him off and it bothers him. He’s not the kind of guy to lie to make you feel better. So why you don’t believe him is beyond him. He sees things as they are.

“I know a beautiful woman when I see one princess.” He smirks as he inches closer to you.

You’ve been the subject of Logan’s wet dreams for a while now. Your sweet laugh and pretty face. The sinful things he’s thought about. He’d feel ashamed but he knows you’ve got the hots for him too. Your staring isn’t as subtle as you think. Plus his super hearing allows for him to pick up on your more…intimate moments. He doesn’t mean to hear them, but he does.

“Logan…” Your breath catches in your throat as he cages you into the couch. His strong arms are on full display for you as you shrink into the couch. He’s got this feral grin on his face that both excites you and makes you nervous.

“Only boys can’t see past that bullshit. I’m a man. A man who knows how to please a woman like you.” He purrs.

Are you dreaming? Is this really happening? His knee nudges its way between your legs. The rough material of his jeans rubs against your panties. The friction makes you squirm.

“You gonna let me make you feel good pretty girl?” He whispers in your ear. His hand slips under your dress, fingers brushing over your clothed cunt. Teasing your skin with his touch.

“Please fuck!” You gasp as you claw at his shirt.

He reaches and tears it to shreds. Your mouth waters as you see his back muscles stretching and bulging, free of any clothing to hide him away. He’s a man on a mission as he lifts your dress up. His massive shoulders push your legs apart. You couldn’t close them even if you wanted to, which you don’t. He pulls your panties to the side and licks his lips.

“Just know she’s ripe and sweet. All for me.” His claws peek out and your heartbeat quickens as the sharp metal cuts through the fabric of your underwear.

“There we go.” He throws the scraps to the side and wraps his arms around your thighs. Hands digging into your soft skin. He squeezes your thighs and you hear a low purr coming from his throat.

“Fuck!” You moan as Logan buries his face in your pussy. There’s no holding back as he laps like an animal feasting on its favorite treat.

“So fucking sweet, god bury me in these thighs.” He mumbles.

His brain fogs with pleasure as he buries his tongue as far as it will go. You’re trapped in feeling his every torturous move. His grip is bruisingly delicious.

“Logan logan fuck don’t stop!” You tug hard on his hair as you grind your hips against his mouth. You’re losing it in pleasure as his tongue flicks across your clit.

“That’s what I’m fucking talking about.” He lifts his head, eyes clouded with lust as he tilts his head back. Savoring the taste of you as he prepares to dive back in. He’d die a happy man just to be suffocated between your beautiful thighs.

“Stupid fucking boys, you don’t need them right pretty girl? Not when you have me. I’ll make you come so hard you’ll never think of anyone else again.” You nod along to whatever he is saying.

Your head is up in the clouds as he sucks on your clit. Determined to make you scream his name. His wish is granted as he relentlessly plays toys with your clit. His tongue works magic as he brings your orgasm crashing down.

“Logan!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you lose yourself in pleasure.

Your senses muddle together as whimpers tumble from your lips, body buzzing with a warm and fuzzy feeling. It doesn’t last long as Logan refuses to let up. Working you into overstimulation until you’re pushing his head away weakly.

“Too much for you?” He licks his lips, a cocky smile on his face.

“No, I just. Need a break.” You say breathlessly as you try and control your breathing.

Your eyes travel down his chest. Admiring his muscles and stupidly attractive arms. His cock is straining in his pants. You let out a small yelp as he picks you up effortlessly.

Man, you love his mutant strength. Logan gently places you on your bed. He toys with your dress as he resists the urge to rip it apart.

“What was that guy's name again?” He asks as he unbuckles his belt. You open your mouth to answer but he cuts you off. He didn’t want an answer anyway.

“Doesn’t matter, You won’t remember it by the time I’m done with you.” 

[hiiraya]

loml

pairing: natasha romanoff  x reader 

words: ~3.3k

warnings: angst, happy ending (?), literally just self-indulgent writing, messy writing, listen to loml by taylor swift to get in the sad mood

a/n: merry christmas everyone! the last thing I posted was january of 2022 and it's literally about to be 2025 - I've been in a reminiscing mood lately and this was something I've had in the drafts for months, I figured I should just release it to get it out of my system. your girl has been missing someone bad bro and the urge to tag them in this is insane ♡ anyways, hope they see this lmao

“Have a safe flight and text me when you land, yeah?”

“I will, I will. Get home safe and update me as well, okay?”

You release your cousin from your hold, giving their shoulder a quick squeeze as they pull away. You do a last minute check with them to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything important - something you were always prone to do when travelling by yourself. The memory of you almost missing your international flight because you had rushed home and back to the airport within record speed, all because you had forgotten your passport of all things. 

“I’ll fly out to see you next time, so you can show me around.” You smile.

“Are you guys serious? I told you to leave early so that this exact thing wouldn’t happen!”

Your eyebrows immediately furrow at the familiar voice, catching one last glance of your cousin as they enter the security screening area, waving to them while you mouth one last ‘text me when you land!’ as they leave your sight, before turning around to find the source of the voice.

No way it’s her, you thought. What’s she doing here?

As you get closer to the arrivals board, your questions are answered. Standing there in all her glory, is the one woman you never thought you’d lay your eyes on again.

“Natasha?”

You see the puzzled look on her face as she registers your voice before she even lays her eyes on you. Watching as the confusion turns to irritation - whether it was towards you or whoever was on the other side of the phone, you couldn’t tell (most likely both) - you watch as a deep sigh she releases as she glances at the board in front of her once again.

“-that’s another 10 hours before you guys even land.” She sighs, exasperation lacing her voice.

“Hey, listen if you need help-”

She holds a finger up to silence you, eyes meeting yours in a piercing glance. “I don’t need help, and especially not from you Y/N L/N.”

At her words, you look down, the sight of your shoes a welcome one as you take a second to recover. Honestly, you thought to yourself, I deserved that. 

“Yes, it’s Y/N- no I did not! I swear I didn’t know that they were here.” You hear her mutter from beside you. Deciding to save the both of you from further embarrassment, you turn your attention elsewhere, wondering what your cousin would say once you eventually tell them about who you ran into immediately after they left.

You lift your head back up when you hear Natasha mumble "you guys pick the day before Christmas of all days to be late for your flight” followed by a quick goodbye before hanging up the phone, watching her scope the airport for her next step. 

You could just leave and pretend this ever happened.

“Come on, Nat, I promise I just want to help.” You find yourself saying instead. “I can take you to your hotel when they get here.”

Well, there's no going back from that now.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Are you seriously asking me that right now?”

You really needed to stop opening your mouth.

“Okay, you know what, I deserve that.” You pause. “Listen, I’m not going to force you to come with me, but the offer is still there if you want it. You’ll get a free ride, plus you can use my apartment to rest and freshen up while you wait.”

 -x-

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

You spare a glance to Natasha, who was currently sitting in your passenger seat.

"You're the one that followed me to the car?"

She rolls her eyes at your confused tone, choosing to ignore what you said and instead checking her phone - most likely waiting for an update from whoever she was speaking to on the phone before. "I can't believe they missed their flight."

"Who's they?"

"Yelena, Maria, Wanda," she answers. "Oh, and Yelena's friend Kate too. I don't think you've met her."

You bit the inside of your cheek, because you already know that you didn't get to meet anyone named Kate while you were still together. You honestly didn't get to meet many of Natasha's friends whenever visited her - it was something you always fought over. It felt like she was ashamed of you, always wanting to keep you hidden, a secret she never planned on sharing with the world.

You refrain from asking any follow up questions - if Natasha wanted you to know more she would tell you.

Instead, you ask: "Did they manage to catch the next flight out?"

She nods. "I'm honestly surprised they did, considering how expensive it probably would've been. But knowing Maria, she probably would've pulled some strings to make it work."

Natasha finally looks up from her phone as you come to a stop, looking at the building you had just parked in front of.

"Where are we?"

"My apartment, I figured we could drop off your bags and you can freshen up before I show you around." You open the door for Natasha before moving to grab her bags from the trunk.

You lead her inside, setting her bags down in the living room before turning around to face Natasha - holding your arms out as you gesture to your living space. It's the first time she's ever stepped foot into this place, having only seen it through a phone screen since you were the one who would fly out to visit her when you were still together.

"I'll grab you some towels so you can freshen up, but make yourself at home." You say, gesturing for her to follow you down a hallway. "The bathroom is the first door to your left, there should be a spare toothbrush under the sink- wait did I give to my cousin? Well, we can grab you one while we're out but everything you need should be here."

You know you're rambling but you don't stop in fear of saying something stupid (which knowing you, is highly likely).

"If you want to take a nap, the guest room is just a little further down the hall on the right - I just changed the sheets so everything should be fresh."

It's not the way you wanted to be showing Natasha around your home for the first time, but you'll take what you can get. It'd be so easy to waltz back to the way things were, before everything fell apart but you didn't have the right to that anymore. You weren't a part of her life anymore.

You didn't know if she already had someone new in her life, maybe you were overstepping in so many ways and that it was best to just keep your distance. After all, you did promise that you just wanted to help. You were here to keep her company until the girls arrived and take her to the hotel when they finally did get here.

You know it's for the better to just move on, that after today she'll be gone and it'll be like she never made a reappearance in your life. But how could you when you know deep down that you still haven't fully moved on and that she'll always hold your heart in her hands?

Natasha's voice cuts off your reverie, bringing you back to the present as you hand her the towels.

"Give me an hour to shower and rest my feet for a bit, I wanna go out and explore while we wait."

 -x-

"Do you see that one over there? That's a hammerhead shark! They're one of the most powerful sharks in the ocean."

Natasha hears the little girl gasp, watching their eyes going wide with wonder. She can't help the small laugh that escapes when she sees the young girl lean closer towards the glass before loudly whispering, "is it going to eat us?"

You laugh softly, and Natasha can't help but think that she's missed hearing the sound of your laugh, something she thought she wouldn’t hear again. It comforts her slightly to know that it hasn't changed after all these years, and that  she can still easily recognise the sound as being yours only.

"It won't eat us! Sharks don't eat humans," she hears you explain. "They're more interested in fish and seals, than they are humans. But they are really strong swimmers, and they can smell things from miles away - even in water!"

She'd been watching you answer questions about sharks for the past 5 minutes, after a curious little girl ran up to while you were looking at the shark tank and asked if you knew what type of shark was swimming in front of the glass.

"Do sharks talk to each other?"

"They don't talk like we do, but they do communicate by using their bodies and how they move through the water. Some sharks even make sounds by rubbing their teeth together, kind of like a secret language that only they can hear."

It doesn't take long for the girl's mother to find the three of you, sighing in relief as she sees her daughter, looking up at you apologetically.

"Sorry, she's probably been asking you a million questions."

You give the woman a friendly smile and shake your head. "It was nothing, I loved answering all of her questions." You tell her. "It looks like you might have a future marine biologist on your hands."

"Let's leave the lovely ladies to enjoy the rest of their date, bubba."

"Oh- it's not-"

"We're not-"

The mother and daughter are already walking off before either of you could finish your sentences, leaving you and Natasha standing in front of the shark exhibit with red cheeks and thundering heartbeats. 

Natasha catches your eyes as you glance at her in a shy glance, and she knows it's too late. The warmth that passes through her as you smile, the same warm and knowing smile that you used to give her when everything was still okay was almost enough to bring her down to her knees.

You interrupt before her thoughts can spiral any further, clearing your throat before gesturing with your head the direction of the next exhibit.

"Shall we keep going?"

 -x-

Natasha sits across from you at a small café by the beach. You mention to her that it was your secret place, one that you go to when you wanted time to slow down and just have a moment to catch your breath. After the little incident at the aquarium, you guys decided it was best to just sit and people watch for the time being to avoid any more awkward interactions.

The warmth emanating from the cup of coffee did little to chase away the little chills that ran down her spine every time Natasha caught you gaze lingering on her for longer than you must've realised.

She told you about the plans that she and the girls had made for their vacation while you filled her in on your own life, telling her about your cousin that had just recently come to visit you just before Christmas.

"I'm glad you chose to come with me." You admit after a pause in conversation, voice soft. She turns to look at you, your eyes meeting hers with such an intensity it made her breath get caught in her throat. "I missed getting to talk to you like this."

She can tell that you spoke without thinking, the widening of your eyes giving you away. You look away, muttering a quiet "sorry" before lifting your drink to your lips in an attempt to hide the flush of your cheeks.

She was supposed to be over you. She'd told herself time and time again that she had moved on, but seeing you again, and being here with you, she couldn't deny that she was still in love with you. Having you so close yet so unreachable leaves an ache in her chest.

Throughout the time you two had been sat at the café, she watched you with fondness at the way your eyes lit up while you spoke with excitement in your voice about the things you and your cousin had gotten up to in the week they were with you; Natasha realises that she missed you too - and the comfort that you brought her just by simply being near.

"Nat? You okay?" The worry in your voice only deepens the ache in her heart.

"Yeah, no, sorry - I'm okay." She answers with a shaky nod, breathing deeply. She allows herself to feel her emotions, knowing that it would only do harm if she tried to deny herself this moment with you.

"I missed you too."

The sadness settles deep within her chest, the way you looked so shocked at her words - and she wonders if you were expecting her dismiss your words.

Her phone pings loudly from where it was placed on the table, the text tone sounding off four times in a row as her screen lights up between the two of you.

Natasha!! We've landed :D - Wanda

Sestra, we're on our way to the hotel now, tell lover girl to drop you off now - Yelena

Hi Nat, sorry again - we'll be there in 30 minutes! - Kate

I'll check us in if we make it to the hotel first, Nat, just let us know when you're there - Maria

You both watch as each text pops up on her phone, knowing that your time together was coming to an end.

Natasha watches as you ponder for a moment - wondering if you were going to add on to your words from before now that she's admitted that she missed you too. For a second it does seem like you're about to say something, but instead you just shake your head slightly to yourself, clearing your throat and as you look away, flagging down a waiter to pay for the meal you shared.

"We should probably get going if we want to get to the hotel at the same time as them."

She allows herself a moment to watch as you gather everything, absentmindedly listening to you talk about leaving now so we don't hit traffic - though I guess it's fair to make them wait, considering they made you wait like 10 hours, that's a practically a whole day wasted where you guys could've been sightseeing!

Natasha knows your putting on a brave front - she can see it in your eyes as you gather your wallet and keys, but she begrudgingly gets up after you pay for the bill, walking back with you to your car.

Already dreading the moment she has to say goodbye.

-x-

"Well, I guess this is where I leave you."

Pulling up at the front of the hotel, you catch a glance of Yelena, Kate and Wanda through the window. Even though you couldn't see her, you knew Maria wouldn't be too far away. Probably checking everyone in, you assumed as you parked your car near the entrance.

You do your best to avoid looking at Natasha, taking your time in getting out and grabbing her bags from the trunk, knowing this could very well be the last time you see her again. The thought alone breaks your heart all over again - you can recall all the times you've begged the universe to let your paths cross once more. Now that your wish has been granted and you're preparing to say goodbye to her once again, you deeply feel the loss of her from your life before it's even happened.

She's already watching you as you close the trunk. You hope that she can't see the tears that have been slowly building up since you started the drive to the hotel. You refuse to let yourself hope that the look in her eyes could mean anything order than gratitude.

"Thank you, Y/N, for today." She tells you softly.

"It's was nothing, Nat," you say with a smile, before softly adding, "you're welcome and I hope you guys have a Merry Christmas."

Getting lost in the silence that falls between you; you miss the way she's looking at you as you stare down at your shoes, waiting for her to grab her things and go so you can drive back to your apartment and sulk for the rest of the week. You wonder if she can see the way your hands are shaking as you wait for the inevitable goodbye.

"Y/N?"

You hum in response, not trusting your voice to stay steady if you decided to use actual words.

"I had a really good time today."

You tilt your head in curiosity. You've had a hard time all day trying to gauge if Natasha was having enjoying herself or not. There's no doubt in your mind that she would've said something if she wasn't.

"And it got me thinking," she continues. "I don't know- maybe I'm reading into everything wrong, and you can absolutely say no. You'll probably say no, because this is crazy, but I had to say something before I lose my mind-"

"Nat." You interrupt. As endearing as it was to hear her ramble on, to see her getting more and more flustered as she kept talking, you knew she'd work herself up before she every got to what she actually wanted to say.

"Breathe, love."

You nod encouragingly after she takes a deep breath, giving her time to gather her thoughts.

"Maybe it doesn't have to be so wrong, you know?" She starts. "To try again."

You try to hide the shock that you feel, but can't stop the way your eyes widen ever so slightly at her words. Never in a million years did you expect her to even say yes to spending the day with you, let alone suggest giving your relationship another go.

Does she mean just a friendship or an actual relationship?

Is she just saying that because of today?

What if she realises she doesn't actually mean that later on?

What if this was just a joke and she was just waiting for you to say yes so she can go "aha! I was just kidding as if I'd be serious."?

What if-

"We're different people now, don't you think?"

Confused but curious to know what else you had to say, she nods. "I'd say we are."

"We're older than we were before." You add. "We know a lot more about ourselves now, I'm not the scared kid I used to be."

You're scared of making the same mistakes you did all those years ago. But you also know that you're more than willing to learn from those mistakes; to stay and communicate to make things work instead of running away at the first sign of trouble. Because if there's anything you want more in the world, it's to make this work with her.

But just as much as you are scared, you can't help but be excited. Excited and honoured to learn more about this new Natasha, and fall in love with her all over again. You can't wait to find out what stayed the same, and what changed about her. Whatever she was willing to share with you, you'd gladly take.

"I could love you properly this time."

She gasps softly, and your heart pounds at the prospect of already scaring her away.

The thought of her friends seeing this happening through the window of the hotel briefly crosses your mind - you wonder if they'd approve of you making a return to Natasha's life or if they'll make you work for it after the way things ended between you two.

But she smiles, stepping into your personal space to wrap her arms around your neck and all thoughts leave your mind. The only thing you can focus on is Natasha pulling you closer so her words are only for your ears and your ears only to hear.

"I could love you properly this time too."

-----

@sadonism

[saphronethaleph]

The Rest, is Awkward Silence

"Now cracks a noble heart," Horatio said, his arms holding Hamlet as Denmark's prince slowly slipped away. "Good night, sweet prince. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

 He slowly let his dear friend go, then turned to see as two men entered the chamber.

 "...what am I seeing?" asked Fortinbras, the crown prince of Norway. "What was it you were saying?"

 "I was offering a lament for my friend, Hamlet," Horatio explained.

 "Right," the other man said – the English ambassador, if Horatio recalled right. "And not for the… hold on… three other corpses in the room?"

 "It has been…" Horatio began, then paused. "...a day."

 "Then explain, please," Fortinbras asked. "Because I hesitate to hear what could have caused this to happen."

 "Well," Horatio said. "To give you the very brief summary… Hamlet is dead because he was stabbed by Laertes with a poisoned sword."

 "Who's Laertes?" the ambassador asked.

 Horatio pointed. "That's him over there. He was also stabbed, by Hamlet, with the same poisoned sword."

 "Right," Fortinbras said. "And… how exactly did that happen?"

 "Well, the poisoned sword was given to him by Claudius, I think," Horatio explained. "Who's also dead. Over there."

 "Oh, that's a shame," the ambassador muttered. "I was coming here to tell him that his instructions were fulfilled – Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead."

 Fortinbras blinked, glancing at the ambassador. "Seriously?"

 "King Claudius asked us to, and I was hoping that England would be rewarded for it," the ambassador mumbled. "They delivered a letter that said, please kill whoever is carrying this letter."

 "That's a letter Hamlet was supposed to deliver to you," Horatio informed him. "But Hamlet worked out what was going on, and he swapped the letters around."

 Fortinbras was starting to look a bit overwhelmed.

 "So… I've still got some questions," he admitted. "Firstly, what about that lady over there?"

 "That's Queen Gertrude!" the ambassador gasped. "Did she get stabbed by a poisoned sword, too?"

 "No, this time it was wine," Horatio answered. "Claudius offered it to Hamlet, who refused, and then the Queen drank it… and, that was poisoned too. That's half of how Hamlet killed Claudius, and I offered to drink the wine as well to follow my friend. But he told me that someone had to be around to explain what had happened."

 Fortinbras and the ambassador exchanged glances.

 "...I'm not sure you're doing a very good job, but you are doing it," the prince conceded. "So why did all these people want one another dead?"

 "I don't think anyone wanted the Queen dead," Horatio said, counting on his fingers. "She drank the wine by mistake, I think. Claudius wanted Hamlet dead because Hamlet had worked out that Claudius assassinated King Hamlet with poison in the ear."

 "Oh, this isn't getting better, is it?" Fortinbras muttered. "That explains why Prince Hamlet wanted Claudius dead, I suppose… but it was Laertes who killed Hamlet, wasn't it? And how on earth did they both get stabbed with the same sword?"

 "They were in a duel," Horatio explained. "Laertes knew the sword was poisoned… yes, he must have done, from what he said before he died."

 The ambassador groaned.

 "I'm going to regret asking this," he said. "But why were they in a duel?"

 "Laertes blamed Hamlet for the deaths of his sister and father," Horatio admitted, somewhat reluctantly.

 "Horatio," Fortinbras said, almost gently. "I know you're in mourning for your friend, but… I'm standing in a room with two people Hamlet killed, and he sent two more of them to be executed by the English king. At this point I'm expecting Laertes to be right."

 Horatio looked uncomfortable.

 "He didn't kill Ophelia?" he tried. "Though he did insult her, tell her she was a whore, and run off after killing Polonius. So she committed suicide."

 Seeing the expressions on the other two men, he waved his hands. "He didn't mean it! He was pretending to be insane."

 "Pretending?" the ambassador repeated.

 "All right, what about Polonius?" Fortinbras asked. "I dread to think… from context, that must be the father of Laertes."

 Horatio looked embarrassed.

 "Hamlet stabbed him through the arras," he said.

 The ambassador winced.

 "Sounds painful," he said.

 "An arras is a tapestry hanging," Fortinbras pointed out. "But… all right, why?"

 "Polonius was spying on him," Horatio explained. "Hamlet may have thought that Polonius was Claudius."

 Fortinbras sighed, rubbing his temples.

 "As God is my witness, I'm not sure I want to win the election for this place," he said. "But I think I've got the best legal claim."

 He paused.

 "So… how exactly did you find out that Claudius killed King Hamlet?" he asked. "I've not heard any such thing, but you sound very sure."

 "...Hamlet saw a ghost," Horatio said. "And I'll admit, that sounds bad. But he did a test to prove it! He wrote a play."

 Fortinbras groaned.

 "Didn't you say you were offering a lament for your friend?" he said.

 "It was very meaningful," Horatio defended himself. "I said, may hosts of angels sing you to your sleep."

 Fortinbras and the ambassador blinked.

 "Isn't he directly responsible for the deaths of about six people?" the ambassador asked, somewhat hesitantly. "I'm not sure if you have a different theology here in Denmark, but I wouldn't exactly expect angels to be involved…"

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Second Chances

A/n: first time writing for Rip Wheeler, hope to write more for him

I started this months ago and just finished but I hope it’s good :)

Warnings: implied smut, religious trauma, Beth and Rip aren’t together anymore(love Beth but it couldn’t work for the idea 😔), abuse, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Masterlist

He looks so pouty and cute I can’t 🥺

~October 15th, 6:37 pm~

"You got a spare room, don't ya, Rip?" John's gruff voice came over the phone, voice wavering through heavy breaths.

"Yeah, why?" Rip asked, he'd just been making himself a quick dinner, body already aching for the sanctity of bed and rest.

"I'll explain later, just get it ready." John hung up before Rip could say anything more.

~7:05 am~

There was an old abandoned shed farther away from the main house, way over a few fields. It once served a purpose but now just lay, holding a few tools that no one had ever bothered to retrieve, there wasn't enough reason behind it anyway.

However, John had been passing by it the past few months with loose cattle around and kept hearing noise coming from it. At first he didn't pay much attention to it, it was most likely just some animals that had taken it over to hide away from the cooling weather, but he wanted to check it out when the sounds started getting stranger.

"Kayce," he called to his youngest son, "I want to take you with me to check out the shed up North of here." He said.

Kayce was with his wife, Monica, and son, Tate. They were having breakfast together, Tate was going off about something and Monica was listening closely, Kayce had been as well until his father came over to him.

"Up North?" He repeated. "Why? That thing’s been here longer than me, never needed to check on it before."

John sucked his teeth and shrugged. "Just come with me later, alright?" Kayce agreed, he had nothing else to do. Nothing to do with the ranch, anyway.

They couldn't head off right away, things needed to get done with the horses and such, everyone had chores.

~4:45 pm~

The two hadn't been able to leave much earlier, just getting on their horses to head out. Kayce didn't mind leaving earlier, he'd thought they'd leave later but this way he figured he'd still be able to tuck Tate in with Monica.

They arrived at the shed and sure enough those noises were back, only this time there was a light seeping through the cracks of the old wood.

Not wanting to risk getting caught they tied their horses up further away to trees, walking through the overgrown grass lit up by the setting sun, it cast a golden glow over the already yellowing field.

There was definitely someone inside, someone doing something and clinking shit together. They drew their guns as they neared the door facing into the trees.

John kicked it open, whoever was in there jumped and dropped something. "Hey-hey! Who the hell're you?!" It was a man yelling from inside. "Show yourselves to me, you crazy fucks!" Kayce gave John a worried look.

John peered in and saw the guy, scrawny fellow, shaved head, it didn't seem to be by his own fruition with how choppy it was. His clothes were tattered and stained, eyes bugging, he was clearly on something; what, they weren't sure, but they couldn't risk anything.

Kayce took the first step in, gun aimed at the man just in case. John followed shortly after and looked around while Kayce kept the man against a wall, hands in the air defensively.

"Cooking meth, you're cooking meth on my land?!" John yelled, making his way over to the man in a few short strides, raising his fist and punching him square in the face and knocking him on his ass.

There was a second thud, it didn't come from Kayce or John, not even the addict. No, this one came a second later from somewhere else.

In the corner of the shed was a smaller closet, it had been used to keep shovels and such. It wasn't small but big wasn't a good word for it, not by a longshot.

"I'll deal with this, you check on that." John said to Kayce, taking the rope from his side and kneeling next to the man, getting him over to the broken down and chipped table in the middle of the room and tying him to it as tight as he could.

"Don't, it's nothing, nothing!" The man yelled, struggling against John's hold on him.

The door creaked open and Kayce froze at the sight. "You, uh, you're gonna wanna see this, dad."

John looked up at his son, trying to get a look from where he was but needing to stand up anyway. The tied man kept yelling and squirming, shaking the table as he did.

Kayce moved to the side to let John look. The room was small, still, it held a poorly made bed, really it was just the frame with a shitty pillow and ratty old blanket thrown over it; there wasn't even a window to cover up.

In the darkness he made out a figure, a small one. A person chained to the bed. They were on their knees, elbows resting on the wood and hands clasped in one another, lips moving subtly in a silent prayer.

"Oh, Jesus Christ..." John muttered. He knelt down, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Hey, are you alright?" He asked, keeping his voice gentle as it could be.

Your clothes, a shirt and cotton shorts, were browning with age, holes dug into them, blood littered over them, crusted into your shorts especially.

You finished your prayer and looked to him, keeping your gaze below his head and refusing to look any higher. You gave a small nod.

Kayce had gone back to the horses and returned with bolt cutters and handed them to his father. "We're gonna get you out of here, ok?" John said, rubbing your back. He reached for the chain wrapped around your ankle, hooking the cutters into one of the loops.

The feeling of him trying to get the chain off was more than you could bear, this room had been all you'd known for years, that chain had been around your ankle for years, rubbing on it and making your skin raw.

You swatted at John's hand, pushing him away and backing yourself into the corner across from the bed. Your breathing was heavy and you shook your head, this chain was keeping you here and still, you couldn't lose it.

John looked to Kayce who was chewing his cheek, thinking of ways to help.

The son took the cutters from his dad and moved to kneel in front of you. "I'm not gonna hurt you, alright? I just want to help, I can't do that with this thing." He said. Kayce was much gentler than John, his voice not as gruff and warmer. He looked you up and down, taking in your disheveled state and seeing how panicked you were. "Can you tell me your name?" He asked, not bothering to make you look at him, it was the least of his concerns right now.

You fidgeted with your hands in your lap. You thought for a moment before shaking your head.

Kayce sighed. "Well, I'm Kayce Dutton, I live on this farm land with my family... we- my dad and I” he said, gesturing back to John, “want to take you there, we can get you food and a change of clothes... a proper bed to sleep in."

"They're lying! They're liars, don't listen to them!" The addict yelled. John groaned and went to him, tying the rope tighter around him. You couldn't hear what John was saying and you were too panicked to care.

"I am not lying, I can't promise you much more than my word, do you trust my word?" Kayce asked, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over the back of your palm in a soothing moment. You gave a small nod. "Alright now, I won't cut it all off, does that sound better?" You much preferred that compromise.

He didn't leave much, just keeping it around your ankle and then a few chains to keep a bit of extra weight, what you were used to, at least similar to it.

"Kayce, we gotta go." John said, peaking back into the room. "Now. Come on, let's go!" John hurried out, leaving you and Kayce alone.

"Can you walk?" You shook your head, Kayce exhaled with a nod. "I'm gonna pick you up and carry you out to the horses, alright?" You paused a moment but there wasn't much time for him to wait for you, quickly wrapping his arms around you and carrying you out of the shed and to the horses where John was already waiting, horses untied and ready to go.

The sky above you, the trees and the grass, all of it was so familiar and new all at the same time. The cool chill of the night hitting your face and body, your skin so pale in comparison to everything else. For just a moment you were struck with this envious look, all of this had been waiting for you? Just a few feet away? But then it all came crashing down as it settled in you that you were outside, alone and vulnerable.

As soon as you reached the horses you started panicking again, yelling and screaming and reaching out for the shed again as the man called out for you as well. Kayce laid you on the horse and gave it a smack to get it going, John was on the other horse, holding the reins to Kayce's horse and moving while Kayce started running just behind you both.

He didn't get far before the shed caught far, exploding. Kayce was already far enough away and wasn't injured, no one was but the man holding you captive was definitely gone, a foot landing not far from you.

You screamed until your throat hurt, until nothing came out. Your eyes red and stinging from tears as you cried out, body shaking over the horse.

John slowed down and Kayce caught up with you, taking the reins of his horse back and leading it back to the farm. "Kayce, call 911, we need to stop the fire." John spoke, taking out his own phone.

The land was damp and frosted, chances are the fire wouldn't make it very far, besides, the houses were much too far for it to cause any real damage. Still, the fire was right on the tree's edge and they couldn't risk too much.

The phone rang in John's hand, all while you wailed in the background. "You got a spare room, don't ya, Rip?"

~7:16 pm~

Rip had set up the spare room, there really wasn't much to set, the bed was made and it wasn't a particularly messy room, dusty, sure, but not messy.

There was a knock on his door and he went to answer it, opening it to find John with a more than distraught you under his arm. "I'll go get some of Beth's old clothes, get her in the shower, clean her up.” The older man ordered, gently pushing you towards Rip.

Rip was caught so off guard and just held you close to him for several minutes while John walked away, back down the hill to the main house. He looked down to you as you stared at the ground. Your hair was matted, face a mess, clothes… he didn’t even want to think about it so he just guided you to the bathroom and set you down on the floor while he ran the water in the tub, making sure it was nice and warm since you were shivering.

He glanced back at you, huddled in the corner, knees to your chest, tears rolling down your cheeks. “What’s yer name, kid?” He asked, keeping his voice gentle. You shivered and shook your head, you didn’t know him, you didn’t know what was going on, where you were. You were more than scared of this big, strange man, no matter how kind he seemed off the bat.

Rip sucked his teeth and nodded, understanding that this was something new for you. “I’m Rip… I’m a cowboy, you know what a cowboy is?” You shook your head again. “A cowboy is someone who protects the people around them… people like you, you understand?” You didn’t but you nodded anyway. “So, I’m not gonna hurt you, I’d never do that… and if anyone hurts you, you tell me, alright?” You nodded again.

Rip looked back to the water as the tub filled up. “What are you doing?” You asked, also looking to the tub as water poured out the faucet.

“I-I’m getting a bath ready for you.” He answered simply, raising a brow at your question. “You’ve had a bath before, right?” He looked you over, you didn’t look like you had.

“When-when I was younger…” You answered softly. “To wash away the day's filth is to wash away God’s path for you, your history.” You explained. Rip sighed, he wasn’t a very religious man but that sounded cultish to him, seeing your disheveled state…

“That’s not what God said, you know…” He said, hoping you’d look up at him but you didn’t. “If that’s what he really wanted he wouldn’t have made lakes and rivers for us to clean in… he would’ve made it harder to do that, would’ve put up a sign or something.” You thought about what he said. Nothing was changing overnight but after everything today you were at a loss, you couldn’t go back to the room you knew, all you had was Rip right now.

“Do you need help out of your clothes?” He asked, gesturing to you with a nod. You’ve heard those words before, not in that order, not in that tone, but you understood that much and shook your head.

You stood and pulled your shirt up over your head, Rip looked away to give you some privacy, as if he wasn’t about to wash you himself. You pulled your shorts off and tossed them aside to the corner before going to the sink, now Rip looked at you, confusion swirling in his eyes as you placed your hands on the edge of the sink, parting your legs and looking down into the sink.

Rip stared at you dumbfounded. Your clothes covered in blood and basically standing alone in the corner, it made sense now and he jumped to his feet, gathering you in his arms and bringing you over to the tub, carefully setting you down in the warm water. “You don’t ever have to do that again, you hear me?” He said, holding your mucky hair out of your face, turning your head to look at him. You closed your eyes, refusing to look at his face. “Can you look at me?” You shook your head. “What’s stopping you?” He let go of your face, letting you look back to the water turning brown around you.

You swirled your hand in the water, amused by its ripples. “He said you may not look man in the eyes for it disrespects him and taints your soul.” Rip exhaled sharply, staring at you a moment longer before reaching back to get a washcloth from the cabinet under the sink.

He rubbed soap into the cloth, letting it bubble in his hands before running it over your bruised and battered skin, listening to every hiss you let out from the scars it passed over and caught on. Your ribs and inner thighs were the worst of it, all it did was anger Rip more and more by the second.

“I’ve got no respect to lose, you can look at me.” He muttered, running the cloth down your arm. “Your soul… that’s something you can’t touch with your eyes.” You didn’t respond.

He continued to bathe you as you rested your chin on your knees, eyes slowly closing until you couldn’t keep them open any longer, you were used to sleeping in this position, your body accepting it as normal while Rip fought the urge to pull you closer to him.

He’d never felt this with someone before, other than Beth. He wasn’t speaking to Beth anymore, she left and made sure he knew she was done with him, tore his heart out and made him eat it.

He didn’t want to think of that right now, he wanted to help you, that was his focus, his only priority.

~7:45 pm~

Rip had been struggling with your hair for too long, he’d finally managed to get your body clean but your hair was beyond repair. A knotted, matted mess that just needed to be shaved off.

A knock came to the bathroom door and it creaked open and John stepped in, keeping his back to the bath as he held out a pile of clothes. "I got you somethin' to wear, just, uh, put these on when you're done" He said, looking down the hallway with a nervous look etched on his face. "I gotta go find Rip." He said lower.

Rip stopped trying to untangle your hair, it was only harder because you were asleep and he didn't want to wake you. He cleared his throat. "I'm right here, sir" He said softly. "She needed help."

John's head snapped to him before he quickly looked away again to avoid looking at you naked. "What the hell are you doing?! She's been locked up and used like a fucking doll, you don't know what she'll think of this!" Rip hung his head, he knew what John was talking about, seen it in the way you reacted sometimes, your clothes. "You're supposed to be keeping her safe, Rip."

Even with his harsh words and the deeper meaning behind them, it was hard to take him so seriously when he was scared to look into the bathroom. "I-I know, Sir, I was just helping... she needed it..."

John let out a heavy sigh. He set the clothes on the counter beside the sink. "Just finish up and get her into bed, not your bed. I wanna talk to you for a minute." He said, closing the door behind him and heading down the hall to the living room.

Rip let out a heavy sigh, very few times had he disappointed John, he hated it every time. However, he couldn't just get this done quick.

He looked to the counter and pulled out a drawer, looking into it and seeing his razor. It was the best thing for you.

He dried you off and got you dressed, doing his best not to wake up, which turned out to be easier than he’d thought it would be, you were just out and he kept checking your pulse.

He shaved your head, it was better than leaving that mess on your head, then he washed your scalp, being careful around the sores. He carried you to the guest room and tucked you in, running a hand over the fuzz that covered your head now.

John was waiting for him out in the living room, resting his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. He stared at Rip as he came down the hall. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Rip inhaled deeply as he took a seat on the other side of the couch. “I was thinking she needed help and I helped… I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, that’s what you think.” John grumbled. “Look, she seems content with you if she was able to sleep, you keep an eye on her.” He stood up and went to the door, stopping just short of it. “That’s all you keep on her, ya hear?” He stated, shooting him a look. Rip nodded and John left.

Rip stayed there a moment, thinking about… everything before eventually getting up and walking back to the guest room where you slept peacefully under the sheets.

He sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand down the side of your face. “You’re too young for this.” He muttered to himself.

You began to stir, eyes slowly blinking open and you looked up at him. He stared back at you, your eyes were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, tortured and innocent, there was a purity in them he’d never seen in anything.

“You’re looking at me.” He said, cupping your cheek in his rough, clean hand. His hand had probably never been this clean before in his life.

You brought your hand up to hold his against your face. “You’re pretty.” You mumbled, drawing a chuckle from him.

“Am I?” You nodded with a smile. He sighed and looked over you once more. “What’s your name?”

You hesitated a moment. “Three.” Rip paused.

He shook his head. “No, that’s not your name, that’s a number, I asked for your name.”

You stared up at him with a blank stare, blinking tiredly. “Three.” You repeated.

Rip stared, eyes flickering over your face, taking in your doe like features. “Is that the name he gave you?” You nodded, sitting up with a grunt, body aching. “I’m not calling you that.”

“That’s my name.” You stated firmly, Rip was surprised that you’d use a tone with him but he didn’t care, he wasn’t calling you a number.

For several moments you sat there, staring at each other. Rip brought his hand back to your cheek, rubbing it with his thumb. He leaned in and closed the distance between you both, his lips on yours.

It was gentle and warm, passionate but not heated. Love was a complicated concept but you’d never felt it before, he hadn’t gotten ahold of it himself, still, he was determined to show you there were brighter sides to this world than what you’d seen.

A knock on the door reminded him of where he was, who was with, what was happening. He pulled away, seeing the way you were now looking at him; eyes wide, full of something new, something eager and curious.

The knock came again and he got up. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He said, giving you a last kiss. “Just lay down, darlin’.” You nodded with a smile as you moved down the bed.

He went to answer the door quickly, rushing to get it open so he could get back to you.

On the other side was Beth. He hadn’t seen her, nor wanted to see her, in so long, what felt like forever.

She was on him in an instant, arms around his neck, his own lifting her up as he carried her to his room. He knew he shouldn’t, that you were waiting for him.

It kept him up late after Beth was done with him, when she was sleeping next to him, using him for warmth, what else it was she’d use him for he couldn’t guess, there were too many options.

[froggiewrites]

Hello! I was wondering if i could request a Zoro or a Law x gn! or m!reader with angst? They are in a fight and reader kinda ignores them and hides from them and Zoro or Law realize how in love they are with the reader? Can end however you want!

Sorry I've been so slow on requests, writer's block hit me pretty hard this week! I chose Zoro with a gn!reader for this one, it just seemed to fit him pretty well (man is not good with his emotions). I hope you enjoy it!

A Bridge Too Far

Pairing: Zoro x Reader

SFW

Summary: Zoro is terrible at handling his frustrations, and you're tired of being his punching bag. He doesn't realize what he's lost until it's gone. Warnings: Angst, Zoro being a bad boyfriend, not a happy but possibly a hopeful ending? Word Count: 2.3k

Like most of your arguments with Zoro, he started it.

He always starts it, even when he doesn’t want to. When his frustrations start to bubble, he can’t help but lash out at whoever’s closest, and that’s normally you. You’re always there, waiting for him, and you never hold it against him once he calms down. Frankly, they’re less arguments and more one-sided furious rants, as you never rise to the provocation. So he doesn’t think much of it when he snaps at you again after a particularly tough battle, one that left a buzzing under his skin and a strain in his muscles that he couldn’t shake. You wouldn’t mind. You never did.

A few minutes after you follow him to the training room, sitting quietly in the corner while he readies his swords, he finally snaps. “Will you just leave me alone for once? How am I supposed to relax with you trailing after me like this?”

You don’t just sit there and take it like you always do. You don’t just get up and leave, ready to come back when he’s calmer. You stare at him a moment, not radiating fury or indignation, simply…disappointment. Weariness. “Again?”

“What?” He snaps.

“We’re doing this again? Really?” You seem completely composed and calm. It infuriates him more than snapping ever could.

“What do you mean, doing this again? You following me around like a lovesick puppy? Yeah, I guess we are.” He hits the target in front of him harder, sending splintering wood everywhere. The sound of it pierces his brain, rattling around, making him feel even worse.

You sigh, sounding horribly burdened and beaten down. “You know what? Sure. Whatever. I’ll leave you alone, Zoro, if that’s what you want. But this is the last time. I’m not putting up with this anymore.”

He grits his teeth. “Won’t put up with this? Shouldn’t that be my line?”

Your eye twitches, finally a show of emotion, a show that he’s affecting you. “I’m not your punching bag, Zoro. I’m not here for you to use to work off your adrenaline instead of learning to deal with your emotions like an adult. I’m supposed to be someone you care about.” You finally stand, gathering your things and turning to leave. You don’t look back at him as you call, “You’re going to regret this, but I won’t.”

The door slamming echoes through the room, sounding horribly…final.

He ignores it.

It takes a few hours for him to finally wind down, for the buzzing to quiet and leave nothing but a blissful silence. He doesn’t bother cleaning up the wood all over the floor, or taking a shower to rid himself off all of the sweat. He has only one thought: his bed, warm and soft and welcoming. If he’s lucky, you’ll be in it, waiting for him to hold you close and kiss your face, the closest thing he’s ever given to an apology. He eagerly makes his way to the Sunny’s sleeping quarters, opening the door slowly to the cacophony of snores coming from Luffy and Franky, accompanied by Sanji, Chopper, and Usopp’s quiet breathing. Brook is still on deck, on watch for the night, so it makes sense his bunk is empty, but Zoro notices your bed is also suspiciously clear. Even your pillow and blanket are gone, the sheets not even wrinkled, as though no one had ever slept there at all.

A small part of him tells him he should check on you, make sure you’re alright. But a much larger, louder part is crying out for rest, and he cannot help but give in, falling face first onto his mattress without even changing clothes. He’s asleep within seconds.

He’s alone when he wakes up. He doesn’t typically sleep very long, instead napping in short bursts throughout the day, but he can see the light pouring in under the door and he realizes he must have slept at least until noon. He’s shivering, still on top of his blanket. Usually when he falls asleep like this, you throw one of the extras in your locker over him, tucking him in like a child. You must not have come back in at all last night.

He ignores the uncomfortable feeling nipping at him, something he will not name. You’re fine. You’re an adult, and one night away from your bed doesn’t mean anything.

But then you aren’t at lunch.

Sanji is giving him dirty looks, and Nami is giving him the most foul side-eye he’s ever had the displeasure of receiving. The rest of the crew are trying to act normal, but Franky is suspiciously absent and Usopp is so nervous he keeps dropping everything he tries to pick up, ending in him spilling water all over himself and taking the excuse to “take a second to go change” and never come back.

He finally breaks after Sanji brings Nami another drink, takes an obvious glance at him, and they start to whisper to each other. He makes out the words idiot, asshole, and loser (the first two from Nami and the latter from Sanji), before he slams his fork down. “What? What is it?”

Nami turns to him, filled with the sort of righteous fury she only saved for those who dare hurt her friends. “God, Zoro, you don’t even know? What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You’re all acting weird as hell!”

Sanji jumps in. “Because you’re acting like a jerk and have the gall to pretend everything is normal, asshole! What the hell did you say to them yesterday?”

What he said to…oh. That feeling comes back again, and he furiously clamps down on it, replacing it with a significantly more comfortable and familiar indignance. “That’s none of your business, cook.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I think I deserve to know why I had to find them sleeping in the goddamn kitchen this morning, actually.”

In the kitchen? Of course. It’s the one place you knew he would never find you. He never went there other than mealtimes, avoiding the possibility of another stupid fight with Sanji when he wasn’t up for it. “How the hell should I know?”

“Are you still pretending you don’t know it’s your fault? They were bawling their eyes out after leaving the training room.” Nami’s even angrier than Sanji is, and Zoro genuinely thinks she might hit him. The smaller, more tender part of himself, the one he’s ignoring, wouldn’t even blame her.

But that part isn’t in charge today. “My relationship isn’t your goddamn business.”

“Relationship? You seriously think you still have one of those?”

His blood runs cold, but he forces the feeling away, standing up from the table and stalking off. “I don’t have to take this.”

Nami calls after him, “I hope they dump you!”

Sanji cries out soon after. “I hope you fall into the sea, asshole!”

Zoro could go look for you. Should, even. But he instead makes the trek to the crow’s nest, cherishing the quiet, the solitude, the safety of it.

But as he sits in what is usually his sanctuary, he begins to feel that itch beneath his skin. Quiet turns to unbearable silence, solitude turns to loneliness, safety turns to suffocation. He tries to close his eyes, to center himself, take control as he loves to do, but the moment he does he can see nothing but your face. He can almost feel your hands on his back, rubbing soothing circles while your voice gently shushes him. You were so good at that, calming him down right when he needed you. Giving him a patience he simply didn’t deserve.

A patience he had been taking for granted.

What would he do, if another man had made you cry? If someone else had raised their voice at you as he had, time and again?

Part of him tried to justify it. But I don’t mean it, some petulant part of himself cried. They know I don’t mean it.

But do you? And would it matter, anyway? He’s still shouting. You’re still taking it. How long can you perform the same song and dance before it stops being a performance?

He needs to apologize.

He just needs to find you first. You aren’t in the kitchen, though Sanji is, and he doesn’t even speak with him this time, just giving him a mean glare that would send a lesser man running. Zoro hates to admit he deserves it. You aren’t in your bed, and your things are still missing. Not in Chopper’s office. Not in the library. Not in the bathroom, though Robin is, and he has to take a moment to furiously apologize for not knocking while she laughs at him.

He can only think of a few more places to check when he remembers who was missing this morning.

Franky’s workshop is quieter than he’s ever heard it, only filled with the quiet clanking of a small hammer against an even smaller piece of metal. Franky is using his second set of hands to put together some clockwork trinket, a significantly more delicate project that he usually takes on. Zoro is confused only for a moment, then he sees you, eyes intensely watching, and he realizes what’s going on. Franky has taken you in today, chosen something simple and small to distract you, to allow you to participate in some way. He’s always been great at small comforts like this, allowing someone the peace of his presence without worrying about being a burden.

Zoro could learn a lot from him.

Franky clearly knows he’s there, shoulders tensing slightly, but he doesn’t speak, waiting for one of you to take the first step. You don’t seem to notice either, too enraptured by the small metal bird in Franky’s hands, a look of wonder on your face that makes Zoro’s heart skip despite himself.

“Hi.” He cringes the moment he speaks, the peace shattering instantly. Franky doesn’t turn to acknowledge him, but he can practically feel the wince that must be on his face from the lame opener. Your head shoots up like a frightened rabbit, every part of you tense and ready to run. You pull in on yourself, making yourself smaller, like if you’re lucky he might miss you entirely, move on to the next prey. He puts up his hands, the first and only act of surrender he has ever performed, before continuing. “Can we talk? In private?”

You look to Franky, and Zoro doesn’t know what the look you two exchange means, but it makes you get up and approach. You give him a wide berth, not even coming within a foot of him, but you nod at him briefly to indicate he should follow. However small of a gesture it is, you’ve finally acknowledged him. That’s something.

You lead him back down to the training room, still covered in splintered wood and reeking of sweat. He can’t help but notice you didn’t pick a neutral location. You lead him somewhere he feels safe.

You turn to him. “Talk.”

He hesitates a moment, trying not to trip over himself and somehow make this work, but he can see that he’s finally reached the end of your apparently not-quite-infinite patience. “I’m…sorry.” He says the words through gritted teeth, feeling as though they burn his mouth as they leave. He doesn’t like to apologize in words, but in action. In gentle hands, in small acts he could deny later. He doesn’t know why it embarrasses him, to admit he was wrong. He is pretty often. But something about it makes him feel so small, so weak. But he can be small and weak for you, right now. No matter how much it hurts.

Your eyes widen, and you take the smallest step backwards. Shocked by him admitting for once he’s at fault. “You’re…sorry?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

You narrow your eyes at him, searching for some kind of trick, some hidden knife ready to plunge into your back. “For what?”

“For…for what? You know for what.” He winces at how defensive he sounds, at how you start to pull in on yourself again. “Sorry. Um. For yelling at you. For taking my anger out on you when you did nothing wrong. For how I always do that. I…I don’t know why I snap at you. And it’s wrong.”

“Yes, it is.” You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep, shuddering breath. “It isn’t fair of you to keep doing this. I tried letting it slide, because I know you just don’t know how to handle your feelings, that you aren’t coming from a place of malice. But that doesn’t make it okay. And you never stopped.” You turn your back to him, approaching a nearby window, staring out at the sea.

“I’m going to stop now. I swear it.”

“I won’t be with someone who speaks to me like that. I deserve better. You know I deserve better.” You’re trying to play tough, but he can hear the shake in your voice, and he realizes that just like yesterday you’ve only turned around so he can’t see the tears on your lashes.

He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in your hair. “You do. I swear I’ll treat you like you deserve. If I ever talk to you like that again, I’ll fall on my own sword.”

“...Swords.”

“Huh?”

“Swords. All three.”

He chuckles despite himself. “Alright. I’ll fall on all three at the same time.”

“Good. …You deserve it.”

“I know.” A silence hangs in the air. “I love you.”

You don’t answer.

You don’t hug him back, and you’re still sniffling, but you let him hold you. That has to be enough for now.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece (if you saw I forgot the taglist when I first posted this no you didn't)

[ddejavvu]

in a hotchy mood you say? 🤨

i like it when we make that old man flustered 😌

wouldn’t it be fun if we ran into the team hanging out at a bar & they all are eyeing us like 😏 hold up she’s cute and hotch is trying to keep his cool.

When Aaron returns to the slightly sticky, loose-screwed bar table that his team is stationed at, Emily is tugging down the neckline of her shirt and tucking her elbows beneath her chest.

"There," She puffs, pulling at individual strands of hair so that they frame her face, "Does that look okay?"

"You look hot," JJ admits, sipping the drink she takes from Hotch with a nod of appreciation, "Only way she'll say no is if she's totally and completely straight."

"That's what I'm counting on," Derek props his elbows up on the table, forearms flexed.

"God, let's hope not," Emily cringes in anticipation of rejection, "Oh- she's coming this way!"

Aaron typically has no interest in his coworkers' escapades. Well, he'll admit, it's fun to gossip with Penelope over them later, but she's in on this one, too, shiny eyes glued to whoever the team has their eyes on.

He finally decides to follow Penelope's starstruck eyeline, and- oh, fuck, that's his girlfriend. You're staring straight back at him, but Emily's wishful thinking has made her think your eyes are on her, and Aaron can hear her breathe out a low sigh.

You send him a flirty little wave, and Emily nearly hits her head on the table.

"God, god! I can't," She laughs, still holding what she thinks is eye contact with you, "I don't think I can do this, I mean, I can never come back from this if it doesn't go well!"

"I'll step in," Derek assures her, sending you a wink that Aaron is sure just makes you laugh inside, "Don't worry, Emily. Some women aren't for the faint of heart."

"And they're not for the dumb of ass, either." Penelope sets a comforting hand on Derek's muscled shoulder, "Stay out of this one, Hotshot."

Aaron doesn't really know what to do. He's not usually lost like this, but half of his team is eye-fucking his girlfriend from across a bar like animals, and he doesn't know how to tell them he's seen you naked. Multiple times.

You break the eye contact when your friend taps your shoulder to tell you something, and Aaron does too. He sends subtle glances your way afterwards, but so does the rest of the team, and he isn't noticed. It seems like you're preoccupied for a while, because no new comments are made, but everyone can see Spencer combing his fingers through his hair every ten seconds.

He's sipping casually at his drink, about to speak to Rossi, when he feels a hand slide beneath the fabric of his suit jacket that he hasn't had time to take off yet, and hook around his waist. His first instinct is to tense, to reach for his side, even, but then a familiar scent washes over him and calms his nerves before they're burning for long.

"Hi," You croon, pressing yourself to his side, "I'm Y/N. You must be Aaron's team?"

There's tense silence so thick around the table that a bullet would pierce it, broken only by Rossi's snort into his glass.

"Yes," Aaron fills in, hand flying to your waist and hooking around it proudly, "Emily," He gestures with his free hand, "Derek, Spencer, Penelope, JJ, and Dave."

"Hi," You wave sweetly, albeit awkwardly, much like you're a kid new to a classroom, "It's nice to finally meet you all."

"You're, uh," Penelope stammers, blinking slowly, "You and Hotch- you're...?"

"We've been seeing each other, yes." Aaron nods once, then turns to you, "Honey, do you want me to get you your usual over here? You can join us for a round if your friends are busy."

When you peer back over at them, they're sucking each others' faces.

"Yeah, they're busy." You scoff, leaning into Aaron's shoulder, "That would be nice. Thanks, Aaron."

"Mhm," He ushers you into his chair, and he'll admit to drawing sick satisfaction from smoothing his hands up your shoulders and planting a firm kiss to your cheek before he leaves. He's even more smug when you lean into it with a warm-cheeked smile.

"Get to know each other," He prompts his team members, already stepping away, "And Derek, you can roll your sleeves down."

[why4anne]

Daylight

Part: 7/?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Category: Social Media au

Summary: Follow the love story of a global pop icon and a monegasque F1 driver

Face claim: Taylor Swift (Singing) + others

Masterlist

2022

theathletesgala

liked by yourusername, ellenpompeo and 645 943 others

theathletesgala:

Musical guest and award presenter Y/N L/N is in the building. She's wearing a stunning Versace gown and a killer cat eye.

view comments:

yourusername: 🫶🫶

y/nenjoyer: she looks STUNNING!!

girlypopy/n: Dare I say... Revenge dress?

vintagel/n: Oh, definitely!

holyleclerc: It's giving Princess Diana

lonely4lifer: Charles, look at what you lost

havemyleclerc: She is the one who fumbled

summery/n: Y/N lost a second tier F1 driver, Charles lost global pop icon, highest streamed female artist, the woman, the myth, the legend Y/N L/N

leclerctingzz: He's not a second tier F1 driver, he's the future of Ferrari

ubery/n: How many WDC?

childofdivorce: Auntie Blake pick me up I'm scared

lewishamilton: @/donatella_versace you outdid yourself with this dress

donatella_versace: Donatella VERSACE💜

theathletesgala:

liked by lewishamilton, simonebiles and 426 392 others

theathletesgala:

It's a star-studded event here tonight. Multiple athletes have now made their way onto the red carpet including:

Formula 1 drivers Charles Leclerc, Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton, Footballers Neymar and Alex Morgan, Gymnast Simone Biles, Figure-skater Tessa Virtue and NFL Quarterback Joe Burrow

Keep your eyes open for your favorite athlete to arrive!

view comments:

joeyb_9: Such a well organized event!

lewishamilton: Blessed to be here🙏

charles_leclerc: Happy to be included❤️

alexmorgan13: This will be so much fun

moreleclerc: Putting Neymar and Charles beside each other is CRAZY

lilttley/n: Okay but can we talk about how both Lewis Hamilton AND Joe Burrow interacted on the post about Y/N earlier??

gemmal/n: Y/N now has the chance to do the funniest thing ever and get with Max Verstappen

home4l/n: STOP- that would be too iconic

justleclerc: The world is not ready for that sort of chaos

theathletesgala

liked by yourusername, badgalriri and 742 674 others

theathletesgala:

Miss Y/N L/N what a performance!🙌👏

view comments:

heavenlyy/n: Mother did not come to play tonight!

realy/nfan: fr! She saw that both of her exes were in attendance and said "hold my wine glass"

unifiedy/n: Singing ATW and you're loosing me back to back while STARING at table number 12 (Charles and Neymar's table) is absolutely FOUL!

justl/nthingz: She's so cunty, I love it!

l/ny/nfavorite: Okay but why is no one talking about how she literally sang silver springs by Fleetwood Mac and in true Stevie Nicks fashion was glaring daggers into Charles while doing so!!!!!???

bluey/n: next level balls frfr!

bobbiey/n: Okay but that outfit??? Mother ATE!🔥

holyl/n: Ass out and everything for Charles to see🤭

justy/nfans: I just know that that man will go home and cry himself to sleep tonight

celebritynews

Liked by 202 392 people

celebritynews:

After receiving an anonymous tip from a reliable source, it seems as if Y/N L/N left the athletes gala after party with one of the guests of the night. Who it was is still unclear but stay tuned on celebritynews for more information!

view comments:

summery/n: This girl is a wag at heart

flowersbyl/n: That's so true! She does love her athletes😭

y/nleftpinkynail: Honestly she's so real for that😍

l/nbyy/n: Just like me fr!

chad.larsen: She's such a slut!🙄

leclerc_l/n: Bro GTFO with your musty ass comments!!🤢

brianyoung: Watch out whoever it is. She's gonna write a song about you😵‍💫

littley/n: It's almost like THAT'S HER FUCKING JOB???🤯

greenflowers: misogyny☕️

l/nhouse: Okay but who was it???!!!!

justagirl: I think it was Joe Burrow, did you see how he was looking at her while she was performing??😍

godlyy/n: I hope with my entire being that it's Max Verstappen💀

slayvettel: That would be too iconic!!

icemanfan: Y'all tripping, it's gotta be Lewis!

heavenlyy/n: HOLD UP! What if it was Neymar??

yourusername

liked by blakelively, nicorosberg and 6 582 194 others

yourusername:

cellphone on silent📱❌

comments are disabled:

Tag-list: @mindflay3r @karmabyfernando @lightdragonrayne @ilove-tswizzle @sadg3 @sassyheroneckgiant @c-losur3 @spideybv28 @boiohboii @charizznorizz @amel1ee @loloekie @sunny44 @janeholt3 @berrnuu

[thelostmagicians]

Unlucky | Lip Gallagher

Summary: Lip Gallagher has a shitty life, but he still has a chance of a happy future with you. [2.4k]

Fluff, comfort, slight angst, insecure Lip

♡

Lip Gallagher has always considered himself unlucky for as long as he could remember. If you asked him to describe his life in five words he’d use shitty, really shitty, and extremely shitty.  

He was dealt a crappy hand since the beginning not standing a fighting chance even as a kid. 

There was always so much crap to deal with, whether it was bills that needed to be paid, kids that need to be taken care of, or anything dealing with Frank and Monica, sometimes he felt as if the weight of the world was resting on his chest and the only breath he’d be able to take peacefully would be his final one. He’s grateful for all the help he has because everyone pulls their weight as much as they can, but sometimes he just wishes life was just a little bit kinder to him. He wishes that he was able to do something with his high IQ, make something of himself and finally get out of this hell hole, but that didn’t roll over so well. But just as he was slowly losing hope the universe finally took pity on him and gave him you, so now he’s hanging onto you with everything he’s got. 

_

It’s quiet in the Gallagher household when Lip shuffles out of bed. He can’t remember the last time he was able to sleep past 7am, so when he wakes up to birds chirping at 9am instead of the usual yelling and chaos, he’s surprised and even a little scared. He makes his way towards the bathroom getting ready to fight whoever is next in line, but finds it empty and even clean. He’s shuffling around, looking through doors to find a sense of life in his otherwise loud home when he hears a squeal from the backyard. He doesn’t think twice before grabbing a nearby bat and hurtling through the backdoor towards the pool, but he stops once he sees the atmosphere is anything, but fearful. Frannie is being tossed back and forth between Carl and Mickey in the pool, Fiona and Ian are chasing Liam with the garden hose and Debbie is bringing in watered down lemonade from the kitchen. 

He has no idea what caused this change of pace, but he isn’t mad about it. Just as he’s about to make himself known, he feels a soft touch caressing his back. 

“Hey baby,” you whisper, brushing your lips against his neck. 

He turns his head at your sweet voice finally fully awakening his sleepy trance. Lip tugs you towards him by the belt loops of your, too short, cut off shorts and breathes into your neck. Hands slowly creeping down towards your ass to grab and pet, not socially acceptable in front of family, but he couldn’t care less. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he rasps into the valley of your chest, slightly picking you up to hug you closer. “What’s going on out here?”

“Thought everyone could use a day off especially in this heat, so Debs and I planned a pool party. Wanna join me?”

He pulls back on slightly to finally get a look at your face, your eyes are kind and happy followed by a mischievous smile. 

“Sure, let me get my trunks on and I’ll be down soon.” You reward him with a soft peck on his chapped lips and an arm squeeze before moving out of his hold and grabbing some leftover toast. 

The day goes by without a hitch. Everyone enjoys the much deserved break filled with laughter, junk food, and only a few fights. You’re nearly on top of Lip as you cuddle as close as you can basking in the happiness before you get ready to go out. There are only a handful of days that you and Lip both get off at the same time, so any day given is taken as a golden opportunity to spend some time together, leaving your worries at home. You plant a small peck to Lip’s cheek before untangling yourself from his hold as he answers the ringing phone. 

You don’t hear much of the conversation, just faint hmms of acknowledgement as you're flying past rooms trying to get ready as fast as you can. You’re struggling with your heels as Lip comes over and steadies you, your smile meeting with his frown.

“Sweetheart, they called me in to cover someone else’s shift and you know I hate to do this, but they’re offering me time and half..” he trails off.

A quick look of disappointment flashes on your face, before you cover it up with a reassuring look. You’re disappointed, sure, but not at Lip. Never at Lip. Just the shitty circumstances that forces the both of you to work as much as you can just to make ends meet.  

“It’s okay, I get it. We can always reschedule, don’t worry about it.” You pull him in and hold on to his waist hoping to ease his guilt, but your efforts go to waste as his eyebrows stay furrowed and his frown deepens. 

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear it,” Lip murmurs against your lips before squeezing your arm and letting you go. 

You watch him leave, slowly pulling off your heels and plopping yourself on the old couch, sighing already missing Lip. Your eyes shift trying to think of things to do now that your night opened up, but your mind keeps drifting back to Lip. You had eaten dinner earlier with everyone, skipping out on dessert and opting to get your fill when you go out, but now that plans have changed you were now missing both your boyfriend and something sweet to nibble on.

You quickly change out of your clothes and put on a pair of old shorts before deciding to make a batch of brownies. Lip works hard and if you guys couldn’t go out for dessert tonight, then you were going to bring dessert to him. 

He’s halfway through his shift when he spots you coming in, hands holding a tupperware to your chest. 

“Honey, what are you doing down here,” he shouts from across the room.

“Wanted to spend some time with you before I leave for my shift. I made some brownies since we missed dessert, care to join me?” you plead hopefully.

Lip’s heart aches with love and a lot of guilt. He can’t believe you would go through all that trouble just to see him. He calls out to say he’s taking his break before leading you to a secluded corner. 

“I’m really sorry about today,” he hugs you from behind swaying back and forth, mouth opening occasionally as you feed him a chunk of the sweet treat. 

You squeeze his wrist in response, “s’lright you can’t help it. I just like spending time with you.”

He smiles softly for the first time that night, stress immediately leaving his body. “Though, I love that you did all this for me, I don’t love the idea that you were walking alone this late at night.”

“Guess I’ll have to keep you company until you can walk me home then,” you compromise. 

Lip’s shift goes by somewhat fast now that you’re here to keep him company. He’ll leave his station sporadically to check up on you and to keep you from falling asleep. He’s in the final stretch now, only 30 more minutes before you get to go home and fall asleep holding each other, after a long day. He looks over hoping to catch your eye and send you a smile when he feels his face slowly morphing into a glare. A glare aimed at the guy standing way too close to you, a guy whose intentions go beyond a friendly conversation, and a guy who on paper was everything you deserved, but Lip couldn’t be. 

You finally glance at Lip sending a small wave and smile as you keep nodding along to the fucker next to you. He had fluffy brown hair and honestly looked quite plain if it wasn’t for the gleaming rolex on his wrist and the shiny Gucci emblem on his belt. He was a rich kid, probably from the nearby university, wasting away mommy and daddy’s money, chatting up pretty girls and sweeping them off their feet with his money. Lip’s never felt insecure about your relationship, you never gave him a reason too, but once he compares his ratty jeans and stained shirt to the pristine polo of Richie Rich he can’t help but wonder if he’s good enough for you when you can do so much better.

_

Lip was struggling. He never learned how to tie a tie before and now that the time has come, he’s racking his brain trying to get the knot perfect. He knew you couldn’t care less about a stupid tie, you were anything but superficial, but since that dreaded night when he witnessed you being chatted up by Richie Rich, Lip’s come to the conclusion that he was going to try his hardest to give you the perfect life. 

When Lip proposed going up to the north side for dinner, you were shocked. You’ve been there a few times mostly on walks or running errands, but you’ve never been there to spend actual money considering neither of you could afford it. The most you and Lip would do is windowshop and daydream about the things you would buy if you had the money, before being chased off by the glaring sales people.

He picks you up at your door, pecking your cheek softly and telling you how beautiful you look. He takes your hand and leads you to the borrowed car before pulling out an expensive bouquet from the backseat. Your hands flatter as you mutter a quiet thanks. You’re a little confused at the grand gesture since Lip’s never gotten you flowers before, at least not without reason. He’s gotten you flowers exactly four times since he’s known you: the first on your first date, the second for your graduation, and the last two times for your anniversary. And all those times the flowers were below 5 bucks, something he picked up from the corner store. But the bouquet he gave you now had to be worth at least a day’s salary, you and Lip had a mutual understanding since the start that since money was scarce you wouldn’t spend it on materialistic things for each other, but lately it seems like he forgot that promise. He’s been taking you out to eat nearly everyday, always putting money down and never letting you pay, surprising you with little gifts, but worst of all he’s been running himself haggard, taking up as many shifts as he possibly could. 

He notices your quiet demeanor as he starts driving, “You okay, baby?”

“Yeah, I just…” you hesitate, not wanting to offend him. “I’m grateful for all of this Lip, really I am, I love everything you’ve gotten me, but I’m confused about where you’re getting all the money from and why you’re doing all this in the first place.”

Lip tightens his grip on the wheel, “Isn’t this what you want? Isn’t this what all girls want?” Lip scoffs the memory of Richie Rich slowly coming into picture. 

“I don’t understand what changed, everything was fine before, why are you spending money you don’t have? You don’t think I know that you’re working yourself to death trying to afford this shit?” Your voice raises in annoyance. 

“Yeah, well that’s my problem, it’s none of your concern how I get all this as long as you get it.”

“It is when you’re burning money on materials that won’t even last the year instead of investing in our future.”

Lip pulls to stop as the words leave your mouth. “Our future?” He asks. 

You lick your lips, trying to think of a way to backtrack but his eyes plead with you to tell the truth. “Yeah, our future. You know when we eventually move out, get a place of our own and have a kid or two?”

Lip smiles at the thought, “You want all that with me?”

You nod incredulously, “What did you think this was you idiot? That we were just playing boyfriend/girlfriend? Look I appreciate all these gestures, but the way I see it you’re burning 50 bucks on flowers that are gonna wither in a week instead of spending that money on something like our future house.”

Lip cups your chin in endearment before pulling you in for a quick kiss. “I’m sorry, I let everything get away from me.” He huffs in frustration before letting your chin go and clenching his fists. “It’s just when you visited me at work a few weeks back you were talking to this guy. This very rich guy who… I don’t know… I know you aren’t like that, but I couldn’t help but think this is all I’ll be able to offer you, at least right now. I will never be able to whisk you away on a private jet or buy diamonds just cause.”

You giggle as you hold his face in your soft hands, his head tilting to lean into your palm. “Lip Gallager, for someone with an insanely high IQ, you are so incredibly stupid, ” He huffs out a laugh in embarrassment as you continue, “That guy, that fool was annoying as fuck. I was just trying to get him off my back. And not to mention incredibly fucking stupid. Everything that was coming out of his mouth made me cringe and thank the stars that you’re nothing like him.”

He kisses your palm before pulling you into another kiss. “Can we skip the fancy restaurant now?” you ask as he presses kisses to your pouty lips. 

“Where do you wanna go instead?”

“Family dinner, and then out for ice cream?” you suggest. He nods before putting the car back in drive. 

_

Lip Gallagher was all sorts of fucked up. But somehow in his fucked up life, he managed to find you, his light at the end of a dark, narrow, and gloomy tunnel and he thinks, maybe, he isn’t so unlucky after all.

[hqbaby]

twenty-five — sorry

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2.2k content. profanity

“Holy shit, calm down,” Kento says, watching as Sukuna frantically wanders through the house, looking at every possible nook and cranny you could be hidden in. “We’re going to find her eventually. No need to freak out.”

Your boyfriend glares at him. “Will you just let me look for her in peace?”

He raises his hands in defense. “Okay, okay,” he says. “I’m just saying, you look like a crazy person.”

“Who looks like a crazy person?” Satoru asks, striding up to the two men.

“You’re supposed to be looking upstairs,” Kento groans, placing his head in his hands. “Why can’t you follow simple instructions?”

He shrugs. “Wouldn’t be fun if I did,” he says. “Besides, I have a feeling that they’re somewhere here.”

Sukuna looks over at your ex warily. “Why do you keep insinuating that they’re together?” he asks. “On what planet are you on that you think she wants to spend any time with Naoya?”

Satoru’s eyes are hard as he looks under a table. “Well, maybe you don’t know her as well as you think you do.”

“What is that supposed—”

Kento hushes him. “Do you hear that?”

All three of them strain their ears to listen, to pick up whatever tiny sound it is that Kento’s managed to recognize. They tilt their heads, ears pricked up to catch the disturbance in the house’s silence.

Sukuna frowns. “I don’t hear—”

Then he does.

It’s faint, but they can tell what it is.

It’s you.

Yelling.

Sukuna’s already sprinting through the hall, tracing the source of the sound before Kento and Satoru can even catch their breath. The two other boys manage to follow your boyfriend into one of the bedrooms.

Empty, as far as they can see, but oh so loud. They can barely make out the words you're spewing out, but they sound so bold, so visceral, so incredibly violent. Whoever is on the receiving end of your yelling must be having an absolutely terrible time.

“Tiger!” Sukuna yells, trying to figure out where your voice is coming from.

Your yelling stops. Then, “‘Kuna, is that you?”

“Yeah!” he says, furrowing his brows when he doesn’t see you anywhere. Not under the bed. Not in the closet. Not behind the curtains. “Where the fuck are you?”

“Behind the console table!” you tell him. “There’s a small door. It’s a compartment of sorts.”

Sukuna makes a beeline for the console table, brushing past Kento who is still looking around all confused by this whole situation.

“Why don’t you get out?” Kento asks, following Sukuna as the other boy pushes the table out of the way.

“The door’s jammed,” he hears your voice say on the other side of the door. “We’ve pretty much been stuck here for the last hour or so.”

Satoru is crouched beside Sukuna now as your boyfriend tries to pry the door open. It won’t budge. Just as you said.

“We?” Satoru asks.

“I’m here too,” Naoya’s voice answers. “Please get me out, dude, she’s gonna kill me.”

There’s a smile on your boyfriend’s face at those words. Leave it to his girl to rip that pompous asshole to shreds. “Now, why would you do that, tiger?” he asks, trying to pull the door open again. He looks over at Kento. “Do you think there’s a toolbox or something in this house? The door’s jammed.”

The other boy nods. “I think I saw one in the kitchen,” he says. He turns to leave, but spares one last look behind him. He sees Satoru and Sukuna sitting beside each other in front of the door. He thinks, This can’t possibly end well. But he sighs and leaves anyway. The best he can do is get you out of there as soon as he can.

Sukuna leans against the wall, waiting for Kento to come back. He’s far more relaxed now that he knows you’re safe. That’s all he could’ve hoped for.

Satoru sits back too, but he’s far more perturbed. He watches your boyfriend chat with you through the door, asking how long you’ve been in there, telling you how the rest of the game went. There’s something so simple about your conversation, painfully so.

It’s like there’s nothing wrong at all between the two of you.

It’s like everything is perfectly fine.

And that pisses him off.

Tonight hasn’t been the best of nights for Satoru, what with him learning about you and Naoya’s kiss, piecing together why you broke up with him in the first place. It’s safe to say that the man is more than a little overwhelmed and frustrated.

And who can blame someone for what they do at their lowest point?

“Does she know?” he finds himself asking Sukuna. Loudly, enough for the words to ring throughout the whole room.

The smile on Sukuna’s face drops, his face hardening as he shakes his head. “Don’t,” he mouths at Satoru.

“Do I know what?” you ask through the door. Your tone is cautious. This whole time, you’ve been acutely aware of the fact that Satoru is right beside your boyfriend. That he is still a ball of emotions that you can’t quite unpack, that there’s still danger of the past spilling over with him right there. You expected him to blow at some point, be mildly disturbed or terribly angry about you and Sukuna.

You don’t expect his words though.

You don’t expect them because you don’t know what they mean.

“You said you’d tell her,” Satoru says, narrowing his eyes at your boyfriend. All he can’t think is the way you left him. The way you let him stew for months, not knowing where things between the two of you stood. He leans towards the door and says, “He cheated on you. Went into a bathroom with some girl at party when you weren’t around.”

The face Sukuna makes is unrecognizable. He looks caught and guilty and angry and upset and vaguely pissed and murderous and shameful all at once. He can’t even speak. There are no words to say in a moment like this.

A dry laugh escapes Satoru’s lips when neither of you respond to what he’s just said. “You two deserve each other.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Sukuna spits. The child in him wants to run away, there’s too much conflict here, too much tension. But the more grown, sensible part of him knows that he can’t run away this time. Not when it comes to you.

“I know,” Satoru says, tapping on the door. “About you and Naoya.”

Sukuna furrows his brows. “What?” he says, turning towards the jammed door. “What does that mean?”

Before you can answer, Kento is back in the room with a bunch of your friends behind him.

“I have no idea what this thing does, but it might work,” Kento says, holding a tool up and slotting himself between Sukuna and Satoru, right in front of the door. He looks at the two boys as he tries to wedge the thing between the door and the frame. “Are you guys good?��

“I’m fine,” Satoru says, getting up. He looks over at Sukuna with a snarl. “I don’t know about the two lovebirds though.”

Kimi comes into the room, frowning when her boyfriend wraps his arms around her. His whole demeanor is stiff and cold. Completely unlike him.

“Satoru,” she whispers, trying to get his attention. But his eyes remained glued to the door as Kento finally pries it open.

You emerge from the compartment first, awkwardly dusting off your clothes as all the eyes in the room land on you. Everyone else seems to have noticed the tension in here when they stepped inside, and they don’t know what to do with it.

Your eyes lock with Satoru’s and your lips part, an explanation for everything the two of you have gone through for the past few months tucked behind your teeth.

But Naoya steps out of the compartment after you, and it seems like all hope of a peaceful reconciliation is lost.

You turn to him and frown. “Did you tell him?” is the only thing you can bring yourself to ask.

Naoya sighs. “I told you, I didn’t tell anyone anything!”

“Then who—”

Maki, who’s sitting on the bed, lowers her head and lets out a quiet, “I told him.”

She doesn’t need to know what the whole conversation was. She already expected this was the way it was going to go down.

“This whole fucking time,” Satoru says, venom in his voice, unable to hold back whatever resentment he has for you, “you made me wonder what I fucking did wrong, and it was you who fucked up?”

You shake your head. “I never said you did anything wrong,” you tell him, shrinking back as you realize how many people are in this room. “Satoru, can we not talk about this here?”

“Why not?” His eyes are cold. His expression merciless. You don’t think he’s ever looked at you this way before. You didn’t think he ever would. “Are you scared everyone’s going to stop loving you? That everyone’s going to see who you really are?”

“Cool it,” Sukuna says, stepping in front of you. He looks over at everyone else in the room. “Do you guys mind?”

They leave without any hesitation. The only people that remain in the room are you, Sukuna, Satoru, Maki, Nobara, Naoya, and Kimi—who Satoru refuses to let go.

“I didn’t do… what you think I did,” you say quietly. “I know that sounds stupid, but it’s not. Please, Satoru. You have to trust me.”

“I don’t,” he says, voice like steel.

“She’s telling the truth, man,” Naoya says, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the wall. “She didn’t kiss me.”

Sukuna watches the whole exchange go down. He knows it’s not his place to step in, not now. But he watches you the whole time, watches the way you so desperately try to convince Satoru that you’re telling the truth. And he wants to hold you, to take you away from this whole thing—but he’s not sure where the two of you stand right now.

He can’t take any chances. He can’t risk losing you.

So slinks back and stays beside Nobara and Maki, listening as you and Naoya try to tell Satoru what happened. 

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a kiss on the cheek. Satoru doesn’t believe you. But you’re telling the truth. It wasn’t a kiss. You thought something happened, it turns out it didn’t. It wasn’t a kiss.

The conversation goes back and forth, until you say—

“You never really loved me.”

The words come out of you, heavy and wet with the tears that are starting to fall from your eyes.

“You only care that we broke up because I’m the one that broke it off,” you say. “You would’ve left eventually. I didn’t want to see that happen.”

“What possessed you to think I was going to leave?” Satoru asks angrily. “I was in! I was all in! Why did you think I was going to break it off?”

You don’t give him an answer. You just let your eyes slide, albeit a little tentatively, a little cautiously, over to Kimi who’s standing at his side.

Satoru follows your gaze. His face morphing into remorse, then denial. “That’s not fair.”

Kimi, now aware of where this conversation is heading, takes it as her cue to leave. She slides herself away from Satoru and steps outside. If there’s one thing she knows how to do, it’s to not be in places where she knows she’s not wanted.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him. “I’m sorry I loved you and I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

You walk out of the room, everyone still stunned by the mess that’s been left in your wake.

Satoru stares at the empty space you’ve left behind. He makes a decision. He steps outside.

“Thought I would find you here.”

Kimi hums. She’s in the little reading nook beside the dining room. She’s bundled up in a sweater that Utahime lent her, staring at the darkness outside the window.

Satoru sits down beside her, staring at his hands in his lap. “I’ve been an asshole.”

She chuckles and glances over at him. “You think?” she says, smiling when Satoru looks away guiltily. She places a hand on top of his and squeezes it. “I never thought this was real, you know.”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not an idiot, Satoru,” she says gently. “I never believed in love. It was all too unrealistic, you know? I was sure it didn’t exist, and even if it did, I was convinced I’d never see it.”

She slides a hand into her pocket, pulls the thing out, and drops it in his lap.

“When you came into my life, I knew that it wasn’t love,” she continues. “But I’m starting to think I can recognize it now—thanks to you.”

Satoru takes the box in his hand. So small, just big enough to fit in his palm. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be better for you.”

“It’s okay,” she says, patting his knee. “You tried your best.”

[tokoyamisstuff]

Fragments Pt. 1/3

Homelander / GN! Reader

Ch. 1: Fallen Angel

Summary: After a new drug rendered Homelander both powerless and amnesic, he gets saved by someone blissfully unaware of who he is.

Shoutout to @blindmagdalena who did the impossible: Making me simp for this guy. Your writing is simply impeccable! 💌

Warnings: Injury, blood, lots of exposition, not proofread

Notes: Hurt/comfort, OOC, pre-canon, Scientist! Reader, idc about logic gaps (I will cry if you point them out to me)

Four days already, and he still hasn't woken up.

Winter in the Canadian Arctic was rough, with the polar night bringing permanent darkness, as well as severe snowstorms that could last up to a week.

Luckily enough your old radio communication system was still functioning, so you were at least able to request a few necessities in advance: Food and water for another person, a doctor of course...

...and clothes for the guy you had to cut out of this ridiculous costume to patch him up properly.

Leaning back in your chair, you take some deep breaths, unable to concentrate on your work. Your glance unwillingly wanders back to the man lying on your bed, still unconscious.

Who knows how long the weather will cut you off from help arriving? You just hope he will make it until then.

Maybe it's for the better, though - since whoever had done this to him could still be out there wanting to finish the job, too.

It bordered on a miracle that he landed so close to your research station, when you were outside to notice at that. And the storm followed only shortly after you managed to pull him inside.

That man really had more luck than anything, even while having been messed up like this.

You watch him until you're sure he's still breathing and not in any discomfort, once again catching yourself admiring his handsome features.

If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was a literal fallen angel that crashed from the goddamn sky, right into your little front yard.

Damn it, the loneliness that came with this job made even your thoughts pathetic...

Well, to your defense, you've been raised pretty isolated your whole life, with parents being a doctor and a scientist that were devoted to spend their work at the most remote areas of the world.

It surely was a unique childhood with lots of traveling, and you were mostly spared the soulless corporate-controlled bullshit that was modern society. To add to that, your parents were never fond of using electronics for more than practical reasons. Not that there was internet connection where you lived either way.

All in all, while you obviously know about supes in general and might even have heard about Homelander the brief time you spent in civilization, the last time you've actually seen his face on a magazine or some sort was decades ago - and you didn't care enough to remember.

So it was no wonder that you were completely oblivious to who exactly was lying in your bed this whole time.

Sighing, you close your laptop with a dramatic gesture before making your way to the kitchen unit. You pour yourself a coffee to fill your rumbling stomach, having rationed the food in favor of your new involuntary roommate.

Having followed the footsteps of your parents - yet without proper funding - you led this mission all by yourself. At first it was bearable, since an elder native couple came to visit and assist you from time to time.

But your work demanded you to stay secluded from human intervention, deep in the mountains with the next tiny village being half a day march away. And now that winter made traveling scarce due to the dangers, the idea of some company certainly wasn't so bad.

You almost felt bad for being excited about him being here - whatever had happened to make him end up here was exactly the oppsite of great, after all.

Even though the emergency power aggregate was whirring loudly, the sound of strained groans reaches your ear - not the first time those past few days. So you immediately rush over to the man's side, pouring him a glass of water and dissolving some painkillers in it.

"It's gonna be alright" you assure him, unable to tell if he can even hear in this state. Blood is seeping through the makeshift bandages, making you realize you should probably reapply them soon. Maybe after the meds had some time to release their effect...

...however, just when the cup touched his lips, two icy blue eyes snapped open, making you wince.

"Don't touch me, fuck!" a raspy voice snapped at you, quite understandable in his situation. He pushed you away from him, causing you to stumble and fall as the glass scattered on the floor right next to you.

"Whe-where am I? And who the fuck are you?!"

"Who the fuck am I?" You felt almost offended at the accusation in his look, having to remind yourself that the person in front of you is in fact in an exceptional situation. "You're in my house. I found you injured in the middle of nowhere. So I should be asking you!"

His face fell in shock at the realization, internal struggle present in his features as he finally whispered - no, whimmered "I...can't remember..."

Racketing his brain around to make sense of the situation, he stumbled across his own words and repeated "I-I-I-I can't remember!"

"Can't remember what exactly?" You spoke more softly now as you got up, tentatively approaching him. He on the other hand jumped up from the bed, panic increasing with every passing second.

"Anything! I-I don't know who I am- shit, what happened?!" He was shaking, muscular chest having as he started to hyperventillate. You hesistantly put your hand on his back, feeling him tense at the sudden contact. "Please don't move too much. You're injured."

Only now he noticed the medical wraps around his chest, abdomen, left arm and both legs. Hell, his whole body was aching but the adrenaline wouldn't let this stop him from standing up, pacing around the small room.

Being overwhelmed with the situation as well, you decided it was best to tell him everything. "D-don't freak out, but we're in the middle of the arctic." Having a feeling that he wouldn't believe you - fair enough, though - you opened the door, revealing a snowy landscape. The doorway was already halfway buried under a snowy blanket, and the heavy winds were biting his exposed skin. "We'll have to wait until the storm settles. And even then, with your injuries you probably won't make it to the nearest village."

There was a long pause of silence between your explanation and his response, blinking at you in both disbelief and despair. "...if you don't know me, then how the hell did I get here?"

"My best guess is that you're a supe" you shrugged, hoping his memory loss didn't also affect his general knowledge. You pointed towards the torn bodysuit in the bin, stating matter-of-factly "You literally fell out of the sky. Even with the snow absorbing part of the impact, you should be dead - especially with those injuries."

Not really good at comforting someone, huh, you internally scolded yourself. Yet you gave it your best to calm him down and sign your goodwill.

"Sit down or your wounds will reopen." After a brief moment of looking at you all forlorn and maybe even a little distrustful, he accepted your help. You led him back to the edge of the bed, sitting next to each other as support for him to stay upright.

"Doesn't feel like anything about this body is 'super' right now..." he joked bitterly, rubbing his sides. You chuckle sympathetic, carefully patting his back in reassurance. "Maybe you don't have access to your powers because of the amnesia? I'm not quite sure how any of this works."

"Yeah, maybe..." His eyes were now locked on you, forcing a weak smile as he finally took a proper look at you. "You still didn't tell me to who I owe my life."

"Me?" as inappropriate as it was for the situation, he did manage to make you flustered just by that - and it didn't really help that he was still only in his underwear, testing your decency not to stare. "Oh, my name's Y/N Y/L/N. I'm an ecologist. Been here for eight months to document the effects of climate change on the biome, and-"

"Climate change?" he rose an eyebrow at you, "There's a goddamn snowstorm outside, woman."

Oh. He was one of those guys. Note taken.

"Anyways" you changed the topic to not provoke a pointless discussion, still unable to keep yourself from rolling your eyes. "Do you at least remember your name?"

The man clutched the ragged costume you had handed him, forcing his exhausted self to remember something, anything at all...

...but every time he tried, there was a sharp pain in his forehead that tore him away from the memories locked away somewhere in his brain.

And smehow, no matter how insane it might sound, he felt like this was his own mind's subtle warning to better keep it this way.

"I think...my name's John" he ultimately stated, rubbing his temples as his face contorted in pain. You continued rubbing circles on his back in an attempt to comfort him, whispering "Hey, don't overdo it. Focus on healing first, and then we'll see if anything else comes back. Alright?"

John nodded mutely, and you gifted him an uplifting smile, cheering "Well then, nice to officially meet you, John! Feel at home as long as you need."

He shook your hand almost symbolically, feeling almost hopeful knowing that despite the grim situation, he was supported by such a kind stranger.

"Nice to meet you too, Y/N. I'm all in your hands."

_____

A/N: This was written on my phone at 1am, so please bear with me. The next chapters are gonna be better.

[Part Two]

[mieldreams]

A Very Berry Christmas

Summary: A certain berry incident leads to finally getting to know the family from down the hall. Could the season's greetings blossom into the start of something sweet?

pt 2 is out!

pairing: single dad!Anakin x single nurse!reader

warnings: lame attempts at humour, brief mentions of barf. a whole lotta xmas puns.

word count: ~4.5k (someone needs to teach me how to not make everything 2k+)

You're sleeping peacefully in your cozy bed when you hear it. Three loud knocks that rouse you from your sleep. Or try to– you have half the mind to simply turn around and pull the covers back over your head and go back to sleep. In fact, that's exactly what you do, maybe this is just some weird dream.

Three more knocks, and they beat down more urgently on your door. That's when your reptilian brain kicks in, instincts taking over as your eyes fly open and you push off the covers to grab the giant candy cane prop you'd gotten on discount that you'd temporarily propped by your bed. It's not that you live in a shady area or anything, but you'd rather take chances on your poor hand-eye coordination with a fake candy cane than face whoever was at your door at– you check the clock on the wall, at 1 in the morning without one.

As you reach the front door you curse the old apartment and your annoying landlord for not installing even just a peephole to see who you'd have to fight off at the witching hour. There had to be some sort of basic requirement for safety in these apartments right? You'd have to check for that later since the more pressing matter was now loudly knocking on your door once again. You're thankful it's only you and that man with the twins on your floor, though for his sake you hope the twins aren't light sleepers.

This time the person only knocks twice before abruptly stopping. Should you open the door or simply walk away now that the knocking had stopped?

Your contemplation doesn't last long as you hear voices through the door, a rough voice telling someone to go back inside followed by loud shushing sounds as you hear a child crying. Curiosity gets the best of you and you quickly toss the candy cane aside to throw the door open and the sight that greets you immediately concerns you.

It's the man from down the hall, Mr Skywalker, and gosh he looks miserable. Though it's not like you'd know what he usually looks like, you'd only ever seen him in fleeting moments – sometimes with the twins, sometimes alone, the only reason you even knew his name was because you'd accidentally gotten his mail once. He's halfway down the hallway between his and your apartment and you assume he's the one who had knocked. When he turns around at the sound of your door opening you realise he's carrying a small boy on his hip who's a little red in the face, eyes still scrunched from crying.

"Oh thank god," he makes his way towards you again, "I know this is really sudden and I apologise for disturbing your sleep, but could you please look after my daughter for a while? I have to take my son to the hospital urgently and I don't want her to be alone, she's very well behaved— won't cause you any trouble I promise—" he's frantic as he explains, "Leia! Can you come out here please?" He's calling her over before you can get a word out, not that you were against helping him.

A girl, just as small as the boy, peeks her head around the doorframe of the apartment down the hall. Her father lightly bends down and wiggles his fingers to call her over. You use the brief moment to observe the man for the first time since he appeared at your door. You take in his sleep-tousled caramel blond hair, the wrinkled white henley that was clearly old from the way it stretched over his broad chest and shoulders despite the buttons being undone, probably bought at a time when he wasn't so...muscley. Your eyes quickly move down before your thoughts can continue down that line only to make it worse when your gaze lands on the strip of skin exposed by his shirt riding up, the prominent v-line peeking above the black sweats that sit low on his hips.

As the little girl slowly makes her way to where the two of you are you quickly avert your gaze. It would be mortifying to be caught ogling her father.

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking, what happened to your son?"

Once little Leia reaches him and takes his hand he turns to you again, "We were making blueberry pie— going to— but Luke ate some of the blueberries and then started throwing up," he worriedly looks back at his son on his hip, tucking him closer as Luke shivers in his arms and curls into his dad.

Looking at Anakin, then back at Luke you clear the remainder of sleepiness from your voice, "I don't mean to intrude sir," you start slowly, "but I happen to know a thing or two about allergies, you can totally still go to the hospital but maybe I can take a look at your son for you?"

When he doesn't answer you get nervous and start rambling, "I know what I'm doing, I'm a nurse you see— I swear, I even have my certification for this– I could show you if you want," You make a move to retreat back into your apartment but Anakin's hand on your wrist stops you.

You gasp when you feel cold metal rather than flesh, eyes going wide as you turn to look at his palm wrapped around your wrist and for the first time you notice that his arm isn't human.

Anakin hears the little sound and immediately curses himself in his mind.

What the fuck were you thinking – grabbing her wrist like that, specifically with the metal arm when it's already freezing.

He quickly apologises before dropping your hand and you look at him again as he runs a nervous hand through his hair, "Could you do that? Would you do that? Take a look at him I mean," if it weren't for the situation at hand you'd have thought his stuttering and awkwardness were cute and holy shit he was so much prettier up close but you push those thoughts aside as your work brain kicks in.

You hope it's nothing too serious and that the poor man doesn't have to rush to the hospital at this hour.

You invite him and his children into your apartment, leading the little boy and his father into the kitchen while giving Leia full access to your plushie collection as you drop a whole bunch of them on the couch to make her a little more comfortable and keep her distracted while you check on her brother.

Though, when you tell her to get comfy she singles out a fluffy highland cow plushie that you'd customised to match the holiday spirit with a mini red santa hat, and then turns to you with big eyes, "Can I read those?"

When you follow her little finger you realise she's pointing at the stack of old newspapers. You shrug, "Sure, why not," you pick up a part of the pile and lay it out in front of her to let her pick.

Whatever keeps her busy you guess. She thanks you for it and you leave her there on the couch before heading to the kitchen. On the way you make a detour to the bathroom to check for any allergy medicine in case it was something mild.

When you walk into the kitchen you notice Luke is no longer crying, rather slumped against his father, cheek squished against his dad's shoulder. Probably tired from all the crying and throwing up, you think to yourself. You place the few bottles of medicine you had grabbed on the counter and ask him to sit Luke on it as well.

You fill up two glasses of water, handing one to Anakin and holding one out for Luke but he simply shakes his head.

"Does he have any allergies or anything like that?"

Anakin shakes his head no, "Not that I know of. And he's had blueberries before but never such a reaction to them," he tells you, worried eyes constantly shifting between you and Luke.

"Did he have any other reaction other than throwing up?"

The man shakes his head no again, "He only threw up. At first I thought it was one of those 'kids puke all the time' things but then he threw up again and complained about his stomach hurting and wouldn't stop crying."

You walk over to the cabinet in your kitchen and pull out an old friend, hiding him behind your back as you walk back to Luke. He was somewhat calmer now but you didn't want him getting upset again so maybe a distraction would be nice, "Hey Luke. I have a little buddy here who'd like to get to know you, he wants to play with you, do you wanna meet him?"

Curious but still shy he slowly nods his head, a feeble "okay" escaping his lips.

You pull out the old dinosaur toy you'd had since...gosh you couldn't even remember anymore. It was a little faded and worn (well loved is what you called it) but he was soft and smelled clean so maybe it would help.

"This is Rex the T-Rex. He says he's really happy to meet you." You wiggle the dino's hand in a little wave. You pretend that Rex the T-Rex whispers something in your ear, nodding like you understand what he wants to convey.

"He says he wants to talk to you, but he's very shy so maybe you can hold his hand to get to know him? He's a doctor you see, so he wants to ask you a few questions, can you answer them Luke?"

The little boy thankfully looks intrigued enough by the old toy, quietly taking him when you place it in his lap and nodding okay once again.

You then quickly start your assessment with a few questions, "Luke, do you feel any itchiness anywhere?"

The boy shakes his head no. You then ask him how he feels right now and only get a 'sleepy' in response. You could never be too sure with allergies, it was different for different people, but judging from everything you knew till now you had a suspicion this wasn't allergies.

"Luke, how many blueberries did you eat?"

The boy holds up his tiny fist, closing and opening it to show you, "just this much."

"You only had that many berries?"

He gives a 'mhm' while fiddling with the rainbow bracelet on his wrist, "I had them after dad washed them, then I had them after they were cold in the fridge then when we baked the crust and then when we were making the inside thing."

You have to stop yourself from laughing as Luke's father narrows his eyes at him, "Luke, how many blueberries did you have?"

The boy innocently holds up his tiny fist again, waving it in his dad's face this time, "this much."

"But you had that much four times?"

"Uh-huh," hearing his dad's tired sigh as he drops his head into his hand is what breaks you, and you can't help but snort.

You move towards the sink to wet a small cloth before taking it over to him, "Here, you can wipe the fruit on his face, the smell of it might be making it worse," then you leave them alone to head to your bedroom to find one of your older sweatshirts that had shrunken in size after your friend accidentally machine washed it when she borrowed it for a Christmas party.

You finally manage to pull out the old garment from the corner of your closet after struggling to pull out one sleeve that was stuck under a heap of clothes, making you fall on your ass when it finally came loose. You get up and dust your shorts off with a glared huff at the pile of clothes that you were too lazy to sort before heading back to the kitchen.

Since you had already decided what to do for Luke's nausea, you ask Leia if she would like some of the ginger honey tea you were planning to make. When she answers with a "yes, please," you smile at her and tell her you'll bring it to her in a minute before entering the kitchen.

Seeing that Anakin has finished cleaning up all the berry stains from Luke's hands and around his mouth you walk over to hand him the sweater, "I think it'll be better to have him out of that t-shirt, it doesn't exactly have the most...pleasant smell." You try not to make a face at the faint lingering smell of barf and blueberries – a combination you know will haunt you for quite some time.

Anakin takes the sweater from you, and you turn around towards the stove to start making the tea, "I think a little honey-ginger tea might help with the nausea, can he have that?" You glance at Anakin as you stretch up to pull out the ingredients and he barely avoids being caught staring at the sliver of skin peeking under from your shirt when it rides up.

He clears his throat, "Um, yeah— yeah he can have it." He glances at Luke who's still toying with the dino plushie you gave him. You turn back around to watch the boiling water and hear Anakin gently talking to Luke as he switches his spoilt shirt for your sweater.

With your back still turned to the two you realise that Anakin has a very nice voice – it's very calm and gentle, a smooth cadence that makes you think you could listen to him forever. You wonder how old he is, he didn't look that much older than you but the way he panicked with Luke made it seem like he was a bit inexperienced with such occurrences. Though you definitely had the advantage of your job to thank for your knowledge.

A soft amused chuckle is what pulls you from your thoughts, making you turn around as you switch to low heat. You see Anakin smiling at his son's form on the counter, drowning in your shrunk sweater that was still too big for him. You notice his gaze fixed on the graphics of the sweater – a 'Sleigh All Day' written above the picture of Santa Clause and Rudolph chilling on a sleigh like it was a beach chair, sunnies on and drinks in their hands.

His gaze then shifts to the sweater you're wearing, a dark blue with a white font that says, 'Birch, please.' with the photo of a sassy Christmas tree and it actually makes him snort. You smirk at him before turning back to the tea as he asks, "How many of these do you have?"

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, still smirking, "Do you really wanna know?"

He shakes his head with a smile before clearing his throat, "I uh- I want to thank you for doing all this. Specifically so late at night, and also— I'm really sorry for barging in on you and disturbing you. Neither of the twins have ever had a reaction like that, they're really smart and absolute angels, so tonight just...scared me a little." His voice fades out at the end and you turn the stove off as you turn to look at him again. He's gently running his hands through his son's hair, somehow smoothing out and messing up his hair at the same time.

Luke hasn't said much in the past few minutes but seeing the little boy almost drowning in your too-large sweatshirt as he's lost in his own play world makes a warmth bloom in your chest. Both the twins seem so well-mannered and calm that you're sure Anakin's right and they really must be angels.

"That's alright. Takes a village to raise kids, right? I'm glad I could help. And that it wasn't something too serious."

"I'm sorry— I feel like I've intruded in your house and haven't even given a proper introduction. I'm Anakin. The little blueberry monster is Luke," he points at his son, playfully ruffling his hair and making him giggle and duck to avoid the attack, "and my daughter— that's Leia."

You smile back at him, telling him your name in return, "It's nice to meet all of you." You turn back to finish preparing the tea, pouring it into four different cups for which you apologize with a grimace, "Sorry they're all...like that. I hardly have people over so I don't really have proper tea cup sets..."

Anakin would reassure you that it was nothing if he wasn't busy trying to contain the immediate smile threatening to grow on his face when he sees his cup – a white mug with the words, 'I just took a DNA test turns out, I'm a 100%' on one side and 'that Grinch' on the other, with the Grinch's iconic smiling face staring back at him of course.

He then takes a look at Luke's cup as you go to call Leia for the tea, not wanting the little girl to be alone in the living room. He notices it's a plain white porcelain with the words 'Wake me up before you cocoa' and a cartoon of a singing chocolate bar wrapped up in a red and green scarf.

You must really like Christmas he thinks.

You hear the little patters of her feet before she shows up at the doorway and you call her over. Before you can ask if she wants to sit next to her brother she's already raising her arms to be lifted onto the counter, and before Anakin can step in you're already lifting her into your arms and gently placing her on the countertop next to her twin who excitedly begins to show his sister his new friend while waiting for his tea to cool down.

Leia thanks you for the help again and you can't help but be amused at the kid's manners. She seems to be very well-spoken for someone so tiny, and you wonder if that's from her father or her mother, which in turn makes you think about these kids' mother.

Anakin seemed to live alone, and you had never seen any woman visiting his apartment, other than the one time you saw the twins with a tan woman in the parking lot when you came back from work, though you're pretty sure you overheard them call her 'Auntie'.

"Ouch, hot! Hot! Hot!"

Luke's tiny yelps snap you out of your thoughts and you watch as Anakin quickly puts down his own cup and reaches out to take Luke's from him, placing it on the counter beside him while scolding Luke with an 'I told you to wait till it cools down—'

Followed by a whine from his son "I did! It didn't have the hot floating steam anymore—"

"—and I told you that you should always check first with a tiny sip."

"But you always drink really hot coffee really fast."

"That's 'cause I don't have time in the morning and need to at least pretend to be listening when someone talks to me."

" I wanna try coffee too—"

Anakin sighs, "—No Luke, you cannot—"

Leia simply sits beside her twin, shaking her head with a soft sigh as she listens to her father and brother argue.

You can't help but be amused by this little family before you as they continue their bickering, entertained by their chaos and curious because—

"Why were you guys baking at one in the morning?" It escapes out before you realise and you quickly bite your tongue, chastising yourself in your mind, ohmagosh you can't just ask people why they're baking at one in the morning.

"—sorry you don't have to answer that, just got curious," you awkwardly shuffle on your feet, laughing in embarrassment before you move forward to take everyone's empty cups to the sink.

"It's okay," Anakin speaks up, "We have a tradition of baking something every weekend for the entire month of December. The twins were craving some pie and it's the weekend so I thought why not? Their mother used to bake the best desserts, I can't live up to that standard but...I try."

His words once again make you curious about their mother but this time you manage to bite your tongue in time. From his slightly breathier tone you can tell that the story here isn't exactly happy so you don't try to pry.

Seeing as the twins were getting drowsy, now that the adrenaline of the chaos had worn off and been replaced by the warmth of the sweet tea, Anakin pushes off the counter, "Anyways, thank you so much for helping us— helping me. And sorry we disturbed you."

You dismiss his apology with a wave of your hand as Anakin lifts the kids off the counter though Luke requests to be carried back again.

"I'm glad I could help. Kids can give real scares to their parents sometimes, I know I did –many times," you joke as you follow the man and his children out of your kitchen to the front door.

Anakin didn't know you too well, just a few casual run-ins that come with living on the same floor. Though he doesn't know how casual he can consider it when you always seemed to be in a hurry of some sort, finding out your job as a nurse makes things make more sense but still, you were a jittery little thing. He remembers that time when he was awake late one summer night, the twins were at Ahsoka's and he couldn't sleep so he'd stepped out for fresh air. He guessed you were coming home late from work, hair a tangled mess and feet dragging on the ground. You were carrying some paperwork and maybe it was the late night shift or maybe it was the dark parking lot but you accidentally ran into a tree near the door to the building, your paperwork falling from your hands. You quickly bent down to pick it up and then immediately started apologising to the tree and thanked it for helping you pick up the papers, then wished it a good evening and walked away.

He also remembers the time he overheard you talking to your friend in the hallway about babysitting their cat, but the next morning when he ran into you at the laundry there were long claw marks running up and down your arms that you quickly tried to hide by pulling down the sleeves of your sweater and a sheepish smile.

"Took my friend's cat for a walk. Some of the neighbourhood strays didn't like that. Almost lost an eye trying to separate those little bastards." "I mean catfights, amiright?" You had joked and he had only stared in disbelief and mild concern, hoping you had at least gotten the scratches checked out for infections.

He also remembers seeing you a few days back, struggling to drag a too-big-for-an-apartment Christmas tree across the parking lot, he would have helped you if he wasn't sure that he'd spook you in the dark empty lot. Though he didn't see the tree anywhere in your living space when he walked in so he wonders what happened to it.

He turns around at your doorway to look at you again.

"I don't doubt it."

Is that a smirk on Anakin's face? Is he messing with you right now?

You roll your eyes, shaking your head with a laugh.

"I'm just glad it wasn't anything too serious, hopefully though we'll keep the blueberry consumption to a limit from now on." You tease as you ruffle Luke's hair. He makes a gagging face at the mention of eating blueberries and it makes you laugh again.

"Guess berry pie will have to be put off for a while, huh?"

Anakin sighs as he adjusts Luke on his hip, pulling his daughter closer as she slips her tiny hand into his, "I guess so."

He looks back up at you and you're once again stunned speechless by how pretty he is, long eyelashes fluttering and pretty thunderstorm eyes rimmed red by the lack of sleep. He is still one of, if not, the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.

You've noticed that Anakin is a somewhat hard person to read. With the diverse variety of people that came to your work and the ones you helped, you had become sort of used to being able to read people. The way they behaved in emergencies alone told you a lot about a person. But for some reason, other than the panic when he first knocked on your door, you couldn't at all tell what he was thinking right now. And considering he seemed to be a first-time father, especially to twins, you suppose the panic was warranted.

Anakin's intense gaze fixated on you makes you nervous, so you let out an awkward chuckle while wringing your sweater paw hands, "I'd wish you an advanced 'Berry Christmas' but I feel like we've had more than enough of those, huh?"

You cringe and once again curse yourself at the lame attempt at breaking the silence that had lulled over and trying to escape Anakin's sharp eyes. You expect him to scoff and walk away from you as quickly as possible and maybe never talk to you again but instead he just smirks and looks down. He catches sight of the giant candy cane decoration you'd thrown aside and shakes his head, chuckling.

He starts guiding Leia and carrying Luke back down the hall towards their apartment and you think you're right, he's never gonna wanna talk to you again. He probably thinks you're some Christmas-obsessed weirdo who makes godawful jokes and he's gonna tell Luke and Leia to never talk to you again as well and—

With his back turned to you, his voice carries across the hall, snapping you out of your thoughts. He enters his apartment and pokes his head out to give you one last look, eyes looking you over once before he smirks, "There's better weapons out there than candy canes." And then his door shuts.

Your eyes widen when you realise he's joking with you and not immediately rushing to report you or something, and you laugh as you close your door.

As you stand in your apartment with your back pressed against the closed door, you can't contain the growing smile on your face. You hope you get to see more of the cute and slightly chaotic family living down the hall.

dividers by @strangergraphics and @tsunami-of-tears

A/N: an advanced berry christmas to everybody! :)

ps. what do y'all call Anakin's hair colour?

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Can I request ACOTAR poly bats x mate reader? Who got killed if you don't write that the reader just got injured badly? Thank you!

Injury HC (ft. poly!mates Bat Boys)

While I love me some heavy angst, I just couldn't bring myself to kill off mate reader even if its just for a hc 😭😅

Warnings: lots of mentions of blood, wounded/dying!reader, polyamorous mates, injuries, healing, angst and fluff, ft. mor, ft. amren, ft. madja, ft. wraiths

woof where to begin

it would be damn near impossible for any of them to think rationally at the sight of blood coming from you, not their beloved who should only be full of smiles and laughter

bat boys become overbearing if you even get a papercut

But this. . . this was something else entirely.

So much blood that they feel sick from the rusty smell of it that permeated the air.

You looked so small and broken; Rhys has already come up with a thousand ways to kill whoever did this to you. You were their beautiful, proud, cunning mate.

The first one to make a move toward your body would be Rhysand. Always rational under pressure as Azriel and Cassian look around in case there was an ambush by the enemy. He feels sick to his stomach the entire time he's checking your vitals. When his fingers make contact with your blood soaked head, the sticky substance felt white hot. Rhysand could wash his hands millions of times and still feel that searing sting of your blood on his skin.

When they finally get you safely to Madja, you do manage to regain some consciousness, enough to reach out and grab Azriel's hand as everyone was leaving the operating room. Its difficult to move your lips to speak but you manage to plead for Azriel to stay. His shadows always soothed you.

There's no rest for Rhysand or Cassian unfortunately.

Despite Mor and Amren's best efforts, they can't drag your other two mates away from the door.

Rhysand being constantly updated by Azriel through his thoughts and shadows

Cassian tried not to let dark possibilities into his head. They banged against the door of his mind, loud and clear. If you died. . .

"She won't die." Rhysand would tell him sharply. He couldn't lose hope. But the steady smell of your blood that refused to lessen worried Rhysand greatly.

For Azriel, he was forced to stand there at your side as Madja did her best to put you back together. He refused to look away. There was absolutely nothing he could do to help.

He furiously clenches and unclenches his hands. Angry with himself for not being enough to protect you.

In the wee hours of the morning, Mor finds Rhysand and Cassian slumped together asleep. She put a blanket around them and takes a seat to join them in awaiting news. Amren soon follows suit once she has risen from bed by worry.

Finally, Azriel emerges into the waiting room.

Cass and Rhys leap from their seats

You're alive, although incredibly weak.

Madja had to bind and fix your bones while also trying to stop your bleeding. The most important thing was that you would live with some major scarring.

For the next several months, you acquired three overbearing nurses.

Not that you were complaining.

They only allowed Madja to tend to you and that was just during your checkups. Even the Wraiths' cooking was monitored by one of the bat boys.

Azriel and Rhysand had the tenderest hands when they changed your bandages or moved you around so you wouldn't get bed sores.

When you were well enough, Cassian would carry you to the outside garden so you could enjoy the warmth of the sun personally. You'd sit on his lap with your head resting on his chest. You liked listening to him talk as your ear was pressed close to his heart.

You had to tell them to shut up a few times because of how often they would apologize to you about letting you get hurt. It wasn't their fault, you'd argue to deaf ears. This was actually motivation for you. To remedy this and prevent getting hurt this badly ever again, you'd have to train more. Get stronger so your mates wouldn't blame themselves for you getting hurt in their absence.

Rhysand may be the only one who doesn't coddle you during any kind of physical therapy. He's one for tough love. Cassian too. Poor Az is utterly helpless.

Oh, you're out of breath? Let me carry you, sweetling. Rhys and Cass being too difficult? I'll give them a talking to.

Once fully healed thanks to your bat boys, you feel stronger and better than ever.