#{ THE EMMA NOSE SCRUNCH }

[lupaeusarc]

𝗘𝗠𝗠𝗔 𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗧𝗜𝗡 𝗖𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗢𝗟𝗟 : 2 / ∞

— 𝘮𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 / 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 —

#{ THE EMMA NOSE SCRUNCH } #୧ ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ in love with being noticed and afraid of being seen ⌗ visage . #୧ ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ love comes and goes but the big black dog he trails along ⌗ my gifs .

[ajortga]

my girl

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

summary: jenna is a bit too protective over you after you injure your leg, it's cute.

word count: 1.3k+

based off of request! (idk if i like this)

-

Jenna Ortega x F!reader where r broke her leg and jenna went very protective mode to r and would easily lose her temper whenever anyone tries getting close to r cause r is has a broken leg.. THANK YOUU

-

The light of the hospital casted a warm shade over you and Jenna as she carefully had a hand on your shoulder, making sure you didn’t fall. 

“Stupid nurses,” she mutters, looking at you with worry as you struggle to walk properly with crutches, your right leg limping by itself. "Hey, it's okay," she glances to your leg, rubbing it gently.

The girl looks at you, eyes soft, “Does it hurt?” You try your best to smile, nodding barely as your hands shake on the crutches, “I’ll get used to it, it’ll only be several weeks.”

Jenna’s hands, besides the one she just removed from your shoulder, are filled with bags and backpacks and some stuffed animal hanging out of it, making sure there is nothing disturbing you. 

“Oh baby, I’m sorry,” she says, rubbing your thigh as she guides you closer to the car, “They should’ve secured the stunt.”

“I’m sorry,” you instantly retaliate, “You’re holding all this heavy stuff, here let me try to help you. That backpack,” you point to the navy bag hung on her back, “I can carry i- No!” She shouts, immediately sitting you down to a bench.

“It’s okay baby, just sit here and I’ll be back okay?”

Before you can respond she’s waddling to your car.

It’s not long before she’s running to you, her sunglasses covering her pretty eyes. She leans down and lets you wrap your arms weakly around her shoulders. Jenna lifts you up, bridal style and manages to carry your two crutches with her.

-

Jenna’s protectiveness immediately shone through, you noticed it within the first couple of days.

Yelling at nurses to get you a wheelchair so you don’t have to limp with your crutches and struggle to open the door, glaring at other people when they get a little too close.

It was embarrassing when you accidentally let go of the book you were reaching for, a little too afraid to ask Jenna for help since you didn’t want her to get a staff. She had yelled at the person who worked there for making it too hard for her girlfriend to reach.

“I fucking swear, if one of your dumb ass books falls on her and I see it, I’m suing you,” she snaps. You two left the store within 10 minutes, you were practically tugging on her arm as she was yelling at the poor lady. Like a child trying to drag their parents to the toy selection. She had carried you out of the bookstore as you mouthed apologies to that lady.

-

“Oh damn, that looks even more Wednesday worthy,” Emma scrunches her nose, gently touching your cast around your leg. Jenna’s rubbing your thigh, cautiously looking at the short blonde-hair. Emma’s always been sweet and gentle, Jenna’s never snapped at her. 

She’s just making sure you don’t get hurt. You can tell from the way she looks at you, at others, eyes flickering everywhere.

Like if they don’t move, then some runaway piano will crash into you.

You comfort her, leaning into her touch. She sighs a little and plays with your hair.

Marker caps pop out as Emma looks at you, “Blue or yellow?”

“Both?”

“Of course,” she softly murmurs, writing silly sweet words on your cast with Jenna.

For a moment, you look at your phone, scrolling through social media and the pictures you have with your girlfriend. You hear a door open and Emma greeting Percy and some other of the cast.

“That stunt seriously got you into crutches?” Hunter asks, looking at your foot, “You’re okay though, right?”

You send him a grateful nod, “Could’ve been worse. But the stunt looks real now, right?” You joke and Jenna giggles slightly.

“How do you manage to fail that stunt? I mean, that’s honestly impressive.” Percy remarks, crossing his arms as your eyes narrow.

Jenna slowly turns to him, her mouth speaking for you, “I think it would’ve been better to have your foot broken. I would’ve smiled then.” Her voice dulls, monotone as she stares daggers at him, before turning back to you and kissing your collarbone.

Percy hums, a little annoyed, “Well, if I did the stunt, I would’ve done it perfectly. People who’d end up in a cast are just clumsy.”

You feel your eyes roll, a huff escaping your lips.

It isn’t long until you see Jenna, fuming, muttering a few inaudible curse words.

The man clasps his hands together, playing with his jacket as he grabs an apple from the apple basket, tossing it up and down.

“Hey Hunter, catch,” he shouts, aiming his apple to Hunter, who’s right in front of you.

“Percy watch it-” Jenna warns.

“Perc, I don’t think we should do it in here, maybe outsi-”

Hunter gets cut off as the apple comes jerkily towards him, with full speed. It’s not even going to his hand, it’s going where his waist is. He immediately steps to the side, and you feel the apple slam right where your leg is broken. You hiss in pain, jerking back as you cling onto Jenna. The pain rings through your whole body as Emma looks at him in shock. She looks at you, trying to gently rub it, “Oh my god, are you good?”

“Baby,” Jenna gasps, your eyes meeting hers as your lip trembles. You don’t have very good pain tolerance, embarrassment floods through you, your ears burning slightly. You hope you’re not crying because an apple hit your broken leg.

“Oh my gosh, do you want me to go back to the nurse?” She sniffs, brushing your hair back to comfort you. She understands your pain, it must’ve hurt like hell. You shake your head and try to distract yourself from the echoing pain. It hurt.

“Whoops, sorry Y/N, didn’t see you there,” he says, his genuine voice laced slightly with sarcasm. You don’t miss it. You almost feel like flipping him off.

Neither does your girlfriend. There’s fire crackling behind her eyes. 

She’s standing up, holding you close before grabbing the apple, scrunching it and throwing it to Percy with full force. 

You think it hit his nose, maybe broke it? Emma smirks, fistbumping Jenna as you curl into her more. 

“Oh fuck Percy,” Jenna gasps, dramatically, “Sorry, I didn’t see you there. That was my bad,” she sarcastically says.

"You-" the man is about to retaliate when Jenna lifts the other apple basket next to her, "You wanna go?" She challenges, ready to throw another apple while doing some Street Fighter stunt and bouncing up and down.

"I'm going to throw this whole damn apple basket if you touch her," she warns, throwing another apple at him, he howls. "Ow! Ow! Ow! Oh fuck!"

She shrugs, lifting you up in her arms. 

Percy is cursing, his nose is slightly bleeding as he screeches like a child and runs to the bathroom. No one goes after him. 

“That was so badass,” says Hunter, watching Percy slam the door.

Jenna watches him with a grin on her face, looking down at you and rubbing your injured leg, “Are you hurt?” Even with all that time, your leg is hurting. You nod, slightly, as she kisses your temple. 

“Let’s get you home, Em, I’m going to head out a little early.”

The blonde nods with understanding, “Okay, I’ll see you Friday. Hope your leg is okay Y/N, I’ll make sure to throw the basket of apples when Percy comes out. Maybe I can break his nose again?”

That makes you chuckle as you hold onto your girlfriend, “That sounds good.”

Jenna smiles at you, nuzzling her nose to yours, “Bye, Em!”

Emma smiles to you two, at least every person in the room is holding an apple and eyeing the door. “Bye, Jenna! Bye, Y/N! Love you!”

You three blow each other kisses as she gets to drive you to her apartment.

It’s not long before she’s carefully carrying you, ignoring the way you try to resist and telling her you can walk by yourself. The rest of the night is spent with her in the bath with you, one injured foot resting up while you two are soaked in bubbles. You two end it off with cuddling each other.

“Gosh I love you,” she sighs, “Can’t believe someone would actually go out of their way to mess with my pretty girl.”

You press your finger to her nose, “I should tape a warning sign on your forehead, “Caution, if you touch her girlfriend she will physically hunt you” maybe that would work?” 

She slaps your arm, rolling her eyes, “Maybe.”

“That’s my girl.”

#tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x you #vada cavell x reader #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #vada cavell x y/n

[woso-dreamzzz]

Rival III

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Not many people are happy at the next Arsenal game

Neither of your parents are smiling as you stroll into the Chelsea locker room.

Usually, you're very happy to wear your 'assistant coach' jersey but it had been a battle this morning that Momma and Morsa had ultimately lost.

You don't own an Arsenal jersey but you've managed to find a t-shirt of the same red shade so you're happy to wear that instead. To rub salt in the wound, you had cried and cried and cried until your mothers had also worn red t-shirts into the locker room - although they've hidden those under their jackets.

"Whoa!" Sam says in shock, gesturing fiercely at your top," What's all this?"

"Don't," Morsa says wearily," You'll set her off again."

"She's been crying all morning," Momma says," I know when to pick my battles." She gestures to you. "But, Sam, by all means, have a shot at it."

Sam comes and kneels in front of you. She pulls on the bottom of your top.

"It's Arsenal colour," You tell her proudly.

"I see that, y/n," She says," But wouldn't you prefer Chelsea colours? You'll be sitting on the Chelsea bench."

You shake your head. "I like Arsenal," You declare and the whole locker room goes quiet," They're the best. Not Wolfsburg best but best here."

The locker room erupts into outraged voices.

"What are you teaching her, Magda?!"

"How could you, kid?!"

"You let them corrupt her?!"

"Pernille, you can't let this happen!"

"y/n, don't say such slander!"

There's lots of screaming and arguing but you're not too phased. The Not-Wolfsburg locker room is pretty boring most of them so this is a bit entertaining but gets old quickly. You glance towards the door. You know the way to the Arsenal locker room. Maybe Daan will have another juicebox for you and Katie can talk to you in her silly accent.

You nod to yourself.

You should visit them.

As the adults argue, you wander towards the door, hand on the handle to open it when you're stopped. You follow the big arm to meet Millie's face.

"Sorry, kid," She says," No wandering off this time."

You stamp your foot and scrunch up your face. "Why? Just want to see Arsenal."

Millie scoffs. "I know you think you like Arsenal," She says," But you need to stay here." She ruffles your hair. "Chelsea's in your blood."

You stick your tongue out. "I have Wolfsburg blood," You say," And I do like Arsenal. I do! I do! I do!" You're insisting so much that Millie looks horrified when you burst into tears.

Momma breaks through the crowd to pick you up, bouncing you up and down. You wipe your sniffly nose on her Arsenal-colour t-shirt and continue to cry.

Magda pats Millie on the shoulder consolingly, her fellow defender looking completely heartbroken to have made you cry. "Welcome to my world," She says," No one can say a bad word against Wolfsburg or Arsenal in our house." She gestures to her own and Pernille's shirts. "She nearly made herself sick crying so much because we didn't want to wear the tops she chose for us." She pats Millie on the shoulder one last time. "Pick your battles."

No one is able to talk you out of your fashion choice and Emma looks betrayed as you take your place on the Not-Wolfsburg bench.

You wave excitedly as the teams come out, completely ignoring your mothers in favour of the Arsenal girls. Leah grins at you and Katie gives you a silly two finger salute. Beth and Daan wave at you, as does Jill.

You wave back happily, bouncing and you think you can see the other Not-Wolfsburg girls sink back into the bench in embarrassment.

Kick-off starts and you remain excited. Normally, at Not-Wolfsburg games you get bored but you're completely engaged in this one - barely stopping to get a drink.

But, just before half-time, you retreat back to your seat. Jessie and Niamh are both there, letting you squish between them and leech their warmth.

Jessie holds your drink up and you take a generous gulp, wiping your mouth clumsily with the back of your hand. Niamh clears her throat and pulls out a you-sized Not-Wolfsburg jersey.

"Are you sure you don't want to wear this?" She asks, waving it teasingly in your face.

You push it away and tug on your own shirt. "Is Arsenal colour," You explain it to her like she's slow," That's Not-Wolfsburg colour." You smooth down your shirt. "I like Arsenal!" You spy from across the pitch, Beth scoring a goal and you throw your arms up. "Arsenal! Yay!"

The Not-Wolfsburg bench slouches lower in their seats.

●～●～●～●～

The match ends with an embarrassing draw for Not-Wolfsburg and has even more embarrassing moments when you celebrate every goal Arsenal gets.

You zoom onto the pitch, completely ignoring your mothers to race across the see Daan and Beth.

Beth catches you underneath the arms and swings you onto her hip. Daan takes one of your hands, waving it around as you're carted away to the little group of Arsenal girls shaking hands with your mothers.

"Kid!" Katie says in her silly accent (Momma told you it was Irish but you think she keeps making up words) and plucks you from Beth's arms. She shakes you around and you giggle.

She places you on the ground and you're so dizzy that you stumble around, knocking into Leah's legs, who laughs delightedly at you.

"Leah!"

"My biggest fan!" She high-fives you. "You're looking good in Arsenal red!"

Momma and Morsa both groan which makes Jill laugh.

You nod excitedly. "Uh-huh! Arsenal's so cool!"

Pernille has to wrap a consoling arm around Magda as Leah crouches down in front of you.

"Well, since your mums are Chelsea fans, they'll probably never buy you a proper jersey so, here, take mine." She strips it from her body, pulling it over your head.

It's very sweaty and kind of smelly but you love it.

You hug her tightly. "Thank you, Leah!"

Pernille sees Magda's eye twitch in outrage.

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

[papayadays]

you’re doing it wrong

summary: lando x tennis player!reader - in which you’re fed up of your boyfriend playing padel - 1.7k words

a/n: as a tennis girly, pickleball and padel for me are triggers lol (i’m joking), but fr though, i love this! also i use a babolat pure aero if anyone was wondering (no one will, but whatever lmao)

warnings: none, just fluff

smau + real life

face claim: emma raducanu bc yes

y/nl/ntennis

y/nl/ntennis enjoying break, ready to be back in rome! 🧡 📸 landonorris

liked by wta, landonorris, and 7,138 others

big3stan so ready for rome open tbh, can’t wait for her to win!

liked by y/nl/ntennis

y/ntennis lmao not the evian ad

wtagirly ikr at least our girl’s making cash while playing piano

landonorris i feel neglected

y/nl/ntennis i was going to post you but then SOMEONE decided to play padel

gamesetace standing up for tennis 🙌 what a queen

papayagoals aww i love the orange heart for lando, y/n is  glowing!

liked by y/nl/ntennis

you stared at your boyfriend in disbelief. “since when did you want to start playing tennis?” you questioned with narrowed eyes, dubious.

“well,” lando started, scratching his neck. “mclaren saw your post, and then after the interview, they want to film a video of you and me playing tennis.” you rolled your eyes playfully at him.

“i knew you wouldn’t want to play voluntarily,” you scoffed. “you and your stupid padel. what’s next, pickleball?”

lando placed a hand over his heart. “wow, y/n, words hurt,” he pouted.

“truth hurts,” you deadpanned. “c’mon, why are playing everything except my favorite sport?” frowning, you gave him puppy eyes.

“ugh, fine,” lando sighed, caving like you knew he would. “i’ll try to enjoy it. you’re lucky i love you.” you clapped your hands together happily.

“then we need to pick out outfits!” you cheered, making lando groan. “oh shush, you dress all fancy for golf. hell, you even made a golf quadrant line.” that shut him up.

you picked out some of his golf clothes that were suitable for tennis, and then you changed into a nike set of a top and shorts since they were your sponsor. you tossed lando a hat and grabbed a visor after putting your hair up into your signature braid.

as you grinned in the mirror, lando leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek. “i love you in your tennis outfits,” he smiled.

when your mouth curled up into a smirk, he realized his mistake. “well, if you played tennis with me more often, you’d get to see it more,” you responded.

“i set myself up for that one, didn’t i, love?” lando muttered, pecking your lips. you gave him an innocent shrug, as if you had no clue what he was talking about.

“anyways,” you said, grabbing your babolat bag and tying your nike sneakers. “let’s go. don’t want to keep mclaren waiting.”

«⁂»

when you arrived at the courts, you beamed at the filming crew. “wow, i love these courts, mclaren chose well,” you gushed.

“thanks,” the cameraman nodded. “i’m luke, and that’s bill.” you nodded at them, shaking their hands. after, they turned on the camera, not wanting to miss a single moment.

“it’s a lovely day,” you smiled. “perfect conditions, nice hard courts, what more can you ask for?”

lando snorted. “barely five minutes in and y/n has already started geeking out,” he commented, facing the camera.

“as if you wouldn’t geek out if someone mentions f1,” you retorted, playfully swatting his arm as you took out your racquet, a babolat pure aero. you handed your boyfriend one of your many racquets as he scrunched his nose up in disdain.

“do i have to use the same as yours?” lando frowned, making you roll your eyes.

“yes, your majesty,” you replied sarcastically. “it’s the only model i have because that’s how tennis works.”

“damn, no need to come at me, sweetheart,” lando responded evenly, a sweet smile on his face. you scoffed, a smile faintly on your lips. he knew that you couldn’t stay mad with that pet name.

“okay, so let’s warm up first,” you explained to the camera. “i do some jumping jacks, high knees, side shuffles, karaoke step, and some footwork drills as well as stretching out my upper body.” you pointed at lando. “follow what i do.”

“yeah, yeah, boss me around, why don’t you,” he mumbled, but a mischievous grin stayed on his face.

first, you did some jumping jacks, high knees, and light cardio exercises. then, you turned around and faced the net as you side shuffled. “lando, c’mon,” you sighed as you turned back, seeing his gaze snap up to meet your eyes, a light blush tinged on his cheeks as he gave you a smug look, knowing damn well what he was doing. from one doubles sideline to the other, you two side shuffled before transitioning into karaoke step. “here, i’ll go slow, lan. follow me, and don’t fall.” you slowly stepped over, letting lando copy you before speeding up.

“how?” lando asked, shocked. “you don’t fall over?”

“tennis players need really good footwork,” you told him, stretching out your arms and back. “alright, i think we’re ready to start with half-court.” you picked up your racquet, grabbing a ball and bouncing it on the strings.

“wait,” lando said to luke. “can you pause real quick, mate?” you gave him a confused look as he leaned down towards you, eyes wide with anxiousness. “promise you won’t judge me or anything if i’m really bad.” then it all clicked for you.

“so that’s why you won’t play with me?” you asked, expression softening at his genuine fear.

“i- yeah,” lando nodded, seeing no point in denying it. “i know how much love tennis, but if i’m really bad, i dunno, i just thought that maybe you’ll see me differently.”

“aww, baby,” you cooed, resting your hand on your boyfriend’s cheek. “i’ll love you no matter what. you could be the worst tennis player in the world and i’d still love you. and you’ll do great. tennis is a hard sport, so obviously no one can get it on the first try. but i love you, lan. not how well you hit balls.” he raised an eyebrow at your wording, but leaned into your touch.

“thanks, y/n,” he smiled, pecking your lips. “i love you more.” he turned back to the camera crew only for his jaw to drop in utter shock. “you were recording the whole time?” your hand flew to your mouth, laughter erupting as you watched lando’s eyes widen in panic.

“babe, they- i can’t believe it,” you wheezed, clutching your stomach. “oh my god, this is amazing.”

“now the whole freaking world is going to know what just happened,” lando whispered, glaring at your laughter. “whatever, let’s just play.”

you showed lando the basics: forehand, backhand, and the motions, guiding him through it. his cheeks were pink from your constant grip on his arm, showing him the swing. soon, he was able to get the tennis balls over the net. “that’s it, lan!” you cheered as he hit another one over. “now we can rally.”

you walked to the other side, gently feeding a half court forehand. you watched as he hit it back, a proud smile on your face as you hit a backhand, careful not to put spin on it. “hey, i think i got the hang of this,” lando grinned before promptly hitting the ball into the net. “dammit, i jinxed it.”

“don’t worry,” you smiled. “let’s go full court now.” the two of you hit a few, lando picking the skills up very quickly. you showed him your serve and decided to use more force, smirking as the ball sailed past him.

while you two took a water break, luke and bill told you that mclaren had also gotten a ball machine, making your face brighten. “really?” you exclaimed. “that’s perfect!”

you brought the machine out, setting it up before you stood on the opposite side of the net, bouncing on your toes. it fed out balls as you hit them with your full match-level power, lando’s eyes widening at the speed. after the machine ran out of balls, you headed back to them, wiping the sweat of your face with a sweatband.

“babe, that was incredible,” lando told you, wrapping an arm around your waist. “how do you hit it so fast?”

“training,” you deadpanned. “now, you think you had enough for today?” lando gave you a nod.

“yeah, today was nice, as much as i hate- ow! i mean, as much as i love to admit that you’re right, tennis was actually pretty cool,” he answered, rubbing the spot on his ribs where you had elbowed him. “maybe we’ll have to play again sometime soon.” your mouth stretched into a victorious grin as you turned to the camera.

“you heard it right here, everyone,” you said with a smug expression. “lando norris is a tennis fan now. thanks to mclaren for doing this, and hopefully see you next time!”

“that’s a wrap!” bill nodded as you started packing your things up.

“thanks for giving it a try,” you beamed at lando. “it means a lot.”

“you’re welcome,” lando replied with a cheeky grin. “also, i’ve decided. i’m going to watch you in rome. i mean, i’ll be in imola for the race anyways, so i can be there.” your face brightened.

“you mean it?” when he nodded, you pumped your fist. “it’s been so long since you’ve come to one of my matches. ooh, i need to introduce you to everyone. thanks, lan.” you slipped your hand in his, smiling as you walked back

y/nl/ntennis

y/nl/ntennis we did it!! landonorris has been converted into a tennis fan 💞 new mclaren video spilling the details 🤭

liked by landonorris, mclaren, and 9,625 others

landonorris yeah yeah 💖💖

lanpastry pls they’re so cute 🤧

mclaren thank you for the content! 🧡

y/nfan OMG THE VIDEO GUYS, IT’S TOO CUTE

papayaorange that sweet moment was too much, i’m sleeping on the highway tonight

formulerone and not lando getting exposed by mclaren - “you were recording the whole time?”

landynando lando actually playing tennis was not on my bingo card

forzafans NOT THE LAST PIC HELP 💀

wimbledumb REAL LIKE BRO TOOK THE PADEL PERSONALLY

wta  new tennis power couple?

novakthegoat wta what are you doing here 😭😭

y/nl/ntennis lmao i wish, alex and katie would have nothing on us

katiecboulter oh really? are you sure about that?

cocogauff aww cute 😍

landonorris help y/n i don’t know anyone

y/nl/ntennis oh my god do you not watch tennis at all?

landonorris no? who do you think i am? i only watch your matches 🫶

y/nl/ntennis baby steps ig ily lan 🧡

#papayadays #f1 #lando norris #ln4 #formula 1 #papaya writes #mclaren #lando norris imagine #lando x you #lando norris x reader #lando x y/n #lando x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando imagine #mclaren f1 #f1 fanfic

[prettyprettypaci2]

Drool - Part 6

💊 Part 1 💊 Part 2 💊 Part 3 💊 Part 4 💊 Part 5 💊

"Hello, best friend! I really missed you!"

Even though the pink unicorn plushie is being bounced up and down in front of you, the forced baritone voice is most certainly not coming from Honey Horn.

"Come on, cutie butt! Give me a biiiiiiiiiig hug!"

A thumb and forefinger spread the unicorn's front legs wide, inviting you to snatch it between the pink balled mittens that have replaced your hands since you first checked into this clinic. You suckle cautiously on the fat pacifier that is tightly secured to your mouth with the pink leather strap. Something in your muscle memory is prompting you to grab the toy and pull it close. It's not unlike the urge to tic that you've fought your whole life.

You raise your eyes up to the figure dangling Honey Horn before you like a marionette. Her straight, shoulder-length hair is the same brown color as the frames of her stylish glasses. She appears to be in her 30s, and a genuine smile radiates from her beautifully made-up face. This could only be Dr. Amelia.

You lift your arms partway, feeling a sheet of drool slide from the shield of your pacifier onto your white cloth bib, then spare a glance at the two young women who are playing on the floor of Dr. Amelia's office. Emma, with braces on her legs and shaggy dark hair that covers her eyes, is back to absent-mindedly knocking plastic cars around on the rug. Every time she bends forward or crawls, you hear the distinctive crinkle of a diaper under her denim dress. She's stopped paying attention to you completely, resigned to what she believes to be her permanent fate.

In contrast, her blonde companion Daisy seems very interested in you. She pulls at her braid and watches you intensely, suckling her own blue pacifier aggressively. You notice her puffy diaper growing yellow as her stunning eyes drill into your own from across the room. She seems to have lost all self-awareness as she waits for your reaction to Dr. Amelia's strange game.

"Awwww, pleeeeeeeeeease?" Dr. Amelia mimics a childish drawl and nuzzles Honey Horn's snout into your face. The soft material tickles your nose, and you stifle an unplanned giggle as you scrunch up your face and shake your head. "Don't be shy! I'm here to help the doctor make you allllllll better."

You close your eyes, hoping to ground yourself and make sense of everything that's happened to you. You shiver at the feeling of your own sodden diaper squished flat against the floor like a pancake. Your cloth bib, swapped out less than an hour ago for a fresh one, is already heavy with the fluid that drains pathetically from behind your bobbing pacifier. Emma's words dance through the folds of your mind in a childish sing-song, like that of the cartoons that play incessantly in your bedroom.

🎵 We're here forever. We're here forever. We're here forever. 🎵

Before the thought occurs to you to just stand up and leave -- to run out of the clinic and find help -- you realize you've already scooped Honey Horn into your arms. The spit on your bib soaks into the pink unicorn's stuffing, but your plushie feels warm and soft and safe. You glance over at Daisy, whose pacifier is now pumping so furiously in her mouth, you wonder if she could break her jaw.

"Good!" Dr. Amelia claps her hands together in triumph, dropping the fake masculine voice she had used to speak through Honey Horn. Satisfied at your passive acceptance of the toy, she rolls out an office chair from behind her desk and delicately folds one high-heeled leg over the other. The professionalism of the doctor's desk area stands in stark contrast to the bizarre daycare theme of the rest of her office.

"Now then," Dr. Amelia grins, taking inventory of her three pathetic patients sprawled on the floor in front of her. "I'd like to thank our newest patient for joining us. Tics -- especially destructive ones like biting and scratching -- are a challenging problem to treat. My sister Heather is a psychologist. She'd tell you the problem lives in your brain." Dr. Amelia points to her own head with a French-tipped nail, as though assuming you need help understanding where that is.

"I agree," she goes on. A sidelong glance tells you Emma isn't bothering to pay attention, while Daisy remains unshakably fixated on you. "But the brain isn't just living alone in a jar, handing out orders that your body follows. It's hungry for information! Gobble gobble gobble!" She reaches forward and pushes Honey Horn's snout into the crook of your neck, as though your plushie were munching on you. Despite yourself, you gurgle at the ticklish feeling, and let some fresh, sloppy drool bubble out from your pacifier.

"Your brain loves advice! It asks your body for help to make decisions all the time! Everything your brain knows about the world, it learns through your eyes, your ears -- and your head, shoulders, knees and toes!" Dr. Amelia squeezes the tip of your pink jelly sandal, playfully pinching the big toe. "So how do we stop the biting and scratching? We can't just tell Mr. Brain to cut it out! We need your body to help by sending it all the right signals!"

Dr. Amelia gestures around the room, filled with plastic cookware, giant foam blocks, strange books and bizarre toys. "Every object in this room is a medical device, designed to retrain your body on how to talk to your brain! By improving your motor skills, coordination, and muscle control, you'll find that your tics have less control over you! It may eventually help with your bladder failures as well."

Your bulging cheeks turn scarlet, and you shake your head back and forth furiously. You DON'T have bladder problems! You were FORCED into diapers after you checked in!

"Hmm? You don't think so?" Dr. Amelia coos, interpreting your swiveling head as a rejection of her methods. "I think you'll come around! We'll start with something simple..."

She reaches behind her desk and, with a jumbling clatter, presents a giant pink bulb of plastic on a thin handle that resembles a rattle.

"This device is designed to recalibrate your brain's input from vertical motion of the upper extremit -- I'm sorry, that's all doctor talk. The important thing is that you keep it moving so that you hear the noise. As much as you can, for as long as you can!"

Within five minutes, you're left sitting with your legs spread out on the floor, your swollen diaper bulging beneath your pink t-shirt. The handle of the rattle is cupped between the two fat balls of your fingerless mittens. After some coaxing and correction, you burn with humiliation as you pump your arms up and down, practically bouncing on the seat of your diaper as you try to keep the plastic beads in the rattle bouncing and singing.

Up! Down. Up! Down. Up! Down.

Once Dr. Amelia is satisfied that you intend to continue the exercises, she clicks over to the rug to have a private word with Emma. Daisy hasn't taken her eyes off you since Nurse Molly brought you to this room. You try to ignore her as you stupidly shake the rattle, but after a minute, the pretty blonde starts crawling over to you on all fours.

You're not sure what to say or how to greet her, since you both have pacifiers strapped to your lips. It doesn't seem like introductions are necessary as Daisy reaches out a hand and places it on the front of your soaked diaper. You try to squirm away from the uninvited contact, but Daisy only pushes harder. You feel her fingers probe the squishy padding, stimulating you in a strange and unexpected way. You're forced to drop the rattle as she continues moving in, pushing you onto your back and hovering above you on her hands and knees. A thick, creamy string of drool oozes from behind her pacifier, joining your own drool on the front of your bib. You're helpless as she continues to fondle your diaper, her eyelashes fluttering, her suckling growing fast and loud...

Something feels funny.

Something feels good.

"Not again! What are you doing with Daisy?"

😳

#diaper pee #ab dl lifestyle #diaper gal #diaper sissy #diaper training #diapered247 #ab dl diaper #ab dl mommy #diaper dependent #diaper bulge

[em1e]

intro | introductions to the younger sano siblings.

⿻ mini series ft. you dating shinichiro and whatever chaos that comes from that !! ✕ cute fluff !! ♡ series m.list

“they’re kinda rowdy and judgmental, don’t be too hurt if they don’t take to you well.” shinichiro’s warnings have your footsteps slowing to a stop, causing you to tug on his hand when you don’t keep in stride with him. 

“do you think they won’t like me?” you ask, a small frown forming on your face. 

he scrunches his nose in thought, pulling you towards him to close any distance between the two of you, “i think they’ll love you, once they get to know you.” he settles for, kissing your forehead when your frown doesn’t dissipate, “it’ll be fine. they just have to get used to the idea of me bein’ with someone.” 

another kiss to your forehead, and then he’s tugging you forward towards the home he’s snuck you into more than once during the late hours of the night. 

when he pushes open the door, mikey’s holding a doll over emma’s head while standing on the couch, in the middle of sticking his tongue out at his sibling and freezing when he realizes the door is opening. 

emma’s teary-eyes are quick snap to who’s walking through the foyer, crying seeming to start with new vigor when she realizes it’s her beloved older brother. 

“niisan,” she sobs out, disregarding the way mikey hops from the couch and hides the toy behind his back, “niisan, mikey took my doll and won’t give it back.” she managed out, pulling on your boyfriend’s arm and sniffling when him moving reveals you. you offer a small wave, and she acknowledges you with an equally tiny wave back. 

“mikey?” shinichiro’s voice is a warning, gaze meeting his brother’s.

“who’s that?” mikey’s quick to deflect, nodding his head towards you. 

but shinichiro knows his brother well enough to know it’s just a ploy to get out of being in trouble. still, it’s a nice opportunity to introduce you to the two of them, so he pushes you forward by the small of your back. 

“this is (y/n), my partner. do you have emma’s toy?” 

the eight year old doesn’t falter, still holding his hands behind his back, “that’s a nice name. you’re too pretty to be with my brother.” 

“mikey.” shinichiro’s word is sharp, leaving mikey’s shoulder’s to deflate and offer emma the toy with a pout. 

“we were just playing around.” 

“‘playing around’ shouldn’t leave her crying like that,” shinichiro chastises when emma walks back to mikey to snatch the toy from his hands, sticking her tongue out at him and giving one more sniffle while wiping her eyes. 

your boyfriend leads you further into the house as emma’s sniffles settle to something less, the seven year old offering the toy to you with a small smile. it’s a tiny bear, you realize upon inspection, and she grabs your hand to bring you towards the couch and show you every minute detail about the plush. 

“they’re nice,” emma says when shinichiro comes back after he’s driven you home, “and pretty.” 

“too nice and pretty.” mikey’s eyes narrow accusingly, arms crossing over his chest, “you’re not paying them, are you?” 

it feels like daggers are being stabbed in his chest, appalled his dear siblings don’t believe he can pull someone as great as you. still, he holds his chin high, pretends he isn’t as hurt as he is. “i’m not. they are dating me because they like me-” 

mikey mumbles, “shocker.” 

“-and i’m happy to hear you guys like them too.” he pats both of their heads with a smile to emphasize this, and mikey huffs. 

“i still don’t believe you.” 

“you don’t have to.” shinichiro shrugs, “but we have been dating for eight months.” eight months, two weeks, and four days, but who’s really counting. 

mikey’s eyes widen at this, and emma pulls his arm with a whine, “why’d you wait so long for us to meet them?” 

“how do they stand you for longer than three weeks?” mikey counters, earning him a flick to the forehead from the eldest sano. 

“wanted to make sure it’d be the right time - and you do not have to be so mean to me."

#sano shinichiro x reader #shinichiro sano x reader #shinichiro x reader #sano shinichiro #shinichiro sano #sano x reader #salmon rowe #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #x reader

[sunshinesteviee]

emma omg omg pushing strands of their hair out of their face with steeb pls and thank u ily forever 🫶🏼

kait!!! omg ilyt this is for u MWAH 🫶🏼

-

Your boyfriend is beautiful. His soft hazel eyes, his pretty nose, the most kissable lips, the cute little moles dotting his cheek. Everything about him is just gorgeous. It’s unfair, actually, just how pretty he is. You could stare at him all day long, if he’d let you, but no matter how confident he can be, he still gets shy under your gaze, so you have to be sneaky about it. But sometimes, you just can’t help yourself.

The best time of day — your favorite time of day — is when you wake up before him, warm yellow light spilling in through curtains, and he’s still fast asleep beside you, cheek pressed into his pillow. He always looks so peaceful, so innocent, with his lips parted, his soft, wavy hair falling into his face. He’s perfect.

Scooting in closer to Steve’s sleeping figure, you snuggle into his chest, leaving just enough room to still admire him. From the close angle, you can count each of his long lashes, trace the freckles and moles that dust across his cheeks. A lock of dark hair curls around his ear, another twisting down his neck, disappearing beneath the blanket, even more falling into his face. It’s been a while since he’s had a haircut, and it’s getting long and shaggy.

Fingers tracing down the length of his neck, you twist a soft wave around your pointer finger gently. It wasn’t your intention to wake him up, but he groans softly, nose scrunching up as his eyes flutter open after a moment. You grimace your apology, though he can hardly see with how slowly he’s blinking, eyes still heavy with sleep. Cupping his stubbly cheek in your soft hand, you murmur, “G’morning, Stevie. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Mm,” he manages to grunt in response, not angry or annoyed, just still half-asleep. His body curls towards yours, an arm searching for your waist as his nose pushes into the crook of your neck, breathing deeply, “mornin’.”

“Sleep well?” you ask softly, the hand not on his cheek rubbing a gentle line up the curve of his spine.

“Mhm, good,” he breathes out, lips pursing into a light kiss against your neck. “How ‘bout you, baby?”

“Me too,” you reply, moving in closer than you already are, a leg hitching up over his hip to press your torso to his. You’re both on his pillow now, huddled together on his side of the bed. All of your senses are filled with Steve. His smell, his warmth, his strong arm holding your waist, his heartbeat, his sleepy eyes meeting yours.

A lazy smile tugs at the corners of Steve��s lips as your eyes meet. It’s so soft, it nearly makes you melt into the bedsheets right then and there. Sometimes you’re not sure you deserve the softness. The love that Steve always looks at you with. The utter adoration for you that seeps from him, even in this half-awake state. Your hand slides up his back, tangling into the hair at the nape of his neck, running the soft strands between your fingers. You want him to know just how much you love him, too, but you’re not sure how to say it, not so early in the morning. You hope he can feel it.

It’s quiet for a few minutes as you lay with each other, all soft touches and gentle kisses, quiet whispers as the sun rises further into the sky, spilling bright light into your room. You sigh loudly after a while, knowing you need to get up, and Steve, finally more awake, pulls his face from your neck to really see you. He gives you one of his gorgeous, heart-stopping smiles, and nudges the tip of his nose against yours, “I’ll make ya coffee, honey.”

The long, wispy hair hanging in his face brushes against your forehead, tickling you slightly and causing your eyes to close, nose scrunching up. Giggling, you reach up to push your hands into his hairline, pushing all of it out of his face. He looks a bit silly, but still so handsome. “Mm, yes please.”

He shakes free of your grasp, hair falling into his face once again, an over-dramatic pout gracing his lips, “Okay, well I’m not going to make you any if you’re just going to tease me, baby.”

“Sorry,” you rush to apologize, a smile still tugging at your lips as, this time, you delicately push a few strands of hair out of his face, tucking them behind his ear, “‘m sorry. You’re so pretty it hurts, Stevie.”

A soft pink blooms on Steve’s cheeks. His eyes roll, but there’s the hint of a smile at the corners of his lips, “Yeah, okay, whatever.”

“I’m serious!” you reply, a deep frown creasing the space between your eyebrows, “Y’so pretty, Stevie. Prettiest boy this side of town, no question.” You sweep more hair back out of his face, pressing little kisses to his nose, his cheeks, the moles dotting his skin, anywhere you can reach.

Steve all but giggles, face scrunching up as he leans into your touch. “Stop,” he says in a way that clearly means keep going, cheeks somehow even pinker as he pushes his face back into the crook of your neck to hide.

You giggle with him, cradling the back of his head as your fingers continue to card through his hair, “My handsome, beautiful, hot boyfriend and his ridiculously soft hair. Love you.”

“You’re just jealous of my hair,” he mumbles into your skin with a loud huff, and you can practically feel the eye roll he’s giving you. “Love you, too, though, pretty girl. Still want that coffee?”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #sunshinesteviee #blurbs #steve blurbs

[sssilverstoned]

sympathy for the devil ꩜ cl16

type: fluff? besties to lovers? let's say that. a friend is done dirty but is she really a friend? debatable. flashbacks, angst-ish (a guilty conscience is always a great outfit addition, no?)

word count: 4.6k

warnings: language, suggestive but no smut (finger sucking. i was in a mood,) charles is a reformed cheater, so let's say some moral ambiguity all around

lily said: hello hello! welcome to the inner workings of my hyper fixation on summer romances and a couple of bestieeeees who should just be a couple. now that this guy is out the way, i'd love to formally open requests! a drabble, fic, oneshot, hit my line ! we can get into the details of who i do and don't write for later <3

You are not a terrible person. You're not even a bad person, truly. It's something you repeat to yourself like a mantra as you look away from Charles's side profile across the long table.

He's looking like summertime, soft like an afternoon nap, but sharp like a stinging on your skin from too many 5 more minutes called from the patio. His neck is elongated slightly, trying to hear Joris's story over Mirabel's loud laughter. When he leans like that, you can see a peak of the remnants of the hickey you sucked into his pale skin the evening before. Your stomach hurts.

Charles's own nose is red, he's scrunching it on occasion like no one will notice his discomfort, and his necessity for aloe vera. You've packed it in your bag because you know he wouldn't have. He knows to ask you for it later.

You excuse yourself from the long table, your dinner in front of you looking great, but you were nowhere near hungry. When you push your chair back to stand, it makes a low noise against the floor of the garden, and his head whips to you immediately.

It was your friend group's traditional holiday you were gathered for, an annual week at Mirabel's family home right on the water. 4 girls and 5 boys, room assignments remaining relatively static throughout the years. There was that one year Clara and Sammy shared a room, but, as both of them would easily say, it wouldn't be happening again.

"Everything okay, y/n/n?" Peter asks from your diagonal, which makes more heads turn to your now standing figure. You let out an uncomfortable huff, disguised as a laugh. Charles can read you like his favorite book.

Your linen dress clings to your body, yet flows off you effortlessly. He remembers seeing it on a hook in your room, wondering how it would look on your figure when he pretended to not watch you change tops. Reality was always better than fantasy, this he knew for certain.

"I'm alright, just chilly. Want to grab my sweater."

"I'll go with you, want to charge my phone anyway," Emma smiles up at you from her seat, standing up as well.

Charles follows your figure with your eyes until you disappear into Mirabel's villa, then continues to pretend to be listening to whatever Peter has begun rambling about.

"Did you see the way he and Oliver left the pantry in disarray this morning?" Emma's practically hissing her disdain, her shorter legs pumping overtime to catch your gait. You were hoping she couldn't.

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Charles," she gags. "Tried to cook breakfast, and of course it was shit. Can't believe you didn't know."

You did, you helped him clean it up.

"I feel like it's quite hard to burn oatmeal," you snort, scrubbing the pot.

"Too much sugar in the pot, I suppose. That's how you make yours, yes? With brown sugar?"

You look back at him from where he was leaning against the counter, watching you help him fix his mess. Oliver had cleaned up the spilled flour on the floor of the pantry, then ran out to get pastries from a bakery before the rest of the villa woke up and threatened his life.

"Surprised you remember how I like my breakfast," you say.

"Why?" he asks, cocking his head. "I know a lot about you."

You click your tongue, suddenly shy under his intentional gaze. Your focus is back on the pot, and a stubborn clump of congealed oats. Charles peers around the kitchen quickly, before coming up behind you, a large hand circling your waist.

"How did you sleep? I realize I didn't ever ask," He drops a kiss to the crown of your head when he finishes speaking, and your breath hitches. Not with love or affection, but with a strike of fear, almost. It was an open air kitchen, and while everyone seemed to be sleeping in, you never really could know who may be stirring about.

"Slept fine. Kept the windows open," you shared a room with Clara on these trips, you two were always the closest of the girls growing up and never minded sharing. She didn't say anything when you came in at 2 am with mussed hair and swollen lips, and you were grateful for it.

"You could have stayed, Joris didn't come in until late."

You finally bristle, dropping the pot onto the drying rack. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that."

You turn in his grasp, eyebrows frayed in the middle of your face. He hates when you look at him like this. "Y/n, we're not children anymore. We're two consenting adults."

"Emma will hate me."

"And is that worth your happiness? Whether or not your friend, who you aren't that close to, by the way, is mad at you?"

"You cheated on her, Charles."

You clear your throat as you blink away the memory. Emma scoffs again at the thought of Charles. "He even had the gall to come out on the patio at the same time as me this afternoon."

"Everyone was on the patio, Emma," you level, already getting irritated with her tone. She irritated you often, Charles wasn't necessarily wrong about your lack of proximity to her. She was always a bit bratty, but had too much history with the group to be left behind, no matter how much she seemed to irk everyone. "You can't expect him to walk on eggshells around you, he's still a part of the group."

Emma stops walking, but you keep pace. "Are you defending a cheater, y/n?" You're glad you didn't stop.

Your eye twitches, and you're glad that she can't see it. This conversation was draining you, yet it's barely started, and already, it's over. She did this nearly every time they were in the same vicinity, and it was getting old. Or maybe, it was the guilt that you were fucking her ex-boyfriend.

It was a mistake that they dated in the first place. He had just broken up with his long term girlfirend, someone you all never seemed to get along with, and Emma's eyes were always slightly googly for the boy. Her attention was more palpable, and better received, than the rest. So they began to fool around, began to hold hands a bit more at group dinners. You heard her say 'boyfriend' much more than he did, though.

The cheating was a bit egregious, even for Charles. For the sake of everyone's friendships, his romance with her was kept under wraps, the superiority of a professional PR team apparent over gossip columns and nosy fans. It was the nosy fans, unfortunately, that had found Charles in a club somewhere in Italy with his tongue down some model's throat.

She cried, shouted, did everything but rip her own hair out at the photos that surfaced. Perhaps it hurt her most that people were excited to see Charles with the woman, finally seen with someone that wasn't an engineer or Vasseur. They didn't know about her, and frankly, they never would. She was never terribly important to Charles, everyone knew that, and now she did too.

The group had moved on, sans Emma. No one really made fusses about it in the first place, their relationship running its course over only about 3 months. The boys saw it coming and, well, the girls had warned her. A rebound was always obvious to those watching.

The worst part, the part that made you feel so ill all the time, is Charles wanted to be yours, and you wanted to be anywhere but the villa.

You grab your sweater off of the chair at the vanity mirror in your room, bristling at the chill coming from the open window you had left during the night, and now day. You hear the laughter of your friends, of Peter shouting over Oliver, and Charles laughing from his belly. You hate that you can tell his laughter from the rest.

When you sit back down at the table, Clara waits for you to scoot your chair back in and place the napkin in your lap. "You lost her inside, eh?"

You crack a smile, Clara was your most blunt, and funniest, friend. "Had to, lest I hear about Charles's trespasses again."

Clara chuckles into her wine glass. "If only she knew."

In a lowered voice, you turn closer to her. "I think she may actually lose her mind if she found out, Clara."

She rolls her eyes. "Find out what? That you two are obsessed with each other, yet you won't take him seriously? That she was collateral? Shit happens."

"That's not what this is."

"Please. He'd marry you tomorrow if given the opportunity, y/n. Deep down, she knows that was never her anyway."

When you look back up at Charles, he's already looking at you, looking so endearing that you have to look back down at your chicken and roasted vegetables. You're still not hungry.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

It happened quickly, but the buildup seemed to make it inevitable. You were always a friend of the leclercs, your mother's growing an affinity for each other when you were quite young. You grew up alongside the boys, Charles always having a soft spot for you in particular. Charles escorted you every time your father hosted a gala, and voluntarily was your designated driver on nights out. One in particular, 6 months ago, sealed fates.

"Charlie, just take one shot."

"If I take a shot, I won't be driving," he laughs at you, looking at you with little twinkles in his eyes. He and Emma had just finally broken up, the past 3 months couldn't be categorized as anything but odd. After they had notified the group, in their own respective ways, you had seemed to have gotten your fun loving, a tad awkward, but always down for what you were plotting, Charlie back. He had agreed in a heartbeat to meet you and Clara at the club. It makes you grin.

"That's fine, uber exists. Have fun for once, please?" You pout, tequila speaking for you. Everything was already a bit hazy, much funnier than normal, and less serious.

"Yeah, come on Chaaaarlie," Clara giggles knowingly. He'd do anything if you asked for it, this was a fact.

With a shake of his head and faked disdain, he downs the shot, hears your cheers, and suddenly, one shot is seven and you're both screaming the lyrics to an old Fergie song that blasts through the speakers.

Heels were a bad, but stunning, idea. You felt cute and confident, but by the time you had stopped dancing like a mad person to get a drink of water, the balls of your feet began to throb.

"Please don't take your shoes off in this place," Charles begs.

"Don't be my father," you frown. "My feet hurt."

"Your feelings will be what's hurting when someone steals these off the section couch," he points to your feet, and there was a touch of validity. They were Jimmy Choos, after all, and cost more than you could comprehend. Charles often went overboard on your birthday gifts.

"I'll take that risk."

"I'll hold them."

"You won't," you say with a laugh, used to his dramatics. But he shocks you, gingerly picking them off the couch and holding them on his index and middle finger.

"Charlie, put my shoes down."

"I will do no such thing."

Somehow, somewhere between promising Clara you'd text her when the uber dropped you and Charles off at his place, helping him get the key into the lock of his door, and sitting on his kitchen island, Charles finds himself in between your legs, staring into your eyes that had glitter and mascara surrounding them.

It wasn't normal of "best friends" to be around each other like this. He knew that. He hadn't wanted to be just your best friend in a while though, but having you in that capacity was better than nothing at all. Especially when he had seemingly bounced from one girlfriend to the other, and deep down, he knew it was because he was bored. They weren't you, no matter how much imitation was attempted. Perhaps the only person who was aloof to his truest desires, was you.

"You looked very pretty tonight, y/n/n."

"You looked dashing yourself," you wink, "the girls in there told you that though, no?"

He rolls his eyes. "That wasn't anything. Just fans, same shit as usual."

"You usually are being hit on by pretty girls, is what you're saying?" You continue to tease. Charles can't stand your smart mouth sometimes, especially how much he can't help but love it.

"To be fair, I don't really notice. I'm always looking at you, anyway."

You don't have a response for that. He's never said it outright, never crossing the line. But now he has, and there's no going back.

"Charles, you just broke up with Emma."

"I know,"

"You cheated on her."

"I know,"

"I'm your best friend."

His turn to grin. "I know."

In a fashion completely unlike you, throwing caution to the wind felt like the only option, pulling him in with your legs, locking around the back of his waist, lips pressed onto his, hair between your fingers. He tastes like tequila and mint gum, like the things you regret yet adore. He wonders if this means the same to you as it means to him.

When you wake up in his bed, makeup removed and your favorite shirt of his draped over your body, you inhale deeply when you feel the familiar soreness stretching through your lower half, and the weight of his arm roped around your body. Now that you've gotten your taste, you weren't giving it up.

"Did you pack the aloe vera?" You hear him from your doorway, blinking back from yet another memory.

"'S in the bathroom, look in the blue toiletry bag," you call, not looking away from where you were taking your hooped earrings out in the mirror. It was a domestic encounter in a way, like a scene taken out of context 20 years from now. Maybe one day, you'd be on holiday with a family of your own, enjoying silence once your kids were asleep after playing in the water all day. Maybe you'd be actually sharing a room, instead of whatever the fuck this was.

"You seemed off at dinner, everything okay?" Charles asks, rubbing the gel on his soon-to-be-peeling nose.

"Fine," you shrug, turning back to look at him, and not just his reflection. "Just wasn't so hungry. And cold, like I said."

He chuckles a little to himself. "I could tell," he nods with his head down to your chest. Your nipples had pearled, and supposedly, had been pearled, and were obvious through the thin fabric of your fitting dress.

"Jesus Charles," you berate, turning back to your mirror. "You're ridiculous."

"I'm a man," he corrects. "Who's seen what's under that dress and thinks it's a great sight. But I also like your mind and your personality and all that, of course." Idiot. He sits on your bed, making himself comfortable against the headboard as he watches you get ready for bed. Domesticity. "Will you be going back to Monaco after this?"

"No, visiting Clara's family in the states for a little."

He makes a discontent noise. "How long?"

"A week," you answer. "Miami."

"Fun, going to go out?"

"What is it to you?" You ask, half jokingly, half alerted by his series of questions.

He shrugs this time. "Care about you, want to know what your plans are. Is it a crime?"

"No, just makes me fear you're in love with me."

"I'm on my way to that, I tell you that all the time. And you make jokes because you know it's true."

You stand up from the vanity, looking at him with an expression that makes his heart hurt. It's that wounded puppy look, the way you used to look at Arthur when Charles would tell him to fuck off from trying to hang out with the two of you as teenagers.

"I don't really know what to say when you say those things." He stands up from your bed, meeting you where you stand in the middle of you and Clara's room. He still smells just like all your favorite aspects of summer, and that tired look in his eyes from a day of relaxation and release melts you. "I know I'm in my head."

"'S a good head to be in." He moves the strans of your hair that were falling over your forehead behind your ear, smoothing his fingers over your jawline until his fingers lift your chin. "That's better. Couldn't see your face."

"What is this, Charlie?" Your eyes search his, and he hates how scared you look. "Like, seriously. We, we fuck, we sleep in the same bed more than we don't."

"We always have done that, you've shared with Enzo and Arthur before too I'm sure."

"Don't be dense."

"I think that's just how I am, mon amour."

"Such a shithead," you mutter with a huff, annoyed with his smug expression. "I'm being serious. If sex is just what you want, or need, right now, I don't think I can do this anymore."

"It's much more than that to me, don't insult me," He no longer has a grin on his face, mouth turned much more stoic. "My actions precede me, yes," you withold commentary on that, "but I'd never do anything to hurt you, y/n/n. I care about you, think about you all the time, want you wherever I am, always."

A part of you thinks this is what you've always wanted to hear. A gorgeous, successful, personable man who you've grown to trust infallibly your whole life is 5 feet short of professing his love for you, and yet, you can't let yourself fully be happy. Because for the last 6 months, you've ducked and dodged your own friends, not wanting them to know about the two of you. He did cheat, for crying out loud. On someone you have baby photos with. No matter how annoying, or selfish, she comes off, Emma wasn't going anywhere in your life. And you'd be devastated if she did this to you, so he remained your dirty little secret.

"Am I interrupting?" Clara says teasingly from the doorway, a wine glass still in her hands. "Sorry, Mirabel wanted me to check on you."

You clear your throat and step away from Charles. "Not at all. Charlie's got a sun burn."

"Ah. You are pale," Clara notes. "Figures."

"Thanks, Clar."

"Still drinking?" You nod toward her glass. "Pour me one, will you?"

"Sure will." She turns, and you make to follow.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, I think."

"Y/n,"

"Not right now," you say firmly, "please?"

And you've got that withered look, that look that screams exhaustion. Guilt's gonna kill him one day, he's sure.

"Fine."

And with that, you head out the door, leaving Charles in your room, regretting not telling you how he felt about you when his girlfriend told him to. Before Emma took that mantle instead, and before you started looking at him like it was hard to do so.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

Sammy brings it up first, but the entirety of the day was the beginning of the end of secrecy.

The next day had been decided as a boat day, everyone prepared for another long day in the sun, this time on the open waves. The girls had all gone below deck, in search of champagne and a bottle opener, and Sammy and Charles were far enough from Oliver, Joris, and Peter for them to hear a conversation.

"I've got a question I think," Sammy asks. He makes an affirmative noise, head leaned back against the cushions of the lounger, sunglasses sliding down his still peeling nose. "Are you and y/n hooking up?"

Charles immeditely looks up at Sammy, mouth open in a scramble for the most believable way to say no. "No, ah, why would you say that?" oh dear.

"Mate," Sammy winces.

"Fuck me," Charles yanks the glasses off and wipes both hands over his face. He keeps them there when he asks, "how?"

"Leaving hickeys is one thing, her jewelry on your bedside table is another." The central heating unit for their floor was in Joris and Charles's room, Sammy did go to adjust it yesterday morning. Fuck. "Does Emma know?"

"No," Charles says quickly. "No. Y/n doesn't want anyone to."

Sammy quirks his mouth to the side. "Well, are you dating?"

"No,"

"Ah." Sammy looks out on the water, stewing over this confirmed theory of his. You all suddenly appear from inside, cheering with a bottle clutched in Emma's hand, you with the opener. When he looks back at Charles, he sees that even though all four of you stand there he's looking at you. This must be sympathy for the devil, Sammy thinks, because why else is he feeling bad for someone whose problem was multiple attractive women had feelings for him?

"Charlie, can you help?" you pout, unable to get the cork loose from the bottle. It was obvious you were tipsy, drunk even, you all had been drinking since the sun came up.

"Fucks sake y/n, use your arm!" Clara groans. Sammy looks back at Charles, willing him with his brain to not be at your beck and call for once.

"I've got it," Charles chuckles, like an idiot, if you ask Sammy. He pops it, a cheer coming from the group at the appearance of bubbles and spray. It gets all over his hands as he attempts to hold the bottle away from his body, and he shakes the excess off as the cheers continue. Oliver whisks the bottle away to be divied up between everyone's cups, and Charles goes inside to wash his hands off. You slink off behind him, unbeknownst to him, or the rest of your friends, except for Emma, whose interest is piqued by your sudden absences.

"Thanks for the help," your voice is sweet in the silence of the kitchenette.

His head whips to your figure, slightly startled by your presence. You're barefoot, a brown bikini only covering what's absolutely necessary to be covered. He can't tell if he loves it or he hates it. Your open button up shirt tossed on as a cover up intrigues him, because, is that his?

"Is that my shirt?" Charles repeats, out loud this time, eyes trained like heat seekers as you move close. His hands lay in the towel, champagne still dripping off his fingers. You've seemed to have distracted his process.

"No, but it seems like you would love it if it was."

He raises his shoulders. "You're welcome to them."

You hum, "good to know." You're looking at him like prey, it makes his throat dry and he's not sure what to say. You're always the bubbly one, the sunshine when he's being grumpy and difficult.

Charles lifts his hands from the towel that he still hasn't utilized yet, pushing his luck by placing a hand on your hip. He plays with the string on your right hip, fingers begging to untie the bow. "You only like talking to me when we're in kitchens, huh?"

He makes you laugh with that, or maybe it's the alchohol making you do it. "I always like talking to you. It's you that can't keep hands to yourself."

A hand slides up his chest, resting casually, yet his heart races faster. That familiar, warm feeling settles in his lower stomach, and he wills himself not to harden like a teenager. "We both have a problem with hands, I see."

You tilt your head in challenge. You pull his hand off of your hip and lift it, analyzing the digits still drenched in champagne. And to his utter surprise, you take his index finger into your mouth. The eye contact you hold as you do so has his mouth dropping open slightly in a daze, mind going to static as he feels the warmth and wetness, the pucker of your lips. You hum as you release his finger with a pop, licking your lips.

"Don't think I have a problem with your hands at all, Charles."

Charles, not Charlie. He's ruined.

How you saunter away after that leaves him gobsmacked, flustered, and most of all, hoping this boat would be docking soon.

꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜꩜

"I have an offer for you," is how you start the conversation. You're all showered, evening attire thrown on and awaiting the metaphorical dinner bell. The two of you plus Peter were sat out on the patio, and were left alone when Peter ran in to the bathroom for a moment.

"When I come back home, we should go on date."

Charles thinks he mishears you. "What?"

"A date, Charlie. You know, when two people who share a romantic interest go out toge-"

"Enough, smartass," He stops your condescension. "You would go on one with me?"

You take a deep breath. "Yeah, I would. I like you, and all that."

"And all that," he repeats. "What every man wants to hear."

"Do you want to go on the date or not?"

"I do, I really do. Have wanted to for a while, you know."

You smile softly, resting your head on the lounger. "I know."

"Dinner's ready," Emma comes out to announce. When she sees it's only the two of you, her expression changes slightly, something only you'd notice after years of experiencing emotions from her. "Where's Peter?"

"Bathroom," you answer easily. Emma looks at the two of you intently, and Charles turns towards the water, not really interested in making conversation with the woman who's profusely stated her aversion to him.

"Hm. Well, come down soon."

When she closes the glass doors, Charles all but laughs out loud. "What a nightmare."

"Your ex," you rebut, "can't believe that to this day. If you didn't like her, why'd you do it?"

"Because I didn't think I could have you."

His veins fill with regret when he says it, he knows its not fair. But it's true, you know it as well. "Well, no more collateral damage, then." You stand up from the lounger, brushing down your dress. "Pick a good restaurant for the date."

Dinner begins well, Mirabel telling stories and Oliver denying them all. It's when the laughter dies down after Joris recounts their last trip to Nice that things begin to slant.

"Y/n/n," Emma calls from down the table. You turn to her, as everyone does.

"Yeah, Em?"

"I just have been dying to know," she starts, clasping her hands under her chin. "How long have you and Charles been fucking?"

Peter chokes on his wine. The table is utterly silent, and everyone's face carries the same shocked expression. And, wow, you've pictured this moment dozens of ways and hundreds of times, but honestly, this one was rare form. But after everything, especially today, caution was once again to the wind.

"About 6 months," you calmly answer, reaching for your glass. "Give or take."

"You bitch," she hisses. "Are you not even ashamed of yourself?"

"Are you not going to address Charles in the slightest, or is it just y/n's fault that they have sex?" Clara asks, and Mirabel and Oliver can't help the snicker in their chests. Sammy takes another piece of salmon from the middle platter.

"Yes, I could have said something," you mull.

Emma looks around, utter disbelief on her face as it seems everyone's refusing to intervene on this one. You can't blame them, and those who did know, well, their wine glasses are filled.

Emma gets up from the table with a curse of Charles's name and a disgusted look your way, and Clara clears her throat.

"So, anyone have any recommendations for clubs in Miami?"

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff

[they-call-me-emmy]

Stars

JENNA ORTEGA X GN! CO-STAR READER

"Work buddies, that's all."

........................................................

Y/N POV:

God, you never expected to actually get the job. You'd auditioned almost for fun.

You were a small actor. usually played background characters, or main characters in lesser known movies. So when you signed up for Wednesday, season two, it was almost a joke.

Until you made it.

You'd been told only a month before shooting. Which, this alone shocked you deeply, as now you had to travel to Romania. What shocked you even more was the fact they didn't give you the role you had auditioned for.

They'd given you Wednesday's crush.

They told you it was a big role. One of the leads. You'd be an important character, so if you couldn't accept the role, tell them now.

So you accepted it.

......

Meeting Jenna Ortega was probably the most exciting moment of your life. She was excited to meet her partner for season two, and had come bounding up to you happily, headphones around her neck and a big smile on her face.

"I'm Jenna!" She told you excitedly. Her dimple was deep, her eyes sparkled with happiness.

"Y/N" you grin back, reaching out your hand to let her shake. She accepted it, your hands gracing each others, sending a spark through your arm.

"You're gonna be my crush in the show, right?!"

You nod, confirming her suspicions.

"Here, you can go over there to get a script. They want us to read them a lot, and if you need anything, I'll be in the make-up room." She told you, pointing to a table filled with stapled papers, and then to a room labeled "MAKEUP AND SPECIAL EFFECTS"

You nod again. "Thank you!"

"No problem!" She said, before skipping away. She must have had caffeine this morning, she'd never seemed this hyper in any interview or video you'd seen of her. She'd always seemed so laid back and chill.

Emma Myers suddenly stood next to you. You'd met you yesterday, and the two of you had quickly bonded. She read the confusion on your face easily.

"She definitely likes you." Emma stated, rolling her eyes.

"I would hope so, since we're working together for the next god knows how many months."

"No..." Emma sighed, facing you. "She LIKES you."

"No she doesn't!" you respond, scrunching your face up.

"She's never been that hyper in her life."

"She probably had coffee today." you tell Emma. "Like, a lot."

"She doesn't like coffee."

"Energy drinks."

"She has to maintain the sleep deprived Wednesday look anyways."

"Isn't she like, 20? No 20 year old I've ever met still leaps around because of a crush."

"She's 21." Emma sighs.

"We barely know each other."

............

"CUT!"

Jenna sighs, looking at you. "I swear, if we have to do this take one more time, someones losing their tongue."

"Woah!" You exclaim, tossing your hands up. "Don't go all Addams on me now, Ortega!"

She giggles and shakes her head. "I make no promises."

Time with Jenna was nice. You'd never thought a big-time celebrity like her would be fun to hang out with. You always thought they were work, 24/7.

But she was cool.

..................

"So...uhm, I was wondering if you'd...maybe you would...go...would you go to...to the cafe with me....like...the cafe with me...on a...on a...a date maybe?"

(Me speaking to my boyfriend be like)

You giggled, the actions reminding you of her scene last season where she had to ask out "Xavier".

"Yes Jenna, I would love to."

Like a scene straight out of a fucking show.

.............

"Hi Y/N!" She said, clutching herself tightly and smiling.

"Hi Jen!" You respond. She blushed, from the cold or the nickname, you couldn't tell.

She was wearing a brown jacket, her nose pink from cold. She had headphones around her neck and a smile on her face.

"So, the cafe..." She started. Pointing to a small shop, she said, "That way!" She quickly bounded off, leaving you in the dust.

"Jenna, wait!" You cry, quickly speeding after her. Luckily for you, she had short legs and you easily caught up with her.

Out of breath, you both stop in front of the cafe. The cold allowed you to breathe out puffs of chilly air. Jenna's cheeks were pink.

"We made it!" You mumbled, leaning forward and pushing the door open. You held it open and let her pass through.

"Thank you." She whispered to you as you followed her inside.

"No problem, m'lady." You joke, spotting a table for two and rushing to grab it.

You both sat down, facing each other.

"Do you wanna go order something...?"

Jenna nodded. "What do you want?"

"Uhm, just like a muffin or something."

She nodded, running into the line and shooting you a smile and a thumbs up.

You chuckle and wave back at her.

She orders and sits down at the table, handing you a muffin and seems to have bought herself a cookie.

"How much do I owe you?" You ask, taking a bite of your muffin.

"My treat." She whispers, wide eyed as she bit into her cookie.

....................

"I had fun today," Jenna said happily, skipping on the pavement.

"Me too," You chuckle. "We should do this more often."

She squeals and nods.

"Definitely!"

.......................

WOW MORE TRASH!

fuckn sucks ass bro

its okay tho because im 13 and suck at this shit.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega

[mynameismckenziemae]

Unbroken

Part 11

(previous part here, next part here)

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x You

Summary: More time goes by and Bradley moves in. You get some news that shocks you to your core.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Adult language and themes, pregnancy talk.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Sick again, sweetheart?” Bradley asks with a yawn as he stumbles into the bathroom. He rubs your back as you empty your stomach into the toilet.

“Yeah,” you moan as your stomach turns again. “Sorry I woke you up again.”

This is the fourth morning in a row you’ve woken up on your way to the bathroom covering your mouth. You both had the stomach flu a few weeks ago and Bradley’s back to normal but you haven’t felt right since.

“It’s okay, I had to get up anyway,” he murmurs, wetting a washcloth with cool water and wiping it over your forehead. “Maybe you should go to the doctor?”

You nod. “I think so too. I’ll call when they open.”

“Mmkay,” he replies, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “Let me know what they say.”

“I will,” you say, wiping your mouth and flushing the toilet once you close the lid. “Thanks.”

“For what?” He asks, crouching down to brush your hair off your neck to place the cool cloth there.

“Taking care of me when I’m sick,” you reply, closing your eyes as you remember the way Chet laughed and left you heaving on the ground the first time he got you drunk. “Not being grossed out by me emptying my guts the past few mornings.”

“I want to because I love you, Em,” he says, rubbing soothing circles on your back.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Once the nausea is at bay, he helps you to your feet and gets in the shower as you brush your teeth.

“We should be done by 4 today, and then I’m going to stop by the apartment to pick up the last of the boxes, but you can call me if you need anything. We’re just in the classroom today,” he says over the running water.

You had been meaning to ask him to move in for a while but didn’t know how to bring it up; but that was remedied when you blurt it out after a particularly good round of morning sex a few weeks ago.

“I will,” you say, heading back to the bedroom to lie down as another round of nausea hits.

Emma: Hey guys, I’m not feeling well again and I’m gonna make an appointment with my doctor when they open. Do you think one of you could see Akin’s new calf? That’s all I had on the schedule for today.

Gav: Of course, feel better.

Noah: No problem. Let us know how it goes.

Emma: Will do. Thanks guys. I appreciate it.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You snooze until Bradley leaves you with a kiss and a reminder to call the doctor.

You set an alarm and make an appointment for 10:00 AM and plan to have labs drawn beforehand.

Emma: Made an appointment for 10:00.

Bradley: Good, let me know how it goes. Love you.

Emma: I will. Love you too.

You drop a coffee off for Charlie on the way to the lab since the therapy department is connected to the hospital.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Charlie yawns before she takes a drink. “Jake kept me up way too late last night.”

“Gross,” you scrunch your nose. “Be careful what you say, I actually might throw up this time.”

“Stomach still bothering you?” She asks after she giggles.

“Yeah, it woke me up again this morning,” you reply, checking your watch. “I better go though, they want me to have labs drawn before the visit.”

“Let me know what they say,” she murmurs, hugging you.

“I will,” you reply, giving her a squeeze before letting her get back to work.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

By the time the doctor comes in, you’re feeling back to normal and feeling a little silly for making an appointment.

“Good morning, Emma,” your doctor smiles as she shakes your hand. “We’re still waiting on a few labs to come back but I figured I’d come in and take a look at you and ask you a few questions.”

You nod, lying back as she guides you down and begins her exams, starting with your stomach.

“Any breast tenderness?” She asks as she palpates said area.

“A little,” you answer. “It’s not uncommon for me though; I take my birth control pills continuously, taking a break every 3 months to get a period.”

“Okay. When was your last period?” She asks as she helps you up.

“About a week before we got sick,” you reply, swinging your legs at the end of the exam table.

“Alright, let’s see if those results are in,” she says, clicking around. “Well, I know what’s going on.”

“What?” You reply, heart pounding.

“You’re pregnant.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“…help me put her feet up and get an ice pack,” you hear the doctor say. She sounds far away.

“What…what happened?” You say, sounding funny to your own ears; your tongue feels heavy.

“You fainted, honey. It’s okay, happens all the time,” the sweet old nurse reassures you, wiping a cool washcloth on your forehead. Just like Bradley did this morning.

Oh God, Bradley.

Your stomach rolls as you think of him leaving you.

“I can’t be pregnant,” you say, trying to shake your head. Your lips go numb as you begin to hyperventilate. “I take my pill every day, I’ve never missed one or taken one late. I’m not- I can’t-“

“Shhh,” the nurse shushes you. “Everything’s okay. Breathe with me, okay? Inhale for 3. 1…2…3, good.”

“Is there anyone I can call? Someone close by?” The doctor asks from your other side once your breathing is back under control.

“My sister, Charlie Seresin. She works down in PT,” you say, closing your eyes as the nausea starts to creep in.

“Oh, I know Charlie. I’ll go get her,” the nurse nods and pats your hand before heading toward the door.

“Is this a welcomed surprise?” The doctor asks as she rubs your hand. “I know last time it wasn’t.”

“I-I don’t know,” you say, closing your eyes as you try not to panic. “It’s not like last time, no. My boyfr-my Bradley-we just started to go without condoms a few months ago, I thought it would be okay since I’m so diligent with taking it.”

“You were doing everything right,” she assures you. “According to your HCG levels, you’re about 6 weeks along, which coincides with you being sick.”

“And it’s probably not very effective if you throw up shortly after taking it,” you say, lip trembling as you begin to cry as you realize. “I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not-“

There’s a knock on the door and Charlie rushes in.

“What’s wrong?” Charlie asks, rushing to your side.

“I’m…pregnant,” you choke out on a sob.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” she says, wiping a tear and holding your face between her hands. “Bradley’s not Chet. Bradley’s not going to leave you. Okay?”

You nod through your tears.

“He loves you and he’s going to be so happy,” she whispers, kissing your forehead. “He’s going to be the best dad and you’re going to be the best mom. This isn’t a bad thing. It’s maybe a little sooner than you’d like, but it’s going to be okay, okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, trying to believe her.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

Charlie holds your hand as the doctor goes over what to expect in early pregnancy and helps you set up an ultrasound for the following morning.

All while you ignore the constant buzzing of your phone.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” Charlie asks as she walks you out to your truck.

“Yeah,” you say, giving her the best smile you can muster.

“Okay, text me when you get home,” she says, obviously not convinced.

“I will,” you agree.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Em. This isn’t a bad thing. Bradley’s not going anywhere,” She murmurs after wrapping you in her arms. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Okay,” you nod, tears filling your eyes again.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

You drive home on autopilot and suddenly you’re in your driveway without remembering a thing about the ride.

You pull out your phone and wince at the 11 missed calls and 7 new texts from Bradley as you open Charlie’s thread.

Emma: I’m home. Gonna lay down for a bit, I’m exhausted.

Charlie: Okay, please call Bradley, he’s freaking out.

Emma: 👍

Instead, you turn your phone off before changing into one of Bradley’s threadbare US Navy tees and climbing under your covers as tears steadily fall from your eyes. A sob leaves you when you smell his sweet shampoo on your pillow.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

“Emma?! Where are you?!” Bradley’s panicked voice pulls you from your slumber.

“In here,” you croak; your voice hoarse from your sobs. Your head pounds as you sit up.

He rushes into the bedroom and wraps you in his arms. “Thank God. That was the longest 27-minute drive of my life” he breathes, pulling back to look you in the eye, face falling as he takes in your tear-swollen eyes. “Oh sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

You just shake your head and bury your face into his shoulder as you begin to cry again.

“Whatever it is, we’ll get through it, okay?” He says, stroking your back which just makes you cry harder. “It’ll be okay.”

Your tears eventually begin to slow and you take a deep breath before pulling away from his shoulder but unable to meet his eye.

“What’d the doctor say?” he asks, wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

“That I’m not sick,” you whisper.

“Okay, that’s good,” he replies, pressing a kiss to your lips and tilting your chin up. “What’s going on then? Talk to me, baby.”

You take a shaky breath and finally meet his eye.

“I’m pregnant.”

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A/N: sorry for being MIA lately. Been a little discouraged and a lot busy.

Did anyone see this twist coming? 🙂

As always, any interaction is appreciated but I love hearing what you think in comments/reblogs!

Tagging (please let me know if you want to be added/removed!):

@mamamaystbr

@its-the-pilot

@dizzybee03

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@shanimallina87

@blindedbythelightt

@getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth

@lexixstewart

@phoenix-rising-starbird-one

@mrsrobertfloyd5

@charmedkim

@k-k0129

@bellaireland1981

@hookslove1592

@amiets2

@nero4te

@eli2447

@atarmychick007

@vixenobrian

@86laura11

@hisredheadedgoddess28

@dempy

@angelbabyyy99

@buckysteveloki-me

@djs8891

@mizzzpink

@daggerspare-standingby

@mrsevans90

@littlezee80

@emma8895eb

@jessicab1991

@devil-angel-winchester

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction

[mrsevans90]

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 3

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller 

Word Count: 2, 593 (This one is a bit shorter because the next chapter has ALL. THE. SMUT. Prepare yourself in advance loves!)

Warnings: Fluffy Sy, Sexual innuendos, Abused animal, domestic violence, stalker ex-boyfriend, mention of nightmares/PTSD, smut in future chapters.

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own. 

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading! 

Part 2

I lay back in bed with my arm behind my head and start thinking about Emma even though I know I shouldn’t because I won't be able to stop. I think of how beautiful she was standing on my doorstep, the way she cocked her hip at me with her arms crossed when I got on to her for trying to do dishes, the way her nose scrunches when she laughs. I smile to myself when I think about the weight of her tiny body across my lap and the way her nails scratched the stubble on the back of my head and neck when she was kissing me. Her perfume was not overbearing and overly potent like so many women I know. Just a soft, sensual scent that enveloped me when she was pressed against me. I think about how soft and swollen her lips felt before she left and the little gold chain necklace that rested against her cleavage and sigh. I lay there continuing to think about her as my eyes close and I drift off in a deep dreamless sleep.

I wake up the next morning stunned that I slept all night. Even though I was on a decent streak without nightmares lately, I usually never slept so soundlessly. I am once again still thinking about Emma and our upcoming date. Maybe this could be more than just physical. Don’t get me wrong, sex is great if we get to that point but I wonder if I’ll ever stop craving something more. A connection so deep that it spans a lifetime. I’ve always admired the pure love and admiration that my grandparents have for each other but lost hope a while ago that it may be something I could have. My military career made it impossible to settle down and although I thought I loved women before it just didn’t seem to be the same type of love that Nana and PawPaw have. It’s like they are each a half of the same person. The way they complete each other to make up this seemingly perfect couple who loves each other despite any flaws. It’s an all-encompassing type of adoration. I settled on the fact that their type of love is the exception. The one in a million lottery that most people never experience. Over the years I began to subconsciously accept the fact that I’ll never have that. I’ve become content being alone simply because it’s a way to protect myself from betrayal and heartbreak. I was fine with this lifestyle until I laid my eyes on Emma Miller. I’ve never felt so immediately smitten by a woman before. Talking to her felt comforting, her smile made my heart race, and I loved that she playfully bantered with me. Could it be that maybe my poor luck in the love department is over now because she’s the right person? My soulmate perhaps? Am I just fooling myself because I could see myself actually marrying a woman like her and worshipping her every day without being able to get enough of her? The thought of her with two or three little kids that look like a combination of us causes my thoughts to blur and my chest to expand with butterflies. Maybe this could work for once. It's too soon to tell. My nightmares aren’t happening as often and I feel like my PTSD isn’t as crippling as it once was. I don’t want her to have to deal with my problems though. She would be terrified if she saw me in an active PTSD episode. It’s been six months since I’ve had one but there's no guarantee I won't have another. Maybe I’m done with them or my brain is tricking me into this false pretense that I'm cured so that I get complacent. I’m getting way too far ahead of myself. I need to temper my hopes and expectations in order to protect myself from the inevitable let down. Hell, she may not even be as interested in me that way. Emma may not want anything to with something long term. I know she certainly must have her own qualms after being treated the way she has by men in the past. She’s had more than enough trauma to not have to witness mine.

After showering, getting ready for work, and eating some breakfast, I kiss Aika on the head and load up Mills for another day at work. I’m heading back to the same house to assist with the siding repair. There was more rot on that fireplace than we anticipated so it’s going to take a bit longer to repair. I call Nana and listen to her start carrying on about picking muscadines so she can make and can her some muscadine jelly. Pawpaw loves it so much he planted some muscadine trees on the back of the farm when I was about fourteen and she makes his jelly every year.

“D’ya hear that they got a new vet in town at Aika’s vet office?” I ask her.

“Oh, I sure did! Cute little blonde woman I think. Seems nice but I haven’t gotten a chance to speak to her yet. I know that Martha Foster invited her to church but she hasn’t come to a service. I can’t say I blame her, I don’t think I’d want to spend time with Martha and her nasty potato salad either.”

“Damn, Nana. Don’t hold back.”

“Well, I love the Lord, honey, but I only have so much patience for Martha and her know it all attitude.”

“I can’t disagree with you there, Nana. So yeah, the new vet, Emma, is very nice. I met her when I took the puppy I’m keeping over there after I found him. Did you see the picture I sent you of the little feller?”

“Your pawpaw showed me. He’s a cutie. What did you name him?”

Here we go. “Mills.”

“Mills? Like Milton? Where’d you think up a name like that?”

“Um, it’s short for Miller. Like Miller Lite Beer.” I think I just saved myself with that little white lie.

“You seriously didn’t name that poor thing after beer, Austin. What am I going to do with you? Bring him with you this weekend when you come to lunch on Sunday so I can spoil him. Your pawpaw won’t let me have any more animals. He said the barn cats, cows, chickens, and pigs keep us busy enough but I disagree. Do you know if that cute new veterinarian is single?”

“She is.” I quietly reply.

“Oh, you should ask her on a date. I keep telling you it’s time you start looking for a wife, Austin. If she turns you down, I can still get Susanne’s number for you. She may not have a job, but I’m sure she’ll find something soon.” Jesus Nana.

“No, I’m alright. I actually already asked Emma to dinner tonight. I’m only telling you because I know you have your ways of finding out sooner or later after gossiping with the ole bitties in town. Don’t you run off and start dreaming of a wedding and great grandkids now, ya hear? It’s just dinner.”

“Austin Syverson, you better not be calling me an ole’ bitty. I may be elderly but I can still smack you upside the head. You don't scare me."

"Yes ma'am." I reply with a chuckle because I know she means it. That ole' woman has smacked me upside the head so many times I can't count.

"I’m so glad you asked her to dinner. I want to meet her.”

“Like I said, I haven’t even taken her on a date yet.” Not exactly true but she doesn’t need to know that. “Let's not go and get ahead of ourselves and scare her off. Just do me a favor and wait a while before you ambush for information. Let me get to know her first please.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll stay out of it but please at least tell me how the date goes.”

“Deal. Now I gotta get on to work but I love ya. Tell PawPaw that I love him too.”

“We love you too, honey. Have a good day.”

The day drones on and finally I arrive at a small cottage style house on Beasley Avenue and pull up in the driveway. I’m sure my diesel truck rumbling announces my presence so I waste no time hopping out of the truck and making my way to the pale-blue door that has a summer wreath hung on it. There’s no doorbell so I knock loudly and within a few moments the door opens widely to reveal Emma in white shorts, and a yellow and white floral top that shows off just a sliver of her toned and tanned midriff. 

            “Hey Austin!” Emma says cheerfully while I’m still stunned over her appearance.

            “Sugar, you look good enough to eat.” I say with a smirk and wink.

            “Thank you, but you’re just saying that because you’re hungry.” She giggles as she reaches up to wrap her arms around my neck for a sweet hug. I put my hands on her hips and kiss her forehead.

            “I don’t say things I don’t mean darlin’. Nice place.” I say as she pulls back from me.

            “Thanks! It’s small and I need to do update some things since it’s an older house but I liked how simple and classic it looks. It also helped that it was in my budget, move in ready, and only ten minutes from the clinic.” She tells me.

“It fits you. It’s very bright and welcoming.” I say and she grins widely. “I don’t know what needs to be updated but I’d be happy to take a look.”

“I may have to make an appointment and take you up on that at some point. I need to install a doorbell. the hot water heater is not great and the kitchen sink is a little fickle but it’s not a big deal.”

“No need for an appointment darlin’. I can take a look whenever you’d like me too at no charge.” 

“I couldn’t ask you to do that. Let’s go eat, I’m starving!” She deflects.

“I’m offering so you don’t need to ask. But, I can’t be responsible for you starving so let’s eat and I can look at it later.” She locks the front door and I lead her to my truck.

“I missed lunch today. Janet accidentally double booked me and so I got behind. Had to work through lunch just to catch back up.” She says as I help her into the passenger’s seat.

“You don’t need to be doing that darlin’. I’m sure everyone would have understood.”

“It was okay. Janet felt bad about it and I didn’t want to waste people’s time. Just made for a crazy day! I’m ready for some lasagna!” She giggles and I smile at her from the driver’s seat.

We get to Gia’s and I say hello to the hostess, Sofia, who is the owner’s daughter. She’s always blatantly flirted with me but I’ve never returned the sentiment. She’s too young; barely twenty-two and is clearly looking to immediately get married and have kids like so many other women here. She’s a nice girl but I wouldn’t want to give her the wrong idea. I make a point to place my hand on Emma’s lower back and pull her chair for her to sit and she smiles gratefully at me. After we order, I see Giovanna the owner heading straight towards me. My mama and her were friends since I was a teenager and we have come to Gia’s throughout the years for meals. Giovanna and her husband, Matteo, opened this restaurant when I was about ten years old.

“Sy! Good to see you sweetie.” She says as she hugs me. “Who’s this beautiful lady?”

“Hey Giovanna. Good to see you too. This is Emma Miller. She’s our new veterinarian over at Hope Animal Clinic.” I answer and Emma smiles and produces her hand to shake as I introduce her.

“Ah! I’ve heard wonderful things about you! I have an appointment next month for our cat, Luigi, to get his yearly shots.”

“Oh, what a sweet name. I’ll be looking forward to meeting the little guy!” She tells her and I chuckle.

“He’s not a little guy. He’s the biggest domestic house cat I’ve ever seen!” I tell her.

“Really?” Emma asks.

“He’s a big boy, but what can you expect? He sleeps all day and his parents own a restaurant that sometimes has left over fish that would go to waste.” She says waving her hands dramatically and we laugh.

“Well then I look forward to meeting your big boy.” Emma jokes.

“Are you settling in okay? I’m so glad you are here!” Gia says and Emma smiles brightly.

“I’ve settled in nicely! Everyone has been so welcoming. I have to say, you have the best food in town. This is my first time coming in but I’ve ordered take out several times. Your delivery drivers are probably sick of me.” She jests.  

“Oh, I’m so glad you enjoy it dear. Don’t you worry about Derek and Joe. They get free food and only have to drive orders around so they are living the good life. Well, I’ll let you get back to your evening but I just wanted to say hello. You come back in anytime sweetheart!” She calls and we thank her and wave goodbye.

“So, are you one of those people that everyone in town knows? I saw that cute little hostess just about drooling over you.”

“Nah, that’s Gia’s daughter. I do know almost everyone in town but that’s what happens being raised in a town like this. My grandparents are pretty well known by everyone so I am just by proxy I guess. I’ve essentially spent the majority of 17 years overseas in different parts of the world, but when I come back home it’s like I never left. Unfortunately, that means everyone also knows everyone else’s business. I hope you don’t mind but I’m sure it’ll get around that we were here tonight on a date.” She blushes.

“I don’t mind. As long as you’re okay with that.”

“Wouldn’t have brought ya if I wasn’t, Sugar. You deserve to be shown off and I’m proud to be the man who gets too.” I reach over to grab her hand and stroke my thumb over her knuckles before kissing them. She smiles from ear to ear.

            After dinner, we climb into my truck and I offer to take her for ice cream and she just pats her little belly.

“Normally, I would never turn down ice cream but I think I ate my weight in pasta. I’m completely stuffed.”

I stare out at the parking lot as I fight the urge to make a “that’s what she said joke” or an innuendo about how I could stuff her later and with once glance I can tell she caught my train of thought.

“You’re fighting making a dirty joke about stuffing me, aren’t you?” She giggles and I wink at her.

“I didn’t know you could hear my dirty thoughts.”

“I can’t, it was just so obvious. Your cheeks got red, you scrunched your nose while smiling and you broke eye contact with me.” Emma grins.

I shake my head and laugh lowly until Emma scoots over to me and whispers seductively, “Let's go home and maybe I'll let you stuff me full.”

Part 4

Taglist: @shellyshellshell @henryownsme @caramariehurst @beck07990 @mollymal@kingliam2019@syversonswife@identity2212@starfirewildheart@hannah9921 @wa-ni @kneelforloki @cutedoxie @summersong69 @enchantedbytomandhenry @foxyjwls007 @geralts-yenn

#henry cavill characters #captain syverson #captain sy #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fic #captain syverson fluff #captain syverson smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction

[justcallmehappy]

“Rain”

(Step 2) Qiu Lin x gn!MC

Synopsis: Rain was always bittersweet to you. However, for Mx. Qiu Lin, it was the opposite. They find the rain calming, so why is it that Qiu and your opinions have switched today?

Word count: 1.3k

a/n: this was angstier than i meant it to be… also, i haven’t written in a bit so i’m pretty rusty. still, i hope you enjoy!

A song to listen to while reading:

•

Pitter patter, pitter patter.

Thump!

Your backpack drops onto the floor, utterly soaked. Of course, you are, too.

You made the mistake of not checking the weather to see if it would rain today. Since it was so sunny this morning, you simply assumed it would be nice and warm all day.

Oh, how wrong you were.

“Ugh…”

Still standing in the entryway, you peel your sweater off, scrunching your nose up at the sensation that never fails to make the hairs on your arms prickle.

Though it’s safe to say the weather isn’t the only thing that’s dampened your mood.

Tamarack caught a cold; another reason as to why you were in this predicament in the first place.

She always makes sure to check the weather.

The floorboards creak as you make your way up the stairs and into your room to get changed into something a little less soggy.

Normally you would shower, but your fingers itched to glide across the keys of your beloved piano.

Ah yes, your piano.

Qiu used to joke that you enjoyed the object’s company more than their own; that was a lie, of course.

When you moved into Golden Grove, your mother offered to sign you up for some extra curricular activities; that included piano.

Quickly, you fell in love with the instrument. It was sort of an escapism for you; a way to tell a beautiful story without having to say a word.

And so, you bound down the stairs, emitting a loud groan from creaky old things as you eagerly approach the beautiful baby grand.

A soft smile eases its way onto your lips as you stand in front of the sheek instrument. Gently, you run a finger over the shiny, black surface.

A thin layer of dust goes along with your finger as you pull away, but you pay it no mind as you turn to the strewn about pile of sheet music on top of the piano.

Shuffling through the papers, you find a song you’ve recently learned; all on your own, outside of private lessons.

You deem that its nostalgic sound is fitting for a day like today, and promptly pull out the piano bench your mother had bought from the antique store just for you.

You sit down on the familiar, worn mahogany cushion as you place the music onto the stand.

Your fingers hover over their starting positions as your eyes trace the familiar bars of music.

Then, you begin to play.

• • •

Qiu lets out a long sigh as they stare out their window, sprawled across their bed.

This is what they’ve been doing for the past fifteen minutes; just… lying there, watching the rain droplets fall.

There’s something about rainy days that’s always managed to calm Qiu’s restless mind. However, today is different.

They feel… off.

Unsettled.

Uncomfortable.

Why? Well, that’s the very same thing they’re mulling over right now.

“Tamarack’s sick; but that can’t be it…”

After all, the two aren’t friends anymore.

Qiu’s brows furrow at the thought and their mind drifts to someone they are friends with.

You.

You, still the kind and caring kid you’ve been since you first met on that fateful day a little over four years ago now.

Sometimes Qiu would feel guilty; their relationship with Tamarack surely put you in an awkward position, but you’d never shown any signs of discomfort, much less talked about it.

You’ve always managed to intercept and mediate any arguments they’ve had, though they’d be an idiot to miss the worried and tired undertones of your voice and expressions.

Of course, Tamarack never noticed.

Stupid Tamarack.

Qiu rolls over onto their back, fixing their gaze onto their off-white ceiling.

When they were little they used to beg their parents to put up little glow in the dark stars on the ceiling so it could look like they were staring at the sky as they fall asleep, but their parents refused, saying it would just wake them up more.

Qiu still didn’t understand their logic; the stars are relaxing, fake or not.

Suddenly, they sit up.

They’d reached a conclusion; they’d go over to your house. You’d know a way to entertain them, no matter how much you complained that you weren’t their jester.

Qiu’s legs swing over the side of their bed as they get up to retrieve their navy blue damp coat from the sad pile in the middle of the floor.

Zipping up their jacket, they quietly shuffle down their stairs and to where they left their shoes earlier.

Their father was busy on a meeting with a client and their mother was out on a grocery trip.

Not that they need permission to visit you.

The fluffy rim of their hood tickles them as they pull it up and open their front door.

Whoosh!

Their hood is immediately blown off and a cold, stinging sensation barrades their face.

They frown and wipe their cheeks of the relentless droplets that just pelted them.

Qiu suppresses a shiver as they once again pull up their hood, this time clutching it to their head.

A huff comes from their mouth, a white cloud of breath with it; it shouldn’t take this much effort just to see what their neighbor is doing, but it does.

That annoys them.

However, deep down, they know that you’d do the same for them if they ever called on you.

Which Qiu hasn’t. And Qiu won’t.

They trudge through the long, grueling two minute walk to your house. However, instead of going to the front door, they decide to go to the back, just to switch things up a little.

There’s already been so much change these past few months, why not sprinkle in a little more?

They groan as they realize just how much more suffering they’re putting themselves through just by that one harmless decision.

But it’d be worth it.

As they approach your back door, they’re about to knock until they hear a quiet melody from inside.

Their fist hovers over the damp, wooden door as a delicate set of notes float through the air.

The wind gently pushes Qiu’s hood down again but they pay it no mind, instead blankly staring at the door in front of them.

Their bottom lip snags between their teeth as they clench their fists.

Damn it. They really didn’t feel like getting emotional today.

Why was the melody so sad yet happy at the same time?

Before they knew it, rain drops weren’t the only thing rolling down their cheeks.

As the gentle song plays through the air, Qiu’s gaze lowers to the porch beneath them. Their previous fist, now a limp hand, rests at their side.

Now they know why they’re crying.

This song gave them a sense of familiarity; their uncertainty of their identity yet at the same time, complete security in their friendship with you.

…Friendship.

That’s all it is. At least, that’s what they keep telling themselves.

Qiu sniffles, wiping a tear.

Why can’t they just be honest with themself?

You’ve always been special to them; they knew that. But they didn’t know if it was a friend kind of special or a romantic kind of special.

“…No,”

They murmur softly.

“…Not yet.”

• • •

Your fingers rest on the keys as you play the final chord of the song, smiling quietly to yourself.

Something about this song reminds you of Qiu. You can’t quite put a finger on why, but you thought that if Qiu were a song, this would be them.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, a flash of navy blue passes by the window in a familiar shape.

Your brows furrow as your gaze shifts to the backdoor of your home. Slowly, you stand.

You make your way over to the door, gripping the handle. Gently, you pull the door open.

“…Qiu?”

However, only the heavy rainfall greets you back.

Pitter patter, pitter patter.

#fics #our life now and forever #our life #ol2 #olnf #olnf qiu #qiu lin #light angst #x reader #x you #now and forever #Spotify

[airbendertendou]

sunscreen and doughnut shaped floats! ♥︎ tokyo revengers

anon requested : Hello, may I please request the Tokyo Revengers characters (as many and anyone you feel like including) + the reader having a water fight (with balloons, water guns and hoses)? I loved the karaoke night with Toman!!

synopsis : a pool day with toman! gender neutral reader wears a swimsuit and puts on sunscreen. [name] used in place of y/n. everyone is a lil in love w reader <3

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

Baji grins as he turns the dial on the stereo, turning the volume up even higher. A sound of protest is drowned out, the song overlapping any disagreements. A loud whoop! is heard, followed by a splash as Mikey cannonballs into the pool.

You shake your head with a small laugh as Draken waves his spatula in the air, frown on his face. The sunscreen bottle in your hand is more than half empty, slowly falling into your open palm. Cold, soft hands land on your bare shoulders, them jolting and stiffening in response.

"Sorry," Mitsuya grins at you, raising his hands. He points to the bottle in your hand, "want me to get your back? Ken's got the grill covered for now."

You nod, handing him the bottle. "Sure. Thanks, 'suya."

His grin widens, "no problem." You turn, bare back facing the lilac-hiared boy as he lathers his hands in sunscreen. You jolt, the cream ice cold and frigid as it glides onto your skin. You can feel Mitsuya's laugh as his breath hits your neck. "S'a little cold, hm, [name]?"

Letting out a huff, you stare at him over your shoulder, "yeah, a little." Mitsuya only winks in response as his hands lower to your waist. "Think I can handle it from here—"

"[Name]." Chifuyu is suddenly in front of you as he frowns. Green eyes narrow at the boy over your shoulder — you curl your lips into your mouth to stop your laughter. "Can you put that on me when you're done?"

"I don't mind doing it." But, Chifuyu ignores Mitsuya, eyes widening at you in an attempt to look innocent. Another laugh is huffed against your neck, fingers trailing around your waist until they're on your torso. "[Name]'s busy."

"Doing what?"

You clear your throat — another useless attempt to hide your amusement. "Here," you reach a hand back to Mitsuya, "I'll put some sunscreen on you while Mitusya finishes up. Alright?"

Chifuyu frowns again, but turns his back to you anyways. You lather the sunscreen into your hands, hoping to warm it up a little before putting it on him. Mitsuya laughs again — closer this time — before placing a small kiss to your shoulder.

"I'm going to help Draken out," he speaks. Chifuyu's shoulders relax at the words, moving with your hands as he's slathered with sunscreen. "Be back soon. ...Maybe tell Mitchy to get out of the sun."

The green-eyed boy turns to face you, eyes scrunching as you layer cream onto his face. He watches Mitsuya leave, "don't rush back."

You tap his nose, "don't be mean." You look to the left, where Takemichi is laying out, snoring as he slowly roasts. His skin is already reddened, tender to the touch as his sunburn worsens. "Mitchy! Lookin' lobster-like, bud!"

The blond startles, sunglasses falling to the side as he sits up. "Ack!" he lets out at the color of his skin. Big, comical tears well up in his eyes, "I look like a giant strawberry!"

Baji — ignoring everything around him other than the sound of his favorite song — slaps the blond on his back. "Lookin' good, Mitchy!"

Another whine leaves Takemichi's throat at the feeling. You let out a sigh, lightly tapping Chifuyu's shoulders. "You're all covered, 'Fuyu. Baji, be careful with Mitchy's skin, okay?"

Emma waves you over as she leans against the pool wall. You sit with your legs in the water, smiling down at her. She pouts, "Mikey won't stop splashing me."

You shake your head playfully, "Mikey, be nice to your sister."

"She doesn't play mermaids right."

Emma spins to face him, frown deepening. "You don't play right!" She crosses her arms over her chest, "you keep copying me."

Mikey shrugs, sitting on the steps of the pool as he swings his legs together, mimicking a mermaid tail. "Your ideas are better than mine. But, I want a purple to blue glitter tail and water powers."

Emma groaned, "I wanted water powers! You wanted to talk to animals."

Mitsuya comes to sit beside you, a bag of chips in his hand. He holds the bag out to you, eyeing Mikey and Emma. "You can both have water powers, right?"

"Then it's not fun anymore." Mikey turns his head with a pout. Emma lets out a sigh, rolling her eyes before swimming off. Mikey looks at you once more, "food almost done?"

"Only a few more minutes!" Smiley calls from the yard. He's helping Draken grill as Angry holds an aluminum pan for the cooked food to go in. "Go ahead and get dried off."

——♥︎——

"Baji Keisuke," you speak between teeth, "do not play in the fire like that."

The boy scowls, putting the tiny stick he'd picked up back to the ground. Draken sighs as he manages the fire, shaking his head at Mikey's marshmallow covered cheeks. Takemichi winces with every move he makes, his sunburnt skin aching and burning with the movement.

Mitsuya had gone home to care for his sisters ; Emma leaving to wash the chlorine out of her hair. Angry hands you a new marshmallow, holding a small piece of chocolate for you next. Smiley is across the fire, trying to take the designated fire stick from Draken.

"Hey," Chifuyu sits to your right, draping a blanket over your lap. "If you get any colder let me know, okay?"

You nod, taking the fully made s'more from Angry. As you bite into the sweet, you watch as Baji burns the marshmallow he has before handing it to Smiley. Mikey swoops in, though, eating the piping hot sweet directly from the stick.

"Mikey—" Draken lets out another sigh, shaking his head.

——♥︎—— airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers headcanons #toman x reader #toman imagines #mikey sano x reader #sano manjiro x reader #draken x reader #ken ryuuguji x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader #chifuyu matsuno x reader #baji keisuke x reader #smiley imagines #smiley x reader #nahoya x reader #angry x reader #souya x reader

[avaelangel]

Jordan never was much of a sharer, but with Marie around they can't help but offer her whatever they are eating. Those two develop into a couple that casually swoops in to try each other's food rather quickly. But there's one thing Marie doesn't really like that much.

Protein bars.

Some of them taste like sand, some taste like chocolate, but also mostly sand. But Marie still takes a modest bite everytime Jordan offers. They know she doesn't like it, but out of determination want to find the flavor she likes.

It's a weird part time, but it's a nice distraction from everything serious in their lives. Marie catches on to it, but just goes along. Jordan's smile when she doesn't scrunch up her nose after a new bite is too sweet. They even roped Emma into it, because her favorite brand of protein bars is the same as theirs.

Marie ends up liking any protein thing with nuts and white chocolate (because it's sweeter and sand isn't as noticable). Jordan had two bars in their bag now. Third one goes in there in case Emma needs to get to human size again.

#look i know this is very specific #but i ate a bad protein bar and those three would benifit for calories in different ways ya now #gen v #jordan li #marie moreau #limoreau #emma meyer #emma and jordan being the only non-toxic sibling dynamic in each others lives #i am not ashamed anymore i know this is weird

[skipper1331]

One Day // Vivianne Miedema

a/n: based off this and this request - thought i could combine them.

"Good morning, my love" you whispered as your alarm ringed, the dutch never one to wake up by just an alarm. "We have to get up" your pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, knowing she loved it when she woke up to kisses, "No" said person grumbled while she tightened her arms around you, pulling you closer in her embrace. "We have to" you entangled your body out of her arms, one leg already out of bed as Viv suddenly sat up, "Need kissies" she pulled you back in, your legs resting at either side of her waist, "so needy" you giggled before you littered pecks all over her face, her nose scrunching in responds.

"Now i‘m ready to start the day!"

-

"Liefje" the tall woman called as you were in bathroom, ready to start your morning routine, "what do want for breakfast?" her head chipped in, her eyes roaming over your body as you were in nothing but her too big clothes. A slight blush covered cheeks while her heart fluttered, you never failed to amaze her by you just being you. "Smoothie? Maybe?"

"Smoothie it is" the striker left you alone, making her way down to the kitchen as you continued or rather started your routine. The smoothie was on the counter, already in a cup (your favorite) as you patted to the kitchen, Viv nowhere to be seen. Sipping from the straw, the delicious taste of your favorite fruits hit your mouth - Viv made the best smoothies. "Hm, you like it?" said person asked. "Shit!" you jumped, hand over your chest as you tried to control your breathing, "babyyy" you whined, "I almost dropped my smoothie" grumbling at her, the tall woman poked your cheeks, making you laugh, "i love your laughter" she muttered, eyes full of love as her arms looped around your midsection, "the smoothie?"

"was perfect" you gave her a peck or two, "like you" pecking all over her face. The dutch giggled, her nose scrunching as a big smile broke out on her face.

"Ik houd van jou"

"I love you too"

-

"Liefje, hurry up!" Viv yelled as she stood at the front door, your kit bag as well as her own in her hand. "I can‘t find my bag" your eyes scanned through your bedroom, then the living room - every room. Walking up to Viv you gave up, you had no idea where your bag was, the striker chuckled at your helpless expression. You gave her a glare, how can this be funny to her? With an ease she lifted your bag, waving it in front of your eyes. In reaction you snatched it away, "you let me search for it for 15 minutes, knowing you had it in your hand!" you growled, frowning like a child.

"You’re cute" the dutchie slung her arm around your shoulder as she pressed a kiss to your head, "now let‘s go"

Viv took a seat in the drivers seat while you sat next to her, even though you had the passenger princess privileges Taylor Swift music was playing the whole time on the way to the stadium. You just had to look at the shy girl and you would crumble and do anything for her. So meanwhile she sang to herself yet audible for you (something only you had the privilege to hear) her hand was resting on the bare skin of your thigh, absently drawing circles on it.

-

Derby day.

The blues.

Always a strong opponent.

The stands were filled with red and blue, fans were singing chants, both teams in the tunnel. Viv was behind you, you could feel her eyes on you, like always. Every match the dutch would stand behind you, it calmed her. Her eyes would roam over your figure, always stopping at your jersey. One day her surname will be on the back of it. That was a promise. A promise she made ages ago.

At half time the score was 1-1. Sam Kerr scoring the opening goal while Kim Little scored the penatly. The game was rough, Emma Hayes looked like she was about kill someone and a certain defender was targeting you, Maren Mjelde. Each time you had the ball you hadn‘t had it for long - your body hitting the grass every time. A little push or her leg in your way would cause you to fall. For sure, your body will have bruises tomorrow. Viv was the first by your side, asking If you‘re okay or what hurts. Slowly but surely the dutch was getting angry, how could Mjelde get away with it? No card - no foul. After the 8th time of your body hitting the ground Viv had enough - you didn‘t get up. Lia at your side while Viv was by the Chelsea defender shoving her as she cursed in her mother tongue. Most of the time, the tall woman was calm and collected but not when it came to you. Her patience was very short when it came to you.

Katie had her arms around the dutch trying to pull her away while Kim stood in front of her, pushing her away. Captain duties. As the ref showed Viv a yellow card, the same card Maren Mjelde finally got, Viv was by your side. Her hand wiped the sweaty hair out of your face while the medics examined your ankle, "is it bad?" you whispered, tears running down your cheeks. "I don‘t know, my girl"

Your ankle hurt and you were subbed off but in a few days, everything would be fine. With an ice pack around your ankle you watched the rest of the game, your lover not scoring once but twice. Her reply to your substitution - her statement: do not mess with her girl.

When the final whistle blew, the dutch shook every opponents hand, Maren being the last, "I‘m sorry" she apologized, "i didn‘t mean to shove you" It was simply out of the situation - out of her emotional state. She couldn’t harm a fly, even If she tried. At the end of the day it was just an intense game where no one had any evil intention.

It was important for Vivianne to have apologized. It wasn't like her not to.

Viv was one of the best strikers in the world but she also had her values ​​and morals. If things got more intense on the field, it was important for her to clear the air after.

As it should be.

At the end of the day, every player was only human.

-

You were glad when the match was finally called to an end, ready to go home with your lover. Both of you decided to shower at home, it was already in the evening - you wouldn‘t leave your home anymore. Again the striker behind the steering wheel, this time with her hand in yours as she drove the two of you home. At a red light, she occasionally would press a kiss to your lips as she had not felt them against her own the whole time. Even though every one knew you were a couple, you would act professionally, only in private showing the lovey-dovey side you shared. Yet there were always loving glances and sneaky touches, you couldn't do it completely without - the love you shared was way to powerful and present to hide it.

The tall woman carried your bag inside as you patted after her, your ankle still covered in ice. "Take out, baby?" you asked while you snuggled your arms around her from behind - the dutch being too tall for you to rest your head on her shoulder "sure, your usual?" she asked turning around, her arms going around your shoulders as she craned her neck down, pressing a loving kiss to your head. In agreement you hummed in to her chest, tightening your grip around the striker. "Missed you" you mumbled as an exhausted sigh left your throat. Viv squeezed you, knowing what you meant.

You had missed her kisses.

You had missed her hugs.

You had missed her shy smile and blushing cheeks.

You had missed her.

"Lets take a shower" the taller girl lifted you up, your legs going around her waist as she carried you to the bathroom. She placed you on the counter, "is it okay if i take your clothes off?" she asked. In respond you muttered a tired yes - the dutch made sure everything she did was with consent. She took your shirt off, she asked If it was okay. She took your pants off, she asked If it was okay. That just who she was.

After showering and dressed up in some comfy clothes, the two of you found yourselves sitting on the couch. You had your back leaned against Vivs front as your limbs were tangled together. With your hair and body freshly washed you felt clean again, the striker behind you, ordering the take out while you searched for a series. As you decided which series you wanted to watched you nestled back in Vivs embrace as she silently massaged your shoulders. "Thank you, baby" you muttered contently, eyes closed as the voice of Phil Dunphy filled the background noices. Though, the dutch was sitting behind you, you knew that her cheeks were covered in a blush, her shy smile across her face. No matter how long the two of you had been a couple If you called her any kind of pet name, the girl would squeal inside, skin tingle, heart race, love burst.

When the food arrived, both of you took a seat at the kitchen table and while you enjoyed your meals, you talked about everything and nothing, loving glances and touches being shared.

-

Back on the couch, your head rested in the crook of her neck, legs tangled as her fingers combed through your hair in a manner to help you fall asleep. Pressing featherlight kisses to her neck, you mumbled inaudible words - the taller girl pulling you close(r). The series in the background long forgotten as your breathing evened out, soft snores hitting Vivs neck. Vivianne continued to watch the episode of modern family before she carried you to bed. She tugged you under the blanket like a burrito, herself laying next to you as she pulled you in her arms - she could only sleep with you in her touch, knowing you were safe.

"Good night, liefje, Ik houd van jou" she mumbled, pressing a long and final kiss for the day to your head before she settled in to the pillow. It didn‘t take long for the striker to fall asleep - dreaming about you.

Mrs. Miedema, one day.

———————

#viv miedema #vivianne miedema #viv miedema x reader #vivianne miedema x reader #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso #arsenal wfc #arsenal women #oranjeleeuwinnen #nedwnt #nedwnt x reader #arsenal x reader

[bella-rose29]

Deck the Halls (and not your partner) - part 9

this has been a long time coming but it's finally here! have some simping over lockwood's hands to make up for the wait (there's more next chapter too 😉)

Word count: 5k words

Warnings: swearing, Steph (HUGE WARNING, I HATE HER IN THIS BUT IT'S NECESSARY FOR THE CONTINUATION OF THE SERIES, SHE MADE ME WANT TO THROW UP), a lot of simping over lockwood's hands (also he's wearing a ring), innuendos ig? references to not so sfw times, vague references to body image issues and related things, I think that's it?

family photos and a gingerbread house competition (part 1)

series master list

(couldn't pick between these two so I put them both, you're welcome, also thinking about it they both match the vibes that lockwood has in this part)

“Remind me why we're doing this?”

“Because it's a tradition, Anthony. I would have thought this would be right up your street!”

“Well it is, but I don't see why we have to be stood next to Steph and Linda.”

“That's just Mum's positioning. She says it looks best that way and nobody argues with her.”

Anthony hummed, looking around at the family members gathered in the living room. The fire had been set up a few minutes ago, Ben stacking up the kindling like building blocks and setting some larger pieces of wood around them, striking a match and closing the door. Most people were already ready for the family photo, and Anthony and Y/n were sat on their loveseat while they waited for Steph and Linda to come downstairs. 

Predictably, the two of them were still in their bedrooms fussing about the fact they had to do this, but Emma was taking full advantage of the fact that nobody could leave and had forced them into joining them. 

"I don't know why they're so upset, really,” Anthony mused, trailing his fingertips over Y/n's shoulder. The way they were sat with her curled into his side made it a slightly awkward angle, but he could put aside the pain in his own shoulder if it meant he was closer to her. “I think that you look adorable in that jumper.” Y/n frowned, scrunching her nose up and glaring up at him. 

“Adorable? I look like I've been shoved into a charity shop and been pulled out backwards through the racks!”

“The dancing reindeer really take the cake, if I'm being honest.”

“Stop it. They look deranged.”

“They look happy, darling.” He paused, taking in the wide eyes and toothy grins of the reindeer that decorated the matching red jumpers that the whole family were wearing.  “And possibly like they've seen too many deaths. But they're smiling, and they've got... what is that, chocolate bars?”

“I think it's beer, Ant. The deranged reindeer are drinking beer while they're being wrapped up in a net of Christmas lights.”

"Christmas lights... that actually light up," he grinned, pressing the button on her jumper to demonstrate his point. Y/n sighed, trying to look cross with him, but the small smile on her face gave her away. 

“You're such a ridiculous idiot sometimes,” she said quietly, gazing fondly at him. The lights on her jumper were still flashing, decorating her face in different colours. 

“Yeah, but I'm your ridiculous idiot.” She snorted, then kissed him gently on the lips. If they hadn't been in the presence of most of her family members, Anthony would have held her there for hours. 

As it was, however, she reluctantly pulled away a few seconds later, smiling widely when he automatically chased her mouth. 

“Alright, love birds, stop making the rest of us feel so single and lonely,” Will called out, attempting to sound annoyed. Anthony knew that the man couldn't be happier about his little sister getting a boyfriend, and that he was easily settling in to his newfound role of teasing them about their relationship. 

“Shove off, Will,” Y/n rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her brother, and he responded by sneakily giving her the middle finger. 

“Right,” Emma declared, looking around the room at everyone gathered. “Where's Linda? And Steph?”

"I think they're still upstairs, Mum," John replied, not looking up from the sofa as he sat on top of Sam and whacked him around the head with a pillow. Sam looked like he was being slightly suffocated under his brother's weight, but nobody seemed to take much notice. The two of them fought like that a lot, and Anthony supposed that everyone was used to it now which was why nobody intervened. 

“John, stop killing your brother for five minutes and go and find them. Tell them they need to come down right away or I'm dragging them. And putting flour in their hair.” John went to complain, but at the glare that was sent his way he quickly shut his mouth and headed out the room, not before delivering one last hit to Sam's head for good measure. 

Within three minutes John was back, Linda and Steph in tow as they grumbled about the jumpers they had been forced into. 

“This is disgusting. And we're all wearing the same ones? Really, Emma? It's bad enough that you made your own sister wear this... monstrosity, but forcing it on all of us? Unbelievable.” Anthony barely hid his scowl as Linda talked down on her sister, and if he didn't think Emma could defend herself he would have leapt to do it himself. 

“You can take it off the moment we're done here, alright? But this is my house, Linda, and you're playing by my rules. It's not like you can go anywhere, so you might as well shut it and take the damn photo with us.”

Linda opened and closed her mouth like a fish for a few moments, before deciding against responding and moving to where her sister had pointed for her to stand. 

“Thank you,” Emma sighed, finishing setting up the camera. “Right, everyone get into position please, no squabbling!”

Anthony smiled as Y/n huffed and stood up, stretching out her limbs after being curled up in his lap for the past however many minutes, and within the next five minutes (that felt much longer than that) all family members present were in the places that Y/n’s mother had assigned to them, and she was clicking the button on the camera to take the photo. She rushed to take her own place next to Ben as the timer started counting down, plastering on a wide smile a second before the flash went. 

“Can we go now?” Steph whined from where she stood to Anthony’s left. She’d had to squeeze in to fit in the picture, and the sheer amount of perfume she had on was making Anthony suffocate slightly.

“Uh, hang on. Let me check that it’s a good photo. Ugh, Tom, honey, you’re meant to be smiling, not staring at the camera like you want to kill it. Let’s try again. Sam, don’t be making stupid faces this time, alright?”

“Yes, Mum,” Sam said, stifling a laugh when Will poked him in the side. Nana Jean ruffled Tom’s hair, much to Emma’s chagrin (it had taken her ages to get it somewhat neat), but the action gained a smile in response. 

They tried again, the flash going off a second time, and when Emma gave the all-clear Linda and Steph immediately moved to take off their jumpers. “Hideous things,” Linda muttered, clearly not in the holiday spirit. 

“You two had better not go anywhere,” Nana Jean said, pointing a crooked finger at them when they went to leave. “We’re building gingerbread houses next and if nothing else it’ll be a competition where you can attempt to destroy everyone else, so get your asses in the kitchen!” Anthony had been pleasantly surprised at how much energy the 80-year-old woman had, especially since her knees were basically completely ruined, and he had found himself engaged in lively conversation with her on more than one occasion. She wasn’t entirely fond of Y/n’s choice of work, but from what Anthony could tell that was more to do with the fact that she was very fond of her granddaughter, and would rather not receive a letter in the mail telling her that Y/n was dead. 

“We’ll go together, right?” Y/n asked, looking up at him while everyone was getting into pairs. He was just about to answer when Nana Jean appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his arm. He looked down at her in surprise (she was quite a small woman), confusion all over his face. 

“I’m taking this one, you can go with your Gramps. I’ve never won with him, not once. This’ll be my year, I can feel it! And your lover boy is going to help me!”

“Good luck, Nana. I don’t think Anthony can cook toast, let alone gingerbread.” Y/n was smirking, crossing her arms as she let triumph seep into her expression despite not having started the competition yet. 

“Oh really? You also didn’t think I’d be any good at snowball fights. You’d be surprised what I can do with my hands, darling.” He immediately blushed at the look on Y/n’s face, and steadfastly refused to look at either her or Nana Jean. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he muttered, shaking his head and hoping the situation would end so he could go and bury himself in blankets and hibernate for years. He felt someone nudge his side and his cheeks got hotter still when he saw Nana Jean smiling up at him with a cheeky look on her face. 

“I’m sure Y/n/n knows all about what your hands can do, love.”

“Nana!” Y/n cried, exasperation in her voice. “You can’t say that!”

“Well I don’t think I’m wrong! You’ve been together eight months now; I married your Gramps in less time! Come on, Anthony!” She cheerfully turned and headed out the living room, dragging Anthony behind her and leaving Y/n to stand staring incredulously after them.

~~~

Y/n still hadn’t fully recovered from Anthony’s comment (and then Nana Jean’s addition) about his hands, and she was meant to be making gingerbread. 

Her Gramps had settled at the dining table with tracing paper, a pencil and far too many rulers, while she was measuring out the ingredients and mixing them together in a large bowl. He’d been an architect before he retired, helping draw up the plans for the Fittes Building and providing sketches for housing that had helped when people were on the streets at the beginning of the Problem because their houses were unsafe. Y/n had listened to him talking about his job a thousand times, but she still didn’t know what the purpose of all the different rulers were. 

“Gramps, you know you don’t have to get that technical about it, right?”

“Oh yes I do! I’m not letting Jeanie win this year, oh no! She thinks I’ve lost my touch with architecture, but I was doing badly deliberately because I knew, one year, she’d get fed up and go with someone else! She has no idea what’s coming!” Her Gramps chuckled, shaking his head and clutching his side as he thought about how deceptive he had been. Y/n smiled, remembering all the previous years where Nana Jean had become so exasperated at his apparent incapability that she’d given up all hope of winning with him. It had had no impact on their marriage, and the two of them were just as in love as they had been when they first got married, but Nana Jean also had a healthy love of winning things, and gingerbread was one of her specialties. 

“Focus, love, you’re tipping the mix out the bowl,” her Gramps said, nudging her in the arm. Y/n looked down to see the mess that she’d made over the table, and cursed softly under her breath. “What were you thinking about to make you zone out like that?” She flushed, and cast a quick glance over to where Anthony was stood at the island in the kitchen carrying out the same job as her. Without thinking, her gaze drifted down to where his hands were mixing the ingredients together in the bowl, and when her Gramps coughed she snapped her focus back to him and realised that she hadn’t actually given him an answer. Damn her Nana for saying what she said about Anthony’s hands and putting thoughts into her head! 

“Sorry,” she muttered, trying to ignore the weird look he was giving her and the heat that was now permanently in her cheeks. 

“That’s alright, love. Just scoop it back up, like this, there we are. That’s looking pretty good I’d say. Go ahead and add the next bits now, and I’ll finish drawing up these stencils.”

~~~

“What do I need to do now?” Anthony asked, holding his hands just above the bowl. Nana Jean looked over from where she had finished cutting up the last of the stencils and smiled. 

“Ah, you’ve added in the butter mixture, good lad. Looks perfect to me, so let’s get it rolled out and we can start cutting. We need to make sure we get to the oven before Richard and Y/n do, because then we’ll have a head start on the decorating.”

“Alright.”

“You might want to wash your hands first though, what with all that mix on there. Make sure you get as much as you can in the bowl before you go and scrub ‘em.” Anthony nodded, starting to push off all the gingerbread mix that had clung to his fingers while he’d been bringing the ingredients together. He heard laughter from across the room and immediately recognised it as Y/n’s, which was strange because he didn’t think that he’d heard her laugh so unapologetically since coming here. Normally it was forced, or real but contained, and although they hadn’t got along before this entire situation had happened she had still laughed like she was currently (normally when he fell over from tripping on his coat). She was gorgeous when she smiled widely, and even more so when she laughed, and Anthony paused in his actions as he watched her be properly happy around her family for one of the first times this holiday. 

He knew that she got on well with her Gramps, despite his reservations about her job and some of the comments he made about her being ‘too much to handle sometimes’, but clearly they could forget about that when they were baking together, without the pressure of Steph and Linda watching their every move. 

No, Anthony had that pleasure, and Steph’s eyes hadn’t left his face for the past thirty minutes. 

He felt the weight of her gaze now, and after sending a small wave to Y/n when she looked over and saw him (she’d stuck her middle finger up in response, but had immediately blown him a kiss when he acted hurt) he sighed and turned to Steph. “Can I help you?” He asked, resuming his previous actions of taking the gingerbread mixture off of his hands and depositing it into the bowl. 

“I think you can,” she answered, plastering on a sickly sweet smile and slowly walking over to stand on his left. She stopped barely a hair’s breadth away from his arm, and the perfume she had on was swarming his senses and making him want to gag. It was just as cloying as her smile. “See, I’ve been thinking a lot recently,” Steph started, and Anthony bit back his retort of ‘careful, don’t strain yourself too much’ and tried not to flinch when her hand came in contact with his shoulder. “I think that we haven’t really had a chance to… get to know one another. Properly. And I really would like to… get to know you, Anthony.” Her fingers danced down his arm, and he couldn’t help the grimace that came across his face at her tone. He stepped away a little, trying to not knock Nana Jean while still putting some distance between Stephanie and her wandering hands (that had since moved to his chest). 

“I’m not sure I follow,” he frowned, turning and moving to the sink. He’d gotten as much of the sticky gingerbread mixture off of his hands as possible, and now all that was left was to douse them in water. Steph followed him, gripping his arm tightly and restricting his movement. He was too good of an agent to panic - panicking in his line of work meant almost-certain death - but he could feel unease creeping up his spine and a chill working its way into his bones like miasma. 

“Why don’t we take a minute? Out in the hallway?” He really didn’t like the way she’d said that, all low and what seemed like an attempt at seduction (he couldn’t tell because it was so bad, but from the look in her eyes he could make a guess), and he shook his head. 

“I’ve got to stay here, help out Jean. Shouldn’t you be making your own gingerbread?”

“Oh, that thing? No, we never win so what’s the point? I’d much rather spend some time with you… alone.” Anthony finished washing his hands, trying to ignore how Steph’s grip on his arm had somehow grown stronger in the last minute, and turned back to the island. His eyes scanned the kitchen and dining room, desperately searching for someone that would see he’d been accosted and would come to his rescue, but everybody was busy making gingerbread houses. 

“A minute and a minute only. No more than that,” he said, giving in. Steph’s smile turned smug, and she dragged him out of the kitchen, at which point Nana Jean did look up, sending him a questioning look. Anthony mouthed ‘sorry, back in a moment’ just in time before the kitchen door shut in his face. He sighed, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw in preparation for whatever the hell Steph wanted. “Right,” he started, opening his eyes again and looking around for her. “What’s so urgent that you needed to-” He was cut off by Steph practically lunging at him, grabbing his face and pushing her lips onto his. It took him roughly a second to figure out what was happening, and he quickly got over his initial shock and shoved her off. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth, looking at Steph with disgust. 

“Oh come on! I know for a fact that you and Y/n aren’t actually together, so what does it matter? Besides,” she continued, sidling up to him again when he took a step back, “I know that deep down you want this, Anthony.” He frowned, both at her words and at how she was still coming towards him, and the previous chill that had settled on him was now a raging storm. He kept it contained, not wanting to cause too much of a scene when anyone could hear what was happening on the other side of the door (that was now blocked by Steph), but the anger was evident when he spoke. 

“I’m not sure where you got those ideas from, Stephanie, or why you think that I will ever want you when Y/n is in my life, but you need to stop.” She tried to contain her shock at his rough tone, but the way her eyes widened gave her away. 

“Wha-”

“Let me finish. First of all, why do you think we’re not actually together? Are you so disbelieving of the fact that Y/n is a genuinely incredible person and could absolutely get anyone she wanted? Because I consider myself lucky that she even tolerates my presence half the time, let alone wants to date me. Second, even if we weren’t together, it would matter to me. I’m not the sort of person who switches loyalties that easily, and I will always, always, put my relationship with Y/n before any kind of attempted civilities with you. As it happens, she is my girlfriend, and quite honestly the fact that you think I’ll ever leave her for you is laughable.” He was being mean, he knew, but he was too done with Steph’s behaviour to worry about being nice and charming now. He’d pieced together the last of the puzzle that had been bothering him since he first got here too, connecting the dots between Linda and Steph’s comments and Y/n’s subsequently strange behaviour since arriving here. “So no, I do not want this. What I want is for you to stop bullying her, and belittling her, and making her feel like shit all the damn time, because she doesn’t deserve it,” he seethed, jabbing his finger in her face. “She doesn’t deserve any of it at all. All the comments about how much she’s eating, or her body shape, or giving her a gym membership as a Christmas present, or telling her she’s not pretty enough because she doesn’t look like you, or because she wears the same dress two years in a row, all of that needs to stop. Because you make her act like an entirely different person when you’re around and that is not alright. Because Y/n is ten times the person that you will ever be, Steph, because she isn’t a bully. She’s genuine, and kind, and loving, and the most beautiful girl in the entire universe, and she doesn’t deserve a single iota of the hate that you give her.”

Steph was quiet for a minute, processing everything he’d just ranted about. “I overheard you,” she finally said, not looking at him. “That first night when Y/n stormed off upstairs in some stupid tantrum-”

“She stormed off upstairs because you were being a bitch.”

“Right,” Steph didn’t looked too bothered, but she at least had the grace to flinch at his icy tone. “Well after you went up, I followed, because yeah, you’re right, I am very disbelieving that someone as good-looking as you would ever go for someone as ugly as her when you know you could do at least twenty times better, and I thought there was something weird about it! And there was a very large period of time when I couldn’t hear anything, which was really annoying because my legs were getting tired from-”

“Steph, hurry it up.” He had barely any patience remaining now, and her voice had gone all whiny and irritating.

“Oh, yeah. Well, then I heard you two talking about how it was really hard pretending to like each other or something, and you were arguing and saying that you were pretending to date.” Anthony froze for a moment, but rapidly recovered and eased himself into his normal ‘customer service’ persona, plastering on a pitiful smile. Before he could say anything though, Steph was moving towards the kitchen door, one hand on the handle. “It’s been quite fun, really, watching you fake a relationship to everyone. I’ve been trying to work out when the best time to bring it up was ever since Christmas Day after you had a go at me. So, either you tell them all, or I do. You’ve got nowhere to hide now, and I am going to enjoy watching this whole thing collapse on Y/n. I’ll give you until after the competition’s been judged; I wouldn’t want to ruin the festivities.” Her smile was even more sickening than it had been when she’d first started this conversation back in the other room, and after she disappeared into the kitchen and closed the door behind her, Anthony let out a shaky breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding. 

He needed to talk to Y/n before the end of the competition, and figure out how the hell they were going to deal with Steph. 

~~~

She couldn’t stop staring at his hands. 

Since coming back in from whatever hallway conversation he’d had with Steph, Anthony had gone right back to helping Nana Jean with a smile on his face, despite the wary glances he kept throwing towards Y/n’s cousin. She hadn’t seen the two of them step out, but she had noticed that Anthony was gone, because she’d gone to look at his hands again and he wasn’t there. 

Her Gramps was helping her cut out the shapes they would need for their gingerbread house, and she’d been doing just fine until out of the corner of her eye she’d seen Anthony slip back on the ring he always wore. 

He had taken it off earlier when Nana Jean told him he needed to mix the ingredients with his hands, not wanting to get the metal coated in gingerbread mix, but now that his hands were clean again he was adjusting it back on his finger. 

Why couldn’t she stop staring at his hands?

She’d nearly cut a piece of gingerbread entirely wrong just now because she had been too focused on how the metal band looked against his slender fingers while he rolled out the gingerbread, and her Gramps had scolded her by chucking a bit of flour at her face. 

“Pay attention, love, you’re very distracted today. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, uh- yeah… yes. Everything is… is fine.” She hadn’t taken her eyes off of his ring, which meant she didn’t see either her Gramps’ concerned look or Anthony’s bemused one until Will was calling across the kitchen. 

“Keep it in your pants, Squeak! You can take your Lover Boy to bed after the gingerbread competition!” Y/n flushed as her gaze snapped up to meet Anthony’s, finally noticing that she’d been caught blatantly checking out his hands. 

“Alright, Will,” her mother scolded, although there was a hint of amusement behind it that made Y/n want the ground to swallow her up. Anthony just raised his eyebrows at her, smirk on his face, and she didn’t have it in her to fight back, instead turning back to the gingerbread in front of her and cutting out the last of the shapes. 

~~~

“Hey,” Anthony said, finally getting a chance to talk to Y/n. Pretty much everybody either had their gingerbread shapes in the ovens, or they were waiting for a space to free up, so he had been excused by Nana Jean for a while. 

“Oh, hi!” She hadn’t seen him walk over, but the second she realised he was there she reached up and planted a quick kiss on his mouth. He felt himself blush, despite it being over faster than most of their kisses, and she let out a snort. “Really? All I did was give you a peck on the lips, Ant.”

A wave of confidence came over him, and although the heat stayed on his cheeks he leaned down to murmur in her ear. “Well I wasn’t doing much with my hands but I still had you blushing, didn’t I darling?” Y/n had no answer to that (not that it had really been a question; he’d seen her staring earlier and he was almost certain her thoughts had drifted somewhere other than something innocent), and before he pulled back Anthony pressed a lingering kiss just by her ear. 

“You- y- you can’t just say that, Ant! Jesus!” He laughed, wrapping his arm around her waist and bringing her into his chest while she hid her face in his neck. He hummed, happy, until he caught a glimpse of Steph out of the corner of his eye. 

“Darling?”

“What?” she replied, although it was somewhat muffled since her head was still buried in his christmas jumper. 

“We need to talk about something really quickly, do you want to step out?” Y/n lifted her head, frown crossing her features. Anthony wanted to press kisses to it until it disappeared, but the conversation he’d had with Stephanie was at the front of his mind. 

“Okay… is everything alright?” she asked as he led her out of the kitchen by the hand. He didn’t say anything until they were in the library, safely away from all other family members. “Ant, seriously, what’s going on?”

“Steph talked to me earlier.”

“Right… how was it?”

“Awful. She kissed me.”

“WHAT?!”

“Darling, it’s fine, it was less than a second and I shoved her off and-“

“What? Oh! Oh, no, I’m not angry with you, Ant. I’m pissed at her for kissing my fucking boyfriend!”

“Ah. Okay. Well that’s not actually the thing I wanted to talk about.”

“There’s more?!”

“She knows. That we’re not… that we weren’t… that we were faking it. She doesn’t know that we stopped doing that and started actually dating, because she walked away before I could tell her that, but she’s known since the first night and she’s been waiting ever since. She gave me an ultimatum, and said that either we fess up or she does, right after the competition has been judged. Seemed far too happy about watching you suffer, to be honest. I think she might need to see a doctor.” Y/n stared at him, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she shut it completely. 

“So, Steph knows. Steph has known basically the entire time. And Steph has done nothing?”

“Yes. She said something about wanting to ‘watch the whole thing collapse on you’ and that she would ‘enjoy it’ or something?”

“That bitch. Well what are we gonna do then? Because whatever happens it sounds like my family is finding out about this whole… thing,” she flapped her hands between them before sighing and pressing them to her face. “I was right. This is a shitshow.”

“Hey, hey. Worst case scenario is Steph tells everyone, yes? But then we can just tell them the truth. Will knows, and he’ll back us up, right? And I’m fairly certain that Nana Jean knows but I’m not sure how, she just kept making these little comments while we were baking earlier and winking at me and I just - it just feels like she knows.” 

“Nana Jean’s just like that, I suppose. It would make sense if she knew. Okay. You’re right. We can do this. We’ll just wait until Steph tells everyone, and then tell the truth.” Y/n paused for a moment, looking down at the floor while she chewed her lip. “I don’t think I can tell the truth,” she said, and when she brought her gaze back up her eyes were shining with the tears that were threatening to fall. Anthony stepped closer, framing her face in his hands and planting a soft kiss to her forehead. 

“You don’t need to tell the whole truth. Not if you don’t want to. Just the bit about us being in a proper relationship now if you like, and I can do that if you need me to. But whatever you choose, darling, I’ll be with you. I will be right by your side, Y/n, always.”

“Thank you, Anthony.”

“Anytime, my darling. Anytime at all.”

He hoped she knew just how much he meant it. 

part 10

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#deck the halls (and not your partner) #lockwood and co #lockwood & co #anthony lockwood #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x you #lockwood x reader #enemies to lovers #fake dating #christmas