#and anyway. i wonder if the only reason i enjoy being alone so much

[grippingbeskar]

small favours

— joel miller x fem!reader

— warnings: explicit content minors dni, smutttt, dirty talk, very minimal plot sorry not sorry, swearing, needles, mention of injuries/cuts

— a/n: happy tlou release week!! this is set in jackson between the first and second game, i wrote the first part before i saw the show but just imagine with me okay. and it’s literally just bc i saw joel in that denim shirt and went yeah… i wanna fuck him in that. lmao. also dedicated to @everybirdfellsilent because we have been waiting for this show for so long and it’s finally here and oaoxosoxosox. wow.

You hadn’t asked for much.

It was a simple fix, you were sure of it. Yes, you don’t know anything about how to fix hinges, nor do you have any clue about how you broke it in the first place. Either way, it’s just a few screws and a metal piece, so was it really that hard to find five minutes to fix it?

Leading another one of the horses into the stable, you pointedly step over the gate that now lays on the floor, too heavy for you to move it. The horse tramples it, of course, which is why you had asked for someone to come and fix it before the horses were brought back in from patrol. Clearly, no one gave a shit about your question, but you know they’d all be the first to complain if it was their horse that got out through a broken gate.

It was late now, anyways. Too late for you to get anyone out, and even with the safety of Jackson’s walls keeping you blocked off from the outside world, being out at night still freaked you. When you finally got the horse in your hand settled and fed, you promptly sat yourself on the floor of the stable. Without the front gate, it wasn’t safe to leave the horses alone. With your luck, they’d get spooked and run all the way through town, and the last thing you needed was more reason for the people in here to look at you.

It wasn’t that you weren’t liked— you just kept to yourself. This life was hard enough as it is, and you didn’t see the point in making friends when in five years this place would probably be full of strangers. People die every day out here, you knew that too well. You wanted to save yourself the heartache wherever you could.

All that anti social behaviour certainly didn’t win you any favours though— hence the still broken door. You loved it— you were good with horses, having lived in a farm before the outbreak, so you decided to volunteer to help in the stables, but it was hard work sometimes. It kept you busy enough, though, and horses never wanted to make conversation, so… win-win.

There was only one problem with working in here. Truthfully, it wasn’t so much as a problem and more of a chronic condition. At least, that’s the way it felt every time Joel Miller made some kind of appearance. Most people just left the horses tied up out front for you to take care of, but Joel seemed to enjoy the peace the stable provided— that and you never talked much, which seemed to work for him. On the days he’d come back from patrol, the two of you would share a few hushed conversations as you worked and he hid from the rest of Jackson, and then you’d fall into a comfortable silence, sometimes for hours at a time.

Weeks had passed like this, and every single day you got a little bit more interested in who the man really was, other than his clear infatuation with his horse. Right when he came in would be the time you talked the most, after about forty minutes it would get too busy and you’d work until the sun set. But those forty minutes started to stretch a little longer, and he seemed to gain interest in you, too. Maybe you were grasping at straws, but hearing Joel’s low voice rumble a few more words every time he spoke to you was doing wonders for your self esteem, and even you couldn’t deny the way your face warmed when he smiled at you.

“Hey, you still— damn. What happened here?” Joel calls from the gaping hole that is the stable door, and only because it’s his voice calling you do you look up.

“It’s been broken all day. I asked someone to fix it, but…” You shrug, sighing and leaning your head back on the small gate that was the only thing holding the horse behind you from leaping out down the main street. “I guess they had other shit to do. I can’t move it on my own.”

Joel considers you for a second, how your frame is backed against the gate, conveniently placed at the closest point to the open door. Then, he looks back to the door on the ground, and back up to you. He smirks.

“So you were plannin’ on sitting in here all night?” The weight of the day makes your shoulders slump forward, and for the first time you really consider your plan. “You gonna body check a horse when he makes a run for it?”

“Okay, it was a dumb plan. But, it’s that or let them all out and get stuck cleaning up the bar floor or something.” He smiles again, the setting sun behind him washing over his shoulders in a pretty orange colour. A tilt of his head in your direction has you standing up, taking the lead of his horse that he offers to you.

“You take him, I’ll go get my tools. Fix it up before sun down.” Before you can protest or tell him he doesn’t have to, he’s walking off to the right up the hill where his house sits.

You’d always been a bit jealous of the spot his house is. It’s far away enough from everyone that you get some real privacy, but close to the stables if you need a quick exit. He had a porch, too. One you spent a little too much of your time staring at during your work hours, when he spent his off days strumming a guitar right in your line of sight. He was just… peaceful to observe. He brought a calm to you that no one else seemed to be able to do, almost enough that you could forget about the world outside and just exist in that little bubble for a while.

You lead Joel’s horse inside, hearing it trample the door again, and hang up his saddle next to the stable. Joels horse is much like him— quiet unless provoked. You found it out the hard way when you first led it in with a routinely aggressive horse, thinking it’s demeanour would calm him down. The next morning you woke up to two very angry horses and a half bent gate of steel.

“Saved you your favourite spot.” You say to his horse, Old Beardy. You never asked how Joel picked the name, but for some reason it worked so well— at least, he was definitely older than most. “See? He’s right up there.”

The stable at the back was angled just right so that the small window at the height of a horses head pointed directly towards Joel’s porch. Not close enough to see anything other than the outside, but enough that you know it’s there. You don’t come in here often, Joel always taking his own horse in, but when you do you can’t help but notice the instant calming effect it has on Beardy— you might have more in common with this horse than half the people in Jackson.

When you find your way back to the front, Joel’s footsteps are trudging back down the hill. You’ll be fairly useless as anything other than company while he fixes the door, but you can’t seem to stop your heart from racing a million miles a minute as he gets closer and closer. Yes, he makes you forget about everything on the outside, but that’s mainly due to how insane he drives you. All those conversations in the stables and too long looks in town are just all too consuming, and now, when you see him come into sight, you have to put some physical difference between him and you.

“You don’t have to, Joel. Really, I’m sure someone’ll—“

“No, they won’t. Knowin’ the people around here, you’ll be sleepin’ on the floor till next year.” He bends down, and you drop yourself back to the floor and stare in some kind of mesmerised silence as he runs his hands over the broken hinges of the door.

In a few passing thoughts you’d never admit to yourself, you have an obsession with his hands. He was just so…capable. He could do so many things so easily— and some kind of backward wire in your brain fizzled with electricity at the sight of him in his element. He starts fiddling with tools, first starting to remove the broken hinge, muscles flexing as he tears off the old bolts.

“What happened?” He says, the words muffled by the screwdriver in his mouth.

“I have no clue. When I woke up this morning it was blown in. I spent a good hour trying to move it but it’s so—“ With one arm, he pulls it up to stand vertical, a fist wrapping around the edge of the gate. It doesn’t even look like he tried. “—heavy.”

“Come ‘ere and hold it straight.” He says, keeping one arm out in front of him, the other still holding the door up. “I won’t let it fall. Come on.”

“Like this?” You say, staring down at him as you finally reach the door and take a little bit of the weight. He flicks his eyes up, nodding and shifting on his knees to get a better angle on the door.

“Perfect.” He says softly, looking up at you for another split second before clearing his throat and screwing on a new hinge.

“You really didn’t have to do this, but thank-you.” Joel shakes his head, his fingers fiddling with a latch.

“Least I can do. Everyone should be up here helpin’ you anyways.” He stands up, and with only a barrier the width of a gated door, you can feel his body heat keeping you warm when he towers over you. “Keep holding it still.”

“Yeah.” You manage, eyes fluttering closed. “People help, though.”

“Oh, I bet.” He says, sarcasm dripping off his words as he laughs dryly.

“They do! Sometimes… I mean, it’s not their fault. I’m kind of a hermit up here. I don’t really make an effort, so I can’t blame them.” He stops working, his knuckles white over the railing of the gate, and looks to you.

“You’ve trained all these new horses to track better than those guys ever could. They’d die out there without ‘em. Carl doesn’t know his left from right— he got lost eight times last patrol. It’s cause of your horses he got back safe.” Joel’s face is more serious, his eyes sharp but still with a hint of softness that he often looks at you with. “Doesn’t matter if you ain’t makin’ friends. This ain’t middle school, and people should be helpin’ you no matter what. Least of all fixing a door.”

“That’s why I keep you around, Joel.” You smile lightly, his voice getting lower the angrier he gets.

“Good. You tell me next time, and I’ll come round and help. Avoid the whole town all together.” You hum, letting go of the gate as he hauls it up in the air and shuffled backward, setting it against the hinges. “How do you know so much about horses?”

“I lived on a farm, way back when. Besides, they’re easy to navigate once you get to know them.” Joel puts the screwdriver back in his mouth, and you can’t help but stare at him. The small scars on his face, peppered around his cheeks. Some are older, worn and faded, while the one across his nose is new. It’s not even scarred yet, still fresh

“You okay?” He says softly, tilting his head.

“Your face.” His eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head. “Sorry. You… did something happen on patrol? You have a cut—“

“Just a few clickers. Real old, hauled up in a caravan out west. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” The door drops into place, and he swings it out towards him. It sounds less squeaky than it usually did. “Good as new.”

“You should clean it.” You say, worry edging in your voice. “If it was clickers.”

“I’m fine.” He shrugs it off.

“Come on. It’s the least I can do. I have a first aid kit in the back, and then we can call it even.” He relents, locking the door behind him and stepping further into the stables. “Sit. I’ll get the kit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You can hear a small smirk on his voice, and you roll your eyes, turning around to find the kit. “Why you got a first aid kit in here anyways?”

“You’re using it now, aren’t you?” You turn around, raising your eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how many people come here before going to medical. I started to stock up a little, do what I can. It’s not much, but I can clean it off and do some botched stitches until they see a real doctor.”

“And none of those guys came up to fix the god damn door?” He was getting angry again, and you tried to ignore the shiver that went up your spine when he spoke like that.

He was sitting on a small stool, putting him about waist height. When you stepped closer, shuffling your feet on the floor, he tilted his head up. His open legs invited you closer, nearly drawing you in with a magnetic field he was completely unaware of.

Armed with a cotton ball and disinfectant, your fingers were light enough to breeze along his jaw to hold him in place. He stares up at you, watching your eyes as they flit between the cut on his nose and his wandering gaze. His face is warm when you work up the courage to place your palm on his cheek, thumb gently smoothing over the salt and pepper flecks of his beard. He doesn’t flinch away when you press the cotton ball to his face, swiping across the bridge of his nose.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, feeling the need to keep your voice low.

“No.” He does the same, the heat of his body making you shuffle slightly closer. His hands are in fists on his knees, like he’s straining to keep himself still. “Told you it was fine.”

“And I told you I wanted to help.” When you’re satisfied with the results, you take a fresh cotton pad and dry it up. “You might need stitches. It’s deep.”

“Go on.” He says, and you lean back, eyes wide.

“You want me to stitch your face together?”

“Good practise, and I trust you.” The simple words have your heart slamming against your rib cage, but instead of showing it you kneel in between his legs and search the contents of the kit for a needle.

“If I mess up your face, you knew what you signed up for.” When you find what you’re looking for, you straighten, Joel’s face is right in front of you. It takes you a second to realise just how close he is, and the position isn’t lost on him either. It’s probably the most emotive you’ve seen him, his jaw going tight from how hard he’s biting down.

“It’s already messed up. You’re fine.” He manages, his voice strained.

“Hold still.” Whispering the words, you lean closer and bring the needle to his skin. His eyes close, and it’s when you press the point into his nose that his hands shoot out in front of him, holding your hips gently.

“Sorry. Shit—“

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” He grunts in a way you think is affirming, so you keep threading the needle. You only need one stitch for a spot this small. “Your face isn’t messed up.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not. Messed up.” You feel his thumbs stroke along the bone of your hip just once before he stills again. You tie off the stitch, and his eyes open. “There. You’re pretty again.”

Your breathing was rapid even though you didn’t have a true reason for it, but neither of you moved. His hands— strong and so fucking capable, holding you still on your knees in front of him. His eyes were pools, inviting you in with a gleam of something shiny, and where you were nearly gasping he was calm and collected. In his element, like he was right where he should be.

The whole stable was a dull orange now, the colours dusting through the strands of Joel’s hair. It’s never really sitting right, wind whipping it out of control on patrol, but you have the urge to run your hands through it anyway. You let yourself explore one small piece of him, like he has to you, and your fingertips run back over the shell of his ear, tangling in his hair. He sucks in a short breath, leaning into the hold of your hand.

“Joel.” You say, voice so soft he would of never heard you if you weren’t so close, but you call for him and he leans closer. Your foreheads nearly touch, and his hands tighten their hold on you.

“Thank you, darlin’.” You sigh deeply, unable to keep yourself upright at the nickname. It rings through you, his accent strong and adding an entire other layer to why he’s so easy to fall into. You don’t even really notice how dark it’s gotten— you usually have sprinted home by now. But Joel’s here, and with him this close, you can’t think of anything else. He leans closer, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Can I kiss you?” He says, the brush of his lips against yours sending a tidal wave of need from your head to your feet.

“Only if you hurry up.” You answer helplessly, voice cracking, and he smiles against you and finally brings his mouth to yours.

It’s anything but calm. That peaceful energy of the stables is completely shattered and sorted into something electrical and sizzling. He yanks you forward, bodies pressing together as you use the leverage of your hand fisted in his hair to kiss him harder and deeper. It doesn’t take long before his tongue is swiping along your bottom lip, seeking permission.

You let him in— you’d let him do whatever he asked for if he kept pouring himself into you like this. He tasted good, which should be impossible but when you’ve been starved of something for this long it doesn’t matter what he does it’s just that he’s giving it to you. He moves his hands to the small of your back, pressing your hips right in the middle of his open legs, his other hand on the back of your head.

You feel him groan when you press together, the sound waking up parts of you that had been dormant for far too long. It was like he had access to each nerve in your body, and every little sound or touch had them blaring red and sparking.

“Fuck, darlin’. Come closer.” He groans into your mouth before kissing you again. You smile for a moment, not entirely sure how you could get any closer, and then it’s wiped off when he hauls you upward, hooking your legs around his waist on the stool. “Yeah. Right here.”

Your arms cling around his neck, his own searching up and down your body. Your shirt rides up with the movements and you moan every time he grazed along your skin. There’s something equally hard and soft about his hands— rough from years of work but soft with the way they hold you up, how they’re careful not to dip too low or high. You arch your back, giving him wordless permission, and he groans into your mouth again.

At some point you have to breath— both of you gasping for air in the quiet of the darkened stables. He brings his hands to your face, holding you against his forehead so he can look into your eyes. He was smiling too— like actually smiling, not that half smirk you’ve seen so often.

“What are we doin’?” He laughs, kissing you again.

“I don’t know, but can we keep going somewhere that doesn’t smell like horse shit?” You whisper and he laughs again. It’s sounds so good— like the sound of the beginning of your favourite song. It makes your heart sing, melting you into the tune. “Please, Joel. I really want…”

“Tell me, baby.” He moves, angles your head with swift moves of his fingers so he can kiss you lower. Under your jaw, and then he drags his mouth down, along your neck, teeth nipping softly… “Fuck knows I wanna hear you say it.”

“You. I really want you.” He hums against your skin, one arm hooking under your ass as he stands easily. You squeal, muffling the sound in the mop of hair on his head. As you walk outside, there’s only a few people still mulling around, and they turn their heads towards you when they hear your soft laughter mixed with Joel’s— two sounds that seem to alarm them more than clickers.

For the first time since you’d been here, you really don’t care if people are looking at you, or what they’re saying. When Joel locks the gate behind you and slides you down his chest to let your feet touch the floor, you are reminded once again of his ability to remove every single thought from your mind except him. Just him, and his hands on your hips, spinning you around and leading you up the hill towards his house. How every so often he’ll bend down, pressing his lips lightly to the back of your neck, and how you can feel his smile on your skin.

He guides you easily, your body on auto pilot to his small gestures, and when you finally rush up the few steps of his porch— one you’ve spent way too much time staring at from afar, you’re both attached to each others face like horny teenagers. He fumbles with the doors lock, jamming keys with aggressive force while his other hand stays soft and sweet on your waist, holding you against him. When the door gives out behind you he never lets you stumble, taking you in his stride with practised precision. You’ve seen the inside of his house, but never the layout, so as he guides you blindly through the hallway, your shut eyes and occupied mouth never see it coming when you fall backwards onto a bed.

“Let me take this off.” He mumbles against your lips, tugging at your shirt and jacket. In a tangle of limbs you both shove at the material, finally hooking it over your head. He presses you flat against the mattress again, hanging over you and running his hands up and down your sides in long, soothing strokes. “God damn gorgeous.”

“Your turn.” The blaze in his eyes dulls slightly at your comment, and he just bends to kiss you again. He links your hands in his own, pulling you away from where they were tugging at his shirt. “Joel.”

“Nothin’ there you wanna see, baby. Just let me look at you.” As sweet as his voice sounds, and as much as you want him to continue, you pull away from his greedy mouth.

“Please take your fucking shirt off.” You say harshly, biting at his bottom lip hard enough for his eyes to open again. He looks over you, taking in the sight of you under him with your arms pinned above your head, back arched towards him. He’s clearly contemplating how difficult it would be to ignore you, smirking a little when he looks up at your hands again.

“Or what? You gonna make me stop?” He kisses under your jaw, his free hand skating along your side, only stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your jeans. When he hears you gasp as his hand disappears under the fabric, he laughs. “Nah, you won’t make me stop. Want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?”

“But I want—“

“Shh, shh. I’ll give you what you want.” His mouth his dizzying— words and movements hot against your skin as his hand bypasses your underwear and drags slow circles against your clit, immediately drawing his name from your lips again. “There you go, darlin’. Feels good?”

“God— yeah, faster. Please.” Your chest was rising and falling so fast, trying to pull the air he was punching out of your lungs with every quick movement of his fingers. He hums at the praise, and you feel him shift above you, sitting up so he could slip one finger inside of you. “Fuck, Joel!”

“I know, baby.” He tilts his head up to kiss you again, tongue matching the fast and unpredictable pace of his hand. You can feel it building— pleasure rippling up your spine and fizzing low in your stomach, and your hands tug under Joel’s unrelenting grip.

He seems to forget he was meant to be holding you, his groans and concentration all focused on the way he was fucking you with his hand, so he lets you go, his hand going to hold your face. It makes you smile under him, but it quickly gets lost when you moan his name again, rolling your hips against him.

Now your hands are free, you have a moment of clarity when your eyes flutter open and see him staring at you; eyes flitting between your face and your chest. You want to have that— to see skin you’ve only thought about in the late hours of the night when you were alone, never admitting it to yourself when you woke the next day. You grab onto the hem of his shirt, ripping the denim up as far as you can, getting your hands on the bare skin of his back.

He doesn’t help you— too obsessed with the way you are writhing and moaning so loud the poeple down the street will know what your doing. Neither of you care about anything else than this, right here, and the fiery hot spark that’s lighting you up inside.

“Shirt, Joel.” You tug at the collar, then card your fingers through his hair and pull. He grumbles something, and then you whimper when his hand leaves you and he sits up on his knees. He was out of breath, towering over you and keeping you caged underneath him as he tore the shirt over his head and threw it behind him. When he leans back down, he doesn’t give you the time to admire him that you’d like, but you take what he gives you. He shoves your own jeans down, shaking them off you in one tug, and your eyes hardly have time to open before you feel the backs of your calves press against the flexing muscles of his bare shoulders.

“Perfect.” He says, speech almost slurred, and the look he gives you reminds you of the one he gave you in the barn. Before you can think enough on it, both of his hands hold your hips down and he gives you one last look before he buried his face in your pussy.

It doesn’t take much to have you screaming his name again, that sweet hot pleasure that was building so quickly comes rushing back with the wet heat of his mouth. He eats you out like he’s fucking hungry for it— pulling borderline shouts from deep in your chest, like something is bashing against your ribcage, only awoken by his complete and utter devotion. His tongue swirls and fingers curl, and you lose sense of direction, clawing at his hair and feeling his groan when you pull him into you.

There’s no where to go, stuck under his weight as he dives into your taste, at his mercy entirely. It was so different to see him undone— a sight you wouldn’t be able to forget next time he came into the stables all soft eyes and short words. No, here he was holding your eye contact, groaning your name as if you were the one doing this to him. He gave you no choice but to hurtle towards the edge of consciousness, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold out under him much longer.

“Joel. Joel— fuck.” His lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers curl inside you in a spot that has you seeing stars. “Oh, god—“

He doesn’t say anything when you cum, just groans into your pussy as he guides you through it. He sets pace and intensity, both of which are hard and almost unbearable, and he only drags himself away when you beg him to. Your legs shake, his hands smoothing over your thighs as his mouth presses wet kisses up your skin, over your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth with an overwhelming force.

You hum, tasting the combination of you and him together on his tongue, taking everything he needs to give you. He shuffles up, and you feel his cock pressing hard against your thigh, still straining in his jeans. You let him kiss you lazily, let him explore you this way while your hands busy themselves between your bodies, unzipping his jeans. When your palm brushes over his length still covered by his boxers, he hisses and his eyebrows furrow, like the pleasure is almost painful. You do it again and he shudders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re so soft.” He murmurs past your ear when you slip your hand under the waistband. When your fingers wrap around him, you stay true to his word and stay light with your touch, not wanting him to finish just yet. You want to make it good for him— draw it out. Pay him back for everything he gave to you; not just tonight, but every night. “So fucking soft. Sweet.”

“You like that?” You ask innocently, stroking him again. Your thumb brushes over his tip and he shudders again, nearly shivering. “I can be gentle. Want you inside me, though.”

“Whatever you want. Fuck— anything you want to do to me. Please, baby. Not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” A single please was enough to grant him a thousand wishes, but you’ll settle for giving him just one.

He helps rid himself of the rest of his clothes, no insecurity in sight with the lower half of his body. There was no need to be… he was big. It made sense— he was a big guy, but it wasn’t just that. He was just… perfect.

“Eyes on me.” He says, pulling your gaze away from where your bodies are about to meet. “I want to see your face when I…”

He trails off when his tip lines up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation, feeling the soaked pleasure coating him as he finally slides himself further and further. You both sigh, like a weight is being lifted from both of you. As if this was the way you were both meant to be.

He bottoms out, head buried in the crook of your neck as he chokes out your name. You feel full— the weight and stretch holding you to the bed, your arms strung lazily around his neck. Your fingers wander down his spine, keeping that soft lilt to your touch that he seems to thrive under. For all his hardness and strength, it’s the lightest touches that seem to crumble him the most.

“Fuck, baby. Feel so good around me.” Joel never speaks for the fun of it, but he says these things like he needs to. Strained and focused, like it’s a compulsion to tell you how good it feels. “Needed to fuck you for so long. You gonna let me make you feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Joel. Please, I need— need you to move.” You whine like a spoilt child, and you are now that you’ve had a taste. He laughs once, a breathless sound, and then pulls out nearly all the way, only to slide back in with that same trained pace.

“Good girl.” He groans, and then picks up the pace.

It’s devastating. It’s the only way to describe it. He fucks you hard and slow, slowly etching himself into parts of your being you aren’t entirely sure he didn’t just create himself. Like he’s forged apart of you just for him, something low and hot, and he hits it with every, perfectly timed thrust. The bed rocks under him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Its creaks and groans are drowned out by his words and both of your moans.

You are incoherent— overcome by pleasure that shocks even the nerves in your fingers and toes, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Joel. He doesn’t fucking shut up— and it’s about the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“So fucking tight around me.”

“God, you feel good.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“Gonna fuck you for days.” Is the last one you hear before his groans turn to borderline whimpers, his pace stuttering as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and snap all at once. “Oh, fuck that’s it. Cum again for me. Jesus Christ—“

“Joel.” You can only whisper now— voice so strained that nothing could come out but his name. Your eyes roll back and you feel him fuck into you one or two more times, and then he pulls out and replaces himself with his hand. You ride out your pleasure on his skilled fingers, another wave of heat numbing you when you feel him spill onto your stomach, your back arching off the bed.

The room is suddenly dead quiet, nothing but panting breaths filling the silent house. He is still hanging over you, you can feel both of his forearms next to your head as he leans down to kiss you again. The warmth of his body is lifted just enough for him to use something soft to clean you off, and then he collapses beside you, tugging you onto his chest.

He runs his hand through your hair, stopping at your jaw to tilt you up. He kisses you again, the lack of oxygen making you giddy and dizzy, and you break the kiss only because your smiling so wide.

“What’s so funny?” He says, trying to be serious, but even in the dark you can see his matching grin.

“Just happy. Can I be happy?” It’s meant to be light hearted, but you feel him stop for a second, and then he tugs you a little closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be.” He tucks you under his chin, sighing deeply as the rest of your body turns into him and tangles itself with him. “I am.”

You open your eyes a final time, seeing the pitch black dark outside. If it was light, you’d be able to see the stable from here, but it’s black out there. Usually it would make you uneasy, but tucked up under Joel’s safe arms, there’s nothing in the world that could make you feel more at peace.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel killer x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfic #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader

[littlexdeaths]

strange love - s.h.

king steve harrington x loser fem reader

everybody wants to know, if we fucked on the bathroom sink…

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: underage drinking (everyone is 18+), mean!dom steve, steve is a major asshole, public sex, light degradation kink, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, steve makes reader cry, some good ole’ angst

a/n: this is a reworking of my first steeb fic i ever wrote on my old account. i hope you enjoy xx. and thank you to @stveharringtn for looking this over and hyping me up. ily cherry 💕

based on strange love by halsey

word count: 2.4k

You shouldn’t have come to this stupid party.

And you wouldn’t have, if Steve hadn’t practically begged you to make an appearance. It was only going to lead to more heartbreak for you, having to watch him flirt with every girl in the room. The night would end with you going home alone, wondering why you weren’t good enough to be on his arm.

Despite all that you go anyway, your heart severely outweighing the logical side of your brain. You even made sure to wear your best dress, hoping it would capture his attention. But the male didn’t glance your way the entire night, and you felt utterly defeated.

Why you didn’t leave after an hour of being ignored is beyond you, a small part of you still holding out hope. Leaning against a wall in the hallway you watch with disdain as your classmates drunkenly grind on each other. It was one of the last parties of the summer before college classes started, and everyone seemed to be making the most of it.

Everyone except for you.

“This was a stupid idea,” you mumble to yourself, glancing down at your drink with a deep sigh. Swirling the now lukewarm beer around in your cup, no longer interested in people watching. Drunken laughter pulls you from your sulking, watching in utter annoyance as Tommy attempts a keg stand in the middle of the living room.

A large crowd has surrounded him, giving you the perfect opportunity to find Jonathan and leave.

However, feeling a piece of paper being slipped into your hand stops you dead in your tracks. Your eyes searching for the source of the note. A familiar flutter starts in your lower belly as you catch sight of him, the male now halfway up the stairs. You quickly unravel the crumpled page to find a few words written in his messy script.

You immediately crumple the note in your palm, downing the rest of your beer before you make your way up to the second floor. Despite the large and somewhat confusing layout, you navigated the dark halls with ease. As you knew the male's house far too well now, having found yourself in his bed more times than you liked to admit.

This wasn’t supposed to happen like this, it was only meant to be a one time thing. To get back at your cheating asshole of an ex-boyfriend, Troy. After finding him tangled in the sheets with Vicki Carmichael at a party quite similar to this one. All because you weren’t ready to have sex with him. As much as it stung, a bigger part of you was incredibly relieved.

Something never fully cliqued with him, and deep down you didn’t want him to be your first. Troy and Steve were very good friends, and played basketball together. So it seemed fitting to ask Steve to be the one to take your virginity. Telling yourself it would royally piss Troy off, knowing you’d give it up to Steve and not him. But the truth is you’d always secretly had a thing for Steve for years.

That was your real reason, not that you’d ever admit it.

Steve was more than happy to fulfill your wish, not knowing your motive behind it. But what neither of you expected was that he would keep coming back for more. Once he had a taste of you, he couldn’t get enough. You had him wrapped around your finger, without even realizing it. However you both made a promise to keep the whole thing a secret, any plans of revenge now being thrown out the window.

Now that you weren’t dating Troy you had gone back to your quiet loser status, which you much preferred anyway. But Steve couldn’t have that ruining his reputation, so instead of arguing you went along with it. Agreeing to a secret friend with benefits relationship, despite knowing you’d want more. Feelings aside it didn’t stop you from hooking up with him multiple times a week, which brings you back to the present.

Your breathing was labored, partially due to the hand covering your mouth. You could hear the bass of the music from outside the bathroom door, so there was no need to be extra quiet.

But with Steve it was a necessity… especially in such a public place. Where anyone could press their ear to the door and figure out what was happening.

You found yourself bent over the bathroom sink, Steve fucking into you with such a ferocity it made your knees wobble. He had barely let the bathroom door shut before he was on you, tugging your panties down your legs. Tugging his shirt over his head, not bothering to take off his jeans in his impatience to have you.

“God you’re such a little tease you know that? Wearing this fucking dress, getting me all worked up.” He growled in your ear, whimpering against his hand as he pounds into your soaked heat.

The male is gripping your hip so hard you know he’ll leave bruises behind, but the harsh action only turns you on more. Knowing how desperate he was to have you, made you putty in his strong hands. Your own hand drifts between your thighs, finding your bundle of nerves and encircling it with your fingertips.

Glancing into the mirror in front of you, you watch his face as he continues to ram himself inside you. His honey brown hair sticks to his forehead, no longer styled in the perfect swoop he had it in before you entered the bathroom. His dark eyes meet yours in the reflection, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he watches you intensely.

“Hm, look at how pathetic you look honey… letting me use you like a whore.” He grunts, leaning in closer and tugging on your earlobe with his teeth, “But you like that don’t you? You like being my whore?”

You find yourself nodding, unable to speak. Partially due to the hand still covering your mouth, but you knew even if it wasn't there it wouldn’t have made much difference. The male had fucked any logical thoughts from you at that point.

But you can’t deny the way your body reacts to his words, your walls tightening around him at the mere mention of belonging to him… and him alone. Something Steve doesn’t miss either.

“That’s cute baby…” he chuckles, letting his lips graze along the exposed skin of your throat. “Glad she knows exactly who she belongs to.”

Tears of pleasure blur your vision, mascara streaming freely down your cheeks. Your fucked out reflection stares back at you as he continues to pound into you from behind. Hooded eyes drift to gaze at him once more, seeing how his mouth falls open in a moan as you continue to pulse around his cock.

His sun kissed skin was beautifully flushed, his days spent as a lifeguard at Hawkin’s community pool were treating him extremely well. It made you want nothing more than to leave a trail of dark bruises along his freckled neck— effectively marking him as yours.

But you knew that couldn’t happen, he wouldn’t allow it. His reputation as the town’s local biggest player was far more important to him than you could ever be. At least that’s what he wanted you to believe.

You watch in awe as his head tilts back, exposing more of his throat to you. His adam’s apple bobs as he moans, fighting the urge to push him against the wall and taste the sweat that’s coating his skin in a glossy sheen.

Steve just looked so pretty like this, on the edge of release. While you had witnessed it many times now— part of you still was so mesmerized by him.

You can feel your orgasm bubbling up inside you, continuing to rub your clit faster. You cry out against his hand, the whimper of his name now muffled by his palm. Your eyes nearly roll back as your orgasm crashes over you. But Steve doesn’t let up his pace, your knees almost buckling as he fucks into you harder.

“I know you can cum harder than that honey, do. it. again.” He growls lowly in your ear, dropping his hand away from your mouth.

Quickly knocking your own out of the way to continue rubbing your overly sensitive clit. You’d barely come down from your first high before he had you hurtling towards another one, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with acute precision.

Your eyes meet once more in the reflection, a cocky expression crosses over his features as you feel yourself falling over the edge again. Gripping the counter with both hands, biting down harshly on your lower lip to stop the scream that wants to escape your lungs.

In your euphoric state you don’t notice the way Steve’s eyes watch you possessively, pride filling his chest knowing he’s the only man who has ever seen you like this. The only man to ever make you feel this way, and he planned on keeping it that way. Selfish as it was.

The blissed out look on your face is the thing that finally breaks what little composure he had left. The male burying his face in the crook of your neck as he paints your inner walls with his release. Stilling his hips at your deepest point, in an attempt to keep his cum buried inside you.

Steve’s secret way of marking you as his.

As both of you attempt to catch your breath, the sounds of the party carry on as if nothing happened. When Steve finally releases your hips, you grip tighter onto the counter to support yourself. Knowing your knees were far too wobbly to keep you upright. A soft whimper leaves your lips as he slides out of you, suddenly feeling empty. In more ways than one.

The male is quick to tuck himself back into his jeans, roughly pulling your panties up your legs. You can feel his cum beginning to pool in the lacy material, the dirtiness of it makes your body feel hot. You let out a shaky breath, turning to face him as he finishes tucking his polo back into his levi’s.

“Wait a few minutes before you come back downstairs, yeah?” Is all he says before he’s slipping out of the bathroom, running a hand through his tousled locks.

The door closes softly, and that familiar feeling of shame washes over you again. You shouldn’t be surprised by it at this point, as your little hookups always ended the same way.

With Steve thoroughly pleased with himself, and you all alone.

You can’t stop the moisture from flooding your vision, carefully sitting down on the edge of the tub. Gripping the hem of your dress in your fists as you ruin whatever makeup was still left behind. Shoulders shaking as silent sobs rack through your chest.

In that moment you made a promise to yourself, you wouldn’t let any man— especially someone like Steve fucking Harrington make you feel this way again. It wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it.

You continue to let the traitor tears fall for a while before returning to your feet. Glancing back in the mirror you barely recognized yourself, your usual bright eyes were dull, bloodshot and puffy. The little makeup you had done was now smeared across your cheeks. With a frustrated sigh you attempt to collect yourself before returning to the party.

Cleaning the black streaks from your face, adjusting your rumpled dress until you looked somewhat presentable. Taking a deep breath you finally leave the safety of the bathroom, descending the carpeted stairs on shaky legs. No one pays you any mind as you make your way back into the sea of people.

But what you find in the living room feels like a punch straight to the gut.

Steve is on the couch, another girl already straddling his lap with her tongue down his throat. His large hands that were previously gripping onto your hips were now splayed across her bare thighs. Inching higher and higher up as she tangles her fingers in his hair. You can only stand to watch for a moment longer before bolting out of the room and into the kitchen in search of another drink.

Thankfully the room was almost empty, except for a familiar brunette who was sipping on a can of Pepsi. You don’t say anything to him, grabbing an open bottle of vodka off the counter and bringing the rim to your lips. Enjoying the familiar burn as you greedily gulp down the clear liquid at an alarming fast rate.

Jonathan looks at you concerned, immediately rushing to your side in an attempt to grab the bottle from you. You quickly dodge him, shoving him away with a dirty look.

“Jonny stop! I’m having fun, see?” You roll your eyes before dramatically taking another large swig. Your best friend had seen you drink plenty of times before, but never like this. He knew you well enough to know there was clearly something wrong.

Before you can go back in for another drink he grips onto the base of the bottle, wrestling it from you with a grimace. Before slamming it back onto the counter, making you wince slightly at the sound of the impact.

“That’s enough now. I think I should take you home.”

His tone is stern, but laced with worry. You find yourself pouting in response, a small hiccup leaving you as he sighs. The only reason Jonathan was even here in the first place was to be your ride, he hated these parties. And he especially hated Steve Harrington.

But he was your best friend, and he would’ve done anything for you. And right now anything consists of getting you home before you do something stupid, “Fine dad… take me home then.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes at your childish behavior before wrapping his arm around your waist to help guide you through the house to the front door. The vodka you had just chugged was definitely starting to take effect, as you stumbled alongside him. Now suddenly a lot more grateful for his help.

What you don’t notice in your tipsy state was a pair of honey eyes watching you both from across the room, jaw clenched in jealousy as Jonathan helps you out into the warm summer night.

#the freak writes 🫧 #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #king!steve harrington #king!steve harrington x fem reader #steve harrington fanfic

[ellieluvr420]

Friends? Never. Pt.1 (Ellie Williams x reader)

SYNOPSIS: You and Ellie had been bitter enemies for years now but before that you were best friends. You had always planned to be roommates one day but when that becomes a reality the situation isn't exactly how you both imagined it.

New fic alert? Can you tell I've got a thing for the enemies to lovers trope? Sorryyyyyy. I have loads of ideas for so many stories but this one made me too excited :D I can’t tell if the writing in this is ass but i’m just setting things up hold out hope for me people…

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Ellie opens the door of her new home only to see you, her least favourite person in Jackson, standing at her door with your suitcase in hand.

"No no no no no no no." You say as you immediately start walking away from her. You keep walking until you see Maria walking towards you.

"Don't even start-" She already knows what you're going to say.

"I am not fucking living with her Maria."

"Didn't I tell you not to start? You're wasting your breath anyway, this is the only way we can accommodate all the new arrivals."

"Why do you hate me?" You groan and she spins you around immediately marching you back to your new home.

"I don't, but you and Ellie are a pain in my ass, maybe make the most of it and try and get along hm?" She keeps you held firmly at the front door as she knocks three times.

"Back for more alrea-" Ellie pauses as she sees Maria standing there with a stern look on her face, she pushes you through the door and smiles.

"Enjoy setting up!" She calls over her shoulder and you're sure you hear her laugh.

"Fuck my life." You push past Ellie, bumping her hard enough that she stumbles slightly. You storm off upstairs to find your room huffing at your new reality.

You're unpacking all your belongings when you notice her standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe. "Are you just gonna keep staring at me like a creep?"

"Are you gay?"

"Pardon?" You scoff at her bluntness but your heart was beating a mile a minute, you knew it wasn't a big deal, she's a lesbian herself, but for some reason you still found coming out to people so difficult. Your parents hadn't taken it well which is how you found yourself living on your own... well, with Ellie. You breathe in and regain your composure, turning to her and flashing a coy smirk. "Why do you want to know Williams? Got a little crush on me?"

"Ha! You wish. Just wondered seeing as you're nineteen and have never once even held a guys hand."

"Didn't realise you paid so much attention to me, should I be worried I have a stalker?" She rolls her eyes at you obviously avoiding her question. "Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't, just trying to figure out if I should be worried about you getting a crush on me and going all crazy."

You walk over to her until there's only inches between you. "You're so arrogant." You bump her in the shoulder and she stumbles as you walk past her towards the kitchen. "You're also not my type... at all." You call over her shoulder missing the look of bewilderment on her face.

"Wait... so you are?" Ellie calls as she follows you to the kitchen. She's close behind you as you march away until you stop dead in your tracks causing her to bump into you.

"If you must know Ellie, yes I am."

"Oh." Ellie felt her heart clench a little for you as she knows how unaccepting your parents are, that's why you stopped being friends all those years ago after all.

You had met Ellie on the first day she arrived in Jackson, she looked tired and a little gaunt but you still felt butterflies in your stomach when you laid eyes on her for the first time. You remember seeing her walk in and hand a gun she kept in the back of her jeans to Maria, you were gobsmacked because she looked the same age as you and you couldn't imagine holding, let alone using, a gun. You had been born in Jackson, only ever leaving to go on patrol in the last couple years so 14 year old you found the girl all the more intriguing. You had watched her from a distance as Joel spoke to your dad, you still remember the feeling of your stomach dropping when she looked up to see you spying on her. You hadn't spoken to her until later that evening when Joel and her had come to yours for dinner. It was awkward at first but when she saw your record player and limited vinyl collection, the ice thawed quickly, you became inseparable until your parents started taking an issue with your friendship with her, you never understood why they stopped you seeing her and stopped seeing Joel until two years ago when you told them you were a lesbian. Ellie had always known that they were homophobic but it still hurt when they stopped you seeing her, she saw red any time she was near you because she was so hurt that you could cut her out of your life just like that and within a couple months you were bitter rivals that couldn't share a nice word with the other. Her hatred for you was so overwhelming that it forced her to stop being so awkward around people because she was so focused on throwing as many insults your way as possible that her nerves when speaking to others dissipated.

Now, as you stand in the kitchen staring at her leaning on the doorframe you felt a pang of guilt for how you had treated her although it quickly disappeared the second she opened her beautiful mouth.

"Well er... you're not my type either so don't get any ideas." You laugh at the awkwardness of her statement knowing why she suddenly lost confidence in herself.

"Thanks for the clarification." You roll your eyes before busying yourself getting a glass of water, it was the middle of summer so all the moving and unpacking was making you feel severely dehydrated. Ellie watched as you gulped down the water, noting how a couple drops fall down onto your white tank top. She dragged her eyes away from you and cleared her throat.

"Well now we've established the feelings mutual we can go back to never speaking again. Or are you going to bother me constantly with small talk?"

"Oh believe me you have nothing to worry about on my end." You refill the glass again and walk over to her. "And if I'm remembering correctly you're the one that came and spoke to me, so I could ask you the same thing, no?" You jab a finger into her chest as you speak emphasising your point. "Now if you'll excuse me I need to go wash this finger of your germs and finish unpacking." You push past her once again and she scoffs as you walk away back upstairs without looking back at her.

You continue unpacking methodically until everything is put away neatly and your decorations are in their new designated homes. As you collapse onto the bed picking up the book you were reading at the moment from your bedside table you breathe a sigh of relief at the breeze making its way through your open window. Your shared cabin was right on the outskirts of Jackson so your view was the beautiful woods that lined the north west section of the wall, as you looked at the greenery that was reflecting glittering spots of sunlight you reminisced on the times you and Ellie had spent in the woods when you were friends. You're interrupted from your thoughts by the growling of your stomach that prompts you to sneak back to the kitchen.

"Fuck's sake." You mutter under your breath as you walk into the kitchen only to be greeted by Ellie leaning on the counter savaging a bowl of cereal.

"You know you're spilling more of that down your shirt than you're getting in your mouth right?" Ellie looks down at her t-shirt only to see that you were correct when you said she was spilling milk down herself, she huffs and continues eating, this time being more careful as she brings the bowl right to her mouth.

"I thought I made it clear I didn't want to talk to you and yet... here you are talking to me." She mumbles through a mouthful of cereal. You roll your eyes and open the fridge only to see the leftovers you had put in there earlier were gone. You take a deep breath before spinning to give Ellie the dirtiest of looks.

"Are you fucking kidding me? That's the only food I had until I go out tomorrow. Why would you eat it?"

"Oh was that yours? My bad I got hungry earlier, it was really good though you gotta make me some more of that sometime." She smiles sweetly and your face twists into a scowl as you feel the rage boiling inside of you.

"Only we live here Ellie, if you're going to steal my food you could at least own it." You walk away and just before you leave the kitchen empty handed you turn back slightly. "Pussy." You go to walk away until you feel a hand enclose around your arm yanking you backwards. She pushes you up against the wall and leans her body weight on you so you can't move, relishing in your struggle.

"Say that again bitch, I dare you." Her eyes are dark and cold only mirroring yours, a devilish grin appears on your face as you lean in closer to her.

"You're a pussy Williams... and you don't scare me." You push her off with all your strength and rush away from her before slamming your door so hard you're shocked it doesn't come off the hinges. You pace around your room muttering and cursing Ellie before you stop, realising you actually have to live with her for the foreseeable future, every time you looked at her all you could think of is the screaming matches you endured with your parents when they banned you from seeing her and the look of defeat on her face as you ignored her for the first time when she came over to you while you were out with your parents, the nausea you were feeling only grew as the memory of when you came out to your parents flashes through your mind as it does multiple times throughout the day. You grab your book and begin reading once again trying to rid yourself of all these memories that Ellie was bringing up. As you finally feel the nausea calming there are three forceful knocks on your door that you ignore reflexively.

"You gonna open the door or what?" Ellie's voice is muffled but clear enough to make out what she's saying.

"No. Fuck off Ellie!" Ellie rolls her eyes before knocking harder this time and she doesn't stop, she continuously bangs on your door until you throw your book down in frustration to storm over to the source of your irritation. As you yank the door open you're greeted by a smirking Ellie. "WHAT? What could you possibly want? You eat my food, you piss me off, you pin me against a fucking wall, what do you want now Ellie?"

Ellie is taken aback by your harsh tone, typically it had a hint of playfulness to it but now you just sounded angry. She gulped before regaining her standoffish demeanour. "Calm down sweetie."

You scoff and go to slam the door in her face but her hand stops you and pushes the door back so hard you stumble backwards with it, you huff and walk away dropping down onto your bed once again.

"Can I come in?"

"Sure whatever. You're gonna do what you want anyway." She stuffs her hands into her front pockets and walks in as she looks at all the decorations in your room before plopping down on your bed sitting directly on your feet. You snatch them away with a huff as you grit your teeth and curl up to put as much distance between you two.

"What... do you want Williams?"

"Nothing really. Just wanted to see your room. It's very... you."

"Mm and I'm sure yours looks like a squatters pit." You smile smugly at her as she rolls her eyes, your face drops as she turns and eyes the book on your bedside table with a smirk.

"You read romance?" She stifles a laugh poorly.

"Yes and what? Can you even read?" She chuckles and you mumble under your breath "idiot"

"Wow you really are a virgin aren't you?" You eyes flash up at her as your eyebrows knit together and your face turns to a grimace.

"Why do you assume I'm a virgin because I read romance? Maybe I just enjoy it."

"Ha! Right. I'm assuming you're a virgin because only virgins read romance books." You kick at her and she grabs your sock-covered foot stopping you in your tracks.

"Oh my god Ellie can you go away!"

"No no, not just yet. My curiosity is piqued about this book now." Before you can stop her she's reaching for the book and standing up while flicking through some pages.

"Wait, No Ellie don't." She holds it above your head as you stand, you try and snatch it from her once but it's too far out of your reach, panic takes over as she opens it above her head and begins reading aloud. "Ellie fucking stop!"

"Why? It's just a romance book right? Nothing too... inappropriate." Your cheeks heat and the familiar rage comes back in full force, you look down at her feet and stomp on the left one as hard as you can, she yelps and drops her arms which allows you to grab the book from her grasp and you immediately rush out of your room and into the bathroom, locking the door behind you with a triumphant smile.

"Ow you bitch!" You hear Ellie call after you. As you eye the bathtub you decide now is the perfect time to relax in the tub so you can escape Ellie for awhile and read your book in peace.

You stay in the bath until the sun has completely set and the room is bathed in a silvery glow from the moonlight, you guess you were in there for at least an hour but as you start to shiver from the cooling water you decide to finally leave your refuge. As you climb out of the bath you're horrified when you realise your towel is still in your room.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You had to walk past Ellie's room to get to yours but ultimately you decide you'd have to risk it, you unlock the door and peak out into the hallway to see its empty, you edge the door open and begin quickly creeping to your room, you're almost there but as you go to walk past Ellie's room she walks out at the exact same time walking straight into your naked form.

"AGH OH MY GOD!" Your hands immediately attempt to cover your dignity but its an almost failed attempt as you notice her looking you up and down. "DON'T FUCKING LOOK!" You scream as you run past her to your room so quickly your feet slip a little. You hear her cackling in the hallway as you lean with your back against the door in utter disbelief. "No no noooo that did not just happen." You mumble to yourself as you run a hand over your face.

You try to put the embarrassment past you as you settle into bed before passing out from the sheer exhaustion of the day.

#ellie x reader #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie

[fooled-around-and-fell]

heyyo, wanted to request an imagine about jensen. maybe they’re best friends who met on the boys or supernatural, she’s been confiding with him about this dude she seeing but jensens kind of into her and is jealous so he doesn’t rlly wanna talk about it, they have some drinks and he says something like “i just don’t think he’s right for you” and ends with smut and happy ending? if that’s okay with you 🤍

a/n: hi! thank you for requesting 🩵 love your idea, but i'm gonna tweak it so that it's dean instead of jensen. hope that's alright! anyway, enjoy love! and i'm so sorry it took me a while!

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

genre: fluff

warnings: smut, 18+ only, mdni, unprotected sex (don't be a hog, cover your log), oral f receiving, dean is huge.

Masterlist

-----

dean is enjoying his night alone. sam's out with a girl, you're out with a guy... alright, he's not enjoying his night as much as he'd like to.

mainly because you left for your date 4 hours ago and you're still not back. it was supposed to be a lunch date, and you're still out. what's taking you so long?

dean grits his teeth. he's being jealous again.

to be completely honest, his perfect night would be a night spent with you in his arms, cuddled in his bed while an episode of your favorite tv show played. but of course, you're both nothing but friends so that's not happening.

not long after, he hears the front door open and rushes to see if it's you. it is, but he wonders why you look glum.

"hey, you're back early." he doesn't actually think it's early.

you sigh as you take your heels off, dropping them on the floor and lying down on the couch.

"didn't go well?"

you groan in response.

dean's heart melts a little. he scooches you over so you're lying down between his legs, resting your weight on his chest.

"wanna talk about it?"

you sigh once again, uncovering your eyes from your arm. "it was actually not that bad. not great, but not terrible."

dean's silent. "what? you want me to get into the details?"

he shrugs, "if you want to. not too detailed though."

"well, not much happened anyway." you say, "we had a long lunch, then we were back at his place making out, and i don't know, the way he was kissing me was a little weird. it was very stiff-"

"sweetheart, it's meant to be stiff-"

"you know that's not what i mean." you hit his arm.

he laughs. "sorry, continue?"

"as i was saying," you emphasize, "his tongue was like jabbing my mouth and for some reason he kept bumping his teeth on mine-- it was turning me off so i left."

dean laughs again, "wow. i'm.. so sorry."

"oh shut up, it's not like you've never had a bad date before."

"that's not what i'm saying. well sort of." he says smugly. "i'm saying i'm sorry you encountered a bad kisser. never happened to me before."

you roll your eyes. "yeah, sure."

"i'm serious." he says.

"dean, you're working all the time, you've never even been with that many women -- i think?"

"i'm a natural, what can i say?"

you scoff and turn your body to look at him, laughing and looking so smug. and looking so good in that shirt that accentuates his muscles in just the right way.

you'd be lying if you said you don't have a crush on dean... to say the least. you've liked him for ages, maybe even love him, but you're almost 100% sure you're not his type.

but now it seems like he's dropping hints and flirting with you, so... might as well take your chances right?

"alright, should we put it to the test then?" you ask.

"huh?"

you pull yourself closer to dean by gripping his shirt and press your lips to his. he's taken aback at first, but slowly moves his lips with yours and circles his arms around you, easing you into his hold.

you've been dreaming about kissing his lips for a long time. he also always looks and smells so good around the house it's annoying.

what's also annoying is that he wasn't lying when he said he's a good kisser. he's taking your breath away and you feel like melting in his arms.

his plush, soft lips, his gentle but firm tongue teasing yours, the bites he leaves on your lips, tugging and definitely bruising.

you try to push him away to take a breath. "come back here," but he just grabs the back of your neck to kiss you again.

a moan escapes you when he readjusts your position so you're now sitting on his lap, and you gasp when you feel something poking your ass.

"sorry," dean chuckles and readjusts himself. he has a smug look on his face, especially when he sees how disheveled you are right now.

"so," he starts, "how did i do?"

you gulp and look away, not sure how to answer him.

he cups your chin so you'll look at him and say, "do you want me to continue?"

you nod slowly.

"words, sweetheart. i need to hear you say it."

you bite your already swollen lip. "i... i want you, dean. i need you. p-please."

he smiles, kissing you again before picking you up to take you to his room. "good girl."

you didn't think dean's words would affect you that much, but it just did. you're clenching around nothing.

dean's having a hard time believing this is happening himself, but the smell of your shampoo, your perfume, the taste of your lips... fuck he's in love.

the door to his room slams shut and he lays you down on the bed.

"sure you want this?" he asks.

"i want you," you say more firmly this time. "only if you feel the same."

"sweetheart," he chuckles, "i've wanted you for a long, long time now."

you roll your eyes at him despite the blush creeping up your cheeks.

"i'm serious." he says, pulling you closer by the waist, his hands roaming around your back until he finds the zipper. "since the moment i saw you."

he zips your dress down and you let out a shaky breath when his hands touch your naked skin.

"i'm.. i'm pretty sure i was covered in dirt and blood when we first met."

he hums, pulling your dress down and tracing his hands closer to your breasts. he's leaving kisses and bites along your neck before licking your ear. "nothing sexier than woman who knows how to fight for herself."

you gasp when he cups your breast, pinching and twirling your nipple while he drowns your moans in his kisses.

you're gripping his shirt, fumbling with the buttons before finally reaching his skin, feeling his toned body, and going down to unbuckle his belt.

he slaps your hand away, trailing kisses down from your lips, and while maintaining eye contact with you, he licks your breast, flicking your nipple with his tongue.

"fuck, dean."

dean twitches in his pants hearing you moan his name like that.

"a thong?" he smirks, pushing the tiny pice of fabric to the side so he can get a good look of your pussy. "fuck you're so wet already."

your legs instinctively try to close, but dean keeps them open with his hands, slapping your thigh in the process. He can't hide his smile when he sees you clench around nothing as he does that.

"stop smiling like that." your face turns red.

"like what?" he knows exactly what you're talking about. grinning, biting his lip, driving you crazy.

"you know, it's quite unfair." you say, squirming under his touch.

"what is?" he asks, breath hitting your exposed sex and fingers inching closer.

you buck your hips up wishing for some sort of friction and groan. "i'm naked, and you still have your pants on."

He hums. "i kinda like it like this. you're spread wide and so.. so.. pretty..." he suddenly licks a stripe up your slit, lingering and circling your clit. "all for me."

"holy shit." you throw your head back.

dean doesn't stop there. He keeps licking and sucking, dipping his tongue inside you every once in a while. he traces your slit with his fingers before pushing two digits in, curling them and making you arch your back.

"dean," you moan his name, tugging his hair as he's about to make you come.

he keeps his eyes on you, and you're staring back at him before the coil inside you finally snaps and your toes curl, your orgasm washing over you.

dean slows his movements, still toying with your clit to help you with your high until you're flinching away, the sensation a little too much.

he chuckles seeing your worn out state and stands up, his five o'clock shadow covered in your juices.

as you catch your breath, you reach for his belt again. he doesn't slap your hand away this time, letting you take it off and undo his jeans.

"fuck," you whisper to yourself when you see his size and how hard he is.

dean takes the rest of his pants off and joins you in bed, kissing you and guiding your hand to touch him. he lets out a shaky breath when you finally grab the base of his cock and start pumping a few times.

"god you're beautiful," he says.

you chuckle, lining his cock with your entrance.

"and impatient." he teases, nudging his tip while coating himself in your wetness.

"dean, i swear-"

he pushes in one swift motion, knocking the breath and words out of you.

"mm. fuck." he moans. "you were saying?"

you moan before pulling him down to kiss you. "move... please."

he pulls almost all the way out before pushing back in, slowly increasing his pace. his grip on your waist is almost bruising, but the look he has on you is going to leave a permanent mark for sure.

dean's hand cups your cheek, and you turn your head slightly to take his thumb in your mouth, sucking gently while keeping his gaze.

"son of a...." he groans out loud.

dean almost rests his weight on you, allowing you to cling to him and pull him closer. your orgasm is approaching quickly, and you squeeze around him to hold on just a bit longer, clawing his back in the process.

"dean, i'm gonna come." you moan, "fuck you're gonna make me come."

"yeah?" he smiles, thrusting a little harder and deeper. "let go. come for me."

you let your orgasm wash over you, and a moan escapes when you feel him filling you up. you two stay like that for a minute, in each other's arms, his head buried in your neck leaving kisses while you play with his hair.

"so," dean says, lifting himself off of you. "let me take you to dinner?"

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #dean x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean x reader fluff #spn #dean winchester spn #dean winchester supernatural #dean spn #supernatural fic

[kleftiko]

❦ ANGEL

cw: mature, inexperienced!hawks (love this shit), reader is a stripper

PART 2 | MASTERLIST

“so… you’re a regular here?” hawks noted with forced amusement. he was trying his best to be casual, not look at the girls too long, keep a nonchalant face, but keigo had never been to a strip club before.

“it’s on my patrol route, so the girls know me.” present mic waved to bartender, who sent him a kiss back.

“and we’re here because…”

“its your birthday.” hizashi stated, taking a seat in front of the stage. hawks followed suit, shifting around a bit in an attempt to get comfortable. “it was either i bring you here, or midnight.”

it only took a split second for hawks to appreciate her not being there.

“point taken.” he mumbled as a waitress placed a drink in front of him. he smiled at her in appreciation for a moment before looking back at mic. his companion opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by an enthusiastic—“hizashi!”

keigo’s attention immediately darted to the girl making her way towards them. a shiver went down his spine. her smile was carefree, eyes only focused on the two of them as she maneuvered through the crowd. her small outfit was followed by small, white wings attached to her bra—like an angel—and her exposed skin was dusted in a silvery glitter.

hizashi stood up to greet her, placing a kiss on her cheek as she hugged him. he sat back down and motioned to keigo.

“look who i brought!” he told her. keigo’s breath caught in his throat as she looked at him.

“the number 2 hero!” she greeted him. “haven’t seen you here before. this your first time?”

“its his birthday.” hizashi took a sip of his drink.

“happy birthday!” she clapped her hands together with a grin before she turned back to mic, “the girls are in the back if you wanna say hi.”

hizashi excused himself, and left hawks alone with the angel. she seemed much more relaxed than he was as she focused her attention on him. and he realized he hadn’t spoken a word to her yet.

“is it messy?” he asked.

she gave him a confused look. he lifted his hand to motion at his chest, unable to speak, for some reason.

she looked down at her own boobs. “oh! the glitter? yea—its body glitter, so not as messy as regular, but it keeps the married men away from me.”

she giggled slightly and hawks couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. her hand came out slightly to touch his wings and he almost moaned. “you’re not married, are you?”

he shook his head quickly. she smiled softly.

“wonderful.” she retracted her hand and moved to leave. “im gonna go on stage soon, i hope you enjoy my dance.”

“good luck.” he squeaked, and she sent him a wink over her shoulder.

hizashi didn’t come back in time for the angel’s dance.

but that was fine with him. the only thing hawks could see was her. the music faded out, the people dissipated, and there was only her and her dancing. the spell she put him under didn’t leave when she was finished. it took a couple minutes for keigo to come back down to earth, and realize that he was uncomfortably hard in his jeans. he tried shifting inconspicuously, but no one was paying attention anyway, and his eyes caught sight of the angel walking back over. his hands left his crotch instantly.

“hey again.” she smiled. “hizashi paid for a lap dance for the birthday boy before my shift is over.”

“you’re leaving?” keigo asked.

“well, i have to go home at some point.” she held out her hand to him. he took it without hesitation as she began to lead him through the floor. they came to the private rooms, passed where the lap dances were happening in the little cubicles, and hawks became a bit suspicious.

“why are we here?” he asked her as she closed the door behind them. the music became muffled, the lighting in the room made the glitter on her body shimmer.

“your wings are a bit big for out there.” she told him, stalking around him like a predator. her fingers came back to his feathers as another shiver took over him. “and you looked uncomfortable on the floor.”

“that obvious?” he submitted when she pushed him to sit down on the bench.

she giggled a bit and nodded with her hands on his shoulders. he blushed.

“you look like you’re gonna explode.” her eyes flickered down to his pants for a second, and keigo felt his dick twitch a bit. “you sure you want a lap dance?”

“please.” his hands moved to her hips on instinct, but upon feeling her hot skin, he retreated quickly, not wanting to over step boundaries.

her hands left his shoulders and grasped his, bringing them back to her hips. he looked up at her to make sure it was alright and she nodded.

“its okay,” she said. “you’ll be gentle.”

#mha hawks #mha x reader #bnha smut #bnha x reader #hawks x reader #hawks smut #hawks scenarios #mha smut #mha imagines #mha fanfiction #keigo takami #mha takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #keigo x reader #sub hawks

[tsireyasyawntu]

hello<3 i hope you are well!! I recently read the kyoshi novels and i love them so much it hurts! I love earthbender / firebender romantic due - so… i was wondering, if possible for your ATLA/TLoK event if you could possibly do an Azula x fem! earthbender reader with the trope “it hurts me, just how much i ache for you.” with angst/comfort/fluff ? thank you i love uouuuuuu

only you

ᥫ᭡ as someone who has read the Kyoshi books, i feel you! rangshi is permanently indented into my mind. anyways, tysm for requesting for my atla/lok event! i absolutely adoreeee azula, she’s always been my favorite and .. my first childhood crush.. enjoy!

princess azula x fem! earthbender! reader

ᥫ᭡ a night on ember island leads to a moment between you and your beloved princess, something that changes everything for the rest of your lives.

the burning inside azula’s chest was worse than any flame.

Her eyes traced along your swaying body as you moved in sync with Ty lee, dancing to the music blasting loudly from the speakers of Chen’s party.

Azula could only lean on the wooden pole, crossing her arms and biting her lip so hard she could recognize metallic taste of blood flowing to her mouth. The princess felt uncharacteristically helpless, as she watched you spend your time dancing with ty lee- unaware of the many desperate eyes that linger on your form in such a disgusting manner.

If azula could have a moment alone with all the people who dare to look at you, she would be the only one walking away breathing.

the fire princess took pity on most people— but, right now, as she helplessly stared you from across the room, for once in her life— her pity was reflected to herself.

azula was the princess of the fire nation, she had royal blood, she was a firebending prodigy and the heir to the royal throne— but here she was, helplessly in love with a woman from the earth kingdom Omashu.

she felt so pathetic. where was her pride? her grace? her honor? she couldn’t even bare to think about what she’s become. So weak under your touch, under your gaze.

goodness, were you a spirit? an evil being meant to take the power from inside the princess heart and convert it into this.. softness? this fondness she holds so close to her heart, the fondness she only holds for you.

the most beautiful woman azula has ever known.

her hopelessness molded into rage— rage at those who dare thing they can look at you like you are an object, rage to those who dare think anything of you, rage at herself, rage at her heart.

Azula let out an irritated sigh as she pushed herself off the wooden beam, sparing you one last glance before she stomped up the stairs to get away from the party as fast possible, a sad action in hopes to rest her churning nerves.

but unbeknownst to the princess, you’d been keeping your eye on azula all night, knowing she was not one for parties. In all honesty, you’d wanted to spend the evening with her— but ty lee had insisted you go with her and dance, to have some fun. you tried to protest but felt for your friend, telling azula you would be away for just a little while.

You noticed how she was looking at you, and how her eyes always danced along the many other figures in the room. you frowned when you saw her stomp off, leaving nothing but a trail of smoke in her wake.

you turned to Ty Lee, excusing yourself and saying you’d come back— not completely sure if that was true or not.

you followed in azula’s footsteps, up the stairs and into an empty room. You quietly opened the door, closing it behind you and catching sight of the princess standing outside the balcony attached to the bedroom. You approached her, carefully.

“why did you leave?” your sudden question didn’t seem to phase her, as she knew you were the one who entered the room. you were the only one who truly cared.

azula took a moment to respond, her hands gripping the metal railing so tight you thought you might begin to see red from the burn she would leave.

“no reason.” her tone was meant to be harsh and degrading, but it came out a hushed whisper, almost like a plea for you to care.

your frown only grew, daring to step forward and stand beside her. you stood so close you felt her warmth, her heat always radiated off of her so perfectly.

“azula,” you placed a hand on her bicep carefully , feeling her warmth. she shuttered under your touch, looking away from your gazing eyes. “you can tell me.”

your voice was so soft, a melody unlike any kind azula has heard before. it was soothing, the only voice in the world who could calm her racing mind, the only voice who could calm her aching heart.

azula opened her mouth, but no words came out. She was helpless under your touch, under your gaze.

the idea of you being so close had her heart reaching through her chest, trying to reach you.

Princess Azula recalls the day she realized she was head over heels, so deep in love with you she felt like she was in a ditch she could only dream of climbing out of- you two were about eight or nine, a sunny day at the royal castle.

azula watched as Zuko showed Mai some flowers, azula overhead him blabbing on about how important they were.

“these flowers are actually very special, my mom loves botany so she told me a lot of things about it.” zuko held a white dragon lily in his palm, showing it to mai as she looked up at him with red blush coating her usually pale face.

Ty lee wasn’t there that day, but luckily for azula— you were. You sat beside her, humming a very low tune and weaving some flower crowns from some flowers you’d brought from your own mother’s garden. Azula continued to keep her eyes on Mai and Zuko, a mischievous smile embracing her lips.

azula turned to you, “hey, y/n, wanna play a funny game?” the princess questions you, taking your attention from the flowers in your hands. “sure!” you smiled. you followed azula as she stood up, turning towards you.

“okay so, here’s how it goes: i’ll act as zuko while you act as mai. got it?” she pointed at you as she spoke, a constant smile on your face, and even a laugh at her idea.

“hehe, okay! let’s do it!” you smile widely, giggling softly.

you turned away as did azula, placing a dramatic hand to your forehead she held her hand out in means to show the distance between you both.

“I’m sorry, Mai, but we can’t stay together. i’m a big boy now and mom said i shouldn’t date such young girls.” Azula’s voice was spoken in mockery of her brother, causing you to hold back a little giggle.

“Oh, zuko!” you expressed dramatically in reply to azula, “my beloved, why are you doing this to me?”

“i love you!” you expressed, turing to jump on azula dramatically, wrapping your arms around her neck as she held her hands out in either side of you. “don’t you get it? i can’t go on without you, zuko!” you really played the part, azula replied; “well, if you love me that much, i guess it can’t be helped!” she put on arm on your upper waist when mai and zuko turned to you both with strawberry red faces.

“Hey!” zuko shouted, “I’m not like that! stop it, Azula!” he embarrassingly expressed, mai behind him with flustered tears in her eyes. “ugh! you guys are the worst!” Mai fumes, watching zuko stomp off. “Puah! enough of this!” he huffed angrily, leaving the scene with a red face.

“Bye Bye, zuzu!” azula laughed, your cheek still pressed against hers with her hand on you as you laughed, watching zuko walk off.

“What a dumb-dumb.” she said once he left, a smile evident on her face. silence followed for a moment with you in her arms before she turned her head to you, realizing how close you were- her face blew aflame, much alike to her brothers.

“let’s keep playing, i love this game!” you said happily, turning to face azula, your face only inches apart, eyes locking as she stare at you with a flustered expression— just before you felt a rough shove in your abdomen.

you gasped as she pushed you to the floor, being poked by a tree root on your back your eyes teared up. you missed the very, very red face of the princess when she instinctively shoved you off, as she had covered her flustered mess of a face with a boisterous voice. “hahahaha!” azula laughed obnoxiously, “you always fall so easily!” she pointed out, hand on her stomach to control her everlasting laughter.

you stood up, her hands moving to cross over themselves as you walked over, an upset expression on your face as tears welled in your once shining eyes. “that’s not funny azula! you hurt me!” your voice broke, wiping a tear as you ran off. “I hate you when you act like this! I don’t wanna play with you anymore!”

Azula watched you run off with tears in your eyes, huffing air and leaving the garden. She was left alone, the heat of her cheeks at your proximity still felt warm.

“fine, i don’t care about you anyway.” she whispered to herself, knowing it was a lie. In all honesty, she felt horrible, she instantly regretted her decision to push you— not meaning to hurt you what so ever.

your words were like stones in her heart, and it was only when she went to her room and sat on her bed, she realized how much she really did care. she cared about you more than anything in the world, so much the word love indented into her mind for years to come.

azula stared down at the beach, the bitter taste of her decision still lingering in her mouth even all these years later.

you knew she regretted that, but to you it was just the silly memories of your childhood, and you knew she didn’t mean it.

She never meant to hurt you.

you brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ears and let your hand linger for a few moments. it was times like these your feelings were the strongest, isolated moments between you both where your hearts fought your mind in a civil war, hoping to catch a glimpse of each other before being locked away for eternity.

the look in azula’s eye was unfamiliar, something you could only pray to understand. You wished with all your heart that she one day would truly understand how much you care for her— not only as a friend, but as someone you love, with every fiber of your being.

“Azula..” you whispered softly when she pulled away from your lingering touch; yet still allowing your hand to rest upon her bicep.

it was difficult to communicate with her sometimes, when she felt so isolated and alone from the world, and no matter how hard you tried, how much you fought— you couldn’t get it through to her that you were there for her. that you loved her.

you allowed silence to follow after the previous call of her name left your lips. She was shaking, and you couldn’t tell if it was from anger, or from the cold of the night.

or perhaps, something else entirely.

while you struggled with hoping azula could understand your feelings, azula suffered with the scorching feeling burning the inside of her body. The intense warmth that devoured her skin and insides with aching pain, a yearning unlike any kind.

it was painful, to watch you and see you, and not be able to take you. To claim you as hers, to kiss you and hold you and show you just how much she loves you.

it burnt worse than any possible heat, any possible flame— it was an eternal pain, a scorching sensation that only you could ease, and a scorching sensation that only you could cause.

Azula couldn’t take it— she wanted to scream, to yell and burn down everything in her sight— to kill and destroy anyone and anything— except you. she wanted to protect you, to show you her love in an intimate way, a way she could only wonder of.

Azula was haunted by the dreams that followed her in her sleep.

Dreams of you and her, alone, holding one another in a way that was sorely for those who meant to be more than friends. It was what she hoped to happen one day, but the thought of rejection made her nauseous, so sick she couldn’t breathe.

it gnawed at her flesh like an infectious disease, chewing away her pride and honor.

but, the feelings inside her were stronger. she turned to you, shyly and afraid, she watched your face with desperate eyes.

“Azula, i… don’t know what is bothering you,” the sound of your voice was something she could bask in for hours, a sound she could listen to for the rest of eternity. “and i want you to know that no matter what,” you hesitantly rose a hand to her cheek, and azula fought the urge to sink into your touch. “i’ll always be here for you.” you voice followed with a confident tone, telling her that you said the truth and nothing but, and swore that no matter, you’d be here.

Azula couldn’t take it.

She inhaled through her teeth, the burning of her skin eating her alive as she locked her eyes with yours, those beautiful, warm, loving eyes she had made her home.

“it..” her words faded off; her fear burning her throat as she tried to speak, but was at a loss for words. You listened, waiting patiently.

“It hurts me,” she whispered, swallowing harshly. “How much I ache for you.”

azula’s words blew you away, shocking you to your core. Your face must have been as surprised as you felt, as azula turned away with reddened cheeks.

you felt like.. laughing. like laughing of pure joy. Happiness flooded you like a tsunami floods a city, your surprised face quickly becomes one of pure, luscious happiness.

Azula misses the exchange of expressions, thinking that was it. that was you showing your rejection. she might as well be banished, just like her brother.

But the call of her name caught her thoughts, and as she hastily turned to you, her eyes blew wide. The expression on your face was the most happy she’d ever seen. It mirrored the pure joy that she could only remember being in her childhood, in the moments she spent with you.

She felt her voice leave her body, her heart pounding so hard against her chest she was sure you could hear.

did you.. feel the same?

her question was answered by the feeling of your soft, warm lips embracing her own. the princesses eyes became somehow even more wide, her hands losing their grip on the railing shock.

but soon she wasted no time in kissing you back, absolutely absorbing the feeling that she’s been dreaming of for years of her life.

her hands carefully wrapped around your waist, grabbing softly. She held you close, your chest pressed to her own as she devoured your lips in a savory kiss.

the sweetness of your taste was utterly addictive, a taste more divine than anything she’s ever tasted. The kiss was warm and gentle, a savory event that you both had been waiting to happen for a long, long time.

but as it continued, it became desperate. Azula’s grip on your waist tightened, her nails digging into your skin. your hands had traveled up to her head, fingers running through her hair— twisting and pulling her black locks as you pulled each other impossibly close.

your tongues decided to join in the chorus of your mouths, dancing in sync with one another in a way you didn’t know was possible.

soft sounds that left your lips drove the princess over the edge, turning her body to pin your against the railing. her hands clawed against you, trailing down and sliding to your hips, pulling your body against hers as to the point she could feel your heartbeat, your breathing.

azula was the first to break contact, gently and deliberately breathing a wisp of steam down your neck, a parting gift of heat that drifted underneath your clothes.

you were gasping for hair, a look in your eyes azula could only imagine she mirrored. She grabbed you, turning your body and rushing in through the balcony’s door, pushing you against the end of the bed— she pushed you down, causing you to gasp. Her lips met yours once more, and that night was one that you would never forget.

the night azula finally got what she wanted.

you.

#azula atla #lesbian azula #princess azula #azula #azula x reader #azula x fem! reader #avatar atla #atla azula #atla x reader #atla x you #atla imagine #azula imagine #azula avatar #azula in the spirit temple #azula x female! reader #fire lord azula #lesbian #sapphic wlw #wlw fanfic #wlw sapphic #wlw fiction #wlw #girls like girls

[melodygatesauthor]

Always Yours, Never Mine

Yandere Miguel O'Hara X f!Reader

Universe Three - The Therapist

Series Masterlist - Beta Read by @campingwiththecharmings

Summary

Summary: I arrived in a different universe, and in this one you’re a therapist. I saw your name on one of the doors when the orderlies were dragging me down the hall to a cell. I guess luck was on my side, I wouldn’t have to search very far for you this time, not that I would’ve been given a chance anyway. When the orderlies saw me, I think I scared them and they thought I was delusional. They took my watch, I’ll have to get that back…but I have to find you first.

Tags/Warnings

NSFW, dub-con due to identity issues, non-con, rape, More tags on the masterlist.

Word Count: 3.8k

It was a morning like every other.

You pulled into the parking lot of the Lennox House for the Mentally Insane, coffee in hand, ready to start your day. You loved your job as a therapist, especially when you felt like everything was in order. You had a good handle on your patients, all of them making good progress on their goals; nothing felt more rewarding as a mental health provider.

But you weren’t prepared for the wrench the unsuspecting six foot nine man was about to throw your way.

You wondered if your success was the reason you were assigned the new and highly delusional patient. After getting into your office and pulling out his nearly empty file, you looked at him from across your desk, his eyes calm, but unsettlingly trained on you. He had a slight smirk curling at the corners of his lips, as though he were trying to appear less intimidating. His size alone was enough to make any sane person quiver. He didn’t even try to tug on his restraints though, and that put you a little more at ease.

“Miguel O’Hara…” you said, closing the thin manila folder in front of you. “It’s nice to meet you I’m–”

“I know your name.”

Miguel sat, strapped uselessly to the wheelchair the orderlies had brought him in. He knew he could rip the restraints off at any given moment, but when he’d heard he was being assigned to you as his therapist, he decided to behave. He needed to see you; he needed to talk to you.

This was a change of pace. In his universe, you were a graphic designer. It was something you’d always enjoyed. In the second one, despite working at a coffee shop, you still seemed to have a hobby of creating artwork for some side income. Now you were a therapist. It was unexpected, but in the multiverse, anything was possible. Miguel was just glad that it seemed like in this universe, you’d never met him before, making this a lot easier - he didn’t have to worry about eliminating his alternate -.

“The orderlies said that you were wandering the halls when they found you? They said that when you saw my name you specifically asked for me to treat you. Why?” You crossed your legs and narrowed your eyes at the man.

You were careful while talking to this one. He was massive in size, not only in his height, but this man wasn’t skipping arm day, that’s for sure. You trusted him, despite being told not to trust patients - they can be manipulative - but you knew he was strong enough to rip his arms from the restraints at any given moment, and yet he sat there. To say you were intrigued was an understatement. Who was this man? And how did he know you?

After wasting so much time in the last universe, he wanted to change his approach. He wanted to try being more direct and honest with you. With a deep sigh, he pressed his lips together and looked you in the eye. You looked good all dressed up in your little pencil skirt and white blouse. He’d never seen you in a lip color that shade of red, but he liked it. Even if you weren’t quite the same, he liked the way you looked in this universe.

“Because, I traveled a long way to find you mi vida,” he started, smirking at you rather pathetically, but he was desperate for you to understand, “and I’m going to tell you why you’re going to take these restraints off my wrists and say yes when I ask you to marry me.”

Your patients had said some crazy shit before. Being in an insane asylum, even a minimum security one, naturally you would expect to hear some outlandish things, but that had to be the most delusional thing you’d heard to date. You furrowed your brow, continuing to take notes. You hummed in amusement.

“You’re very bold, Mr. O’Hara–”

“Miguel.”

“Miguel.” You cleared your throat, smirking in an attempt to show that you weren’t fazed by his surprising statement, “you’ve piqued my curiosity, but I’m certainly not sure why you think I would do that.”

“Ask me.”

“Ask you what?” You asked, scribbling more notes on your legal pad.

“Ask me how I became so wracked with grief that I created a device to travel the multiverse just so I could find you again,” he said, eyes darting between yours to see if you believed a word coming out of his mouth.

You were stunned. You’d seen patients in a catatonic state, but this wasn’t like that, he was far too clear as he spoke. This also didn’t present as the usual schizophrenic case you would expect to see from the majority of your patients. He was completely calm, making eye contact, and very direct in his line of thinking. He was either so deep in his delusion that he genuinely believed everything coming out of his mouth…or he was telling the truth.

“Miguel, why don’t you tell me more about how you got here, let’s start with that.”

Redirection didn’t always work, but if you could find a crack in his story, you might be able to get him back to a basis in reality.

“I used my watch, the one that security took from me. Gonna need that back by the way, very dangerous if it gets into the wrong hands.” He leaned forward a little, eyes narrowing on you. “I used my watch to travel from a universe where you were a barista with a piss poor attitude, to this one where you’re a therapist apparently.”

You scoffed, “I was a barista?”

Miguel could tell you weren’t buying it, so he decided to be more direct now. 

“Listen, I’m looking for the universe where you don’t die,” he watched your expression to see how you’d react.

Regardless of how delusional he sounded, something like that would make anyone feel a bit uneasy. You shifted in your chair, putting your pen down on the desk. Miguel’s expression softened, likely seeing that his words had an effect on you. After all the years of you being a therapist, you’d never let a patient make you uncomfortable like that. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” you said, standing up and heading for the door.

“Wait!” Miguel yelled, wheelchair creaking forward a smidge when his body lurched to try and stop you. It worked. You turned and looked at him. “You have to believe me. I’m just trying to keep you alive. If you don’t listen to me…you’ll die.”

“Goodbye, Mr. O’Hara,” you said, opening your office door. “You’re going to be reassigned to a different therapist. I don’t think I’m a good fit for you.”

“No no no, wait!” He pulled his hands free from the restraints, something you both knew he was capable of.

He grabbed you by the shoulders, “Help!” You yelled, only resulting in his strong hand covering your mouth quickly.

“I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to talk,” he said, voice trembling in desperation.

You looked terrified, and rightfully so. This huge man that you’d never met before was towering over you, staring at you with such intensity, you thought you might faint in terror. He took his hand off your mouth and held a finger to his lips.

“Shh, mi vida, por favor,” he spoke softly, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“G-go sit down in your chair n-now,” you said, legs shaking wildly.

He put his hands up in surrender, showing you that he was willing to comply with your request. He walked over and sat down in his chair, the weight of his body forcing the equipment to sigh under his frame. There was a silence in the room, a silence that made it easy to hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You took a deep breath.

Miguel recognized that face, you were going to run. He sighed, he’d tried a different approach this time, and it didn’t pay off. Instead, his attempt had you rushing out into the hall, shouting for an orderly or two to help you. He didn’t fight them when they ran in, sticking him with a couple of syringes, being too massive for only one to do the job.

You didn’t stop thinking about him for the entire night. His words rang through your mind like a broken record:

‘I’m looking for the universe where you don’t die’.

No matter how hard you tried to shake it from your mind, it was impossible. For a week you managed to avoid talking to him again, but your curiosity - or perhaps it was your anxiety -, got the better of you. Your co-worker, and the patient coordinator, Stacy, spoke to you exactly one week after you’d last spoken to Miguel.

“He’s still asking for you every day,” she said, handing you his chart, “Dr. Harrow doesn’t want to work with him anymore, says he’s not getting anywhere with Mr. O’Hara.”

You took his file from her hands, looking it over, “So you put him back in there with me, knowing how dangerous he is and that he’s targeting me? That doesn’t sound like the best idea.”

She followed you down the hall as you walked, “I said that, but the higher ups insisted that you should see him. They gave him more sedatives and stronger restraints than last time so–”

“So nothing, I can’t believe they’d do this,” you said, tone laced in frustration.

You weren’t sure if you were upset because you were worried he was going to physically harm you, or if you were worried that there was validity to the words that had kept you up every night for the last several nights. You stopped in front of your office door, letting out a deep exhale. Stacy touched your back, patting it gently.

“Well, at least he’s hot.” She chuckled.

You rolled your eyes at her before opening the door and stepping into your office. There he was, sitting in the chair, eyes hooded from the sedatives when he looked up at you. His restraints were doubled, both his legs and wrists tied down with metal this time, rather than the flimsy leather from before. You felt a little better, but you were still afraid of what he might say. No patient of yours had ever been so direct when targeting you before.

“Hello again Mr. O’Har–”

“Miguel…or you can just call me ‘baby’, the way you used to,” he said, words coming out in a slow drawl due to his mentally inhibited state.

“Miguel…” you said with a sigh, “I’ll continue to treat you, but you need to be more appropriate when you speak to me or you’ll have to seek treatment elsewhere.”

“Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to scare you.”

He sounded genuine, eyes looking up at you from under his lashes. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of admitting your unease, so you nodded with a meek ‘thanks’, before sitting down behind your desk. He leaned over and wiped his drool slick lips on his shoulder, unsuccessful in cleaning the mess. Inappropriate as it may have been, you weren’t going to let the poor guy sit there in a mess like that.

You took a tissue and walked over to him. Miguel couldn’t believe you would touch him, not after the way he’d frightened you. He thought this version of you would be impossible to get through to after his first interaction with you, but perhaps he was wrong. Perhaps being blunt with you was going to work after all.

You held the tissue in your hand and wiped his lips. You damned yourself for mentally commenting on how soft they looked. With a shaky breath, you finished and sat back down at your desk. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“You didn’t want to talk to anyone else so…go ahead…talk,” you took out a notebook and a pen, waiting for him to start.

“Was that Stacy? Or maybe it was Mira?” He chuckled, watching your eyes flick up quickly to lock onto his.

“So you saw my co-worker’s name plate at some point, I presume? Who let you walk by the front desk of the asylum?” You asked, feeling a pit of unease forming in your stomach at his mention of your two closest friends and coworkers.

He shrugged, “I saw Stacy’s yes, is Mira not your co-worker in this universe?”

He could see you getting anxious. You always clicked your pen incessantly when you did, back in his universe. He wasn’t trying to make you feel crazy, but rather, he was trying to make you realize that he was sane. Finally, you looked at him again.

“M-Mira used to work here, but how do you know–”

“What about Emily? Your step sister…”

“No…no, no, no…” you got up quickly, heading for the door.

Miguel called your name, and you stopped, turning slowly to face him.

“I’m not trying to scare you, mi vida, I’m trying to save your life. If you would…please…entertain me for just a moment.” He rattled his wrists in his chair. “I couldn’t do anything to hurt you even if I wanted to. I’m fucking…I’m drooling on myself and I’m stuck to this damn chair.”

You stared at him for a while, considering your options. If he was insane, which was the most likely explanation, then helping him through this was your duty as a therapist. If he was telling the truth…you needed to try and figure out what he meant anyway. No matter which way you sliced it, the only way you could sleep at night would be to hear him out. You slowly walked back to your desk and sat down. When you picked your pen back up you realized that you were shaking.

“Have you been stalking me?” You asked bluntly.

“No,” he returned your tone. “I know you, I know you well, and if you’ll hear me out with an open mind for just a second, I can explain everything to you.”

You gestured with your arms to give him the floor. He nodded, thanking you in Spanish before letting out a deep sigh.

Miguel told you everything, from the day you first met in his universe to the day you died. He talked in depth about things in your life that he knew only you would know. He damned himself for crying while he explained how much he loved you. Then he went on to tell you about the second universe, where you worked at a quaint little coffee shop barista, but he didn’t express the same emotion toward that version of you as he had the first.

When he was done, you sat there in awe, doing your best to process. Not only did you believe his every word, you were trying not to fall into an existential crisis upon learning that the multiverse might actually exist. You gulped, reminding yourself quickly that if a patient is delusional enough, they can tell a lie and still pass a polygraph test. All it takes is for them to believe that lie to be true with all their heart. If he was a good enough stalker, he could easily be making all of this up, and combined with heavy delusions, you had a recipe for someone too crazy for your paygrade. He needed more care than you could provide.

“Miguel…” you looked him in the eye, unsure of how to respond.

A buzzer saved you, indicating that the time for your session was at an end. He didn’t fight, he’d learned the hard way that breaking the rules of the asylum would get him nowhere. Regardless, he couldn’t continue like this for long, he was wasting too much time. If this version of you wasn’t going to see things his way, he needed to move on.

One more session…

Both of you were thinking the same thing without realizing. You would give him one more session to sway you one way or another, and he would give you one more to make up your mind before he moved forward.

He was already waiting for you in your office when he heard you clicking down the hall toward the door. He heard you stop, and then Stacy started talking to you.

“I texted Mira and she’s down, you wanna come out for drinks with us?” Stacy asked.

Miguel’s heart nearly stopped. Was this it already? Was this the day you’d die if he didn’t stop you from going out with your damn friends? He thought about the last universe though. You still died, even before you were supposed to go out with your friends, as though it were a static event that happened in every universe you existed in.

“Yeah sure that sounds fun! I’ll meet you at your place around seven?”

Once you finished finalizing your plans, you made your way into the office and sat down behind your desk, trying not to make eye contact with the man whose words had kept you up at night over the last week. You averted his gaze until you couldn’t anymore, finally looking at him and sighing heavily.

“Hi Miguel, how was your week?”

You started the same way you started every session.

“If you go out with your friends tonight, you’ll die,” he said, speaking coldly, “I told you that’s how you died before, remember?”

“You really expect me to believe that? Come on. I’ve been wracking my brain all week trying to decide how I felt about what you said and I’m not buying it.” You spoke with little conviction, voice wavering slightly. “Plus in the second universe you said I died getting hit by a car, not from being in a car so–”

“I know, but the days started the same both times, your friends talking about meeting up for drinks and you agreeing to go,” he sighed, “What have you got to lose, hm?” He looked intense now. “If I’m wrong, then you can toss me in my cell for the rest of my days and label me insane, but if I’m right, then you’re going to come back here and realize that I’m telling the truth.”

“How…how will I know that you’re telling the truth versus making this up?”

You’d left out the fact that Stacy and Mira died in each universe as well, not wanting to complicate things by mentioning them. He looked up at you, brow furrowed and face full of frustration. He was hoping that after you finally believed him, that this alternate version of you would be worth all this time he’d put into you.

“You’ll just know.”

He was right.

The next day you came into work, despite having just lost your two closest friends, to confront the insane man who suddenly didn’t seem so insane. If you’d been in the car with them that night, you would’ve died alongside them. You stormed into your office after demanding Miguel be brought in to see you immediately. You’d grabbed his watch from storage, putting it on your desk.

Success had never looked so heartbreaking. Miguel hated seeing you so distraught. Your bottom lip was trembling and your eyes were glossed over with tears. He hated being right sometimes. You pointed to the watch with a shaking hand. Your face held a combination of anger and sorrow etched in every pore.

“You’re saying that this thing is…you can travel to other universes–”

“Si, honey but listen–”

“-going on but I believe you, I really fucking believe you–”

Your eyes were crazed, “mi vida, don’t touch that please, it’s not–”

“-through the multiverse and I mean, you’re insane and I’m insane for even thinking you might–”

You picked up the watch, holding it in your hand and putting it on your wrist while you continued to talk over Miguel’s desperate protests. He started wriggling in his chair, trying desperately to get free. You didn’t understand how that thing worked. It wasn’t made for you.

“-I thought to myself why the hell didn’t I just take this damn thing and prove once and for all that–!”

It wasn’t made for you…

When Miguel built it, he’d put in a failsafe to prevent anyone else from taking it and using it. If someone stole it from him, or he ended up in an insane asylum and had it confiscated, they wouldn’t be able to take it to another universe, leaving him behind and helpless. Since there was no telling where the watch would take him, he wanted to prevent the possibility of ending up in one that didn’t have modern technology, and getting stuck there…without you. So it was hardwired to work with only his DNA, and no one else’s.

It would appear that his failsafe ended up being what killed you in that universe. You pressed the button on the watch, waiting for something to happen with bated breath. Miguel hoped that his device would malfunction. He’d taken a liking to this version of you, but it didn’t. He watched as your body convulsed, flesh bubbling and tearing from the inside out as the energy that would normally transport him from one place to another coursed through you.

Your screams would be etched into his memories for the rest of his days. It didn’t matter that you weren’t the original, it was still your voice crying for help and ringing through his ears. He’d never seen anything so horrific, not even in horror films. You were gone again, and this time he felt despair again. He almost wished that if you were going to die, that you’d gone in the car with your friends instead, that way he wouldn’t have to go to the next universe covered in your blood and with the sound of your cries on repeat in his head.

He managed to shimmy himself over to the part of your blazer where he knew you kept your ring of keys. Tipping over onto the floor he could get to them, moving his wrist in a way that just barely reached the lock holding his hand in place. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, truly, but when three orderlies and a security guard tried to stop him from getting his bag containing his personal items, including that photo of the original you, he had no choice. He even warned them to stay out of his way, but when they didn’t listen, he was forced to make them.

Stepping over their bodies, bag in hand and watch on his wrist, he activated the device. He was still searching for the perfect you.

Thank you for reading! You can support your favorite writers by the simple act of reblogging AND liking! Thank you again!

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Miguel O'Hara Masterlist

Main Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara smut #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara imagine #yandere miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 smut #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara noncon #miguel o'hara noncon #miguel o'hara non-con #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara fan fiction

[impactedfates]

Hi it's me again. Incoming massive word vomit alskdlfkdjfkj sorry! :')

Can I request a platonic fic of Dan Feng and a very young, quiet and stressed Vidyadhara!reader who frequents the Alchemy Commission? Basically, Reader is an Emanator of the Hunt with an armored form (but it's draining so she can't maintain it for very long).

Those injuries that she shows up with? They're not from fighting bullies, they're from fighting small-scale invasions of Abundance monsters when the Cloud Knights aren't able to (for whatever reason).

Her Emanator form that takes stamina to maintain? Probably why she is constantly exhausted. Kiddo's burning too many calories while on an atrociously light diet. Probably passed out from hunger and lack of sleep a few times.

She hides it all and no longer hangs out with her friends because there was a time when a friend was targeted to draw her out and that just—it wasn't fun. :') Now she's one of the Luofu's worst bundles of anxiety...

You decide when and how Dan Feng finds out. 8')))))

(My friend was reading over my shoulder and they said that this feels like a Spider-Man & Aunt May situation AKLSDJFLAKDJSFLKJDKFJ)

★ A/N: Haha, it kinda does actually, this isn't as long as some of my other fics but I hope this was alright anyways anon!! Sorry it took awhile

☆ Genre/Trope: Platonic + Hurt/Comfort? (Kinda, not rlly at the same time)

★ Format: Fic (W.C: 1073)

☆ Warnings: Mentions of passing out

★ Extra: Request had she/her pronouns used but reader in this is still GN with they/them // Possible OOC Dan Feng

Being granted power from the Aeon of Hunt themself is a blessing many may have stated. Others think otherwise, but one thing is for sure. Anyone who has been lucky to be blessed with power from any Aeon was powerful.

Many also believe a teenager should not be blessed with this power, and if they are to inform someone. The power given cannot be taken lightly, yet you. You refuse to let anyone know of your status of being an Emantor.

Nor let anyone know why Scalegorge Waterscape has never seen another Abundance Monster invasion. Everyone enjoys the peace and no one questions it. The only time it was finally addressed just who was responsible for keeping the area safe was when someone was being attacked and someone quickly stepped in.

No one knew who it was, no one knew it was you saving them. No one knew it was your friend who had been attacked and you had to quickly step in to save them. And that was fine by you, you didn’t WANT anyone to know your identity.

From that day alone you knew if people knew who you were, that meant the Abundance  Monsters could find out and will target someone even dearer to you. You didn’t even know how they found out who you were friends with, but all that matters was that the less they knew about you. The less your loved ones would get hurt.

It’s no wonder why many advise younger people of the Xianzhou to inform someone if they ever become an Emantor. Just looking at yourself in the mirror, seeing how tired you are. How much this “job” has taken a toll on you was enough to tell you, to remind you that you should’ve told someone.

It was too late for that anyways, you still had to save people. And when you were returning back from your trip to the alchemy commission, you spotted a Foxian about to be ambushed, so as always. You stepped in with your Emantor form. Unbeknownst to you though, that may have been the last straw for your body, as you bid the Foxian goodbye and you turn to leave, your body finally gave way and all you could see after that was black

. 

.

.

.

.

You may have escaped the many questions thrown at you when asked why you were home late or when people point out the injuries you’ve just sustained. But perhaps your luck was running thin as now you were in front of the High Elder Dan Feng himself. To make matters worse, he did NOT look pleased.

Okay so maybe you weren’t in front of him, at least not standing. You were laying down and with one head turn to the side you caught the eyes of a very displeased High Elder. He arose from the seat he had taken and looked at the Vidyadhara near him.

“Leave, I need to talk to them”

The woman nodded before leaving the room, quickly his eyes turned back to you. Slowly you sat up and your body and slightly moved away.

“H-high Elder…w-what are you doing he-”

“Are you feeling okay?”

He quickly cuts you off. Staring at you, his eyes soften a bit as he reaches a hand out to check your forehead.

“The healers said you had many injuries covering your body. Why is this?”

“...Just some bullies, nothing to be worried about”

He stared at you before removing his hand and crossing his arms. Silence filled the room quickly. Your eyes trailed away from his realising he wasn’t going to believe you.

“I found you, passed out on the ground…and from people who were in the area. The famous ‘Emantor of the Hunt’ was there saving a Foxian, no?”

“...”

“...You’re the Emantor aren’t you?”

He could only sigh as you continued to have your lips sealed, unwilling to speak. Unwilling to give away your secret. But that was all he really needed to know the truth. You felt the weight of the bed shift as he sat down near you. He closes his eyes as he takes a small breath.

“You should’ve-”

“I know…I’m…I’m sorry…I just”

“It’s okay…but…you’re going to have to tell someone, your parents”

“B-but if I do, t-the abundance beasts…t-they’ll know. They’re gonna h-hurt my fa-”

Dan Feng quickly casts his gaze toward you, promptly shutting you up. He sighs a bit. He knows why you won’t tell, he knows people who are young don’t always follow advice people tell them when something happens. So he understands, at least he’s trying too.

“I will deal with the Abundance Monsters, I’ll get Cloud Knights and some of my friends to do so. You are still a kid. You shouldn’t be handling this kind of responsibility. And as your High Elder, I urge you to tell your family”

“...but-”

“But nothing, you don’t have to tell them right away but you will eventually…you will also no longer be fighting these monsters. Not until you're old enough…if you truly wish to continue helping, then wait till you're older. Then you can come to me and I’ll take you in as my pupil. I’ll teach you how to manage your abilities and how to fight even without your form”

You stare at him for a while. A good while before casting your eyes down, playing with your hands. Still unsure about the decision you didn’t get to play a part in. A part of you wants to rebel, the other part knows. Knows that what Dan Feng is saying is correct. It knows he only wants the best for you, still no words can be formed. You were still tired, all you could do was weakly nod.

Even if you were to refuse, Dan Feng is a stubborn one. He nods approvingly before standing up and walking to the door, he looks back at you.

“I’ll get you a meal, what would you prefer?”

You gave your answer and soon he left. You slowly laid down on the bed once again. Closing your eyes and slowly you were sent to the land of dreams.

When Dan Feng comes back with your choice of food, he spots you asleep on the bed. Resting the blood on the table next to yours, he sits down back on the chair, watching you. The peaceful look on your face gives him peace of mind.

“Sleep well then little one”

Finally cleared out all my requests haha. They'll still be closed for now though. Thank you anon for being patient with me and I hope you enjoyed.

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr imagines #platonic hsr #hsr platonic #Dan Feng x Reader #Dan Feng x You #Platonic Dan Feng x Reader #Platonic Dan Feng x You

[agendabymooner]

the leclerc daycare || cl16 fic

charles leclerc x ofc (hearth sister!ofc)

EXTENTION TO OF LONG LINES AND NAMES

Summary: Charles Leclerc was a father first and a driver second. So maybe being left alone with Hervé, Jules and PJ for the night wouldn't be much of an issue. OR Aimee Leclerc travelled with her sisters and Charles got a firsthand experience of watching his kids by himself (alongside his kids’ uncles Esteban and Pierre).

Content warning: dad!Charles centric, fatherhood, mentions of pregnancy, dad!F1 Drivers x OFCs appearance (Hearth sisters!OFCs), Uncle Estie and Uncle Pierre, doubts of being a good parent, shitty French translations by Apple, wtf is beta reading

Note: Dad Charles, Dad Charles, Dad Charles content enjoy xx

masterlist

Aimee and her sisters were known for being extroverts with introverted tendencies. They communicated with anyone who’d approach them and more often than not, would keep in contact with them in case of any business. 

They didn’t like hanging out with them, as much though. Not as much as they preferred being around their sisters. Aimee, especially, didn’t enjoy being around new people— not as often as any other person would. She would much rather be around her sisters or her husband and his mates. Having three kids, with another two on the way, did something about her interest in socializing with other people. It was fairly limited before until she began attending playdates or programs for toddlers that allowed her children to make friends with others — interacting with parents was common. 

Regardless, going out for two days was different — especially when her sister, Sylvie, was wanting to celebrate her engagement before she gets married in a month. Much like the other two sisters, they preferred a day out without any friends. Just the four of them, chatting each other’s ears off. Aimee Leclerc was alright with that.

“Je ne veux pas que maman parte!” I don’t want Mummy to leave. 

The littles, though, weren’t alright with that. Jules cried his eyes out the moment he saw Aimee dressed in some satin dress. She had a weekender bag next to her vanity, the boy picking up on the fact that his mother was leaving. 

It was Charles’ week off before the next race, and rather than going to Maranello, he deliberately made the choice to stay at home and do his sim practices instead. After all, Aimee had been at home for weeks rather than traveling with McLaren during the races due to her pregnancy. The wonders of having remote work, right? 

“J,” Charles shushed his son softly, playing with the soft curls of his mini’s hair. Jules continued to cry as he wrapped his arms around Charles’ neck. “Maman n'est pas sortie pour s'amuser. Ne pensez-vous pas qu'elle mérite de s'amuser?” Mummy hasn’t gone out to have fun. Don’t you think she deserved to have fun? 

Then another little babbling came along as Hervé clung to Charles’ leg. “Elle peut s'amuser ici. Papa dit à maman qu'elle peut s'amuser ici!” She can have fun here. Daddy, tell Mummy she can have fun here. Hervé cried too, sobbing as they stood in front of the shut bathroom door. 

Aimee put down her mascara and sighed quietly. How the heck was she going to go if her sons were crying like this? The only reason why she’d managed to be roped into nights off before was because Pascale Leclerc had managed to kick her and Charles out of the house before. The boys loved their Mamé and their uncles. 

Pascale wouldn’t see them until this afternoon and their uncles were definitely not going to go until they got back from work. It was only 6:45 in the morning. 

How the hell were Hervé and Jules awake at this time, anyway? They liked to sleep, so how they managed to get the hell out of their bedroom at this time of the day was a mystery.

Aimee then remembered what her sister said. Intuition. Aimee was the same back when her sister was eighteen and heading to university in the morning. Two year old Aimee would wake up just to say good morning then dash off to have breakfast with the other sisters. So maybe her twins had the kind of intuition when someone’s leaving. 

She didn’t think that their reaction would be like this in the morning. 

“Oui, but my littles,” Charles crouched down to speak to both his kids, “do you know how Papa’s been working a lot and Maman has been home to have fun with you?” 

Hervé and Jules sniffled, but nodded nonetheless. Charles continued, “Papa has fun at work, but it’s Papa’s time to have time with you. Maman deserves to see what’s out there that she can have fun with.”

“We can go out to have fun with Maman!” Hervé cried out, protesting against Charles’ proposal. 

“Maman will go somewhere littles can’t go,” Charles told the boys. “How about we have some breakfast and make sure the babies are eating too before Maman goes, hm? Make some breakfast so Maman will be happy and be full of your looove by making her food?” 

“Maman sera-t-elle heureuse si nous lui faisons à manger?” Will Mummy be happy if we make her food? Jules asked, the two of them no longer crying. Thank god for that otherwise PJ, their two year old brother, would see it and somehow make himself comfortable at the tear train. 

Charles grinned at his boys and nodded, “Oui. Maybe we can make her some chicken and waffles— last I heard, the babies want some chicken.” 

Jules wiped his tears away and exclaimed, “Okay! I help, Papa! Herb! Come!” Then ran off the couple’s bedroom, his twin brother hot on his heels as Hervé dashed off. 

Charles watched the boys run out and winced, hoping PJ wouldn’t wake up to the loud footsteps made by the older kids as he slumped against the wall by the bathroom. 

The door swung open next to him, making him look as Aimee stepped out with a sheepish smile. He approached her carefully and wrapped his arms around her, his hands trailing down the protrusion of her stomach as he sighed, “I hope these two wouldn’t be that much trouble to handle.” 

“Hmm,” Aimee hummed happily, taking his hand to kiss the palm of it. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” 

Charles scoffed as if Aimee was questioning his superman abilities to stay sane. “I’ve been driving a Ferrari for god knows how long,” he joked, kissing her temple as his other hand continued to caress her stomach. “I’ve gone way past my sanity line. Don’t worry about the three, oui?” 

“I’m not worried about your minis,” Aimee giggled, “I’m more worried about you. You’re most likely to go mad once you realize PJ likes a little bit of mischief with Herb and J.” 

“As I said,” Charles rolled his eyes, peering down at her as he continued, “I’m no longer sane. I think I’ll be able to find composure.” 

The breakfast definitely DID NOT show all of that. Because by the time Charles reached the kitchen, an egg was already cracked open on the floor. Not only that, but Hervé and Jules’ tanned faces (alongside their jammies) were covered in waffle mix after they’ve both dropped the bag of mix on the floor. 

But their breakfast wasn’t that much of a disaster, to say the least. In between Aimee’s cooking and the boys’ morning shower, they somehow managed to find some time to eat breakfast. PJ had already woken up when Charles’ voice turned loud enough at the shock just as he stepped into the kitchen. Trying to get him to eat his fruits wasn’t as difficult. He was angelic of all the Leclercs that both Pascale and Aimee had given birth to. 

“C’mon, mon chou, last one for Daddy,” Charles opened his mouth wide, trying to get PJ to mimic the action. PJ followed his father, his mouth opening as Charles made airplane noises, his hand twirling around while it held a slice of banana stabbed into a silicone fork. It didn’t take long for the food to land on the toddler’s mouth as he kicked his feet in enthusiasm. 

“Tu vois? C'est de la bonne nourriture, n'est-ce pas?” See? It’s good food, don’t you think so? Charles asked his youngest, making the boy nod. “Good boy, PJ.” 

Charles turned to look at his twins, who both stood on their two step stools next to their mother as they watched Aimee wash their dishes. Aimee was apparently teaching them how to do their dishes as she said, “Then when it’s clean, you just put it right here.” 

“What’s this called, Maman?” Hervé pointed at the display next to the sink. 

“It’s a dish rack,” Aimee replied.

“Rack? What does the rack do?” Jules asked, his curious voice making Charles grin to himself. His boys were quite inquisitive about anything. Whenever they’re out, Hervé could point at something and ask. Jules would often follow after Hervé asked. 

And it wasn’t anything worrying. Charles and Aimee loved it when they asked a lot, because they had a lot to answer. It’s always a joy to answer their children’s curiosities. 

“That’s where you leave the plates after cleaning them,” Aimee answered, now drying her hands on the towel. “It’s to make sure they dry. You don’t eat on wet plates do you?” 

“Yuck,” Hervé and Jules pulled a face. “No wet food!” 

“Exactly,” Aimee grinned, looking up to see Charles staring at her and their kids lovingly. She then asked, “Are you enjoying your time staring, love?” 

Charles shook himself out of his thoughts and said, “Yeah. Mr. Sacha is done with his breakfast too.” 

“Oh? He finished it?” Aimee peered down at PJ, “how did you like it, my little bug?” 

Aimee didn’t like that nickname at first. PJ had only earned that nickname after everyone learned that she’d gotten more sick with him than she did with the twins, and Esteban joked that her baby was a literal stomach bug. But after some convincing (with the help of Esteban and Mick, dressing PJ as a grasshopper for his first halloween), Aimee finally caved in. PJ was her little bug.

“Little bug loved it well,” Charles grinned, lifting PJ out of his high chair and grabbed the empty plate. He placed down the dirty dish into the sink as Hervé and Jules’ eyes gleamed in excitement. “Boys, let Papa do it later. Maman’s going soon. Who’s coming to pick you up again?” 

“All three of them, once that Tils’ picked up Stevie and Sylv.”

“Oh,” he replied, “so is anybody dropping off their car to use yours or…” 

“No,” Aimee scoffed. “No one’s touching any of my cars. You are using the SUV, no?”

“That’s kinda assumed already,” Charles replied, “I just thought you’d use your… actually never mind.”

While their family expanded largely over the past few years, their garage did too. Much like her sisters, Aimee had a collection of cats hidden away to avoid being burglarized. Everyone knew about Charles’ custom Pista and the family SUV that they had — an Aston Martin. But they didn’t seem as phased as they were when they found out that Aimee had a vintage Mini Cooper and a coated copper McLaren 765LT hidden somewhere in their family home.

So really… Charles assumed that they’d borrow either one of their hidden gems for the trip as Aimee’s Cooper was often used than Stevie’s military green LaFerrari or Sylvie’s orange Cadillac. 

“The poor Cooper’s been treated like a bus for the past few months,” Aimee snorted. “You know I wouldn’t allow them to drive it either.” 

The ring on the doorbell had woken up something within the twins as they both squealed and bolted to the door, leaving Charles to yell, “Boys, don’t open the door without— damn it!” 

“Charles!” “Sorry! No swearing!”

He then returned to the dining area with Hervé being carried by Aimee’s eldest sister Tilly and Jules with Sylvie. Stevie followed behind as they greeted Aimee, “Morning, Aims! Excited for a good two day vacation?” 

“Oh am I ever,” Aimee rolled her eyes, gesturing at her husband, “he’s a different story.” 

Sylvie raised a brow and spoke amusedly, “You having fun yet, Charles?”

“I am,” Charles waved off Sylvie’s joking tone, “I’ll be fine.” 

“Don’t worry you’ll be fine,” Stevie chuckled, “even Lewis is running a daycare at home.” 

“Aun’ ‘Teve,” PJ toddled his way towards Stevie and tugged on her trousers, “L’land?” 

Stevie peered down at her little nephew — who was the same age as her youngest, Leland, and cooed, “Leland is at home with Uncle Lew and Lotlot, little bug. Maybe you’ll see him sometime today.” 

“Ah speaking of,” Tilly started, looking at Charles now as she said, “I think Lewis and Toto are planning to take the kids out today for the… indoor playground cafe. I’m sure they’ll be happy to have more kids and an extra pair of hands to come along.” 

“Oh nice, more kids,” Charles’ face didn’t even show how nice the thought was. 

“Good luck taking care of eight kids lads,” Sylvie winked, huffing out a laugh after Aimee nudged her a little bit too hard. “I’d offer Max but he isn’t here. I’m sure Arthur and Lorenzo would be more than happy to help!” 

That was a lie. Maybe Lorenzo would help a lot, but Arthur… Now Arthur was a good uncle, but he often leaned more into the chill uncle side than the kind who would somehow watch his words around the kids.

And so when the Leclerc boys saw the matriarch off to Stevie’s Bentayga (while Charles continued to remind his wife’s sisters that she was pregnant — practically warning them not to be stupid about driving), he immediately pulled his phone out to text the only people who’d be more than willing to go less sane with the kids.

Charles: Are you up for some insanity? Aimee’s out for today to tomorrow afternoon.

Esteban: What’s in it for me?

Pierre: He just said insanity.

Pierre: I hope you have enough room in your AM.

Charles: Fuck. I guess I’m taking out the Cadillac.

Charles: Will anyone help me take them out of the garage and help me move the boys’ seats to the other SUV?

Esteban: 👍

Pierre: 👌

Esteban Ocon showed up an hour earlier than Pierre did. When he did, he brought along a small gym bag full of his overnight clothes. Alongside his clothes were boxes of Spider-Man figures. Not everyday Esteban got to share his love for Marvel to anyone, and he could help but jump at the chance to introduce No Way Home to the Leclerc boys.

Now, he was in the kitchen, teaching the Leclerc littles how to operate the oven as they baked some chocolate chip cookie dough that they found in the deep depths of the freezer. Perhaps it was a bad idea to have Esteban come over, because he was prone to ruining their diets with his love for pastries. 

It was quarter to ten when Pierre finally arrived, with his own overnight bag and… a pile of children’s books? Charles wasn’t sure if he was seeing things right, but then the Frenchman pulled up a pop-up book version of Dr. Seuss from the pile as Charles groaned quietly. 

“Ils ont déjà beaucoup de livres, Pierre,” they already have a lot of books, Pierre. Charles told the man when he raised a brow.

“It never hurts for more,” Pierre shrugged, “how did you think PJ learned to speak a lot at this age? He won’t be chatty if it wasn’t for his Oncle P.” 

“You only started to get them books because you don’t know how baby sizes work,” Charles told him with a roll of his eyes, shutting the door behind Pierre as they both walked towards the living room.

Charles raised his brow when Pierre settled his bag down on the couch, leaving Pierre to say, “I’d head up to the guest room but I want to see the boys first,” there was a moment of silence between the two of them and in the background played the boys’ daily phonics songs. “Sick beats, by the way.” 

The pair headed off to the kitchen, where they found Hervé, Jules and PJ chatting away with their Uncle Estie. The last conversation Charles heard was about the track in Canadian GP, with Hervé saying “The turn there— what is that? Pin? Papa says is pin! It’s wooooosh~ woah, it’s so small, Oncle E!” 

“Sharp,” Estie’s signature grin returned to his face as he corrected the boy gently, “the hairpin is sharp, Herb.”

“‘Airpin?” Jules’ head cocked to the side, “I hear my cousin Tia say that!” 

“Because that’s what they use for long hairs,” Esteban replied. 

“What? All talks, no love for Oncle P?” The three toddlers turned towards the direction of the voice as they grinned widely. PJ, thank god for Charles’ reflex, had jumped off the kitchen island and ran towards his namesake. Pierre Gasly nearly tipped over at the suddenly thud on his legs as he grunted, lifting PJ up to his arms as he hugged the boy tight. “Good morning, Little P! How’s my handsome boy doing?” 

“Good, Oncle P!” PJ grinned. “Maman est partie!” Mummy left!

The enthusiasm in his tone broke Charles out of his trance as he laughed. “Sacha, why do you sound happy about Maman leaving?”

“Because she has fun!” Jules reasoned out on behalf of his brother, making PJ nodded eagerly.

And while the two were celebrating the thought, Charles looked at Hervé as he began sobbing quietly. Esteban’s eyes widened, not knowing how to react as the boy began wailing. Tears endlessly flowed out of Hervé’s eyes as he covered them with his forearm. 

“Oh no,” Charles sighed quietly. Esteban quickly recovered from shock and immediately lifted Hervé off the counter, allowing the boy to soak his shirt with his tears. 

Out of the three boys, Hervé was the only one who took the information to heart. The Leclerc kids were loved by both Aimee and Charles — but Hervé, out of the three, loved Aimee more than anything. He often clung to her like a koala on a tree, and when they’re out and about — Hervé would often hold hands with her more than he would with his Papa. It wasn’t a shock that Charles would witness his eldest cry at the absence of his Maman. 

Jules, who was sitting on the counter, stood on the marble surface and reached up to pat his twin on the back carefully. He then said, “t’s okay, Herb!” He wasn’t even sure if Hervé could hear him, but all Jules seemed to care about was comforting his brother.

“Are you sad because Maman’s gone for the day?” Esteban asked, and all he got was a nod in his neck. That, and maybe a wet patch of tears on his neck now. “Okay, okay. Is there anything Papa or your uncles can help you with that can make you feel better.”

“Maman—“ Hervé stuttered, still crying in Estie’s arms.

“Yeah, but Maman’s not here, H,” Estie replied. “What if you show us what can help you feel better? Or do you want Oncle E to help?” 

Hervé’s reddened face looked up at Esteban and nodded. “Yeah? You want me to help? Or everyone?” 

“I know!” Jules jumped, making Charles reach close to his son with a mutter of ‘Careful, J.’ 

Hervé turned to his twin as Jules exclaimed, “Princess and Frog!” 

“T’ana!” PJ squealed aloud. Hervé’s eyes brightened, all thanks to the suggestion that his brothers proposed not to his tears. Hervé nodded before he wiped his tears away and asked Estie to put him down, to which the man obliged as Charles helped Jules hop off the counter and led the Leclerc littles to the family room. 

The adults look at each other. “There will be a lot of that,” Charles smiled meekly. 

“Not a bother,” Esteban waved off with a chuckle.

“I need to put my bags upstairs,” Pierre nudged Charles lightly. “Before craziness even begins.”

The oven goes off at the same time, leaving Esteban to turn away and return to the kitchen as he said, “I’ll leave this to cool off. You need help moving cars, you said?” 

“Yes please,” Charles replied, following his boys to the living room as they navigated through the Disney app. 

He then heard Estie say, “Can I drive her Mc—“

“I can’t let you drive the McLaren, sorry,” Charles interrupted Estie before he could continue on.

Charles: Hey! Are you and Toto still taking the kids out today? 

Lewis: Hey Charles! Yeah we’re taking them out today. If we’re gonna get heart attacks we can at least do it together. You in? 

Charles: Pierre and Estie would come along, if you don’t mind? 

Lewis: Five against eight? We’re still outnumbered. But yea, of course! 

Charles: Haha!

One of the joys of having children was the opportunity to dress them. The same could be said for Charles. They always said that it was hard having to dress boys, and while that remained true, it didn’t discourage the Ferrari driver from dressing his boys up whether they’re going out or heading to bed. 

He could admit that he couldn’t dress for shit, but it didn’t mean that he’d do the same to his kids. 

Neither he and Aimee believed that Jules and Hervé should be dressed the same whenever they’re out because they were twins. In fact, they thought that it would be a bit too confusing for them. At the very beginning of their lives, they were always dressed differently. 

The same could be said for today. Hervé was dressed in a Ralph Lauren denim button up and some denim shorts, his hair tied loosely to a bun to avoid his soft curls getting in the way of his face. 

Jules, however, was dressed in a white tee (with the infamous Burberry pattern sewn as a pocket) and khaki shorts while his hair was merely brushed back. Esteban Ocon was quite proud of his work of art. 

Sacha Leclerc, or PJ, had opted for a soft pink shirt with the Ralph Lauren polo logo on its left chest and some denim shorts with Mickey Mouse embroidered all over the place. He beamed at his Oncle P proudly, immensely proud of his decision to dress like this. Pierre Gasly merely high fived him, proud of his godchild for no reason. He was just proud. 

No one was prouder than Pascale Leclerc, though. Just as her hair salon opened and the boys (and the men) took a ten minute trip there, she gasped at the sight of her grandchildren. 

“Oh mon! Qui sont ces beaux garçons ? S'agit-il de mes petits-enfants?” Oh my! Who are these handsome boys? Are these my grandchildren? Pascale squealed, excusing herself from her receptionist as she knelt down to get on the level of the toddlers. “You three are always soooo handsome! Did Papa dress you?” 

Esteban and Pierre cackled on the side, leaving Charles to look at his mother with an unamused expression. Pascale giggled. It was a running joke in the family that Charles was shit at dressing himself, and when Aimee got married into the family it got even worse — with Arthur starting the chaos with, “Can you believe that, Charles? Two models for sisters-in-law and another who worked for Vogue and you’re still dressed like this?” 

“I sure hope not,” Pierre continued behind Charles, leaving the Monegasque to kick his best friend.

“I did!” Jules grinned proudly. “I dress up myself, Mamé!” 

“I did too!” Hervé raised his hand, catching the attention of his grandmother. PJ babbled along and told her that he too had dressed himself. 

“Wow! Such big boys, you are!” Pascale exclaimed, pulling out her phone to stand up. “Can you smile big for Mamé? Say cheese.”

“Cheeseeee~” the three grinned heavily as Pascale took a photo of the three. Typing for a good second, she finally put her phone away and looked at Charles and his fellow grid mates. 

“I sent it to Aimee’s mothers,” Pascale explained herself as the men nodded.

“What are you up to today?” Pascale asked. “I heard the girls are out for today and tomorrow?” 

“They’re going to stay in Cannes for the day,” Charles replied before leaning towards his mother and whispered, “Hervé cried twice today, Maman and I’m worried he’s not going to sleep tonight because Aimee’s not here.”

Pascale let out a quick snort and shrugged it off, “Yes he would,” she reassured him with a pat on the head. “He managed to sleep well when you two were out for the weekend.” 

“But that’s with you, Maman,” Charles looked back to find Esteban and Pierre preoccupied with the kids as he continued, “What if the three of them won’t settle because I haven’t been around them for too long and I haven’t put them to bed before? Hervé cried because of his Maman. He sees Aimee more than he does me so—“

“Charles, pause,” Pascale grabbed her son on both of his shoulders and shook him out of his thoughts. “Take a deep breath.” The middle Leclerc man obliged, heaving a deep sigh as his mother told him, “He won’t make things hard for you, Charles. He’s not crying because he likes Aimee more than you, but it’s only because he’s going to have to adjust for tonight. Kids, when they’re outside their routine, act differently when they have to follow a new one — so he’s not acting like that because you’re the one who’s with him tonight.” 

“Hervé loves you, Charles,” Pascale told him softly. “With how he proudly wears your number on his shirt and his jackets, and how he brags about his Papa in the red car, I think I can say that he loves you so much. He will never ever make things hard for you with Aimee not being here for today— or for all those times she wouldn’t be there. So, don’t worry about it. Just don’t make things hard for him either. Try to make sure he’s comfortable with adjusting his routine. Make sure that your children are feeling comfortable with the thought of doing things differently than usual.” 

Charles glanced back at his kids, the pressure on his shoulders long gone as he nodded at Pascale. “Merci, Maman.” 

“Yeah of course,” Pascale giggled quietly. “I’ve always wondered the same when your father was gone. Look where I am now. Look at where you are now. The boys just need to adjust a little, Charles. Just make sure you’re there to guide them if needed.” 

Lewis Hamilton and Toto Wolff were rarely at Monaco, these days. 

After Lewis retired, he thought of selling his house in Monaco. Being a father was what he wanted and clearly, while he was still fit for a celebrity lifestyle he resorted to being a quiet and reserved man. His 5-acre estate in Warwickshire showed something of serenity, their home surrounded by nothing but woods and a river nearby. He was content with being at home with his children while his wife Stevie continued to work as a model and Ferrari’s communications director. He preferred the quiet while he taught his daughter phonemes, and it was clear to everyone he abandoned his flat in Monaco. Now the flat served as his vacation home whenever his family would go on a holiday and see their cousins. 

The same goes to Toto. He hadn’t retired as a team principal yet, but his Monaco place no longer held the same value as his estate in Brackley. One of his kids was already eleven (already in year nine) and playing in his school’s association football team and the other (nine years old) had been entering karting tournaments around England almost every weekend. He once told Charles about his estate and how he had it purchased and renovated long before his eldest son with Tilly even existed — how well he valued his home there and wouldn’t exchange it for Monaco or Austria. Much like Lewis, he was content with his home there, and it didn’t help that the Mercedes factory was only a few minutes away from his home. Toto expressed his interest in selling his house in Monaco once that his vintage Mercedes was moved back to Brackley, but then his nephews were born (and were planned to be raised in Monaco). He then decided that it was a home to go to whenever his kids wanted to see the Leclerc kids — their cousins. 

So after everyone started talking about Lewis Hamilton and Toto Wolff no longer residing in Monaco and their rare appearance in the streets of the principality, it never came as a shock to anyone anymore. It was still rare, but it was expected. 

But the sight of the two, alongside the three current drivers that just sat along the older ones, would be considered hilarious and extra special for the fans. Because not everyday you get to see two Mercedes personnel casually hanging out with a Ferrari driver and two Alpine drivers. At least, not with the two Alpine drivers while they all sat on a cozy indoor playground and cafe in Monte-Carlo. It wasn’t everyday you get to see Toto Wolff and the drivers talk about the racing season while they all sip on some silly cat and animal-themed cups with their kids running amuck in the playing area. 

Toto’s two older kids were somewhere else, and Charles could only assume that they were at the football area. None of his kids were crying yet, and so he sat there relaxed as he listened to whatever Lewis was talking about. 

“Did you really allow Aimee to go with the girls?” Lewis asked Charles, making the Monegasque nod. “You could’ve said no, that way they’re just stuck here in Monaco.”

“She’ll be fine,” Charles was beginning to think that he was only saying those words to reassure himself, not others. “She hasn’t been out for a while.”

“They still could have found something here,” Lewis pointed out.

Charles rolled his eyes, “That’s true. But Aimee lives here, she knows every curb to avoid and I don’t think I don’t want to bore her to death.” 

“Besides,” Charles shrugged nonchalantly, “I don’t want her to think I’m trying to lock her up by making her stay in Monaco all the time.”

“She’s your wife,” Pierre brought up.

“She’s my boys’ Maman, but she’s also been working her ass off trying to keep them happy while I’m gone someplace else,” Charles couldn’t find himself to argue, only telling them what the men needed to hear, “the least I can do is to let her travel the same way I do almost every week.”

“She loves the boys, that’s why her work in McLaren’s now remote,” Toto nodded, reaching on his pastel donut cat cup as he sipped on his tea, “I appreciate you for recognizing that.” 

“It’s the only thing I can do besides spend my time with the kids,” Charles replied, looking around to find his kids as Hervé came dashing and jumping into the ball pit of the soft play area. Hervé’s head popped up from the ball pit as he grinned, finding his father watching as he waved enthusiastically. Charles grinned and waved back before he turned back to the men, “I don’t think I’ll ever regret spending my time with them. If anything, I regret leaving Aimee behind while I go away to race. Lessens my time with the boys.” 

TWO MERCEDES, A FERRARI AND TWO ALPINES WALK INTO A CAFE: The Popular Fathers of F1 were seen on some Father-Children day out in Monte-Carlo.

“Hamilton, Leclerc and Wolff = Fathers of the Year? PLUS, a surprise appearance of Uncles Esteban Ocon and Pierre Gasly included in this article!” 

THE MONTE-CARLO DADDY DAYCARE: These might be the best photos taken of Lewis Hamilton, Toto Wolff and Charles Leclerc yet!

“Where’s Max Verstappen? Oh, and HI ESTIE BESTIE AND PEAR!” 

THE HEARTH HUSBANDS: How Toto Wolff, Lewis Hamilton and Charles Leclerc made the best husband materials ever through these photos.

“Max Verstappen, maybe it’s your time to shine, too!”

Aimee: I’m gonna go to sleep now but omg those photos of you and the other two are so funny haha!!! I’ll talk to you more about it tomorrow, but the babies wanted to say goodnight my love :)

Charles: I’ll tell you so much about the boys’ playdate tomorrow. Sleep well, mon cœur ❤️

Aimee: Give them kisses for me?

Charles: Already did for you. Now sleep.

Aimee: Sleep well, my love 

“Papa?” At first, Charles wanted to fall back asleep at the sound. He thought that he was just dreaming. His dream was literally just about baking those cookies— and with the call of Papa he assumed that he was just being called by the boys from the living room. 

Then he felt a small soft hand on his cheek, making his eyes open slowly as he witnessed his three sons standing there. He sat himself up a little, stretching as he asked, “H, Jules? PJ? What’re you boys doing up?” 

“Nous ne pouvons pas dormir parce que maman ne nous a pas embrassés,” we can’t sleep because Mummy didn’t give us a hug. Jules said as quietly as he could, swinging his body back and forth while he clung onto his Lotso bear. 

PJ pulled his hand back from holding Charles’ face as he meekly stood there, still sucking on the pacifier. 

Hervé nodded at Jules’ comment and sheepishly asked, “Can we sleep here, Papa?”

PJ pulled the pacifier off and added, “Pwease?” 

Charles shook himself out of his thoughts. He was still feeling a bit hazy after being woken up by his kids at… two in the morning. These kids really have a bad habit of waking up in the most inconvenient time. 

But just as he was looking down at his kids, who still stood at his side of the bed, he couldn’t help but smile softly. He might not be Aimee to make them feel comfortable enough to go to sleep after being given a hug, but the least he could do was be there for them. 

Looking back at today’s events, he seemed to be content with the result of his plans and his kids’ reaction towards it. Sure, Hervé might’ve cried for the first three hours, but he soon got comfortable at the thought of spending time with his Papa while Aimee was somewhere else and away from them. PJ proudly dressed himself up and decided what to wear by himself. Jules comforted Hervé when his twin got sad. He was nothing but proud of his boys. He was hella proud of himself.

And he loved his boys so much that he couldn’t deny them anything. Now that he thought of it, it was even harder to deny them anything because Aimee wasn’t here. He was just happy they hadn’t asked for sugar before bed. 

He grinned at his boys and patted the empty spot next to him, hoisting PJ up while he said, “Alright. Up we go then, boys. Let’s go get some good sleep.”

It’s safe to say that the Leclerc daycare went well today. That was a major achievement for Charles. Thank god for his mother and other peer support, right?

#formula one imagine #formula one fic #formula one x oc #formula one fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #formula one dad #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fic #cl16 imagine #cl16 x reader #cl16 #formula one fluff #f1 fluff #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 fic

[meowzfordayz]

when you're apart

Author’s Note: is my Sanemi favoritism showing? 🤍 Spoiler Alert: yes. 😂 Don’t mind my psychology major brain showing ~a bit too. 🤓

when you’re apart

Hashira x Reader

Word Count: ~1,300

CW: anxiety disorder, explicit language, mild sexual content

Emergency Request Fulfilled: I was wondering if you could do how the men hashira react to a female reader with separation anxiety

I have a fear of being alone which makes me very clingy. My longtime boyfriend recently broke up with me due to me being “to much to deal with.”

Being clingy is such a bother I know I just hate being alone

~faqs~

When you’re apart…

… Gyomei doesn’t mind receiving calls from you throughout the day. He’s endlessly patient, always willing to listen, and warns you in advance if he can’t talk for long. His strategy for setting and respecting boundaries? Planning ahead and communicating his availability to make sure you feel prioritized and included in his decision making, while still fulfilling his own wants and needs.

… Obanai dislikes it as much as you do, but is ~somewhat more subtle about it. He, at least, has Kaburamura to keep him company, but kissing you is decidedly more pleasant. He’s mindful about maintaining healthy boundaries and expectations—he knows codependency shouldn’t be romanticized—but he’s also so wholly in love with you, that sometimes he gives up and surprises you anyway. “Obanai? You’re two hours early?? Are you okay???” He nods sheepishly, already pulling you into a hug, “I’m fine. Missed you.” “Is Sanemi going to complain to me the next time I see him?” you sigh, scrunched grin revealing your contentment despite the exasperation in your tone. “Probably, I don’t care. I left him enough to cover more than my share of the tab.”

… Mitsuri totally understands your anxiety, and is lovingly firm about ensuring you don’t slip into unhealthy habits. “You can text me anytime, but only call if there’s an emergency, okay?” she murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your earlobe. You nod slightly, resisting the urge to pout. “I’ll be home before you know it.” Even though it stings, you know it’s never personal. Her willingness to draw straightforward boundaries, as well as her willingness to cross them if you’re truly upset, are just another reason to cherish her.

… Shinobu checks in every couple of hours. Sometimes it’s just a single sentence text, other times a quick call, but she knows how important feeling connected is to you. It’s important to her too, of course, but she’s apt to lose track of time when she’s at the hospital or her lab—she enjoys her work—so she puts in conscious effort to be proactive about your anxiety. When she anticipates a busier or longer day, she’ll ask, “Is it okay if I only check in during meals today?” Generally, you’ll reassure her that, “Absolutely, I’m so proud of you,” and if you’re having a low day, then she always figures out a compromise with you before she leaves.

… Kyojuro unknowingly reassures you, because—apparently—everything reminds him of you. Whether it’s a photo of a flower shortly after he arrives at work Pretty flower, but you’re prettier 🌻, a photo of the sky during his lunch break The cloud formations remind me of you, so soft and mesmerizing ☁️, or a blurry selfie as he finally heads home for the day Cannot wait to see you! 😁, you’re kept in the loop. The one time his phone fell into a puddle (he was trying to photograph a reflection of willow branches Elegant and dreamy, like you 🌿), he immediately visited the nearest shop to borrow their landline Hi, yes, how are you today? Would it be possible for me to make a call? I am happy to purchase something. I would just like to tell my partner that I will be unavailable for the day.

… Sanemi often forgets to explicitly text, call, or otherwise contact you. He doesn’t mean to aggravate your anxiety: he just doesn’t quite ~get it, and assumes it stems from insecurity or jealousy — which also confuses him. “You have nothing to worry about. How could I fall in love with someone else when I’m already in love with you?” he snorts, lightly tapping your nose. “That’s not…” you bite at your lip, unsure how to explain yourself. “I’m not big on texting, you know that. It’s not that I specifically dislike texting you.” You smile despite yourself, eyes rolling fondly, “I know it’s not specific to me.” “So then what’s the issue?” he’s determined to understand. “I’m afraid of being alone,” you shrug, gesturing vaguely, “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.” Arms crossing, he leans in, forehead bumping yours, voice warm and low on your skin as you gulp, “It’s okay to be afraid of things, and being afraid isn’t nothing.” Arms uncrossing, he settles his hands on your hips, kneading gently as he pulls back slightly, fixing an even gaze on your flushed expression, “I can’t be with you all the time, but I can promise that I love you and think about you.” “All the time?” you ask quietly. It’s his turn to blush, eyes closing as he dips his face into your neck, muttering softly, “All the damn time.”

… Muichiro is a bit absentminded, and rarely thinks to check his phone, but he sets reminders—around noon, and later in the afternoon—to make up for it. If he’s occupied and misses his usual look-at-his-phone time(s), then he’s never bothered by a call from you coming through (besides your number, his phone’s always on Do Not Disturb). In the bathroom? He’ll pick up. About to bite into his lunch? He’ll put it aside. Presenting during a meeting? He’ll literally answer his phone mid sentence, and leave the room (creative liberty: thank gosh he’s the boss hah). He’s aware of his head-in-the-clouds tendencies, just as he’s aware of your anxiety, and feels that having a specific routine is perfectly fair: if he forgets to uphold his end of your expectations, then you’ve every right to remind him. Conversely, if he’s feeling overwhelmed, he’s more than capable of reasserting his own needs — an infinite practice of mutual respect and taking necessary space.

… Giyuu feels uneasy too, but his discomfort stems primarily from how most people tend to socially drain him — you’re one of few that he can feel both stimulated and rested around. Therefore, if it’s a spend-time-with-you versus spend-time-around-others situation, then he’d prefer to be with you. Spend-time-with-you versus spend-time-by-himself situations are more complicated. It takes a lot of discussion, some heavy evenings apart, and tense evenings together, but you gradually nurture a shared understanding and acceptance of your varying needs. He’s always happy to reassure you that I’m not upset with you, nor am I tired of you; I’m just tired, while you’re slowly learning to trust him and his commitment to loving you.

… Tengen could care less about how clingy you are. Super duper clingy? He loves it. Not clingy at all? He’s cool and confident — he knows you adore him as much as he adores you. His easygoingness, however, isn’t the most productive in terms of processing and reducing your overall anxiety. In fact, you eventually have to tell him that he shouldn’t answer your texts or calls immediately, every single time, without a hint of irritation, because it reinforces your self soothing behaviors. “But I’m happy to?!” he grins, kissing the top of your head. “I know, and I appreciate you,” you chuckle, tucked snugly into his side, “But I don’t want to feel afraid of being alone-” “Sooo don’t be alone!” he interrupts enthusiastically, “Again, I’m happy to keep you company!” Inhaling deeply, you gently grip his jaw, a silent request for him to focus, “And again, I appreciate you, but sometimes I have to feel afraid to stop feeling afraid. If I’m never alone, then I can’t ever feel afraid,” hesitating, voice softer now, “And I know you’ll promise to never leave me, but shit happens. Y’know?” He’s silent, maroon eyes steady and tender as he holds your gaze. Before you can nervously murmur Tengen?, he touches his nose to your forehead, still smiling. “I love you. I’ll do my best to help, even from a distance.” “Well don’t go too far away,” you quip. “Of course not,” he laughs, “I’ll just go wherever you tell me to,” declared earnest and true.

#hashira x reader #preferences #modern au #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #gyomei x reader #obanai x reader #mitsuri x reader #shinobu x reader #kyojuro x reader #sanemi x reader #muichiro x reader #giyuu x reader #tengen x reader

[saltymongoose]

ok i have a request: phobos with a shy player who hides behind him to avoid talking to people. extra bonus points if they also tend to get overstimulated and will just hang out in his office because they know nobody will disturb them

Of course! Here you go Anon, Happy New Year! <3

Phobos' Reaction to a Shy!Player

(TW: Yandere, Obsessive Behavior, Referenced Violence)

The moment you first show some signs of extreme shyness, Phobos’ concern is obvious. The sight of you ducking behind him when two of his agents passed by made him wonder if they'd committed the sin of scaring you in some way.

He’ll ask you about it in a soft manner, ever polite and gentlemanly. “Have my men done anything to make you wary, Your Grace? I assure you, I’ll punish them appropriately for their transgression, whatever it might be."

(Perhaps he was a little too convinced that they did something. But the Director couldn’t stand for anyone or anything making you too scared to be there at the Nexus’ headquarters, too scared to be near him. Plus, he couldn’t stand it if these nobodies made his organization look bad to you. Not when all of this was for your favor.)

You wave your hands and try to assuage his concern, explaining that you were just a bit overwhelmed by others’ attention and that his personnel weren’t at fault for anything. (Luckily for them.) The Director merely hummed in response, but you could tell he was put at ease by the way his hand fell from the pommel of the sword at his side.

After that, however, Phobos learns to appreciate your shyness each time it rears its head. The way it causes you to go to him for comfort is something he can’t help but adore, not only because it serves him with that attention from you he so craves, but also because it shows just how much you trust him.

Really, it’s enough to make him swoon. Witnessing his God showing so much faith in him and his capabilities, seeing how you go to him and him alone for comfort—it's far more than any simple vessel of yours could hope for.

Phobos will do his best to ensure that you never regret your choice, and he’ll be infinitely welcoming and understanding whenever you feel the need to escape from others’ attention.

He’ll place himself between you and anyone else who enters your vicinity, acting as a barrier should you not want to spend your time mingling with his lessers. (Besides, he really doesn’t think that they deserve an inkling of your attention anyway, even if they are his underlings.)

If you do decide to socialize, he’ll try to keep you close regardless. He figures it would be best to do so in case anyone tries to get too comfortable around you or dares to upset you.

Needless to say, the workers of the Nexus Core are never truly at ease whenever they’re around you; it’s impossible to be. Not when their Director is leering in their direction like he’s a second away from violently lunging at them. And they honestly believe Phobos enjoys the discomfort they feel around him. (And they’d be right.)

On the off chance that Phobos cannot accompany you, he’ll have one of his officers do it instead (likely a Tower Guard or another one of his more powerful units). They’ll be under strict orders concerning their treatment of you, of course.

Phobos absolutely loves it when you hide away in his office to get some proper peace and quiet. Just being able to look up from his work and see you lazing about on the seat closest to his or reading a book he’s gifted you makes him feel all the more warm in your presence. Perhaps it’s the joy of being in your sphere, or simply the gratefulness he has that you chose him and his place as your getaway, but the butterflies in his chest can’t seem to die down when you’re so close.

He’ll encourage you to stay more often and for longer each time you drop by. Phobos will also use a myriad of reasons to try to convince you if you hesitate; whether it be his need for your tactical knowledge or him “accidentally” ordering someone to bring your favorite snacks/drink to his office before you even entered. Either way, you’ll find yourself having some obligation to spend more time with him. Not like you mind it that much; Phobos is surprisingly good company (to you, at least), and it stops you from having to mingle with others when you don’t wish to.

Overall, Phobos is surprisingly soft and doting when faced with your shyness - even affectionate (and clingy) at times. However, that's to be expected; it's a side only you could ever bring out of him, after all. For the Director of the Nexus Core, treating you any different would be a crime worthy of the worst consequences imaginable.

#tw: yandere #i ❤️ anons #my writing #samau #self aware m:pn au #player!reader #yandere madcom #yandere madness combat #madness combat x reader #madcom x reader #yandere phobos #phobos x reader

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

your stories with Fem reader are my biggest source of serotonin and self esteem I literally spend hours rereading them 🙏🏽

could you do one with a reader who has tattoos?

the scenario I imagine is reader always wears 100% covered clothes (pants or skirts and tights) none of the boys really care about this because it could be a religious reason or just because reader doesn't like it

but at some point when reader is alone, they decides to take a dip in the school's pool (I don't know if there is one but I remember seeing official bathing suit artwork so it probably is) it turns out that's exactly when the dorms get together for some activity and see reader with bathing suit and all sampling tattoos. it would be even cooler if reader coincidentally had tattoos that represent each dorm or some symbol that represents their favorite villain

could it be with the dorm leaders?

Tattoos Revealed | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

While I don’t think they have a swimming pool,  I know Kalim can make one! And what better time for them to see your Disney villain tattoos. Granted it’ll be awkward explaining how you know the great seven from your world. When they ask you might omit the detail of how you’re world considers them villains instead making up something arbitrary. But no worries even without a concrete reason they’re wonderfully enjoying the skin your flashing:

Riddle Rosehearts 

A decorative heart with a familiar crown 

He tilts his head 

After a series of looking back at you with a firestarting blush

He finally gains the guts to look at you

And not the skin you’ve left uncovered

“T-that tattoo…it looks similar to the insignia of the Heartslabyul…could you have perhaps gotten it while you were staying here? I didn’t think you had the funds to pull that off…How’d you pull it off without me seeing?”

You chuckle as you give an excuse

“Well I’ve always loved her finesse especially in the live-action!” 

So you put things you care about…on your body?

Even the hidden parts?

He was never allowed to think positively about tattoos 

let alone possibly getting one

And in that regard it was a symbol of your forbidden allure

He wondered blushing red in the Scarabia sun what it would take to put him on you

“What would it take to put a tattoo of me on you? I mean your tattoos are…nice. Have you thought about adding more?”

Leona Kingscholar

Spots the familiar outline of Scar with an amused gaze

He doesn’t hesitate to run his fingers on it

Delighting in your embarrassed reaction he’s smirking endlessly

“Awfully presumptuous for an herbivore to just mark herself like this. Almost like you’re asking to be claimed by me right off the bat.”

It doesn’t matter all that much why you have it, he’s just happy you already know who you belong to

Granted he understands the ambiguity of the symbol

But he’s more than happy to make some marks of his own

And if you weren’t so insistent on being his prey he’ll save you the embarrassment of doing it now

“Don’t be such a baby, I’m sure a tooth prick isn’t nearly as painful as getting a tattoo. So buck up.”

Azul Ashengrotto

He’s in awe of your confidence 

Not only in wearing your bathing suit but flexing the octopus tentacles clutching the shell necklace

“Y-you look dvine great I mean you always do–ugh just I like your tattoo!”

He gets all flustered when your eyes turn to him anyway

He has his suspicions about how you got that or why

And if he’s feeling confident he’ll ask 

Only to recognize your deflection

He rationalizes…that you must be destined for one another

As embarrassing as that is he can’t think of anything else

Other than the horrifying likeness to some other mer-octopus

Embarrassment aside he’s going to be the only one who has a chance with you

“Oh my (Y/n)? Are you implying something about the two of us? If so I’m already on board”

Kalim Al Asim

The familiar viper has him preening with pride

He already considers you destined for each other

This just confirms it

“(Y/n)! I love your tattoo!”

“Kalim back up your practically on top of her!”

He doesn’t care for space

Specifically your space

So he’ll getclose enough, nose nearly touching to look at it

He thinks the very pores of your skin as the most beautiful 

And even if you didn’t have tattoos he couldn’t be more enamored

“Please let me touch (Y/n) I just want to touch just a little! Please!”

Idia Shroud

He’s already floored that your in a bathing suit

Its just too much for his virgin-otaku-brain 

How cool! 

You have a blue flame tattoo and he couldn’t be happier that he has that trait

“Whoa (Y/n)! To think the love-interest would have so many layers? I realize there’s more I have to dig up.”

If he doesn’t already know about the intimate image

He feels inadequate…that he didn’t know about sooner

So he might just get one to match yours

That is if he doesn’t have plans to remove it

“Blue flame from my family? Lame! I’ll sooner print my username instead…hehehe that’s a really good idea, me!”

Malleus Draconia

He has a…mixed reaction

On one hand, I’m sure he’s been informed of different cultures marking their bodies

And that’s probably not what he’s mad about

But he’s livid that its not directly about him

“That’s an interesting marking…who gave it to you?”

Why would he want you sporting a tattoo representative of his grandmother

And while he thinks its great that you idolize her

He doesn’t want you sporting it

So if you wake up with no tattoo at all

Or a tattoo with his name

Or (Y/n) X Malleus

Or Malleus Draconia’s Mate

“Oh its a shame that such a thing has happened. Come, I can imprint something I have from my memory. This is not what was there? I do not recall, this is exactly how I remember it to be.”

#yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle roseheart x reader #yandere riddle x reader #yandere riddle #yandere vil x reader #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere vil twst #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul twst #yandere azul x reader #yandere malleus draconia #yandere malleus #yandere malleus x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #yandere idia shroud #yandere idia shroud x reader #yandere kalim al asim #yandere kalim twst #yandere x reader #yandere x you #lovelyyandereaddictionpoint #yanderexrea #yandere #yandere leona kingscholar x reader #yandere leona x reader #yandere leona kinsscholar #yandere leona kingscholar

[mayuichi]

She wants to trust you. Give her reasons trust you. Give her reasons be happy.

Furina x Reader

Warnings: None beside archon quest spoilers (kinda?? i think)! Fluff fic because I want to give Furina some deserved affection :(

Lys' note: i wrote that during the night (started around 4am it's now 7:30 I guess I won't sleep zbfozjfo), i hope furina isn't too ooc :( I love that cutie sm she deserves love and no one can change my mind. well i've finished rambling eNJOY THE FIC!! 🩷

Official arts from Genshin Impact!

Now that the Hydro dragon, Neuvillette, has become the new Archon of Fontaine, he has many things to worry about. Worries for his people, and his new role. He couldn't find time to check on Furina yet. So he falls you to his office. Being someone who already shared many tea parties with her, he humbly requests for you to go see her.

You don't have to be asked twice. Furina and you weren't close friends, yet.. you feel the need to be here for her. After her trial, where everyone has been against her, she couldn't actually be fine.

Of course, knowing no more of fontainians has dissolved makes her happy, but at what cost? You yourself have felt betrayed when the verdict fell upon her. She has never been the true Archon is the end. But she never deserved a death sentence.

Finding her still alive made a weight come off your shoulders, and yet... You felt a knot in your stomach. Why did you felt sorry for her at that time?

Enough questioning.

You are at her doorstep now. Hesitantly knocking, you wait for a potential answer. But no one answers. You could swear she would've been here. Why wasn't she? Panic runs through your veins. You shake your head. It isn't the time to think of the worst, isn't it?

You sigh, crossing your arms. Today has no performance, nor trials. So perhaps... She went to the Opera House? It wouldn't be surprising, but you wonder why would she be there. In any case, there is only one way to figure it out.

It's a long road until there, but you make it anyway. You'd do anything to know how she's doing. Despite not having much of a good.. friend. You haven't visited her or tried to check up on her before Neuvillette's request.

Perhaps she wouldn't even trust you.

Shaky steps, you make your way to the inside of the Opera House. You take in a deep breath before opening the doors leading to the stage. There she stands, oblivious to your presence.

Gracefully dancing alone, in the empty scene. No one to look at her, no one to say anything to her, no one to blame her. Humming to herself a soft, yet melancholic melody, a tune bringing up to the surface all the pain she has always felt.

You can't tear your eyes away from the sight of her. Carefully approaching, cautious to not make any sound. It's like watching a broken puppet putting on her last show. Despite the grace she has, some of her movements were... Hesitant. As if her mind is on fire.

Tripping on her feet, she falls on her hands and knees, quiet sobs filling the silent room. Her shoulders shruddering under each cries, her tears falling from her cheeks to crash onto the wooden stage. She is just a mess, overthinking everything she has done those past hundreds of years.

“What if things could've been different... Have I done my job right...„ she wonders. Such a painful sight for you to witness. You glance away, taking a few more steps. “Lady Furina...„

Her head snaps up, eyes filled with tears as she tries to crawl back. “What... What are you doing here?!„ she croaks out.

The once almighty and theatric Furina is now reduced to be a shadow of herself, in the exact same room where her people has left her. You sigh quietly, climbing onto the stage and kneel at her level.

“You don't need to stay alone, Lady Furina.„ you whisper softly. You know your words might be insignificant, especially considering her state, but if you could just... “No need to keep the lady... After all, now you all know..„

You felt pity for her. For everything that has happened. “You know.. No one hates you. You've never tried to bring bad things. You were just...„ “Lost...„ she mutters under her breath.

“Yeah.. as much as we were.„ you try to reach out and place a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she pushes it away. “I don't need anyone's pity.„ she growls out. Perhaps she doesn't need pity, but she clearly needs someone.

“I don't pity you. I truly want to be here for you.„ you smile, leaning your head closer to her, sitting right in front of her. “... Why?„ she inquires. “Well...„

You chuckle softly as she doesn't seem to remember anything. “Haven't you always listened to my issues back when we would have tea parties?„ you tilt your head on the side, keeping your gaze on her. “Well it-.. it was just a mere formality! Who, as a supposed Archon, wouldn't listen to one of her people's problems?„

You shake your head. You know there is more than that. But pressuring her right now isn't a good idea. Instead, you creep closer, until you could wrap your arm around her shoulder and let her rest her head against you.

“You do not have any reason to tell me what troubles your mind. Yet, I wish you are aware you can share anything to me. Your secrets are safe within those walls.„ you reassure her. It might not work, but at least she now knows she can lean on you if she needs.

Staying in that position for a little while, you gently rub her arm in a comforting way. She looks up at you, and suddenly asks what you feared.

“... Why didn't you came earlier?„ you have no true answers to that. You felt betrayed, lost, unsure. Everything and nothing flooded your mind at that right moment. “I'm sorry. I don't have any answer to give you. I'm to blame. But I do care for you. I never thought we would be friends from tea parties alone, but we can still be close. A confident, someone to share your burdens with. I'd love to be that person to you, if you want me to.„

She doesn't say anything more. She just processes your words in silence. And you don't mind it. If this could give her some peace of mind, you'll gladly stay this way.

“... I have never asked to carry such a burden.„ you snap your head towards her, unsure of what she means. You just wait for her to keep going.

“When she told me I just had to wait until an important and life changing trial, I... I never thought she was speaking of my own. I never felt so lost in my entire existence. My own people, going against me... I now know it was for the best, but...„

Her voice cracks. Tears sting in her eyes again, threatening to fall down. She is trying with all her might to not let them fall as she goes on.

“It hurts. It hurts like hell. I've lived through everything, and even now it still hurts. Will fontainians ever forgive me for lying to them? Does Neuvillette will forgive me? I've tried for so long to find a solution. We've lost so many people.„

You feel a sudden urge to shield her in your arms from all the cruelty. But it's too late, she already felt too much of it to ever forget. Yet it doesn't stop you from wrapping your arms around her petite frame, placing your chin on top of her head.

“I've tried. I've tried everything I could! I never wanted to see anyone dissolve! I spent days and nights searching for a solution, only for.. that...„ she lowers her head, hiding her tears as best as she could.

“Monsieur Neuvillette has never been upset. He is just busy. As for the people... I am sure they understand now. They can't be mad at someone who tried so hard to save them for all those years.„ you try to reassure her, but even yourself don't know how to do. How to comfort someone who had to lie for so long, to hide her true feelings and not even feel capable to share her burdens to the renowned traveler?

You feel helpless. Perhaps you aren't the one made for comforting her. But you want to try. To try no matter what. “You loved us. With all your heart. You have tried everything, at the cost of your own happiness, being eaten day by day.„

Your heart aches for her. You want to be there, to help her. To just... Let her be happy once again. She hides everything behind a facade. But every facade breaks at some point...

“Let me be the one for you. Let me show you how this world can bring many discoveries, how it can still give hopes and joy. Let me... Let me give you the happiness you're craving.„

She tilts her head up. Her eyes... It's empty. Filled with despair and pain. She's aching for love, to finally be happy and carefree. But there's also a tiny... Extremely tiny twinkle. A sparkle of hope igniting at your words. She wants to believe you, to trust you.

She wants to trust you. Give her reasons trust you. Give her reasons be happy.

She cracks a faint and weak smile to you, hesitantly reaching to take your hand in her. “... You promise to not leave me?„ she's scared. Terrified of another pain. But the passion in your eyes, the love your heart holds for her... It couldn't be faked.

“I promise. But you have to live on. Let your past behind. Don't let it haunt you...„ she doesn't know how to do that. She never knew. Placing a hand on her head to gently stroke her hair. “It's okay if you don't do it now. We will go step by step. At your own rhythm.„

You stand up, helping her stand as well, as you snake an arm around her waist to keep her close. “Now, let's go see Neuvillette. He is worried sick he hasn't seen you in days.„

Walking slowly to the aquabus, you sit together in silence. No words need to be spoken. Not when she sees how much love you want to give to her.

You arrive at the Palais Mermonia. Everyone is a little uneasy to see Furina after she excluded herself either in her home or the empty Opera House. Entering the Palais, you let her knock on Neuvillette's office's door. But no one answers.

She is about to grab your hand to tell you you should go, but instead, you knock again, clearing your throat. “Monsieur Neuvillette, it's me.„ recognising your voice, he tells you to enter, and so you do.

Furina hides behind your back, but Neuvillette could see her attire. He sighs in relief upon seeing her, smiling. “I am pleased to see you are doing okay, Lady Furina.„

She doesn't answer. “... Don't mind her silence. She took a while before talking to me. But I can assure you she'll be okay.„ you explain in a hurry, not wanting to offend the new Archon. “I never doubted it. She is in good hands with you. Why would I have asked you to see her otherwise?„

A weak smile spreads on your lips as you look behind to see Furina. You nudge against her, pushing her in front of his desk. “Eeep!„ her eyes widen. She's like an animal caught in a trap. She feels slightly betrayed that you make her face him, but it just makes him laugh.

“Well, I suppose she is indeed not talkative anymore...„ Neuvillette teases gently, his eyes gazing back to the papers. “I- I am talkative!„ you raise an eyebrow. Neither of you believe her words. But it just makes you laugh.

You walk closer to her, cupping her cheeks in your hands as your nose almost touch her. “It's okay. I'll show you how it feels to be loved. Let's just give us some time.„

You then proceed to walk away, under Neuvillette's gaze as he watches closely for Furina's reaction. Her cheeks flush bright red as she stares at your back before shouting.

“What do you mean give us some time?! There's no way I'd date someone like you!„ she hears you chuckle, and she knows she is now going to be teased.

“You're assuming things, ma très chère amie. I never said we would become a thing... Did I?„ you smirk, stopping in your track to watch her expression.

“You-! You implied it, imbécile!„ she runs to you, gently punching against your chest as she pouts. And then... You just lead her back home, promising her to come first thing tomorrow to go on a walk with her.

Perhaps you two will truly become something eventually.

/ᐠ - ˕ •マ Ⳋ mayuichi's property. do not copy, repost or translate without permission.

#/ᐠ - ˕ •マ Ⳋ's writing #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact furina #genshin furina #furina #x reader #genshin #furina x reader #furina genshin

[d6volution]

Himbo kinger with a huge dick, fucks fem reader , and usage of pet names, and praise. Just pure filth.. in his pillow fort.

sorry this is so short, I'm still trying to get in the groove of writing kinger but i hope you enjoy anyways!

----------

"Ah.. you also have a pillow fort in your room.. I don't know why I'm surprised." You said, followed by a genuine chuckle. It was oddly charming. "Well your highness, may I go inside?"

Kinger twiddled with his fingers, his heart always raced when you used those cute honorifics with him, "Yes.. o-of course!" The words fumbled out of his mouth and he watched you get on your knees and crawl towards the entrance.

His eyes immediately lands on your ass as you wiggle and shimmy into his pillow fort, clearly with great precaution and care to not have it topple over. He wasn't sure if it was your ass or the fact that you cared so much not to destroy his fort that could be the reason he was pitching a tent right now. "O.. Oh my.." He looked down, then back up at you. Surely you wouldn't mind right..?

You were trying to wiggle your way inside his pillow fort when you felt two gloved hands on your hips. The sudden contact caused you to stiffen, but only briefly. The dots quickly connected in your head. You smirked.. What a pervy king he was. His hands caressed and gently squeezed at your form in pure awe. Kinger felt his dick throbbing beneath his robes, he knew this alone was enough to get him off if he kept it up. He cleared his throat, he had to stop himself if he wanted to go all the way with you.  "Apologies, y/n." He made sure to speak loud enough so you could hear him.

You finally slipped completely inside, "Hmn.. don't worry about it, that's what we're here for.. right? Come inside. There's more where that came from.. sir." You added the honorific just to tease him, and it certainly worked.

Kinger unceremoniously shoved himself inside the beloved fort and you two were pressed up against one another, his dick rubbed against your thigh. "Ah.. is that your hand or are you just happy to see me?"

"Well I am certainly happy to see you, y/n. As for that w-well, yes you make him very happy too." He said with genuine sincerity, and it made you giggle at how straight forward he was. Your hand slid down to the bulge beneath his robes, you began to stroke it through the fabric. "Well, lets make him happier hmm?" You hummed, and you could feel him twitching in your grasp. You didn't realize until you were feeling him up just how big he was.. you wondered if he was even aware.

"What soft.. hands you have.." He said breathlessly and thrusted into your palm. He was shaking a little from how excited he was , it's been.. he can't even remember how long since he was touched like this by someone other than himself.

You pushed aside his robes and his shaft flung out happily, it was thick and girthy. Making your legs press together at the thought of it nudging its way into your tight entrance. You needed him. Now. You wiggled out of your bottoms, and if it wasn't for the poorly lit pillow fort kinger would have been staring hard, but he seemed to be in his own world while you prepared and positioned yourself accordingly. "Kinger.. c'mere.."

"Oh! y/n... almost forgot you were there," He said with a chuckle, and followed your lead. Crawling in between your legs, his warm dick rubbed against your thigh. "Oh.." He thrusted against your thigh, his hands holding your waist. Making you feel quite small beneath him, "K.. Kinger.." You shuddered, his grip was tight on your waist. His eyes weren't focused on one particular part of your body as he got off on your thigh. You had to stop him before he blew his load without even being inside you.

"K.. Kinger wait.. ah.. lets.." You reached down and guided his shaft towards your entrance. You swallowed, the tip was thick and fat.. it made you hesitate a little.

He could feel the heat radiating from your entrance. It was driving him crazy, "G.. Good.. yes, good girl.." He thanks you and his hips jumped forward, the tip pressing against your entrance with a bit of force. "I was getting quite distracted there.. thank you, princess." He chuckles as he carelessly attempts to mount you.

The pet name he let slip from his mouth caused your stomach to go in knots. "M.. Mn.." His tip was finally breaching your hole, spreading you apart nicely along his dick. You gasped and gripped at his robes now , no longer needing to guide him. "You're so.. tight.." He mutters , but forces another inch inside. You don't think he's aware of how he's almost man handling you.

"Ghn.. n-no you're just bIG..!" Your voice hitched as he thrusted hard and he was buried about halfway inside of you now. "Fuck.." How was this only HALF of him? What kind of monster dick did he have? You questioned in your head, chest heaving. Your insides twitched around him eagerly. He was filling you so nicely..

"Ah, language young lady." He said, interrupting your thoughts. "N.. Now.." He seemed to adjust himself before continuing his assault on your entrance, bullying the rest of his dick inside of you as you squirmed and whined beneath him. He finally bottomed out and if he had a mouth he'd be smiling. "Are you okay..? You look.. crazy. Like me." He commented without thinking, staring at your dazed expression.

"Y.. Yeah.. just fine.." You said and moved your hips a little, his dick was so tightly snug inside of you it felt like you couldn't breathe. "M.. Move , please move Kinger.." You said and tugged him closer.

"Ah, right.. I shouldn't keep a princess waiting.. ha.." He said and started to move, dragging his dick out of you then slamming back in. He didn't mean to be so rough, truly.. but the way you were clamping down onto him made it impossible not to, "You feel.. feel.. so nice, y/n." He said and pumped into you at a uneven rhythm, but it didn't matter. He was so big that he was hitting every senstive corner that had you moaning and whimpering his name.

"K.. Kinger.. ha..!" You locked your legs around his slim form and he made a surprised noise, but this only encouraged him to thrust faster. With your bodies colliding and moving more than usual the pillow fort began to fall apart. But for once Kinger didn't care, he was chasing his high. "Close.. I'm.. y/n..." You were too, but hardly in a sound enough state to vocalize it. Your insides clamped down on him and you felt your body buzz as you reached your climax. He fumbled over his words as his hips stuttered and he was damn near bruising your skin by how tightly he held you while he came, your insides suddenly felt warm.

You both were still for a moment, coming down from your high and trying to catch your breath.

"Ah.. the pillow fort.." You said breathlessly, just now noticing how out in the open you two were.

"Oh, ..oh— I didn't even notice. Would you like to rebuild it with me..? After we.. clean up, o-of course." He said, a bit nervously.

"I would love to, Kinger."

#the amazing digital circus #ask #minors dni #kinger smut #kinger x reader

[teaxeee]

One more - Seok Matthew x fem reader

Member - Seok Matthew (ZB1)

Genre - Smut (Minors DNI)

Word count - 771

Warnings - fingering, slight choking, pet names (baby, pretty), overstimulation, slight praising

Notes - This is my first time writing full on smut, am so sorry if it's not good AND I'M A BIT NERVOUS IF Y'ALL WOULD LIKE IT. Anyways, enjoy!! Also: credits to @cyberkunizz for the header <3

No wonder you were distracted the whole day…way too distracted as you kept staring at his hands. The veins popping out at the back of his hand, all the way to the inner side of his forearm, it felt way too distracting. Most likely the reason you kept tracing your fingers along the veins of his hands every time his hand was close to reach, and he knew. It was way too obvious how focused you were on his hands and his hands alone, the way you kept glancing at his hands, the way you licked your lips and rubbed your thighs, your arousal being noticeable.

That’s how you ended up in your shared bedroom, legs spread open, your back pressed up against his chest as you leaned on him, both of you fully naked. His middle and ring finger sliding inside your already wet pussy, starting to thrust slowly as he feels you clench around his fingers, already making them wet as he speeds up his movements, his thumb gently rubbing your clit as you struggle to keep your legs open. You close your legs, your thighs trapping his hand between them, feeling the veins on the back of his hand brush against your inner thighs as he keeps moving his fingers, already causing your sensitivity to show up.

"Come on, keep your legs open for me, baby." He says softly as he keeps thrusting his fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing your clit as you start rutting your hips against his hand, making him smirk. His other hand slides up to your neck, gripping it firmly as he starts to choke you but not enough to hurt you, forcing your head up to face the mirror and watch how his fingers disappear inside you with each thrust.

Your eyes start to close and you lean your head back on his shoulder, while you let out a small whine. He applies more pressure on your neck, trying to make you look in the mirror again. “Open your eyes for me pretty…want you to keep watching.” He whispers softly, his thumb still rubbing your clit as he feels your thighs start to quiver. You whimper softly and squirt hard, coating his fingers and the bed sheets.

“Woah…never knew you’d squirt this much.” He teases, still thrusting his fingers inside you, causing you to whimper. He doesn’t stop and he doesn’t plan to stop as he keeps rubbing your clit, adding too much to the sensitivity you’re feeling.

“Matthew stop…can’t take it anymore.” You beg and whimper, while he only scoffs in response, as he keeps thrusting his fingers, his ego clearly boosted due to causing you to squirt.

“I don’t think I will…you can do one more for me baby, yeah?” He coaxes you, more like forcing you to let him continue, as he thrusts his fingers faster, slipping another finger inside and stretching your already abused pussy more, making you take more than you could handle.

He enjoyed ruining you, he enjoyed the way you tremble with each thrust, the way your eyes rolled back, moans and whines escaping past your lips as you kept begging him, he wouldn’t let up. He loved the sounds that escaped past your lips, becoming obsessed with the idea to make you squirt again and again. He loved that he was the only one that could make you feel like this, make a mess out of you and ruin you, just for his own pleasure.

He watches you squirt again, noticing how your back arched from the stimulation, how your eyes rolled back, your lips being parted as you let out small gasps and whines while gripping his hand, trying to make him stop, but he doesn't. He keeps thrusting his fingers, relishing the way your body trembled from his touch.

He finally stops after noticing how your body went limp, your breathing becoming more heavier as you tried to catch your breath. He slowly removes his fingers, noticing how coated they are with your wetness. His free hand moves to your stomach, his fingers starting to rub it soothingly.

“You did so good for me, baby.” He coos softly and kisses your neck gently, as he watches you starting to calm down. He helps you lay down on the bed and gets up, as he quickly goes to the bathroom, grabbing a towel and wetting it. He comes back in the room and cleans you up, making sure to be gentle with you. He puts the towel back in the bathroom and lays down next to you, as you both cuddle to sleep.

#zb1 hard hours #zb1 smut #zb1 hard thoughts #seok matthew smut #matthew smut #zerobaseone smut #seok matthew hard hours #seok matthew x reader #zerobaseone hard hours

[imagine--if]

hi! i saw that u write for aib and i was wondering if i can request a chishiya x reader, where they get separated in the middle of a difficult game and ends with the reader badly hurt by another player? idk why but i want something really angsty with a fluff ending (established relationship if possible) <3

A/N: Sure; I followed the concept as much as I could, I hope this is okay!! I need to start writing moreee aghhh I'm doing this final project for my course so it's been a bit hectic haha 😅 sorry for the wait! Enjoy 🖤 WORDS: 1.6K

Chishiya x Reader Oneshot; Smartass

Spades and Diamonds.

You already knew which person had to go where, which one between you and your partner was best for the very different survival games. One was all about using your head, outsmarting everyone to come out alive, and the other was about using your fists, your fight, physical strength rather than mental. And although you wouldn't say that you're the most physical person, especially in the Borderlands, you knew that in all the Borderlands, Chishiya Shuntaro could probably outsmart every single player. Maybe every gamemaster.

It was one of the first things you'd said to him when you met. During the Jack of Hearts, while the numbers of players were dropping on the screen, until it was just you and a handful of apprehensive, strange survivors left, Chishiya had stalked up to you and suggested you team up. The smirk that radiated self-confidence and amusement with the world, barely taking it seriously, but winning every game anyway, just because he could.

"Why don't you go solo?" You had questioned him with a raised brow, slightly defensive after he had called out your behaviour of just tagging along with the group but barely saying a word. You knew that trust was a priceless thing in the Borderlands, let alone in a Hearts game, and no one was worthy of it. "If you're such a smartass."

You thought that might get him annoyed, give him another reason to try and eliminate you from the game apart from being a survivor in the way of finding the Jack, or that you were the Jack yourself. But, if anything, his smirk grew, and those deep brown eyes looked almost curious as they glanced up and down at you.

"If I'm so smart, then what might you be?"

You scoffed under your breath, shrugging and looking away. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Maybe I would," was Chishiya's answer, and you looked up at him, taken aback. But you could see that he meant it, that curiosity shining through his otherwise blank, assessing features, and so, after getting out of that game alive, and many others with him suddenly at your side, he did know. You both started to know each other, more and more, until you were practically inseparable.

No one announced that you were together. There was no proposal, no question of going out, no massive gesture. You were together before you were together. It only took one sealing kiss, where you were both alone in another long, tense night that somehow seemed a bit relaxed with your company. Chishiya always seemed so unbothered, so humoured by the world and people around him, like it was playing out for his amusement. But now, as you're faced with a dilemma that's hardly a dilemma, he doesn't look so amused. He looks almost as apprehensive as the players around you look when you and Chishiya breeze through the challenges, working together flawlessly. Chishiya found it odd how easy it was to know what the other was thinking almost all of the time during games, to find an interest in someone new and different, until it unfolded into something deeper and more loving. The whole thing was completely alien to the both of you, but you loved it, and let it blossom.

But now, as the large fluttering images of the face cards are dragged through the sky by fat blimps, Chishiya's brows twitch unapprovingly, searching for a solution that will guarantee both of your safety.

"Go," you urge him, and he knows what you mean immediately, staring at you thoughtfully. "It's your game, Chishiya. Go beat the King of Diamonds. I'll manage, I will."

Chishiya doesn't answer for a stretched-out few moments, still looking for another option, a way for you to stay at each other's side like you always do, but there isn't anything. You can't risk losing a Diamonds game, and Chishiya can't risk getting beaten at a Spade game.

"You will," Chishiya says finally, though he's not agreeing. He's making you promise him, convincing himself as well as yourself. You know that he'll have no interest in returning to the real world without you, and by this point, you can't imagine living any way without him. You don't want to, and you won't.

"I will," you repeat, and he nods, not fully satisfied. But it's the best you can do.

"Good luck," he says with a smirk that doesn't quite quirk up fully, and his hand lingers in yours until Arisu and Usagi come over to get you.

Chishiya nods again, letting your hands fall apart, and goes over to Arisu, walking up close to him and muttering some words in his ear. Arisu looks straight at you, then at Chishiya, and nods with a half-smile. Then, he wanders off casually, blonde locks tangling with the light breeze, and you watch after him, hands going cold and lips vaguely swollen.

"Come on," Usagi tells you with a smile, patting you on the back, "let's go."

You do go. And you do the best you can do. You feel like Chishiya's watching you every step of the way, like he watches the Borderlands' events in half-hearted amusement. It's like he's leaning forward in his seat, pools of deep brown searching the screen you're running through, dodging attacks and bullets and shielding your ears from the bangs and cracks of the King's gun. There's so much blood, more blood than you thought was possible to come out of anyone. The stinging smell of iron makes you feel sick, all the while you fight to the death. Usagi and Arisu and everyone are beaten and broken, right up until the King is defeated. But by then, everyone is defeated.

Even you.

You feel almost guilty, along with the rush of other emotions; shock, dread, fear, pain, desperation. You can't bleed out on him now. Not when you've come so far. Not after you promised.

Arisu and Usagi make it towards you, helping you up and practically carrying you out of the game zone, Arisu screaming for help, help for another person, despite his cuts and bruises and blood staining his skin. Overhead, you hear two blimps boom up in flames, falling apart and to the ground in crashes, the card images flailing and burning, as dead as the countless bodies sprawled on the floor.

Two booms.

You smile despite yourself. You knew he'd do it. The smartass.

"Chishiya!" you hear Arisu scream, and Usagi supports your weight as Arisu stumbles over to the blonde-haired man, grabbing at his arm. "Help us. Help her. I tried, but there was so much..."

So much blood. So many bullets. Arisu had tried, and he hadn't failed. But now, as your blurring sight latches onto that all-too-familiar figure who walked quicker than normal to get to you, you feel as if you've failed. All in a moment, one shot from the King at the nearest moving thing was all it took to make you collapse, all of a sudden losing the invincibility you had with your other half.

The blurring made the Borderlands and its sounds fade in and out, in and out, until you were able to blink a neutral, albeit run-down room into view. It was the back room of some kind of shop, with you lying back atop a table, your shot wound being patched up with delicate, expert hands and concentrating, meticulous eyes. Those eyes flick up to meet yours before they're back on the wound, and Chishiya's white, plastic-gloved hand pulls out a bullet. You wince, expecting more pain than you get, and watch him groggily.

"Isn't this supposed to hurt?" you find yourself whispering, and Chishiya shakes his head, not looking up.

"I gave you some pain relievers I found. Don't fidget, I'll mess this up."

You smile and roll your eyes. "I won't argue with a doctor."

"Good," he says with an absentminded, small smirk, carefully stitching up the hole and pulling a bandage closer to the table. "I know what I'm doing. Fortunately for you, the shot missed a vital organ, though the blood loss could have cost your life if I didn't stop it when I did."

You bite your lip, peering at your flushed, angry skin around the wound. "Oh. Thank you."

He hums in acknowledgement, putting the needle and thread down to unravel the bandage. "Stop fidgeting, you little annoyance."

You bite back a smile at his amused, fond tone, one you'd grown to love hearing, and started hearing more and more. But your smile fades as your thoughts run away with you, until you end up blurting them out.

"I'm sorry."

Chishiya glances up at you. "What for?"

"Getting shot," you mumble. "I know I promised. It was just really... I didn't die."

"You didn't die," Chishiya confirms. "That's what matters, isn't it? You kept your promise. And life and death here isn't something you can so easily promise."

"No," you agree. "I know. But you can. You're such a smartass, I knew you'd waltz out of that game alive and alone."

Chishiya smirks properly at that. "I'm still the smartass? I thought you would have started treating me nicer now I've saved your life and you've saved mine."

You frown at the last statement, confused. "I saved your life? How?"

Chishiya simply smiles, fastening the bandage and admiring his work. "You have. Maybe not from a gun. But you have."

You're lost for words for a short while, blinking at him. "Really?"

Chishiya nods, sitting beside you and reaching out hesitantly, stroking a piece of your hair so delicately, like you could break with a single hard tap.

"Really. You," he whispers dramatically, as if he's telling you his biggest secret, "are my biggest and best reason."

And then, just like that, he's back up and packing the medical aids away, looking over his shoulder at you with his usual, infuriating amusement and perceptiveness.

"You're blushing."

You scoff at him, rolling your eyes.

"Smartass."

#shuntaro chishiya x reader #chishiya x reader #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya alice in borderland #aib chishiya #chishiya aib #nijiro x reader #aib s2 #shuntaro chishiya #alice in borderland chishiya #chishiya fic #chishiya x you #aib x reader #alice in borderland fanfic #alice in borderland #imawa no kuni no alice #alice in borderland spoilers #aib season 2 #aib netflix #aib spoilers #aib #alice in borderland season 2 #aib x you #chishiya x y/n