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bellaxgiornata · 4 months

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The Devil at Your Window |1: Snowed In|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 8k

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

Series summary: In the middle of a New York City blizzard, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen accidentally lands himself on your fire escape–quite literally. When he accepts your invitation to warm up inside your apartment, you're surprised at how well the conversation flows all night with the curious and attractive masked vigilante. He's intriguing, though what you find even more intriguing is his unexpected returns to your window after that night–and his flirting. But when it seems like you're not the only one beginning to develop real feelings, he pulls back and you're left wondering two things: Why did he disappear and who really is the mysterious Devil that you've inevitably fallen for?

a/n: Just a short collection of one shots that I'll update whenever the ideas strike. It'll be told in a style like Falling for the Devil but it won't get nearly as long (unless y'all end up loving it, too). I just couldn't deny giving us all the fantasy of black suit Matt reappearing at your apartment window and all the flirting, sexual tension, feelings, and naughty things that might ensue... The installment list for this little series can be found here and feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer

Picking up the steaming mug of tea you’d just finished making from off the kitchen counter, you cradled your other hand around the warmth of the ceramic and drew it towards your chest as you turned and headed back towards your living room. The small spot of heat against the front of your sweatshirt caused a shiver to run down your spine as your sock-clad feet padded along the cold hardwood floor and back towards your couch.

It was freezing inside your apartment tonight and the blustering snow storm raging outside in Hell’s Kitchen wasn't helping. Thankfully your office had already announced its closure for tomorrow before you'd finished work earlier this evening. The snow had already started to dump from the sky before you’d even left the office, falling heavy and wild as it accumulated in a cover of white that blanketed everything in the city. It would have been beautiful if you hadn’t needed to walk home afterwards in the frigid mess–especially with the way the large clumps of snowflakes pelted and battered you in the face over and over, the cold stinging at your skin.

The city was expected to get a whopping eighteen inches of snowfall minimum over the next twenty-four hours, so you were grateful that your boss wanted as little to do with making it into work tomorrow as you did, especially because you couldn’t afford to do anything but walk to the office. The last thing you wanted to do was trudge through all of that mess and slip on a patch of ice, inevitably falling in a massive pile of snow and leaving you stuck in damp dress clothes all day.

No, you'd rather stay dry and cozy at home enjoying a lazy day off of work.

You were just hoping the power in your apartment building remained intact throughout the fury of the winter storm. You didn’t want to think about losing the heat in your building in the middle of all of this. Another shiver ran through you as you pushed the thought away–hopefully not something you’d need to worry about tonight.

But since you didn’t have work first thing in the morning, you had every intention of enjoying your night. You’d immediately come home and thrown off your dress clothes before settling on something comfortable–soft sweatpants and a cozy sweatshirt sans bra underneath. Then you’d made dinner and cleaned it up fast before claiming your ‘spot’ for the evening on your couch. Which consisted of both of your blankets and the television remote while you binged a guilty pleasure show that you hadn’t had time to catch up on for the past few weeks. Tonight you were intending to stay up a bit late, cozy up beneath your blankets, drink some hot tea, and lose yourself in the plot and romance of the show before eventually dragging your tired ass to bed in the hopes of sleeping in tomorrow to make up for staying up late.

Eyes focused on the paused television screen as you moved, you rounded the side of your couch while drawing your steaming mug up to your lips. You sipped at the warm liquid, reveling in it for a moment before you swallowed it down. You could feel it heat you from the inside out as a pleasant sensation washed over you. Your eyes closed briefly for a moment–it was the first time you’d actually felt warm today.

Opening your eyes, you continued towards the couch and began to lower yourself down onto the cushions while trying not to spill any of your tea from the mug. Just as you were about to sit back down on the couch and cocoon yourself in both of your blankets, ready to settle in for more of your show, something outside the window to your right caught your attention. Your head spun in the direction just as a flash of black dashed past the window and a loud bang reverberated through your apartment.

A frightened yelp slipped out of you at the sound and you clutched your mug tight to your chest, your heart thudding heavily in terror. Whatever had just literally dropped onto your fire escape had been large, especially with the sound of that impact. Sucking in a breath, you held it as you stared transfixed at the window, almost ridiculously terrified it would be some sort of wild animal–like a bear or a wolf–on your fire escape.

Though, more realistically considering you were in New York City, you knew it was probably a burglar. Who else would be traversing fire escapes late at night? Especially dressed in all dark clothes? Except…that also seemed a little ridiculous, too. There was a literal blizzard happening outside, meaning everyone would be home. In their apartments. Making it impossible for a burglar to break into anyone’s place unseen. Plus, it was insane outside, what criminal would risk dealing with that right now?

So what the hell had just fallen onto your fire escape?

Another thought struck you soon after and your lips parted in shock at the idea as you blew out the breath you’d been holding. With trembling hands, you very slowly reached out, carefully placing your mug of tea onto the coffee table before you without taking your eyes off of your window. Gradually, almost nervously, you rose to your feet before taking hesitant step after hesitant step forward. Another sharp, surprised gasp flew out of you when you saw the dark figure sit upright on your fire escape, bent in half as if they were in pain. Which made sense, considering the fall they’d just taken.

But your body froze up instantly at the sight of the man dressed in all black bent in half and dusted in white patches of snow. He wasn’t a burglar at all. With the black cloth tied over his head and the form fitting shirt he was wearing, there was absolutely no mistaking who he was. You'd certainly seen enough images of him plastered across the media.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had just fallen onto your fire escape.

Eyes widening in shock at the infamous vigilante attempting to pull himself up to his feet, one of his gloved hands holding onto the metal railing of your fire escape, you were suddenly overcome with the urge to check on him. To make sure he wasn’t seriously injured from that fall.

Without thinking your actions through, you crossed the last few steps to the window and unlatched the locks before pushing it up. The masked figure immediately spun towards you at the sound as a bitter gust of wind burst its way into your apartment, chilling you instantly while those thick snowflakes once again assailed your face. For a moment you locked eyes with him–or at least, it seemed like you did despite the fabric covering half of his face–as your mouth hung open. You suddenly found yourself at a loss of what to say in the moment. And considering the way his lips thinned out along his face and the way he remained silent, he clearly wasn’t going to strike up a conversation with you, either.

Eyes darting down, you saw he had one gloved hand clutching at his right side as if it hurt him. His shoulders were hunched in on himself as his back faced the violent winds blowing snow relentlessly. Seeing him in person for the first time ever–something you’d never expected in your life considering how elusive the media made him out to be–you realized just how thin and unprotective his clothes really were. Especially tonight considering the cold weather. He had to be freezing.

An icy wind whistled loudly, another flurry of heavy snowflakes pelting you right in the face and breaking you from your thoughts. Blinking the snow from your lashes, you finally found your voice.

“Are you alright?” you asked hesitantly, unsure how one should approach the masked man. “I just–just saw you fall. It looked like it hurt.”

He gave a curt shake of his head, wincing before he turned more towards the railing. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he replied.

Something warm flooded your veins at the gravelly tone of his voice. It suited him somehow, even if it sounded fake. Like he was pitching his voice lower to sound like someone else in order to hide his identity. Not that you'd probably have recognized him anyway.

With his back partially to you now, especially this close when there was barely a few feet of space between the pair of you, you could see just how incredibly muscular this man was. His black shirt clung to him like a second skin, the toned abdominal muscles on his upper body clearly visible even from just his profile. Even the pectoral muscles of his chest were well defined and visible beneath the sheen of black. His arms were thick–far too big for just one of your hands to wrap around. And as your gaze lingered lower, you fought back the thoughts that entered your mind at the sight of how large his thighs were in those tight pants–and how pleasant a profile his ass also had. You wondered briefly if he'd gained all that from working out or if it had more to do with his nightly activities.

Though when you saw him grab onto the metal railing of your fire escape with both of his gloved hands, the movement drawing your attention away from observing him as he attempted to swing himself over it, you nearly screamed as you lurched forward. You lived on the fifth floor, was this man really about to fling himself off of the fire escape from all the way up here?

But the scream died in your throat the moment he cried out in pain, his feet slipping from off of the railing as he fell back onto your fire escape. He let out a hiss of pain as he clutched at his clearly injured side.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out, shoving the window open wider despite the cold and snow and leaning further forward. “You’re clearly not okay. Do you need something? An ambulance or something? Is there someone I can call? Or–or something I can do to help?”

The man rolled off his injured side and onto his back, gradually turning towards you as he lay on the fire escape. You hadn’t expected the amused and pained chuckle he emitted while the snow accumulated on the entire front of him, lightly covering the thin layer of his black shirt. Which you’d noticed had ridden up, revealing a small sliver of skin just above the dark, form fitting pants he was wearing. You tried hard to not keep glancing back at that patch of skin as it slowly rose higher and higher, unsure why you were so distracted by it.

The sound of his amusement soon drew you back to the moment and you cringed. Why the hell was he laughing?

“Are you alright? Did you…hit your head?” you asked him cautiously. “Maybe you have a concussion…”

Another amused sound slipped out of him, but that was quickly followed by a pained groan as he tried to once again rise up onto his feet. “I don’t have a concussion,” he assured you.

“You sure?” you asked, an eyebrow arching onto your forehead as you crossed your arms over your chest to stay warm when you began to shiver from the cold. “Because this doesn’t seem like a funny situation to me.”

“Well,” he grunted out, wincing as he drew back up to his full height, “normally I’m the one offering assistance, not the other way around. So yeah,” he continued with a faint shrug, your eyes once again catching the way he was holding his side, “it’s kind of amusing. In an…irritating sort of way.”

Your heart sank to your stomach at his words. “Oh, sorry,” you muttered, heat rushing up to your face instantly. “I didn’t mean to be annoying. I was just concerned–”

He took a half step forward, cutting you off as he waved a hand between the pair of you. He shook his head, letting out a slight huff of laughter. “No, I didn’t mean you were irritating. Just…this situation. The–the snow and the falling part.” In a quieter voice he added, “And having an audience for it.”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you stood there studying him for a moment. He was injured and wearing barely anything at all in the middle of a blizzard. He looked like he needed help even if he seemed like the type not to ask for it.

“Do you want to come inside?” you blurted, unable to stop yourself. “I mean, to get warm and maybe sit down for a moment? I could call an ambulance or–or a taxi or something to bring you to a hospital.”

Another amused huff of laughter slipped out of him as he shook his head. “No hospitals, please. I’ll be alright. But…if you’re offering, I wouldn’t mind a moment to warm up.” His gloved hand lowered, pinching a bit of fabric from his shirt as he glanced down at it. “Admittedly this doesn’t offer much protection from the elements.”

You eyed the thin material between his gloves doubtfully. “Doesn’t look like it offers much protection from anything,” you told him.

A surprised bark of laughter peeled out of him, the sound drawing a smile onto your face. You’d made the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen laugh. Now that was something you weren’t going to forget anytime soon. He didn’t seem like the type to break character easily.

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he agreed, his laughter subsiding.

Taking a step back from the window, you waved a hand towards him, gesturing for him to come inside. “How about you come in so I can close this window and we both can stop freezing?” you suggested, surprised at how bold you sounded considering who it was you were speaking with. “I’m shivering already so I can only imagine how cold you must be.”

You watched as his lips curled up into a charming grin at the corners, just beneath the black fabric of his mask. It was impossible to deny that he had a handsome face–at least, from what you could see of it. You imagined the rest of it to be just as attractive beneath that cloth and a sudden intense curiosity to know what the rest of it looked like overtook you as you watched him carefully climb through your opened window. He moved slowly, wincing in pain as he made his way inside. Despite his tough act, that fall must’ve really hurt his side and you frowned, wishing he’d accept your offer to help. There was no way he was as fine as he claimed to be, surely he needed medical attention.

“Takes a special kind of person to just invite me into their home so readily,” the Devil’s rough tone came out as he turned his back to you, shutting the window after himself. “Normally people prefer to avoid me.”

“You’re not dangerous,” you replied almost instantly.

The window closed with a sharp clack before his masked face turned over his snow-dusted shoulder, his attention fixed on you. “Oh?” he asked curiously, a smirk growing over his lips. “I’m not?”

Your eyes were drawn to his mouth, though it wasn’t like there was anywhere else to look when you spoke to him with that mask covering most of his face. The smirk appeared teasing, and for some reason that had the hair on the back of your neck bristling. You suddenly became very aware of the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra beneath your loose sweatshirt and it was now cold in your apartment. Quickly your arms wrapped over your chest, hugging yourself tight. His lips almost seemed to curl ever higher in response.

“I mean, you are ,” you amended, “but to, you know, criminals.”

You swallowed hard when he remained still, gazing at you over his shoulder wordlessly.There was something almost predatory in the way he was studying you. It was easy to see how this lone man terrified the criminals on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen, striking fear into them. He certainly had a presence. Goosebumps rippled beneath the sleeves of your sweatshirt at his continued silent stare.

“Right?” you asked tentatively, voice softer.

His smirk vanished as the other corner of his mouth curled upwards into what felt like a warm smile despite you being unable to see if it reached his eyes. He nodded gently, turning slowly back towards you as he did.

“That's correct,” he agreed, brushing the snow from his broad shoulders. “I’m only dangerous to criminals. So unless you’re hiding any dead bodies or have some outstanding charges…?”

You laughed, though abruptly you snatched your bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to quiet the noise instantly. He was witty and funny. You weren’t anticipating that. Or the way your reaction to his quips seemed to please him, like he was trying to charm you. Which seemed even more curious, considering who he was and what he spent his nights doing.

“Can't say that I do,” you said. “I'm probably the most boring person in Hell’s Kitchen.”

“Well now,” he replied teasingly, “don't sell yourself short. I'm sure you're not taking that title all by yourself.”

That charming smile was back on his face and it had your stomach fluttering. Tearing your eyes away from him, you noticed the television was still paused on your show. Paused on a scene where the two actors on screen were clearly about to kiss. Cheeks burning, you hurried over and grabbed the remote from the couch and turned it off.

“You can make yourself comfortable if you want,” you told him, trying to keep the embarrassment out of your tone. “I've got a couple of blankets you can use to help warm you up.”

His heavy boots thudded with each of his steps as he crossed the room and made his way to the couch. You bent over, grabbing both blankets from your place on the couch where you'd previously been curled up as he passed behind you. The moment one of his cold gloves brushed against your back, you froze.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

“No it's–it's fine,” you replied.

He passed behind you before settling onto the opposite end of the couch from where you had clearly taken residence. You forced a smile onto your face as you turned and leaned over, holding out the blankets towards him.

Pull yourself together , you internally chastised yourself. Just because it's been a while since you've had a man here doesn't mean you need to react to every little thing. That's not what this is, obviously.

“Thank you,” he said, accepting the blankets from your outstretched hand.

You nodded before sitting back down on the opposite end of the couch, keeping space between you and him. Curling your legs up under yourself, you watched as the Devil wasted no time throwing both blankets around himself, beginning to visibly shiver beneath them as he tried to warm up.

“Are you sure you don't want me to call anyone?” you asked him.

“No one to call,” he answered. “And a hospital would defeat the purpose of trying to remain anonymous.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” you muttered, glancing away and spotting the forgotten tea on your coffee table. “Would you like something to drink at least? Some water or some hot tea, maybe?”

His masked head tilted curiously to the side at your question, a grin returning to his plush lips. “Playing hostess?” he asked.

“Well I'm sure you've got to be thirsty running around Hell’s Kitchen and fighting criminals all the time,” you explained. “I always sort of wondered if you stashed water bottles around the city or stopped for water breaks somewhere–not where you live, I imagine. Since you're trying to keep your identity hidden.” Your eyes narrowed as you added, “Or do you just let yourself get dehydrated every time you're out? Because that's not good for you, you know.”

The Devil's grin grew wider as he shifted on the couch, facing you even more from his place on the cushions. “Oh?” he asked, curiosity in his tone. “You've thought about me before, have you?”

Eyes dropping down to your lap, you smiled sheepishly as you shrugged. “I mean, I've had some theories circulating about you ever since you kept reappearing in the news,” you admitted awkwardly. “Sort of hard not to.”

“Well now you have to indulge me,” he teased. “Enlighten me on some of these theories of yours.”

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you continued to avoid his covered stare. “I mean, they're not that interesting…”

“Oh come on,” he tried again. “It's not like we don't have the time. And maybe I can confirm or deny some of them for you. Besides, I admit I’m curious to know what you think of me. Especially being so willing to offer help like you did.”

Chewing your bottom lip, you glanced up at him from beneath your lashes. He looked far less intimidating beneath your blush pink blanket now. What would it hurt if you told him a few of your ideas about the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen? Maybe he might laugh at them, but would hearing that sound again be all that bad? And it truly would be interesting to learn more about the mysterious vigilante, something you'd probably never have the opportunity to do again.

“Okay,” you agreed with a nod. Straightening up on the couch, you turned to face him more fully. “So I've always thought with the way that you fight that you were trained by some sort of secret ninja assassin organization.”

A hearty chuckle filled your living room at your first theory. The pleasant and resonant noise left you grinning as your stomach fluttered in response. You briefly wondered how often the Devil actually laughed when he was out.

“I cannot confirm nor deny that,” he responded.

The playful smile that kept appearing on his face was beginning to further disarm you. You found yourself enjoying his company, soon becoming used to the way half his face was hidden from sight with that ridiculous fabric. And for some reason your unexplainable attraction to him was only growing.

“Next theory,” he prodded, the smile on his face apparent even in his voice.

“You're not wealthy,” you stated, leaning forward and grabbing your tea from the coffee table.

“Oh, ow,” he joked, playfully recoiling back from you on the couch. “What makes you say that?”

You waved a hand at him across from you as you settled back into the cushions, mug in hand. “Because you wear clothing that is obviously not meant to protect you very well in a fight,” you answered. “I imagine if you had money you'd have something…nicer. Meant for what you do. And,” you continued, pausing long enough to drink down some of your now barely warm tea, aware of him focused on you, “you protect Hell’s Kitchen. Only Hell’s Kitchen. This part of the city isn't exactly filled with the wealthiest people. And with how dedicated you are to everyone here, I assume it's because you probably grew up here yourself. Most likely still reside here, too.”

The Devil hummed appreciatively when you'd quieted, his masked gaze still on you. You swore you could feel it as you drank down more of your tea.

“You're observant,” he mused. “Maybe I need to watch myself around you.”

A surge of pride swelled in your chest; you hadn't expected his praise. Or the way it would make you feel. And apparently, you'd guessed something right about him.

“You're also not married or in a serious relationship,” you blurted before you could help yourself, wondering what more you could learn about him.

“Poor and unlovable?” the Devil asked with a surprised laugh. “That's what you think of me?”

“No,” you disagreed, laughing a little with him as you shook your head. “No, but I mean, I imagine you don't have time for someone else. And I figure most people wouldn’t like their partner going out and doing what you do. Putting yourself in danger.”

“Mmm,” he hummed out, shifting on the couch and making himself more comfortable. “A partner would certainly be…a distraction. A liability. One I couldn't really afford to have. So no, you're not wrong, I don't have one.”

You glanced down at your lap, your fingers fidgeting with the mug in your hands. Half of you was hoping to hear that he wasn't with anyone–though you refused to admit to yourself why that mattered–but the other half of you had heard the way he'd said that a partner would be a distracting liability and you’d felt a sad pang hit you in the chest. Considering how much he seemed to be enjoying your company when he didn't even know you had you guessing that the Devil was a lonely man deep down.

But that wasn't a theory you felt comfortable sharing.

“Any others?” he asked, breaking through your thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you focused back on him across the couch from you. His smile had disappeared, his lips now downturned at the corners just a bit. His posture had changed in your silence, the same as his mood, as if he'd picked up on the subtle change in yours somehow.

Strange.

“I imagine you're the kind of guy who's fridge is always empty,” you answered.

A ghost of a smile reappeared on his face as he huffed out an amused breath. You couldn't fight the smile returning to your own lips at the sight of his again.

“Well hey now,” he countered lightly, “there's usually beer. Sometimes orange juice and eggs.”

You giggled, unable to stop yourself. “Who'd have guessed the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen is just your average bachelor?”

“Average?” he repeated in mock offense, his head tilting to the side. “I'm just average now?”

Quirking a brow at him in a challenging manner, your own head cocked to the side. “Maybe tell me more about yourself and I could say otherwise,” you boldly teased back.

“Well obviously,” he began, grinning at you in a way that had your body heating, “I can't exactly do that now can I? Defeats the purpose–

“Of remaining anonymous,” you finished for him. “I've picked up on the importance of that.”

A silence soon settled between the pair of you, one that slowly began to cause your nerves to grow with the way he kept smiling at you. Once again you desperately found yourself wanting to see the rest of his face, curious to know just how handsome he really was under that black mask. Though you settled for studying what you could see, your eyes tracing the soft curves of his pink lips, noticing the way they very minutely twitched under your scrutiny. Eventually your gaze dropped down, following the hard lines of his stubbled jaw. As your eyes trailed further down, they lingered on the part of his neck that wasn't covered by the blankets he’d wrapped around himself for warmth. A heat burned in you as the urge to reach out and just touch him, just to see if he was real, suddenly grew within you. It didn't help that it almost felt like you could feel the weight of his own eyes fixed on you beneath the mask, once again making you very aware of your lack of bra beneath your sweatshirt.

Catching your lip between your teeth, you noticed the way his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. Had he been having similar thoughts? Observing you, too?

Inhaling a sharp breath through your nose at the idea, you knew you needed to stop this line of thinking and stop it fast. There was absolutely no way the Devil would be interested in you. Certainly not like that. That was absurd.

“Would you like something to eat?” you asked, trying to calm your pulse. “If your fridge is empty all the time I'm guessing you could use something to eat.”

“I mean, I suppose if you’re–”

He stopped short the exact moment that the lights died, throwing the pair of you into almost complete darkness. You sucked in a breath, turning to look out the window just to your right. It was eerily dark outside, a sight that was rare in the city. Even the buildings across the street had been thrown into darkness. There was nothing but the howling wind and snow outside.

“Guess it was too much to hope the power wouldn’t go out in this mess,” you breathed out.

“I suppose so,” he replied, his tone just as soft.

Reaching blindly forward, you set your almost empty mug onto the coffee table before you. For a moment you reached around on the surface until your fingers brushed against your phone. You picked it up and unlocked the screen, grateful for the bit of light it shed in the dark as you turned on the flashlight function.

“So I can’t offer you a nice cooked meal without power,” you told him, rising to your feet, “but I can get you an apple and a couple of protein bars? If you’d…like?”

“You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate it,” he said.

“It’s the least I can do for the man who does so much for the rest of us,” you told him, maneuvering around the couch and navigating your way to the kitchen by the light of your phone. “I’d feel awful leaving you hungry and dehydrated.”

Wrapping one arm around your chest to try to fight the chill that had been steadily creeping into you, you headed towards a cabinet near the sink. Reaching up, you grabbed a glass from out of it before taking a moment to fill it beneath the faucet before setting it along the countertop. Then you plucked an apple out of a fruit bowl on your counter, taking a moment to rinse it off first. The moment you’d turned off the faucet you heard his voice from across the apartment.

“You’re cold.”

For a moment you found it odd how his words hadn’t come out as a question but more of an observation, though you quickly shrugged the strangeness of that aside. You set the apple down on the counter beside the glass of water before sliding a step to your right and opening up another cabinet.

“It’s alright, I’m fine,” you answered, trying to shine the light from your phone into the cabinet to read the labels on the boxes. “I wasn’t the one out in that snowstorm wearing barely anything at all.”

“You say that like I was out there naked.”

His voice had unexpectedly come from just behind you this time and it jolted your heart in your chest instantly. His sudden proximity mixed with his word choice had you startling on the spot. Your hand that had been about to pull the box of protein bars out of the cabinet accidentally bumped it instead, causing the entire box to slip off of the shelf. But before it could tumble to the floor and spill its contents, a black gloved hand darted out beside your face, catching it before it had barely fallen six inches.

You stood there rooted to the spot, his hand just brushing your arm as his held the box of protein bars. The hair on the back of your neck had risen, aware that he was standing barely a foot behind you now. Slowly, you turned over your shoulder to look at him. Your pulse quickened further at how close his face was to yours. He was looking at you, too. Or at least, he was facing you. Eyes dropping down, you couldn’t help but notice that mouth of his again.

“I apologize,” he said, your eyes watching as his lips moved. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Sometimes I forget how quiet I can be. I just wanted to give you one of the blankets. No sense in me using both when you’re cold.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unable to form any other response.

With his attention still on you, he reached up and slid the box back onto the shelf. Then he seemed to take a purposeful step back from you, his lips set in a straight line. You wondered what was going on in his mind right now, because you were sure there had to be something. Had he felt the tension you’d just felt? Or were you just ridiculous and overly hopeful?

And why did it even matter? You were never going to see this man again after tonight anyway.

Blinking a few times, you returned your attention to the shelf. Reaching up, you slid your hand into the box that had nearly taken a nosedive to your kitchen floor and pulled out two protein bars. Keeping your eyes actively focused away from the Devil nearby, you closed the cabinet and slid a step back to your left, grabbing the glass of water in your hand with your phone and the apple in the same hand as the bars. Though before you could turn around, you felt something gently drape over your shoulders. Looking down, you noticed it was the pink blanket he’d been wearing.

“Like I said,” he repeated, “there’s no sense in me using both.”

“Right,” you whispered, pulse pounding in your throat.

Turning on your heel, you stepped past him and made your way back to the living room by the light of your phone. This time you heard the heavy steps of him following after you. You assumed that was intentional.

“So why were you out in this blizzard tonight anyway?” you asked him, making your way around the couch. You hoped having something to talk about would distract you from whatever it was he kept stirring inside of you. “Surely there aren’t a lot of crimes being committed in this weather?”

The Devil let out a light laugh as he accepted the offered glass of water and food from you. One of your brows quirked curiously onto your forehead at his reaction as you sat back down in your original spot on the couch. Though you noticed as he took a large drink from the cup while lowering himself onto the cushions that he’d sat closer to you than before. You watched as he ripped open a protein bar and tore off a large bite next, but he didn't answer until a moment later when he’d swallowed the bite down. Internally you noted he must’ve been hungrier than he let on with the way he was devouring that bar and you’d wished you’d had more food to offer him with the power out.

“You’d be correct,” he told you. “And yet I still stupidly made my way out into this storm tonight in the hopes of catching a lead on something. Instead all I got was my ass frozen and my side bruised.”

You watched as he took another large bite of the protein bar, chewing it almost contemplatively as his head canted to the side. You could still see him in the beam of light from your phone which you were still clutching in your hand. Somehow this lighting made him even more appealing as it cast sharp shadows along his jaw.

“Though I suppose unexpectedly meeting you was a highlight,” he added, causing your cheeks to flush. “But you know, you never did give me your name.”

“Well you never exactly gave me yours,” you immediately quipped back.

Those beautiful lips of his curved upwards yet again as he chewed the last bite of the first protein bar. What you wouldn’t give to see if that smile had reached his eyes.

“Alright, point taken,” he replied.

Tearing your gaze away from him, you focused on your phone. If you kept the flashlight running the battery would die in no time. And who knew how long the power might be out for, you might need it later. You supposed you didn't need it on just for a conversation.

“I’m going to turn the flashlight off on my phone for now, if that's alright?” you told him, fingers darting across the screen to do just that. “Might need the battery on this later.”

“That’s alright,” he replied, sounding as if he was chewing another bite of food. “I don’t need it.”

He’d made the comment just as you’d leaned forward to set your phone back onto the coffee table, but you’d paused as the words processed in your mind. Your eyes narrowed again as your mind raced. Something about the way he’d said that sounded as if it had another meaning to it. But before you could put too much thought into it, he’d changed the topic.

“You’re still cold,” he pointed out. “That blanket alone isn't helping.”

Brows furrowing together as you slowly sat back, you wondered how he could possibly know that. The pair of you were in almost pitch black again with your phone flashlight off. It wasn't like he could see you and you hadn't been shivering, though there were definitely goosebumps dotting your skin. How could he possibly know?

“I’m fine,” you said, pulling the blanket you had on tighter around yourself. “It’s bound to get colder here with the power out now.”

“And with how long you had your window open earlier,” he added. “The temperature is going to drop in here faster than it would have if you hadn’t helped me.”

You sighed, frowning in his general direction. “So much for being able to help you warm up,” you muttered. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” he assured you.

It felt as if he was shifting on the couch nearby. Your brows knitted further together as you tried to make out what he was doing through the dark. All you could see was a faint mass of black that seemed darker than the rest of the blackness. Then moments later you felt a blanket being draped over your lap.

“No, uh uh,” you said, shaking your head and immediately grabbing the blanket. “There’s two blankets, we can clearly share.”

“You’re freezing,” he countered.

“And you’re not cold?” you shot back.

“Doesn’t matter, you’ve already been far kinder than I deserved this evening,” he replied.

You grabbed the blanket in your hands and stubbornly tossed it back in his general direction. An audible sigh sounded through the darkness to your left.

“You know I can just leave, right?” he told you. “Which would leave you with no reason to not use both blankets.”

Your eyes narrowed in the direction of the sound of his voice. “But then you’d be allowing more cold air into my apartment, which would only make the temperature drop faster in here,” you argued back. “Then I'd really be cold.”

He breathed out a laugh and you imagined the smile on his lips at the sound. You smiled triumphantly back at the dark shape of him because you knew you had a good point. Even though really, you could just layer on more clothes.

“Okay,” he relented. “That’s true. So how about…we share?”

The smile on your face quickly disappeared at his suggestion. Mouth dropping open, you felt your heart skip a beat in your chest. It took you a few seconds to regain the ability to respond.

“Share?” you asked.

“Body heat would certainly keep us both warmer,” he answered. “So would sharing two blankets instead of using only one.”

“Oh, uh, well,” you stammered, your mind racing at the thought of your body pressed up against his. “I–I–”

His deep laugh rumbled towards you through the darkness, the sound causing your lips to clamp shut.

“I’m not suggesting anything immoral,” he assured you. “Simply a possible solution to the very real problem of us freezing in here. Unless, of course, you’d prefer me to leave?”

“No!” you exclaimed.

Immediately your eyes widened in horror at how quickly you’d responded to that. And judging by his chuckle, he’d also noticed, too. Your face scrunched up as you mentally scolded yourself for sounding so eager to keep him here in your apartment.

“Well in that case, we could share the blankets and our body heat,” he suggested again. “Because the temperature has definitely dropped a few degrees already and it's only going to continue if the power stays out.”

Nervously your tongue slid out, licking your lips. You were trying hard to control the racing of your heart, positive he could hear it with how hard it was beating now. Of course you weren’t going to pass up a chance to basically cuddle the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen for warmth during a snowstorm. You just needed to find a way to not sound so eager to accept his offer first.

“I suppose you…have a point there,” you said slowly, trying to keep your voice even. “That’s–that’s usually what people do in survival situations. Use their body heat to keep warm.”

An amused huff came from him and you realized he’d scooted even closer to you on the couch. Your breath caught in your throat the moment you felt his thigh bump against yours.

“So are we in agreement with sharing both blankets, then?” he asked.

“That–that appears to be the most logical solution to the problem,” you answered. “So yeah, I guess we…share the blankets.”

Despite the lack of light, the Devil seemed to move with ease and fluidity through the darkness, something you were paying close attention to as he gently sidled his way up against the side of you, managing to wrap both blankets around the pair of you. All the while you’d sat pin straight on the couch, aware that he was flush to your side from your shoulder all the way down to your knee. You clasped your hands in your lap, unsure of where else to place them. Truthfully, you had to admit you were already much warmer like this, with his body heat enveloping you beneath both blankets.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his tone far gentler than it had been all evening. “Because that's not my intention.”

“No,” you answered with a light shake of your head. “You're not.”

He chuckled softly, his body shaking yours slightly with the movement. Your head turned towards him and you wished you could see at least the part of his face that was visible right now.

“Then why are you so tense?” he questioned.

“I'm not tense!” you lied.

He laughed again, this time louder. The movement jostled you somehow further into his side, though your hand flew out and landed flat on his very solid chest as you tried to stop yourself from falling further into him. Your eyes widened in horror yet again, but before you could push yourself away you felt his arm wrapping around your shoulders and allowing you to sink even more into him. Heat was very much creeping up your neck and reaching your cheeks now in embarrassment.

“You're very tense actually,” he teased. “If you're uncomfortable I can move, but we aren't going to be sharing much body heat if you don't actually sit next to me.”

Slowly you removed your hand from his chest, lowering it to your lap. Though with the way you were sitting facing partially towards him now, your knuckles were brushing against his thigh.

“I am not tense,” you grumbled. “And you aren't making me uncomfortable. This is just…awkward. I barely know you and you don't know me.”

“Okay,” he conceded. “How about since you've guessed a few things about me, I think it's only fair you tell me a few things about yourself now.”

“I told you I'm not very interesting,” you reminded him.

“Ah, well,” he replied with a shrug, “I think I'd like to decide that for myself.”

Biting your lip, you turned your burning face and buried it into his shoulder, glad he couldn't see how nervous he'd suddenly made you. It was hard to tell if he was flirting with you or if that was just his vigilante persona–when he wasn't beating people, of course.

With your nose pressed against the fabric of his shirt, you noticed he smelled surprisingly good. There was the hint of his sweat, but there was also a faint clean detergent scent. You closed your eyes and tried to relax, inhaling a deep breath in. Even though he was still a stranger and a vigilante, he seemed kind and safe so far. And he also hadn't thrown you off of himself for getting even closer to him, either. Maybe you should just do what he seemed to be doing: relax and enjoy the unexpected cuddles tonight with an unexpected acquaintance.

“Alright, what do you want to know?” you whispered, eyes still closed as you focused on his scent.

Eyes fluttering open, you felt yourself waking from a deep, comfortable sleep. Though your eyes instantly snapped closed against the bright light that immediately assaulted them. Slowly you blinked them back open, trying to adjust to the surprising sunshine pouring through your living room window. Gradually you began to push yourself upright, realizing you were laying with your head on a couch pillow, both of your blankets snuggly wrapped around you. For a moment your face twisted into a look of confusion as you hesitated, staring down at the two blankets. Why had you been asleep on your couch?

But then flashes of last night came back to you. The masked man falling onto your fire escape. The joking and constant banter between the pair of you. Darkness when the power went out and the feel of his warm, muscular body wrapped around yours as he tried to keep you warm. The scent of clean detergent and his sweat. The feel of his spandex shirt against your fingertips and your cheek as you rested your head against his shoulder.

Had that all really happened? Or had you just fallen asleep on your couch and dreamt it?

Your attention shifted towards your coffee table and your sluggish brain processed the sight of your almost empty mug of tea, left abandoned all night, and an empty glass of water. Pushing yourself the rest of the way upright on the couch, your head turned over your shoulder. The lock on your living room window was undone.

The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen really had been in your apartment last night. Which meant the pair of you really had cuddled together for warmth when your power had gone out. And you really did meet him. At least, somewhat.

“Oh my God,” you breathed out in awe. “He was really here.”

But just as the rush of excitement at meeting someone you’d always secretly admired filled you, it quickly vanished. Because you must have fallen asleep on him sometime last night when the pair of you were talking, and then he must’ve slipped out of your apartment before the sun came up, probably when the power had come back on. Which made sense, considering he wouldn’t want to be seen sneaking back to his own apartment in such a conspicuous outfit.

But what was upsetting you was the growing realization that it wasn’t just the first time you’d met him, but it would most likely be the last. And you’d gone and fallen asleep through part of that meeting.

Stupid stupid stupid.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x you #matt murdock series #matt murdock #daredevil

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brabblesblog · 4 months

Text

To be loved.

A fix-it of sorts to that moment in Sharess’ Caress with the drow twins. Includes a tiny amount of Halsin.

Astarion x F!Tav

Angst, comfort, and smut.

Read on AO3.

Masterlist.

Thanks to @elora-the-slutty-songstress for the opportunity to take on this idea!

I first noticed it whilst Nym was tongue deep in me. I had been watching Astarion pound into Sorn, and it had been a majestic sight. My hand grips Halsin’s hair quickly, a gesture for him to stop sucking on my nipples and watch.

The druid lets out a soft, questioning groan as he lifts his head up to meet my gaze. Halsin’s chest heaves, and he takes a moment to tamper down his arousal before he speaks.

“Yes, my heart?” he asks. I nod over at Sorn and Astarion.

“I think we need to stop this right now.”

Halsin follows my gaze. He notices it too, that blankness in Astarion’s face as he drives his hips again and again into Sorn. It had been three weeks or so after Cazador’s demise, and ever since that night in the graveyard, Astarion had seemed fine. I had even slept with Halsin once, a decision I wasn't sure was the best, in all honesty, but Astarion had taken it all with a grace and acceptance that made me fall all the more in love with him.

“Sorn. Nym.” Halsin’s voice breaks through the sounds of sex - the ragged breaths, moans, and slapping of flesh. “I would very much appreciate it if I could get a moment with you two alone,” he says. The twins raise their eyebrows, surprised at the sudden change in plans, but I nod at Nym as she lifts her head up from between my legs, and with my approval they both move off to approach Halsin.

Sorn takes one look at Astarion and moves away. For a second, Astarion’s hips pump into air, as it takes him a bit to realize Sorn had moved. Astarion blinks, twice, then his eyes sharpen.

“What in the hells-“ he begins to say, then notices the twins arm in arm with Halsin. He also notices me looking at him with an expression that told him I was concerned for him. He sighs. He had ruined it, yet again.

Halsin puts an arm around each twin. “Come, and let’s get a larger room than this. We’ll need it if you two are to see my ursine trick.” At those words, the drow are immediately convinced, and I watch them as the three quickly put on clothes and make their way out of this room and into the adjacent one.

Halsin gives me one last look before he does. Make sure he’s okay.

I nod, and then as the door shuts, finally turn my attention to Astarion.

He sits on his knees, and as I approach he opens his arms to let me in. I hug him tightly.

“I thought you wanted to have some fun,” he murmurs into the crook of my neck. I shake my head.

“Not when you’re not having fun, Astarion. And before you say anything - I can tell.”

That shuts down his attempt to deflect, and he lets his mouth hang open. We two both pull away from the hug, and he takes a moment to collect his thoughts.

“It felt like a good idea to try, but I think I may have bitten off more than I could handle at the moment,” he says quietly. “Halsin is one thing, but having even more people..”

“I’m sorry,” I say, and I take his hand, squeezing it gently. I want to hold him tight and shield him from the world, from his own mind, but I know I cannot. And that I should not, unless that is what he wants.

Astarion considers the room, his eyes scanning it. He then considers his own cock, laying there against his lap, still half-hard. It did feel good, and he did want to do something.

“Ban,” he says. “It would be a waste to have paid for this room, and not to fully use it, don’t you think?” He tries to smirk, his hands flying to my waist, tugging me close.

“We can afford to lose the gold. It’s not a big deal,” is my reply. I try to be careful, knowing that he might just be doing this to please me. I put both hands on his shoulders, meeting his gaze. “You don’t have to do anything. We can just go.”

He frowns, then shakes his head. “No, I.. I do think I want to do something. At least, something with you. Just you.” He swallows past a small lump in his throat. “After all, I ruined it,” he adds in a small mumble, spoken so softly I barely can hear it.

“Just - no.” I shake my head at him. “Astarion, look at me.” The sternness is back in my face as I cup his cheek. “You did not ruin it. This was the point of it all. To have fun, sure, but more importantly, to see how you were doing. You tried, you saw that it was too much, and that is that. If you want more, if you truly want more - that can be arranged. But I do not want you to do it just to placate me or whatever other messed up idea you have. Okay?”

As I speak, I see his expression soften. He realizes he’s safe here, he’s heard, and that makes him calm down and let his walls down. The apprehension is replaced with a genuine smile, and he covers my hand on his cheek with his own, feeling my knuckles.

“Okay, darling,” he acknowledges. “I still do want you, though.” He looks down between his legs, giving his half-hard cock a glance. Then he drags his eyes across my body, from my mound all the way up to my breasts, and finally my face. His expression says it all - says that he’s still hungry and wanting.

“Use your words, my love,” I say, my hand leaving his cheek to rest on his chest. My other hand moves down to grip his waist, my thumb tracing circles on his obliques. “What do you want? I need specifics.”

“I want.. to be loved,” he whispers, his eyes boring into mine. “I want to be pleasured, to feel you want my pleasure as much as you want yours.”

I laugh. “Easy. I’ve always felt that way.” I know that even with his countless sexual encounters, he barely got off. “I’ll make you come so hard you’ll forget your own name. How does that sound?”

“Sounds wonderful, my love,” he says, his voice dropping into a purr. He moves off of his knees, and shuffles backwards until he’s sitting at the top of the bed, his back to the headboard. As I crawl towards him, he wraps a hand around his cock and strokes a few times, just to bring it back up.

My hand covers his, and I stop him. “Let me,” I whisper. I sit between his spread legs, one hand on his cock and the other reaching up to stroke the planes of his pectoral muscles. I feel them flex as he reacts to my touch, as his cock twitches in my grasp. He lets out a shaky exhale, his eyes falling shut.

“Just enjoy the feeling,” I murmur. “Tell me how good my hand feels on you.” I stroke him from the root to tip, swiping my thumb at the tip to capture the precum, and spreading it along his whole length as I stroke back down. He’s leaking, his cock feeling exquisitely hard and warm on my palm. The pink flush on its tip almost makes me want to rush it and just sit on it, but I hold myself back. This isn’t for me.

Astarion doesn’t speak. He lets his body tell me instead, his hips canting upwards involuntarily to fuck my hand. His hands grip the sheets, and a small whimper escapes him. He’s incredibly present, and every moment drags like eternity in his mind. Finally, he finds his words.

“More,” he groans. “Please.”

“Of course.” I shift to lean down on him, and lick the tip, swiping my tongue over his slit to taste him. His musk, mixed with the salty precum and the heady scent of arousal are almost overwhelming. He hisses as I lick him, the surprise of the sensation making his hips buck hard. I smile and then move my mouth over him, taking in the head. My tongue presses against his frenulum, feeling the ridges there. My hand keeps stroking at the base, and I work to sync my hand with my mouth’s movements.

That move earns a whine from those delectable lips. His hand moves from the sheets to grip my hair instead, pushing me down deeper against his cock. Astarion’s hips roll, the rhythm uneven and desperate, seeking the heat and wetness of my mouth more than anything else. The wet, obscene sounds drive him closer and closer to the edge, and his ears flush pink as he fights the urge to come right then and there. His eyes still remain closed, enjoying the sensation - enjoying being loved.

I let him fuck my mouth for a few minutes, letting his hand on my hair and his hips dictate the pace. The small whines that come from his mouth make me squeeze my own thighs, and I realize I’m soaking wet too. I hum for a moment, and then pull him out of my mouth with a wet popping sound. “Did you want to come like this? Or-”

My words are cut short as Astarion grabs me by the shoulders, pulling me up to straddle him and to catch me in a crushing kiss. His lips part, his tongue seeking out mine, tasting himself. After a moment, he breaks the kiss, meeting my gaze. His eyes are dilated, but the expression is as tender as I’ve ever seen it. The hunger still lies there, but love overwhelms it.

“I want to come inside you,” he says, the words a request voiced as though it were something I could say no to. I nod, and the moment I do his index and middle fingers find my clit and flick it playfully. I hiss, and he moves those two fingers to my entrance, plunging them in. His thumb replaces their spot on my clit, rubbing in circles.

“So wet, darling,” he whispers, leaning in close so that I can feel his breath against my ear. “So ready for me.” His fingers speed up, the pace insistent and forceful, his thumb flicking against my clit with merciless speed. My hips start bucking, fucking myself on his fingers.

“Say it,” he growls, a little bit of that old aggression creeping into his tone. “Say you want me inside you. Say you want me to fuck you, Ban.”

“Fuck me, Astarion. I want your cock inside me. I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t think straight.”

He chuckles, a small, dark sound.

“It would be my pleasure,” he murmurs. He moves his hand off of my weeping cunt, hands grabbing me and lifting me up. In one smooth move, he aims himself against my entrance and lowers me onto his cock, burying himself to the root in me.

I groan as I feel him impaling me, feeling my walls spread to welcome him home. There is no resistance whatsoever; I’m so wet that his length slides in effortlessly. He gasps at the sensation, and we both stay still for a moment, trying to adjust to the feeling before we begin to move.

I move to grasp his shoulders, bracing myself. I move my hips, riding him. My goal is his pleasure, and I am relentless in my attempt to reach just that. Astarion sucks in a breath at the sensation, and his hips hitch for a second, until he manages to figure out my rhythm and match himself to it. His hand goes back to my clit, flicking it with just the right amount of pressure and speed.

His eyes meet mine, and he smiles. “Ride me harder, my love,” he says, and I do so, slamming down harder with every thrust of my hips. The sound of our flesh coming together is drowned out by my own moaning and his, as he slowly loses what little control he had.

Astarion’s breaths come with little whimpers, all semblance of coherency gone now. For once, he has no need to seduce or play a role to get what he wants. It is given, freely, and he relishes it. The hand not on my clit moves to pull my head to his, to touch foreheads.

“I’m close,” he whispers softly. He’s at the very edge, and I can feel his cock twitching inside me as he fights the urge to come. I’m close too, but I would rather him finish first.

I meet his gaze, and our faces are so close the only thing I can see is the crimson of his eyes. I can feel his breath brush over my face as he pants desperately.

“Come for me, Astarion. Give me your seed,” I finally say, and as I do I press my lips against his parted ones. He lets out a loud groan, his hips frantically pumping as he rides out his orgasm. I keep kissing him through it, feeling him coat my insides and fill me up. The fingers he has on my clit lose their rhythm, falling still as he finally lets go.

I wait patiently for him to come to his senses, still riding him, but with a lot more gentleness to my movements. He finally blinks, twice, then takes in a sharp breath.

“That- that was,” he begins, then realizes he doesn’t have the words for it. But it’s okay. He knows I know. He takes a moment, registers where his fingers were, and then realizes.

“Your turn, darling.” He lifts his fingers up to wet them with his saliva, licking and tasting me on them. Then he reaches back down, fingers rubbing and flicking my clit in the way only he knew how. “Do you want it like this, or do you want my mouth?” Astarion offers, his smirk telling me he knew exactly what I wanted.

“Mouth, but I don’t think I’d last in any-” I begin to say, but he laughs and taps my waist, a sign for me to get up. I do so all too quickly, moving off of his now softening cock and laying back down on the bed. As I do, I look down at my cunt, seeing how his spend was spread all over it. He had filled me to the brim.

He looks too, a hungry and amused expression on his face as he moves to position his head between my legs.

“Now that,” he whispers, “is a sight to behold and taste.”

Without another word, he moves down and starts suckling on my clit. His tongue flicks against it as he does, the tip of it insistent and warm.

That coaxes out a moan from me, a soft “Astarion,” as his mouth brings me ever closer to my own climax. He smiles at the sound of his name, and continues his work, his tongue shifting to lap at my cunt instead, starting from my entrance up to my clit.

I’m there, and I let out a strangled gasp to warn him. He takes his cue, and refocuses his attention where it matters most. His lips wrap around my bud again, providing suction and his tongue flicking lazily.

I come, yet again with his name on my lips, and for a moment I lose control of my legs. They jerk, squeezing tightly against his head. I feel myself squirt, gushing against his lips. He laps it all up eagerly, groaning with every pass his tongue makes against my cunt.

As I come down to reality, Astarion lifts his head up and smirks at me. He makes a show of wiping his glistening mouth and chin on the back of his hand, licking off the excess.

“Delicious as always, darling,” he says, but there is a lot more tenderness there than anything else.

I smile softly, and beckon him closer into my arms. He does as asked, laying down with me and placing his head on my chest.

“Did that help?” I ask. “Did it make you feel the way you wanted to feel?”

Hidden from the world, he smiles against my chest.

“You always do, love.” He looks up at me, and I realize it is one of those rare moments where he seems to be at peace.

“Thank you.”

Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @tragedybunny @elora-the-slutty-songstress

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flowersandbigteeth · 10 months

Note

I really liked Orion and was wondering if you could write about him kidnapping reader.

(Sfw please)

I've been wanting to do something soft 🥹

Orc (Orion) x fem reader

Word Count: 3k

W: kidnapping, some creepy behavior, light violence, and some kissing, sfw fluff

Find the previous part here

You stretched your shoulders as you glanced at the clock on the wall. It was finally 6 and time to head home from your job as a dental assistant. It had been a long day of coaxing little kids to open their mouths for X-rays and calming the poor children that hated the dentist, but you had some leftover Chinese food in the fridge that you were in a hurry to get home and devour. Unless, of course, you got your usual visitor.

“Hey, (Y/N), I saw you walking home from work the other day,” your boss and one of the pediatric dentists, Aaron, mentioned as the two of you collected your things. “I can give you a ride home if you want.”

Aaron seemed like a nice guy, but you didn’t want to take advantage of his kindness.

“I’m okay,” you said. “I walk home everyday. It’s good for my health.”

He frowned, seeming put out at your refusal.

“Come on, let me drive you,” he pushed. “It’s dangerous for you to walk alone in the evening. I’d feel terrible if something happened to you.”

You gave him a smile and waved away his concerns.

“Really, I’m fine,” you said, but Aaron wasn’t happy with that answer.

“There have been a string of muggings on your street,” he insisted. “Come on, let me give you a ride. I’m just concerned about your safety.”

You were sure you didn’t need a ride, but Aaron seemed insistent and you didn’t want to sour your work relationship by appearing ungrateful for his friendly concern.

“Okay,” you finally agreed, exhausted from a long day and not feeling like fighting with him.

He brightened up at that and seemed giddy to lead you to his car.

Aaron drove an expensive sports car, which he was eager to show off.

“What do you think?” he asked you, demonstrating the heated seats and dynamic driving features.

You had absolutely no interest in cars, so you just nodded politely until he was done and pulled out of the parking lot. He put on some music and you leaned back into the comfortable seat, trying to enjoy the ride. It was nice to be off of your feet after a long day’s work, even though you felt uneasy sitting next to Aaron. You rested your eyes for just a moment but when you opened them, it seemed like Aaron wasn’t going in the direction of your house.

“I think you’re going the wrong way,” you informed him and he gave you an easy smile.

“I know,” he said. “I figured you’d be hungry so I’m taking us to one of my favorite spots.”

You frowned, not sure what to say.

“I really can’t afford to eat out, Aaron,” you said, trying to figure out how to politely turn him down. “I have some leftovers at home…”

He shook your concerns away.

“Don’t worry about it. Dinner’s on me,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to have some time alone with you so we can really talk. We work together, but I feel like I hardly know you.”

His words made your stomach twist. He wanted to have time alone with you? Aaron was good-looking enough, he had blonde hair, blue eyes, and was quite tall, but you weren’t interested in getting to know him beyond casual chatter around the office.

“You really don’t have to do this,” you tried to argue, but he wasn’t listening, instead tapping the steering wheel with his fingers and humming along to the song on the radio.

While your thoughts churned over how to get him to take you home, your phone buzzed.

Where are you?

It was your friend Orion. Since you’d met him out with your friends one night, he’d been coming by a lot. Instead of going out on another tour with the mercenary group he had worked for, he took a private security job in the city and often stopped by your house for coffee or meals.

You had a huge crush on him. Who wouldn’t? He was enormous, with verdant skin and an arm full of sexy tattoos. His face was the picture of rugged masculinity. His jaw had sharp planes and his tusks were white and shiny. Since he wasn’t with the merc group anymore, he’d let his hair grow out a little longer and it was always messy in a way that gave you post-sex hair vibes. You weren’t a particularly good flirt, but you tried your best to show him you were interested with little touches here and there.

It was hard to tell how he felt about you. He was very protective, but he wasn’t pushy like other guys you’d been with. Every time he came over he was incredibly polite. You’d watch movies together or make him dinner, but he never tried to kiss you or touch you more than casually. You were desperate for his kiss, but too shy to make a move. What if he just wanted to be friends? It would be humiliating. Plus he wouldn’t come over anymore if you made things weird and you didn’t want that. You’d gotten used to having dinner with him at least three times a week if he wasn’t working. You’d even started stocking extra food because he ate a lot.

My boss is taking me to dinner.

He didn’t answer right away, instead, you watched the dots showing he was typing flash for a few moments before he finally responded.

Where?

You glanced up at Aaron to find him looking at you.

“Who’s that?” he asked, his thin lips curving into a frown.

“Oh, just a friend,” you replied. “So where are you taking me? I’m starving.”

He seemed pleased you were interested in where you were going and brightened up.

“The Whisk and Ladle,” he said. “It’s a great place. You’ll love it.”

You balked when he said the name.

“Aaron, that’s expensive!” you gasped. “I’m not really dressed for-”

You were still wearing the scrubs you wore to work, printed with little mice wearing sunglasses. You were dressed to work with children, not go to a five-star restaurant. Again, he waved your concerns away.

“Nonsense,” he said. “You always look beautiful. Let me treat you.”

You nodded, quietly, feeling more and more uncomfortable the closer you got to the restaurant. If you’d have been a tougher woman, you’d have made a fuss, demanded he take you home or jump out of the car, but you were worried about losing your job. Money was tight and you didn’t have any savings to float you until you found something else. You needed to make Aaron happy so he wouldn’t find some excuse to get rid of you.

After a few minutes, you texted Orion the name. Some little part of you wished he would come to save you from what was about to be an extremely awkward dinner, but you were sure he’d never do that. From what you knew of him, he was strong but an extremely measured orc. You never saw him upset or out of control.

When you arrived, Aaron was sure to help you out of the car, and as you walked inside he had his hand on your lower back until it slipped down to cup your bottom. Instinctively you took a step away, but he didn’t seem to notice as he spoke with the hostess. Weirdly, he had a reservation, as if he’d planned this date long before he offered to give you a ride home.

You were seated at a pretty table with a white tablecloth and a small centerpiece of roses, which was very pretty but entirely too formal for your liking. Looking over the menu, your mouth fell open at the prices. A Cobb salad was $30!

“Get whatever you like,” Aaron said, smiling at you from across the table, “it’s on me.”

You gave him a tight nod, trying to force a polite smile on your face, but the idea of him spending this much money on you made you uncomfortable. When the waiter arrived, you ordered the cheapest thing available and water. He took your menus, and Aaron turned his attention to you.

“I’m thrilled you decided to join me, (Y/N),” he said as if he hadn’t set all of this up without your knowledge beforehand. “I’ve always admired you. You’re incredibly beautiful.”

“Uh…thanks, I guess,” you murmured, wishing you were anywhere but there.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, leaning in to get closer to you.

“Sure,” you said.

He gave you a conspiratorial smile.

“I always intended on asking you out. That’s why I hired you,” he explained. “I love coming to work every day and seeing you.”

You immediately frowned. While you were sure he intended that to be flattering, it was incredibly creepy. He hadn’t hired you for your experience? He just wanted to date you?

You were thinking of something to say when there was a commotion at the front of the restaurant.

“Sir! You can’t come in without a reservation!” the hostess was yelling and to your surprise, Orion was marching across the dining room looking pissed off. His dark eyes immediately found yours, and you hoped he read the relief in them.

“Orion!” you gasped, looking up at him.

He glanced away, glaring at Aaron.

“Excuse me,” Aaron said, indignant. “You’re interrupting our dinner.”

Orion ignored Aaron and turned his intense gaze back to you. Your heart skipped in your chest, and your cheeks burned. The look in his eyes was a mixture of ravenous hunger and complete outrage.

“Did you agree to this dinner?” he snapped, and your mouth went dry.

Unable to form words, you quickly shook your head with a tight jerk.

“He just brought me here,” you finally managed to squeak out. “I-I wasn’t planning on-”

He cut you off raising a large hand, looking back at Aaron.

“You kidnapped my woman,” he snarled.

Your eyes popped at the words “my woman.” Did Orion consider you his?

Aaron shrank under Orion’s gaze.

“I-I would hardly say kidnapped…” he stammered.

Orion growled.

“Did he touch you?” he asked.

You tried to lie and say he hadn’t, but your face told him something different.

“It was just a little touch,” you peeped when it was obvious he could tell the little shake of your head that you gave him was an untruth.

Before you could finish the last word, Orion clocked Aaron in the jaw with his meaty fist. His chair toppled over and he lay sprawled out on the floor, unconscious.

“Orion!” you squealed again, but he wasn’t listening.

He scooped you up and threw you over his shoulder, marching back out of the restaurant while all the guests watched in shock. The waiters and the hostess jumped out of his way as he passed.

“Orion! What are you doing?” you asked as you bounced on his shoulder.

Instead of answering, his chest rumbled with a deep noise that released butterflies in your stomach.

He opened the passenger door to his truck and carefully set you inside, buckling the seatbelt over your chest before he shut the door. Then he hopped in the driver’s side and peeled out of the parking lot.

You stared at your friend, eyes as big as saucers as he drove through the darkening city.

“Why did you do that?” you questioned. “You could get in big trouble! He might get you arrested!”

He snorted.

“For protecting my mate from her sexually harassing boss? Doubt it.”

You blinked at him. Mate?

There were different rules for the Fairyfolk when it came to mates. They defended them so fiercely a new set of laws had to be drawn up to protect this “cultural difference.” Every human knew not to touch a Fairyfolk’s mate. You shook your head, trying to sort through what was happening.

“Where are we going?” you asked, as he was not going in the direction of your house.

“Home,” he said.

You blinked at him.

“My apartment is the opposite way,” you argued, but he just pinned you with a look.

You drew your brow and crossed your arms, pouting.

“Orion! Why aren’t you talking to me?” you asked.

His face softened, and he twisted his hands on the steering wheel, taking a big breath before he answered you.

“I don’t like that he touched you,” he said. “No one touches you but me. You’re mine.”

Your mouth fell open just a bit before you forced it closed, swallowing a lump in your throat.

“Yours?” you asked and he nodded curtly.

“B-but…you never said…” you stammered.

“Not good with words,” he grunted.

“Oh,” you said, your mouth forming a surprised O shape.

You turned away from him, looking out the front windshield at the darkening city slipping by.

“Where is home?” you asked.

“You’ll see,” was all he would say.

You folded your legs under your body and leaned your head against the window, tired. Your heart was pounding and a slight tremor left you vibrating against the seat. Where could Orion be taking you?

At some point you must have dozed off because when you woke the truck had come to a stop and Orion was opening your door.

“Where are we?” you murmured, your words a bit slurred from sleep.

He unbuckled your seatbelt and took you in his arms.

“Home,” he said.

You peered through the darkness to find you were no longer in the city, but on one of the mountains that surrounded it. Over your shoulder you could see the city lights twinkling in the valley like stars. In front of you there was a beautiful cabin home. It was two stories with full pane glass windows and a wrap-around porch.

“This is where you live?” you gasped.

You’d always assumed Orion had some flat in the city just like yours.

“It is where you live, too,” he corrected.

Your eyes widened on him as he took you up the front steps and unlocked the door.

“I can’t live here!” you argued. “I’m too far away from work!”

He chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest.

“You will not go back to work,” he told you, setting you on the couch and turning his back to you so he could put fuel in the woodstove.

“But…how will I make money?” you asked.

“You don’t need money,” he said. “I have plenty of it.”

“But…but…” you stammered, trying to wrap your head around the situation.

Was Orion claiming you? Did you want to be claimed?

The door of the woodstove clanged shut and he spun around, his smokey eyes on you. He lowered himself to his knees in front of you so you were eye to eye.

“I’m not sure I understand-” you started to say, but were silenced with his lips slanting over yours.

Your whole world swung upside down as he kissed you. Electricity shot down your spine, energy sparkling at the apex of your thighs. You breathed a wispy sigh into his mouth and the large fingers of one hand clutched the nape of your neck, holding you to him. This was the kiss you’d been desperately pining for and it was more than you could have ever imagined.

When he pulled away, he pinned you with his inky gaze.

“You’re mine, got it?” he rumbled.

You whimpered and nodded, your thoughts muddled and his rich, spicy scent filling your lungs. He pulled you to him again, this time his kiss was more hungry and needy. You felt his smooth tusks against your cheek and his stiff tongue licking your bottom lip, wanting entrance. You parted your lips for him, letting him explore. He licked and tasted you while your fingers dared to creep up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle underneath his shirt. At your touch, he let out a deep rolling sound.

Though Orion was eager to get your clothes off of you, he knew you were delicate, both inside and out. He adored your soft spirit and vowed never to crush it, so instead of taking you to bed and ravishing you, he rose to get comfortable on the big couch, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around your warm body. He smoothed his large hand over your hair, tucking your head under his chin.

He lamented waiting far too long to claim you, not wanting to frighten you and scare you away, but he couldn’t tolerate some other male hovering around. You belonged to him whether you knew it or not and it was well past time to claim you for his own.

Completely oblivious to these thoughts, you sighed into his chest, listening to the gentle boom of his heartbeat, and feeling like you’d come home.

#monster x girl #orc x reader #monster x reader #x reader #yandere x reader #soft yandere #orc boyfriend #monster romance #monster fluff #male yandere #yandere fluff #yandere romance #monster boyfriend #yandere male #monster lover

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angelltheninth · 9 months

Note

Can I please request Husband!Spider noir, honestly anything will be good

Yes of course! He was my favorite Spider-Man in the first movie.

Pairing: Spider-Man Noir x Reader

Tags: fluff, established relationship, detective work, injuries, overworking, kissing, ice cold to sunshine

A/N: I would watch a movie just about him honestly, even it's only told in his inner monologue.

Husband!Noir who always has a picture of you on his office desk. He wants to look at you while he works, he wants to be reminded that he's doing dangerous work not only for the safety or the city but also for you. There's also some slight bragging rights that he affords himself when clients ask if he's single, no he is not, he is married to the most beautiful person in the entire city.

Husband!Noir who kisses you goodbye every morning before he goes to work, right as he takes the lunch you made for him. When he comes home he always tells you what he liked most about the food you made him that day, often resulting in him rambling about it for quite some time as you smile about his detective brain taking over even this.

Husband!Noir who doesn't like to involve you in a lot of his detective work because of how dangerous it can be but sometimes he lets you scout out an area if it's not too dangerous. Keeps close tabs on you as you do so, won't take his watchful eyes off you for even a moment and jumps in when his spidey senses go off.

Husband!Noir who would hide how tired he was when he would get home from a night of patrol and tell you that he had some extra paperwork to do. Paperwork doesn't get him these bruises on his face, unless he was frustrated he punched himself. For a detective and a superhero he can be a very, very bad liar.

Husband!Noir who tries to tell you that his injuries, the danger, the risk is all part of his job. Both of them. He never wants you to worry about him, its his job to worry about you and make your safety his priority. The way you tend to his injuries, slowly rubbing them down with alcohol and cleaning them despite him hissing and wiggling at every turn, combined with the sad way you look at him makes him feel like he's not doing good enough of a job. If he was better he wouldn't have gotten hurt and you wouldn't have to worry.

Husband!Noir who reads his newspaper every morning while he cuddles with you. Injured or not it doesn't matter as long as he gets to spend some more time with you. Even if you are a bit angry at him for downplaying his injuries you can't deny that you want to be close to him, to comfort him that all his efforts are good enough for you.

Husband!Noir who can go from ice cold with clients and suspects to a charming husband if you happen to step into his after they had left. He always welcomes you with a kiss on your hand like the gentleman he is, or tries to be. He needs to keep his calm and collected self around other people but around you he can afford to relax and let himself be cared for and kissed like he secretly wants to be.

Husband!Noir who goes to every party with you no matter how big or small. He won't ever miss out on a chance to give you a nice night out and dance a few dances, drink a few drinks. And yes, occasionally have to intimidate a few people to back down on their flirting or tell them that he himself is already taken.

Husband!Noir who always leaves things in a certain place around the house and knows you hide them from him to test his detective skills. He will only indulge you if you promise to pay him well. He takes payments in the form of kissing, cuddles, a good meal or certain bedroom activities. These forms of payment apply only to you.

#peter parker x reader #spiderman noir x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderverse x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker headcanon #peter parker fluff #spiderman noir imagine #spiderman noir headcanons #spiderman noir fluff #spiderverse imagine #spiderverse headcanon #spiderverse fluff #peter parker x you #spiderman noir x you #spiderverse x you #x reader

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trlvsn · 1 year

Text

phoenix wright making apollo justice present forged evidence is, as rightfully rage-inducing as it is, also perfectly understandable and even justifiable to an extent. in this essay i will not cut my introduction off with an old-fashioned tumblr punchline and will actually elaborate on why i think so and what i think about phoenix wright in general.

the first few paragraphs will be rather surface-level, but bear with me: i'm writing this in one breath. it has already been established that the change in phoenix's character was so big and shocking that the fandom is still actively discussing it and making theories. i have seen people compare his sprites with mia and diego, kristoph and miles, yanni yogi and many others, and every single on of them is, in in my opinion, correct: there are actual similarities between them, intentional or not. i believe it can all be explained with two simple statements. one: phoenix is a sponge of a man. even before aa4, we frequently see him adopt mannerisms and figures of speech from the people he encounters. he learns, he absorbs, he changes, but only for a short while, as he stays true to his motivations, passions and drive. two: the seven years of being watched by kristoph and collecting data made him turn to that mimicking quality of his and use it as a weapon. phoenix wright could not afford to reveal his true motivations, therefore, he could not reveal what he was in general. it's a simple metaphor, really.

did he get lost in the deceptions somewhere along the way? absolutely. "what tangled webs we weave when we practice to deceive", a line said by him about kristoph, can easily be applied to phoenix. this is where the bloody ace comes in. incidentally, he is given the idea by zak: he is the one who says one can't win unless there's a ace up their sleeve, and, no matter how much of an influence that particular phrase had on wright, he follows the principle. here is phoenix's first motive for forging the ace: insurance. without concrete, dooming evidence, a trial could not end in his favor at the time. phoenix wright, post-disbarment, is no longer a man who relies on bluffs and "just believing in the client", he is strongly dissapointed in the system, outraged, offended, hurt, wounded, and he does not trust it at all, hence the dirty tricks. you can't just play fair against something unfair and win.

what i find far more interesting however, are his other motives. if the only thing that drive him to forgery was distrust and carefulness, he would have shared the plan with apollo or, perhaps, done something similar to the turnabout succession trial, where the letter is shown to the culprit, but never submitted as evidence and quickly admitted as a fake. really, i believe he is smart enough to find other ways. however, he doesn't. he gives the ace to apollo in a very specific way: through trucy wright, not a word of proper explanation. why is that? he is teaching apollo a lesson.

clearly, something about apollo reminds phoenix of himself. a young, bright, nervous mind, fighting for the truth and justice, full of belief, a little naive. phoenix knows what that naivety cost him, and he destroys it right away, because then it will hurt less, he thinks. the forged ace is a vaccine of sorts: you will experience some minor symptoms, but no actual serious consequences, and it will hurt for a moment, but for the rest of your life, you will never catch that sickness again. phoenix is already planning the jurist system reform and has already planned how this trial will go: the environment is controlled and safe for apollo, he will not get disbarred. if the truth is revealed later, under the new system, surely apollo won't be receiving the same harsh punishment wright did. so here you go, kid, learn your lesson, punch a lawyer or two in the face, and never ever, ever trust anyone like that ever again.

but wait, if the truth does get revealed, who will be receiving the punishment for it? of course, the man who forged the evidence, phoenix wright. here comes the third reason: punishment.

remember the class trial? young phoenix wright, blamed for a crime he didn't commit, overwhelmed and crying. what does the abandoned child do when the whole class accuses him of stealing? he stands up slowly and comes up to the kid with the grey hair to apologize for the money he stole but did not steal. he admits it. it doesn't matter what the truth is anymore, because if everyone thinks you did it, you might as well have.

you might as well do it again, for real this time, and maybe a weight will fall off your shoulders, because what you see in yourself will finally match the image the whole world has of you.

phoenix wright is working on the jurist system. phoenix wright is a father and phoenix wright is someone who will do his best to put kristoph gavin to jail. that doesn't mean phoenix wright sees any other use or future for himself. it simply does not matter. well, by the end of the first case, anyway.

he gathers more evidence. he thinks, a lot. he gives apollo advice on the cases, inevitability reminiscing. the new system is a success. in a new, better world, maybe he will take some piano lessons: he has grown tired of pretending he can play. he has grown tired of pretending in general. hell, maybe he will even take the bar exam again.

#i promised an essay #i delivered #there will be more and there will be better #this was written in a hurry bc i have A LOT to study rn #ace attorney #aa #phoenix wright #beanix #aa4 #apollo justice ace attorney #apollo justice: ace attorney #aa4 spoilers #ace attorney theory #turnabout trump #raystextpost

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crazyk-imagine · 7 months

Note

If your requests are still open, can I request a Sanji live action x fem!reader with the same plot as Luffy having to make up the price of the order but Sanji overlooks the reader doing the jobs alone in the kitchen (make it more romantic and/or sexual, he’s heavily into her but she’s into the fun)

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!reader

Characters: Vinsmoke Sanji, Fem!reader, Roronora Zoro, Monkey D. Luffy, Nami, Usopp, Zeff, Buggy, Arlong, Arlong's Pirates

Warnings: Angst, fluff, implied smut at the end, unnecessary drama, I rewatched the last few episodes and this is what happened, I love making the reader so sassy to Usopp, and making Nami bestie material, reader and Sanji have a past, this is an interesting one folks

Word Count: 5,102

*I did not realize this was so long, holy crap

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You close your eyes and rest your head against the booth, letting the delicious and flavorful meal settle in your belly. You make a mental note to thank the chef before leaving because this was just what you all needed.

“Here is the bill.”

“I got it,” Luffy tells him.

You shake your head, having a feeling that this won’t end well. “Luffy.”

He turns to you, raising his brows.

“You barely have one berry to your name. How could you afford to pay for this meal?”

He gives you a mischievous smirk and taps his head. “I have an idea.”

“We’re going to be kicked out,” you say.

“Yep,” Nami adds. “If we can make it out of here alive that is.”

You shrug, “we can handle ourselves. They can’t.”

“Well, that’s rude and I’m actually very offended,” Usopp chimes in. “Who’s to say it’s us that can’t handle ourselves and it’s actually you.”

You raise a brow, “how many beers did you have?”

“Don’t deflect the question.”

“Don’t be an idiot and I’ll answer.”

The man grumbles under his breath.

The kitchen door slams open and an angry man with a peg leg walks out. “Who is Monkey D. Luffy?”

He swirls around the pillar, raising his glass of milk to gesture to himself.

“You signed your name?” You ask. “Are you dumb?”

“I wanted him to know who it was since I’m going to be king of the pirates. I didn’t want to be rude.”

“You’re an idiot,” Nami tells him.

“Thank you,” you tell her. “Oh, and the angry chef is coming this way, great job Luffy.”

After his explanation, you decide to take charge and know what you need to do. “I will do the dishes.”

“No, it is his responsibility.”

“I want to.”

“No,” Zeff shakes his head.

You cross your arms, “are you afraid of having a woman in the kitchen?”

Sanji, the blond (and still extremely flirtatious) chef chuckles, using his hand to pretend he’s coughing so his boss doesn’t catch on.

The man scoffs, “not at all.”

“Then let me do it… unless you want broken dishes.” You swear his mustache twitched when you said that.

“Go,” he points towards the door. “Show her the way, little Eggplant.”

Sanji’s eyebrows twitch, he takes a deep breath.

The only reason you knew he was taking a moment to collect himself was because of the way his chest puffed out while his hands stayed in his pockets. “If you’d follow me, madam.”

“I will if you don’t call me madam.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

“I’m starting to regret doing this instead of Luffy.”

He chuckles. “You won’t be saying that in the next few minutes. I think I’ll be able to get you to like it.”

You shake your head with a quiet scoff, “I don’t think so.”

“Want to bet?”

“Nope,” you tell him popping the “P”. “I don’t to take your money so easily.”

“Oh, is that what you think?”

“I know it.” His eyes follow you as you walk away, entering the kitchen. “You’ll do the dishes.”

You glance at the tower of unwashed dishes, knowing it’s only going to grow as the day goes on. You raise a brow, “couldn’t I do something else? I think you need a properly trained dish washing person to get through that.”

“It’s either this or something worse happens to your friends,” the braided mustache man chimes in.

You purse your lips, knowing he’s not joking. “I’ll do the dishes, but not happily.”

“Good. Now get to work. The lunch rush is about to begin.”

“You mean there’s gonna be more?!”

A few of the other kitchen staff laugh.

“You’ve never had to do this before, have you?” Sanji asks.

You avoid eye contact. “Not for a long time.”

“Well-” His name is called; a fellow cook needs his assistance. “If you’ll excuse me, my lady.”

You grumble under your breath, not letting the nickname get to you. “You can do this. The faster we get these dishes done, the less there will be.” You know it’s not true but it’s the only thing getting you through the next few hours.

You wipe your brow, not wanting your sweat to drip into your eye (you can only let it happen a few times today). You sigh, resting your hands against the edge of the sink trying not to think about the knots in your shoulders.

A hand rests on your low back, sending a comforting feeling down your spine (something you’re not used to and can’t find yourself to push him away). “Are you alright?” The chef asks, putting another dish into the sink, feeling bad because you’ve been working so hard this entire time.

“Yeah, yeah-”

“Oi, who said you could take a break? I need those dishes done before morning.”

You turn to face the boss, only to knock your hand into the pile of bowls which sends the one closest to the edge to fall and break into a million pieces on the ground.

“That’s worth at least another year.”

You want to scream. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right?”

“’Fraid not. Hurry up, I don’t have all night.”

“Don’t tempt me, old man. I’ll break all your dishes if you don’t shut up.”

“Could you repeat that. I don’t think this “old man” heard you.”

“I said-”

Sanji wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you back, forcing you to sit in a chair as he walks back over to Zeff, whispering to him.

You don’t care enough to even try and listen to their conversation, you wish Luffy would bust in here and get you out of here but that punk, you shake your head.

‘He’s probably asleep after all the food he ate.’

You wish you could sleep but, knowing you took a burden off your captain and found a way to help people, even by doing the simplest task, meant more to you than sleep.

You sigh and push yourself out of the chair, walking back towards the sink. “I’ll have these done before the sun rises, chef,” you shout loud enough for them to stop bickering.

“Alright, I’m keeping you to your word, you hear.”

“I understand and if I’m not… I am willing to have myself stay behind while my crew continues our mission.”

Sanji’s eyes widen at your confession, that is not something he would have heard a few years ago. He turns back to his boss with a nervous chuckle. “She doesn’t mean that.” He walks closer to you and leans down, “you don’t mean that, right?”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Shut up and finish what you were doing. I know how to handle myself,” you snap.

He takes a step back, looking at his fellow chef, who nods before taking his leave. “I’ll be over here if you need anything.”

You couldn’t respond even if you wanted to by the time the stranded pirate burst through the door.

Sanji ran over to help him, placing one arm around his shoulders (you do the same after watching him struggle).

You get him a cup of water while the blond makes some food.

The man is grateful and offers to pay for the food, reaching into his pocket but the man beside you shake his head. “Helping someone who’s hungry is more than enough payment. I’m just happy to have helped.”

That’s when you knew he’d most definitely be perfect to join the crew (if he wanted to, of course).

The man left and once again your cleaning dishes while Sanji does… whatever it is he needed to.

Honestly after that, you haven’t been paying too much attention to him to know what he’s doing.

You clear your throat, finding the silence to be a bit awkward now. “Who made our meal?”

“Who wants to know?” He raises his brow.

You roll your eyes, “don’t give me attitude. You haven’t known me long enough to be sassy with me.”

He nods. “Fine. And to answer your question, I did.”

“You did?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?” He asks, feeling offended by your question.

“No, it’s not like that. I’m just- I’m very impressed. I mean, everything was just- I can’t even put it into words at how delicious the food was.”

His shoulders sag, no longer feeling the need to be defensive. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” You giggle, turning off the faucet. “Thank you by the way.”

“What for?”

“The delicious meal, for one.” You stare at the bowl, thinking back to when you barely had meals like this growing up.

It was always tough, using the few ingredients you had to try and make food, most of the time things went bad and you couldn’t use them. You were lucky to be able to eat when you could.

“It’s one I’ll never forget.” You glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Same with the chef.”

“Was that a compliment?” The corners of his lips curve upwards.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“That’s why I’m asking.”

“Fine,” you huff. “It is.” You wipe the last bowl dry. “Now, that I’m done… I can go join my crew.”

“You miss it.”

“Miss what?”

You turn around.

“Us.”

“There never was an us.”

“There could have been.”

Your tongue rubs against the front of your teeth. “Guess we’ll never know.” You toss the towel down on the countertop beside the sink. “I have to go now.”

He sighs. “Hey, don’t go. I’ll- I’ll stop talking about-”

“Our past. Something tells me you won’t.”

“I can.” He scoffs, “you know, you always did this.”

“Did what?”

“Tried to run away from reality.”

“I- maybe I left because it wasn’t the right time.”

“When will it be?”

You shrug, “who knows. Maybe-” Your eyes widen, feeling his lips on yours. You close your eyes, losing yourself in it… in him. You push him back, “Sanji.”

“Yes?” Hie slowly pries his eyes open.

“Why’d you do that?” You whisper.

“I couldn’t let you go without doing it.”

“Well, you did it. Are you happy now?”

“Maybe,” he smirks. “Does it change anything?”

You take a deep breath. “I- I honestly don’t know. I mean, not much has changed right? You’re still here and I’ll still be…”

“Not here.”

“Exactly.”

“I love you.” You nod, placing a hand on his cheek. “I know and that’s why I left the first time. You have so much potential, and the old man sees that, but your life is here. You- cooking here has been your life and I won’t be the reason you’re unhappy-”

“I wouldn’t.” He shakes his head, his hair covering his eyes so you can’t see his pain.

You close your eyes and peck his cheek. “I hope I’ll see you soon.” You sneak back onto the ship and lay in your bed, watching the sun rise.

“What happened last night?” Zeff asks, watching as the usually spunky chef does not fight back.

Sanji shrugs, making the meal on today’s menu.

The ex-pirate nods and turns at the sound of the captain entering his kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

“What I should have done yesterday. You need dishes clean, and I am here to help.”

“Get to work.”

You walk back into the restaurant to get a new bucket of fresh water to wipe Zoro’s wounds and look for some food when you stumble upon a fight going down between your crew and pirates.

You curve your index finger and thumb, whistling loudly to get them to stop throwing your captain around. “Hey! Why not fight someone who’s more worthy of a fight?”

Arlong smirks. “I’d like to see you try.”

You smirk and throw the bucket in his direction, giving you enough time to run over to him and kick him. You throw across the way and land on your back, pushing yourself up before he can grab you. “You’ve got fire. Why don’t you join my crew, so I don’t have to hurt that pretty face?”

You give him a tight-lipped smile. “Hard pass.” You stare up at the ceiling, faintly hearing Luffy and the pirate going outside.

His fishman make their way towards you until they decide they’re better off following their captain.

Usopp runs over to you and helps you sit up.

You groan, trying to get air back into your lungs. “Thanks.”

“Are you sure you should be trying to get up right now?” He asks, hand hovering around you in case something happens.

Sanji watches from the stairs, slowly getting himself up.

“Probably not but we can’t leave Luffy to fight that maniac on his own. He needs his crew even if,” you huff, knowing a bruise is forming.

“Even if he doesn’t think so.” You wobble for a second and then get yourself together, grabbing the two. “Let’s go.”

“For someone who just got thrown into a table, you’re moving exceptionally well.”

“Now’s not the time, flirty.”

He smiles, until you let him go and charge for the head pirate, stopping when your captain falls into the water.

Usopp runs towards you. “Oh my god. Oh my god. What do we do. What do we do?”

You grab the storyteller by his shoulders, shaking him to prevent yourself from slapping him. “Shut up, we just need to-”

The chef throws his shirt and jacket onto the dock before diving in for him.

You haul the man closer to the edge. “Move closer. We gotta pull them up when he comes up.”

You help Usopp pull Luffy up, making sure the captain is alright before helping Sanji (who doesn’t need as much help). You keep a hand on his shoulder, needing to know he’s safe while watching over the captain.

The chef leans into you, not wanting to lose you or your warmth.

“We need to leave now if we want to help Nami.”

The three agree with you and the storyteller assists the captain back onto the ship.

“Here’s your shirt and jacket.”

He slowly reaches for the items, not ready for you to leave. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For more than you know.”

“Don’t leave,” he grabs your wrist.

“What?”

“Let me come and cook for you and your crew. Just- just one meal.”

“Sanji-”

“I know you think I’ll regret it, but I won’t. This- it can be like our last adventure… together.”

“I don’t want you getting your hopes up.”

“I won’t,” he says all too quickly.

“I don’t entirely believe you but okay.” You gesture for him to follow you. “Fine. Let’s go.”

He makes another effortlessly amazing meal.

“Someone needs to shut that red nosed piece of shit up before I use this carrot,” you say, using the vegetable to point at Buggy’s head.

“Oh, come on. I’m not that bad.”

“New guy deals with the head,” Usopp tells Sanji, raising his hands as he walks by him.

The blond clicks his tongue, unsure of what else to do. “Do I have to?”

“House rules, new guy deals with the head,” Zoro backs up the storyteller’s not legit rule.

He's still as sassy as ever, even after coming back from the dead (even if he wasn't officially declared dead), it still amazes you.

“I hate you both.”

Usopp smiles and wraps an arm around your shoulders. “You kid in a mean way, but you really love us.”

“Right now, I want to use the carrot on you.”

He slowly removes his arm from your shoulders. “…okay maybe not.”

“This is about to get interesting.”

“Even more than it already has?” Sanji asks.

“Because being with you always-”

Zoro stops him with a head shake.

“What? What’d I do?”

You stay back in case anyone of them needs a little help; until someone grabs you from behind while a fishman jumps in front of Luffy and Nami, blocking their path.

Zoro takes care of him, giving the two an opportunity to continue.

Sanji manages to finish with the one fishman he was fighting, turning to check on you only to find that you need a little help.

He jumps across as you manage to get the fishman’s hand out of your hair, shoving him away so the chef can kick him in the face.

Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, knowing this is only the beginning.

He nods, hands still in his pockets. “You’re welcome.”

At some point you spot the storyteller on the run, unsure of where he plans on going as you’re stuck in your own fight.

You and Zoro make your way closer to the large fishman keeping Sanji on the ground.

After watching the swordsman get pushed back, you decide to take an alternative route and grab a rock to throw it in his direction.

He grabs it as if it weighs nothing and crushes it which gives the chef enough leeway to escape out from under him. “Fight someone your own size.”

He chuckles and makes his way towards you.

You groan but hold your ground, doing all that you can to… not die. You push various branches and leaves out of your way, listening to Zoro rag on Sanji about calling out his finishing move.

“Who the hell let him throw me into the bushes?” You pull out another leaf from your hair.

“It wasn’t my fault you couldn’t keep up.”

“Listen here, you muscular green bean-”

“Why not focus on the fact that you’re alive?”

You purse your lips knowing the blond’s right. “Yeah, well,” you grumble under your breath. “Do I at least look fine?”

The chef takes a step closer, holding his hand out for you to take, helping you out of the bushes. He wraps an arm around your waist when you trip, making sure nothing happens to you.

You straighten your posture and quietly thank him.

He smiles, picking a leaf out of your hair before brushing the strands back behind your ear so he can see you (and make sure you’re okay, he knows how you like to use your hair as a shield to hide what you’re feeling).

He leans closer to your ear, whispering, “you look perfect, a tiny leaf couldn’t take to your beauty.”

You freeze, unsure of how to respond.

“If you stop flirting, we can try to find Nami and Luffy,” Zoro grumbles.

“Oh, man. You guys are together?” Usopp whines.

Your nose twitches, “what? No.”

“Not yet.”

Your head snaps in his direction, glaring at his smugness before an idea comes to mind. “Oh, is that what you think?” You skip over to Zoro, placing an arm around his waist. “I’d think I’d much rather deal with a muscular green bean.”

“I’m not a part of this.”

You turn to him. “Too late.”

The blond grabs you and pulls you away from the green haired man.

“I still owe Nami,” Usopp mumbles.

You shake your head, realizing how idiotic these guys can be. You all turn and stare at the building, the faint sounds of fighting and the building slowly crumbling sends a chill down your spine.

You spot Nami running through the gate. “Na-” You groan at her throwing herself at you. “Good to see you too.”

You glance to the side and notice the blond’s shoulders sagging. Once she lets go of you, you turn towards him.

He opens his arms, making himself look sad.

You narrow your eyes, raising a brow. "Really?"

He nods.

You roll your eyes and pull him closer, stretching your neck so your chin can rest on his shoulder slash clavicle area (honestly wherever you could reach, you didn't care because you were hugging him).

You can feel his heart beating against your cheek, faster and faster the longer you hold him; you hope he can’t feel yours beating in your chest.

“Where’s Luffy?”

“He’s in there.”

“Should we start planning his funeral now or-” You frown, sticking your bottom lip out. “What? Would it be wrong of me to ask if I could keep his hat?”

“What is wrong with you?” The orange haired girl asks you.

“Humor is my only defense and I’m terrified to know if he’s still alive or not.”

A stretchy hand punches through the ruble.

“I guess that answers that question,” you say, covering your mouth to hide your relief sob.

Sanji pulls you closer, coddling you.

Everyone cheers when your captain shouts, “Nami, we are your crew!”

“Now, that’s someone fit to be a captain.”

You raise your plate, “can I have some more?”

The chef chuckles, “how can I say no to that face?”

“Could you two stop flirting for two seconds so we can eat our food in peace?” Nami complains, although she’s actually happy for the two of you (even if she just wishes you two would admit your feelings for one another).

“It’s getting annoying,” the green haired man adds.

“At least they have someone,” Usopp mutters.

“We can turn this ship around and drop you off back at Kaya’s,” the orange haired girl tells him.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Shutting up now.”

“Wow, who knew Nami could get so mean?” Luffy says, baffled by the scene before him. “I mean it's nothing compared to them but wow. Are you feeling, okay?” He tries to reach across to feel her forehead when she slaps it away from her.

“Yes, would you please stop acting like I’m dying or something and finish your food. It’s impolite to talk with your mouth full.”

The captain nods, giving her a thumbs up.

“Why are you guys talking about us like that?” You can’t help but ask them, not noticing how close you two are.

“How can we not?” Nami raises a brow.

“I mean, have you seen you two. It’s like, you guys are so in sync and clearly have a history but you're walking around as if there’s nothing and I don’t know if you’re doing it for us, but I say you two just stop and do something about it.”

You stare at her, your jaw drops, as does Sanji’s.

‘Were we really as bad as they thought?’

You shake your head, giving them a not so genuine smile. “I’m gonna go now. You have fun thinking… whatever it is you think you know while I do something more interesting.” You quickly walk out of the kitchen, unsure of how to act now.

The chef sighs, tossing the dish towel onto the counter, resting his hands against the edge as he leans forward. “Why?”

“Why, what?” Zoro asks before Nami could.

“Look, I get that you guys want to us to stop and get our acts together, but this isn’t the way to do it. Did you think that maybe there was a reason we never did anything?”

“Maybe you should talk to her and find out why,” the orange haired girl adds, clearly knowing something he doesn’t.

He nods, debating on leaving the kitchen so the two can talk. “Don’t let the sauce burn, keep turning it every five seconds.” He runs out of the kitchen in search of you.

“Where would I find you?” He asks himself, searching throughout the rooms down the hallway.

He’s about to pass his room when something catches his eye, and he turns back around to find your sprawled out in his bed. He smiles and takes careful steps, not wanting to startle you. “Who knew I’d find you in here?”

“Really?”

“Humor me.”

“Why are you here?”

“I believe I should be asking you that question since you’re the one in my bed.”

“I guess you’re right.” You push yourself to the edge of his bed, making a beeline for the door.

He reaches across the way, stopping you. “Don’t go.”

“I- I really need to get back to the others. They might be wondering where I am.”

“That’s unnecessary. They’re the ones who sent me to find you and also send their apologies because they know that you left because of what they said.”

You talk a small step back, giving yourself a few inches of space from him. “It- I didn’t leave because of them,” you mumble.

He nods, “and they know that, but I think this was just a tactic to get us to talk.”

“Why would they do that?”

“They can sense it.”

You furrow your brows, “sense what?”

He scoffs, “don’t act like that.”

“I- act like what, I don’t understand. I’m not acting like anything.”

“You know exactly what it is I’m talking about. Please don’t act like you don’t,” he begs and you feel bad but you can’t help it.

This is not what you planned on doing today. You move his arm out of the way only for him to flip his hand and latched onto your wrist. “Don’t.”

“Sanji-”

“No, I know exactly what you’re going to say.”

You turn around, staring at him with a faux fury in your eyes, the façade you’ve put on in front of him for so long and he knows that.

“Why do you keep doing this?”

“It’s safer.”

“For whom? Me or you?”

“This has always been about us having fun and you know it.”

“It became more than that the moment we started talking.”

“Maybe I was just tricking you,” you shrug, avoiding eye contact as you stare at your shoes.

“I don’t believe that for a second and you know why?”

“Why?”

The heels of his shoes clack against the floor as he steps closer to you. He raises your chin, giving you the soft smile, you’ve only ever seen him give to you and the crew, but it always felt like there was more to it when he did it to you. “Because I know you love me as much as I love you.”

It feels like the air is getting thinner. You don’t realize your crying as hard as you are until you hear his voice trying to sooth you. “No,” you mumble. “No, no,” you push him away and run your hands through your hair. “Stop it!”

“Why should I? You haven’t rejected me and I know it’s because you love me to.”

“Sanji, we wouldn’t be good together.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because you’re you. You- you crave the attention or maybe it's the chase but either way you like where you are, and you wouldn’t want to change that for someone like me no matter how much you love me.”

“So what, you think I’m like those other low lives that came into the Baratie with spouses and explicitly talked about their endeavors with other people. You truly think that I would do that to you?”

You shake your head and cover your mouth to quiet yourself. “I don’t- I know,” you take a deep breath. “I know you wouldn’t but that doesn’t stop the little part of me for thinking it could happen. I mean, you always talked about,” you sniffle. “Girls with Patty whether I was in the room or not-”

He shakes his head. “Not true.”

“Which part? You did talk about other girls with him.”

“I may have talked about girls but that was only for me to see if you were listening or not because if you weren’t, Patty would always tell me to stop acting like a child and tell you how I feel if I ever saw you again.”

“Why didn’t you just try to be honest instead of toying with my head?”

He raises a brow with his head tilted. “Fair enough… but now you understand why I’m so scared to start something with you.” He’s in front of you before you know it.

“That just means I need to try even harder to show you how much you mean to me.” He brushes the few strands of hair out of your face, letting him see you (and wipe away your tears). “I only have eyes for you.”

“And Nami.”

“She doesn’t make my heartbeat as fast as you do.”

You lean away. “But she does?”

He’s speechless and doesn’t know what to say until he sees you smiling.

“Just kidding.”

A breathless chuckle filled with obvious relief escapes him. “You are going to be the death of me.”

“Me?” You shake your head. “No. I will be the one who revives you if you even think about getting close to death’s door. I can’t handle that.”

“Neither can I. Of course, I’m always going to come back to you. Who could,” he stares into your eyes switching from one to the other. “Resist someone as beautiful and adorable like you.”

“Lots of people.”

“They’re the ones who lost because I have the best prize of all.”

You close your eyes and lay your head against his chest. “Shut up,” you mumble but he knows what you said.

“I have a lot of making up to do and other than worshipping you later tonight, we need to run back to the kitchen and get started in dinner. I plan on spoiling you.”

You shake your head against him, unable to contain your excitement or hide your smile; he always brings out the happiness in you even when he was just a young chef, still trying to get Zeff to stop using as much oregano (because it’s for savages) or so he told you when you two met one night in secret.

You rest your head in your hand and watch him be a master at his work.

“You’re staring.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I always liked when you did, even if the old man did try to kick you out because you weren’t his employee.”

“He was just pissy because I was “distracting” his star pupil.”

“I think he’d disagree.”

“You and I both know he was hard on you because he wanted you to thrive in areas he couldn’t.”

He shrugs, not sure if what you’re saying could be true or not, but he doesn’t argue.

“I’m sorry I left.”

“You wanted to get out of there. Who was I to deny you the opportunity to see the world?”

“And find the all blue?”

“Sweetheart, that’s my dream.”

You chuckle. “I know.”

“I’m just happy we’re here now.”

“That’s something we can agree on.” You reach over and steal a freshly chopped veggie, smiling sweetly when he catches you.

He bends down, staring at you; you kiss him before sitting back down.

#one piece #one piece live action #one piece imagine #one piece imagines #one piece fanfic #one piece fanfiction #one piece x reader #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji imagine #vinsmoke sanji imagines #vinsmoke sanji fanfiction #vinsmoke sanji fanfic #vinsmoke sanji x you #one piece x you #crazyk-imagine

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greetingfromthedead · 2 months

Text

Shepherd Story 1 (God!Knives x GN!Reader)

Plot: In a world where fallen gods live among you, there is the god of winter and death who leaves behind merciless blizzards and famine wherever he goes on his eternal search for his other half he fell for many millennia ago.

Series: Shepherd. Check out Story 2 (smut) and Story 3!

Pairing: God!Knives x GN!Reader

Raiting: Teen and up (some mild sexual/intimate content, no smut)

Tags: fantasy AU, no use of "y/n", gods, feathery plant, fated love, romance, legends, nature magic, reunion, intimacy, possessive behavior, tenderness, some fluff, body worship, implied smut

Word count: 4.2k

Author's Note: This story is heavily inspired by the incredible @triplesilverstar's god AU stories A so called God on a mountain top? Well, better then freezing to death and So its a tradition? Weird. These stories are just way too good for you to not go read them. So gogogo (unless you are underage or not into smut)...

In a world much different from our own, where fallen gods live among people, there is a story that spans over many millennia. In that world, there are countless higher beings, each with their own unique powers and abilities. They guide nature in the endless cycle of creation and destruction. Among them is a man more feared and despised than the rest, known as the god of winter and death. His icy touch is said to bring misery and despair to all who encounter him. None can escape his chilling grasp, as the harsh winters can last for years on end. Children are born within his icy domain; they live and die, never knowing the warmth of summer. But only a few know the curse put on this world by the jealous gods of ancient times.

The god of winter and death roams solemnly through the lands, bringing icy winds and blizzards in his wake. The soft steps of his bare feet on grassy fields spread frost, and the lakes get covered in ice as he passes by. He doesn't bring famine and illness, but they follow him like a shadow as he moves south on his endless search. This world has never seen a winter like this before; it has lasted for fifty years and brought the northern lands to their knees. Grain stores are empty, and people are starving. Yet the god moves further and further south with each passing day, leaving death in his wake. He is still looking, searching for the one who bears the curse.

Restlessness has sunken its claws into you as of late. It's like something's tugging at your soul. You have always felt lucky that you were born quite far in the south, away from the dark shadows of the north. You are a winter child, and never in your years have you seen the bountiful summers the elders speak of. However, you haven't been plagued by winter's chill either, and for that, you are grateful. But as of late, your dreams have frozen over, set against a backdrop of white fields and icy winds. You feel it seeping into your waking hours; the breeze hasn't been gentle for weeks; instead, it cuts like knives into your flesh, leaving you shivering.

The fire roars in your little house, but its warmth can't chase away the chill in your bones. You wrap yourself tighter in blankets, trying to hold onto the last bit of heat before the darkness of night takes over. You count the herbs in your collection; you need to make sure you have as much stock as possible if winter indeed is to claim your little corner of the world too. You know you can't afford to run out; you are the herbalist that the entire nearby village relies on for healing remedies. As you put away the jars of dried leaves, you wonder if you can sleep tonight or will you be tortured again by the dangerous desire luring you into the night.

The flickering light of the fireplace seems to dim, the dancing of the light more lazy, barely reaching your feet, let alone your workbench. You shiver, feeling a chill run down your spine as the shadows in the room grow darker and more sinister. You turn around to inspect whether you need to add more logs to the dwindling fire, but your attention is grabbed by the window to your side. Icy flowers begin to form on the glass, their sharp angles glistening in the fading rays of the day.

Are these the last remnants of your blissful life? You wonder how long it will take for the cold to overtake the countryside and turn it into an icy wasteland. How many people will die, and will you ever see summer? You shake your head, trying to dispel the dark thoughts, and raise your gaze over the forming ice, as beautiful as it might be. You look at the grassy field and see glittering snow start to descend from the sky. While frost isn't all that uncommon, you've never seen it snow quite like this. The delicate flakes twirl and dance in the air, casting a magical spell over the landscape. You're in awe, and rush to the door, pulling the blanket around your shoulders tighter before stepping outside into the freezing twilight. The air is so still, not even a whisper of wind dares disturb the enchanting scene, like nature itself is holding its breath in anticipation. The soft flakes brush against your cheeks, melting on contact and leaving a cold, damp feeling on your skin. You try to imagine your home being transformed into a winter wonderland, with snow covering every surface in sight. You know you should fear that image more than anything else, but there's a strange sense of peace that comes with it.

You glance over your little yard to the edge of the forest, and there you see a figure. Your eyes are caught by his icy gaze, and you can't see anything else beside his piercing blue irises. You feel a chill run along your spine, but not from the cold, but from the kind of terror you would feel while staring down a wild wolf.

"I found you at last, my sweet darling." The nearly emotionless words of the god of winter and death carry over the silent landscape, echoing in your ears like a haunting melody. The coldness in his face softens slightly, replaced by something akin to a gentle smile.

You are too stunned to speak or move; the knowledge of who you've come across freezes you in place. But it isn't all fear that has made your legs so heavy; the restlessness of your soul is rearing its head again, calling out to the unknown like it's an old friend. You stay quiet as you look into the eyes of the god before you, feeling a sense of both terror and excitement. He turns toward you and steps closer. Your eyes are released from the shackles of his gaze. As you look at the rest of the figure, you see the mass of wings behind him. They aren't made up of feathers, but of shards of ice that reflect the light in a dazzling display. His body is clad in a flowy white robe, partially revealing his pale skin, some of it covered by the icy shards, the same as the wings. His hair and eyelashes look like they are frosted over due to the cold that emanates from his very being. He is breathtaking as he approaches you, his bare feet make no sound as he walks along the path. The blades of grass freeze in his presence, the puddle of water forms jagged crystals on its surface like razors.

"It has been too long, my dear," he whispers, his voice low and level, the sound crossing the empty space between you effortlessly to caress your ears.

His expression is tender yet filled with a cold intensity. This is not how you imagined such an infamous god to look at a mortal being like yourself. His eyes seem to pierce your very soul, making you feel both terrified and strangely alive.

With every step he takes, the surrounding air gets colder. Every inhale stings your lungs, every exhale produces a white cloud. Your fingers grip the blanket tighter. You can't shake the feeling that he knows something about you that you don't. His eyes have never left your face as he finally stops at your doorstep.

"I am sorry for being so impossibly late," he says, holding out a hand to you, palm up. His voice has a cold edge to it.

"Am I going to die?" The words slip over your lips before you even realize you've spoken them.

"One day, darling, but hopefully not any time soon. I cannot bear to lose you again." A slight smile flickers on the corners of his lips. "Take my hand."

"What do you mean? What do you want from me?" You know you should be afraid of him, but your soul tells you to place your hand in his.

"You will remember, sweet Shepherd." He waits patiently. "Take my hand."

"I'm not a shepherd; I'm a herbalist. You must have confused me with someone else." Saying a god is wrong seems like a surefire way to die, yet you do it anyway. Your reaction paints a slightly more obvious smile on his face as he looks at you through his low eyebrows with amusement. Your heart tells you to reach for his fingers.

"I will recognize you in any life, with any face. I will always find you, as your soul calls out to me. Take my hand." His piercing blue eyes look into yours, and you know that he is the source of your restless nights. You take a deep breath and finally allow yourself to surrender to your heart and soul. Your right hand lets go of the blanket and reaches out into the freezing night air to rest on his open palm. His skin feels like marble against yours, but his touch is comforting and familiar.

"Wake up, my love." His words echo in your mind as you realize the meaning behind them. Hundreds of previous lives come flooding back to you with a sense of recognition and understanding.

"Nai!" Your eyes open wide as you remember who he truly is, "You found me!" The cycle of reincarnation finally feels familiar once again.

He shifts closer, leaning his cold forehead against yours, your hand pressed against his chest.

"Do you still have it?" he asks softly.

"Of course I do; it's been with me all this time," you reply as you shut your eyes. His cold fingers squeeze yours tighter, and he lifts his forehead, replacing it with his lips. A gentle kiss on your skin as his free hand caresses your cheek. You would be shivering if it weren't for the fire lit up inside you.

"Thank you, sweet Shepherd," he says, placing his cheek against yours as he speaks by your ear. "For keeping it safe all this time."

"It is yours after all," you say, keeping your eyes closed, savoring the moment.

"No, sweetling, it is yours," he replies, his voice warm and comforting. He doesn't quite sound like a god of winter and death, one that brings merciless cold and darkness wherever he goes. Instead, he is the guardian and lover of all your past lives, reaching back to the ancient times before you were cast out from the Higher Plane. He is the one who cradles you in his arms and whispers promises of love eternal. The freezing stares are saved for everyone else but you, for you are his chosen one.

"Why don't you come inside?" You smile as you turn your head slightly towards him, feeling the frigid air of his breath against your ear.

"I doubt I would make it through the door," his silky voice chuckles softly. "I've been searching for so long, I fear I myself have frozen."

You can see his massive, crystalline wings over his shoulder. It has never gone on so long that he himself starts to freeze as well. His body feels more rigid, and the softness of his flesh has turned to ice.

"I can fix that, my love," you say softly, reaching out to touch his frozen skin with warmth in your fingertips. The blanket that you released slides off your shoulders, exposing the goosebumps on your skin. The cold air bites at your uncovered flesh, but you don't mind; you are in love with winter. Your fingers slide along his jaw, turning his face toward you. Your breath escapes you as a white vapor before you close the gap between the two of you, capturing his lips with yours.

The kiss you share is deep, filled with a kind of longing that has been building up for many thousands of years. You feel his body warm up; the coldness of his skin no longer cuts you like knives; and your fingers get to press into the suppleness of his cheek. The quiet air is filled with a sound reminding you of delicate glass breaking. His hand that has been tracing the curve of your neck moves down to rest on the small of your back and pulls you closer, flush against his body. You feel his feathers brush against your skin as he wraps you up in his numerous wings, enveloping you in his embrace, protecting you from the frost he brings to the rest of the world.

You pull back to admire the sight you know you will find—the glowing markings etched into his eyes and skin, the pattern traveling along his body, gracing his face, and decorating his arms with intricate designs that seem to come alive in the dim light of nightfall. He is still pressing your hand against his chest, where you can start to feel the steady beat of his heart, a rhythm that matches the intensity of your own.

The frost in his hair is gone, his skin taking on a tone of warmth, a blush of cold darkening his cheeks and the tip of his nose. The marks still linger on him, pulsing lightly, and you are mesmerized by the blue eyes that no longer remind you of a dangerous beast but of a soul who carries too many burdens.

You lead him into the warmth of your cottage, but with every step he takes, the fire flickers, threatening to die down completely. A kind of darkness and cold emanate from him, yet it doesn't touch you anymore. His hand in yours is warm and comforting, a stark contrast to the atmosphere around him. You refuse to let it bother you as your heart is set ablaze. His hand slides out of yours and he takes a longer step forward to be right beside you. His hand moves onto your back, and with gentle pressure, he guides you to the seat by the window, where the silvery moonlight starts to creep in. With a rustle of feathers, he spreads his wings before sitting down on the soft cushion, pulling you with him. Not once has he averted his eyes, looking at you like you're a treasure of priceless value. The hand not resting on your lower back caresses up your arm, sending shivers through your body. This seems to amuse him as you see the curve of his lips in the dim light. You settle more comfortably into his lap, and his wings fold and reach over to you like a soft blanket.

"Tell me, Shepherd, do you remember it all now?" His knuckles brush gently over your cheek.

"I have lived so many mortal lives that I can hardly keep them all straight, so I'm still piecing it together." You rest your hand on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. "But I remember you in all of them, one way or another. Why do you keep calling me Shepherd, love?"

"I don't mean to be impatient with you, but I've been waiting to find you for so very long. I can call you by your new name if you would like me to." His fingers trace along your jaw and lips as he speaks. "But you are the Shepherd. My other half. I may be the god of death, but I need you to guide the souls of the deceased into the afterlife so they can be born again."

"What?" Your eyebrows move closer together in confusion. He takes your hand out of your lap to place kisses on your knuckles.

"I meant to find you sooner, my love. This winter was never meant to last so long. But it is over now. We are reunited. I have made you a lot of work. I am sorry. Some of these souls have been waiting for 50 years to move on. I reaped them from their earthly existence, I brought death, and now they need you so my brother can bring them life once again. To offer them a new beginning in spring so that my sister can fill them up with the joy of summer. Don't you remember?"

His eyes are solemn as they look into yours. Deep regret plagues them—a kind of hurt you don't remember seeing in them before. The pain is clearly etched in every line of his face.

"I will. Just keep holding me, and it will come back; it always has." You squeeze his fingers tightly, and his lips move to your wrist, brushing against your skin.

"You can ask me anything you want, love." His piercing eyes look into yours as he measures your forearm with his kisses. "Perhaps it will help."

"Your brother—he lives on a mountain, right?" You watch him carefully. "Why do you have to roam around and not him?"

"Because people don't pray for winter and only the desperate hope for death," he replies softly. His lips trail to your shoulder, and you can't see his eyes anymore. "But even if I had the power to dictate winter and death from just one little corner of the world, I still need you to put an end to it. I do not wish to turn this world into a wasteland because you still live in it. You alone can rein in the northern winds and calm the raging blizzards, for I only love you. You alone."

You feel his sharp teeth brush against the skin of your neck, and you lean back, letting out a deep sigh as you enjoy his touch. Your hand that's been resting on his chest moves to his head, your fingers lacing into his hair. You close your eyes and savor the moment, knowing that you are completely captivated by him.

"Why must gods be so cruel and jealous? To not only curse us but the whole world with it. All that because you gave your heart to me. How spiteful, they cannot kill me, so they force me into a mortal body to ensure I'm a slave to reincarnation until the end of time." Your quiet voice fills the room as you feel his mouth move to your ear.

"And I would wage another war and fall all over again just to rectify it," he whispers into your ear. "You just say the word, my sweetest love, and I will fight for an eternity, I will lay waste to everything. Until then, I will keep searching for you in each and every one of your lives."

His hand on your back pulls you tighter, and the cocoon of feathers surrounding you rustles softly as his breath gets heavy against your skin. His lips trail along your cheek until they reach yours. He moves softly, capturing your mouth with a gentle kiss that speaks of promises fulfilled and passion unleashed.

"You are so breathtakingly gorgeous," he whispers, his voice filled with love and desire, barely moving away from your lips. "No god of beauty could ever compare to you. To think you are mine... all mine."

You lean into him as his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss, knowing that this love has not dwindled over the passing millennia. Your souls date back to a time before this world was created, in the Higher Plane, among other gods, you had found each other, and now, in this mortal realm, your devotion continues to burn just as brightly. His hands trace along the curves of your body, exploring every dip and valley with a hunger that matches your own. The kisses of the winter god burn on your neck as his face presses into your skin. You lean back as his fingers undo the buttons on your blouse. The fabric falls away, revealing your bare chest as his lips map every inch of it.

"Open your eyes, my darling, look at me." You hear his insistent voice as a gap forms between your bodies, "I have been waiting for too long to see them glimmer in the moonlight, for they hold all that my soul yearns for."

The god of winter and death spends most of the night worshiping your mortal body. He kisses every mark and freckle that adorn your skin like stars. He whispers poems of adoration against the scars time has etched into you. He declares his unyielding love for you in every way two people can. He leaves trails of fire in his wake that burn with his passion. Every inch of your body is a canvas for him to paint upon. His love leaves marks where his teeth have been and where his lips have lingered. His desire leaves bruises on your skin, but you know he takes care not to break your human body.

You lay in his embrace, surrounded by the massive wings that shield you from the cold he brought with him into your home. Your fingers trace patterns into his skin, your body is exhausted, but you know that dawn is creeping ever closer and the time for him to leave is near. Your eyes remain on him as he strokes along your tingling skin. His sharp gaze catches yours.

"You're staring," you say with both amusement and slight awkwardness.

"I can't help it, you're beautiful." His low voice caresses your ears.

"Why must you leave?" The words escape you.

"Because I'm the god of winter and death, my passing alone brings calamity, I cannot linger for long," he says mournfully.

"Then can't I come with you?" You say hopefully, a glimmer appears in your eyes.

"Alas, you are chained to a mortal body, and I reside in the north, far beyond human settlements, where only demons roam the dead forests. Even if my presence alone wouldn't kill you, the merciless nature of my frozen hell would. It's no place for someone as precious as you, my sweetling." You feel a slight chuckle ripple in his body. "Yet every time you wake, you ask me that same question."

"Then when will you return?" Your voice gets quieter as you see the darkness behind your window retreat.

"An army of war gods wouldn't be able to keep us apart. They tried." His voice is soft, and he touches your cheek. "I will come back once it's my turn again, the year will be guided through its seasons, and now I know where to find you. Until my return, guide the ones I have reaped back into the circle of life, sweet Shepherd. Guide them well until we meet again."

"I hope it won't be this long again, for our sake and theirs. I don't want the humans to fear you as much as they do."

"I too wish to be apart from you for as little time as possible, yet I will engulf this world in eternal winter if it means I can return to you." His voice has a sharpness to it, his words are both a promise and a threat. "Their fear means nothing to me compared to your love."

Dawn arrives too soon, the first rays of light brushing the tops of the trees acting as a warning. Your time has run out, and your fated love must bid you farewell. His touch lingers longer, the fingers tracing the outline of your face as if etching it into his memory for eternity. His stern eyes can't hide the tender look of adoration they hold for you. His lips press against yours as the layers of wings peel away from you. Before the coolness of the outside air reaches you again, your love drapes a blanket around you, never breaking away from the kiss.

You want to reach out to him, but his long fingers catch your wrists into his grasp. He holds on tight, gripping your hands with his. He pulls away slightly and places a kiss on your cheek.

"I love you, my darling," his voice whispers in your ear. You feel another firm press of his lips on your forehead. "Keep it safe for me."

"Your heart is always safe with me. I will guard it, and I will warm it when you come again." You smile as you look up into his piercing blue eyes. "I love you in every life I live."

He releases your hands, his fingers lightly brushing your chin, before he turns to leave. He steps away from your door into the snow covered yard. His majestic wings unfurl into the still air, each feather seemingly stretching out.

"Until I see you again, my sweet Shepherd!" He doesn't show you his face, but you hear the warm smile in his voice.

"Until then, darling!"

The god's quiet footsteps lead him towards the forest again. The bare feet don't make a single noise, and the white robe emits only the slightest rustle. He might be leaving, but the world itself seems fundamentally different to you than it did yesterday. Even as he disappeared, leaving snow and ice behind and a coolness in your chambers, the dawn that came brought new colors with it you had never seen before in this lifetime.

This was originally going to be smut, but I got carried away and then it didn't seem right anymore. If my brainrot doesn't pack its bags in the next few days then I might make a part 2 that follows the original plan...

There is now a smutty Part 2.

And even a 3rd installment.

Did you like this? Go check out my MASTERLIST and drop a follow for any and all future projects!

#trigun #trigun stampede #tristamp #trigun 98 #trigun maximum #millions knives #knives x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #plant boi #writing #knivesxreader

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intimidating-fettuccine · 2 months

Note

Could I please request what it is like to go shopping with Jason? (I mean, a trip to the mall)

Whether he goes with us, we go with him, or it's a day of shopping as a couple.

I hope you enjoy

Jason LOVES going to the mall. He loves going by himself so he can look at all the newest fashion, but he loves going with you even more so he can spoil you and get you whatever it is you'd like. It's become a common running theme on my blog that Jason spends ridiculous amounts of money on you since he can afford it, and that absolutely comes into play whenever he goes to the mall with you. He will wander around there for hours with you and buy you quite literally whatever you ask for, so don't feel like you're troubling him if you ask him for that extra t-shirt or the newest plushie in a collection you've been trying to collect.

There are a couple of different types of stores Jason always likes to go to first, assuming it's applicable. He always starts in makeup stores, mostly because Jason buys new makeup for himself since he does his own makeup a lot, but if you're a makeup wearer, or you're interested in getting into it, he'll buy you the stuff you like, or he'll recommend you something he thinks would look good on you and work for you. The other kind of store he would like to start in, if applicable as I said, would be jewelry stores. If you like jewelry, or if you let him buy it for you, he loves taking you to those stores and getting you new necklaces, bracelets, rings, or just whatever it is you enjoy, although it's not necessary if you don't enjoy jewelry. He wants to get you things he thinks you'd enjoy, or that you outright say you enjoy, so don't feel like you have to go look around a store just because he wants to. If you don't want to be in a store, neither does he.

After he goes to stores for himself, it's all you. Any store you want to go to, even just to browse, you can feel free to lead the way, and he's happy to follow along. I think he likes it this way the most because it allows you to show off to him all of the things you enjoy, which makes it easier for him to shop for you in the future whenever he surprises you with gifts. Also, unless you otherwise insist, Jason loves carrying your bags for you. He loves to be useful in any way he can, and so he will happily carry around anything you want him to get you, as he doesn't want you to tire yourself out, and it doesn't bother him at all considering he shops to the extremes for himself when he's alone. If you start getting hungry he's happy to take you to a food court, or if you'd allow him, you could finish up your shopping for the day and he'll take you out to a nice restaurant so you can sit down for a while after all that walking around. Jason really likes days like this, where he can really spoil you and learn more about you and your interests. He could stand in the same store for hours listening to you explaining things about clothes you like, or fandom items that might be in there, and he remembers all the little details you tell him. He doesn't always have the time to do these trips often, but whenever he's able he's more than happy to do them with you.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta headcanon #jason the toymaker #jason the toymaker x reader #jason the toymaker headcanon #jason the toymaker headcanons

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dpr-stay · 10 months

Text

Super-Fan | MV33

Max Verstappen x Badminton Player!Reader

No Warnings except a few swears

WC: ~4.5k

Oh boy, i love writing unserious fics about fully grown men like they’re awkward teenagers! They're just funny fellas your honour! Also can you tell I like writing dialogue?

Didn't edit and the writing style changed like six times, sorry!

The life of a professional badminton player can be described as a war between two factors: bankruptcy and passion. Well, less passion and more talent, to be completely fair. It didn’t matter if you had passion if you didn’t have any talent. The reason for this being it was virtually impossible to make any money as a professional badminton player unless you won tournaments or were able to take on thousands of brand deals.

Now, as a player with a considerable amount of talent but a huge lack of money, you had two options. You could either win more tournaments or take on thousands more brand deals. Of course, considering you were winning as many tournaments as you can, you had to choose the second option.

This meant you had taken brand deals with clothing brands, food delivery apps, animal shelters. In a time of desperation when you couldn’t even afford a coach you had even taken an opportunity to be an ambassador for a garbage collection agency, riding around on a garbage truck for a few days.

All of these deals meant you were moderately well known by the general public but incredibly well known in the small world of professional badminton players. Not only because of your brand deals though, but also your incredibly quick rise to being first place in many professional tournaments, even earning an Olympic Gold Medal for your country.

However, you still had to take on more brand deals. So, when your rich cousin came knocking on your door with a proposal to film a video for his F1 team about teaching him how to play badminton and you how to drive, you of course said yes.

I mean, who the hell would say no to Mercedes?

This is of course all build up to your current situation. Sitting in a badminton hall, which was full of people with cameras and various filming equipment, with your cousin sitting across from you in a chair. One of those fancy fold out chairs, you know, that should say director on the back.

You weren’t exactly sure how you were going to teach a professional driver how to be competent at playing badminton enough to where he’s good enough competition just as you weren’t actually sure how you were supposed to learn to drive in around an hour.

But that was a problem for future you, you thought as the camera men gave thumbs-up and George turned to the camera, PR face on.

“Hello everybody. I’m sure you’re wondering who I’m joined by and the answer to that is the most recent gold medalist for women’s singles badminton! Otherwise known as my cousin.” Ignoring the slight tease, you held up two thumbs up and smiled, albeit awkwardly, at the camera.

“Today I am hopefully going to become a pro badminton player.” He said and then turned to you. You both made eye contact and he signaled by moving his eyes for you to say something. You turned to the camera and clapped your hands together.

“And I’ll hopefully learn to drive and get my license.” You finished with a closed mouthed smile.

“Wait… you don’t have your license?” George asked and you turned back to him. Now aware of his shocked face, you slowly turned back to make eye-contact with the camera.

“No.” You slowly said. His large hand gently came into contact with your shoulder.

“You’re twenty five years old and you can’t drive?” He asked incredulously, you turning your head to now make eye contact with him.

“I’m a badminton player!” You tried to excuse, gesturing out with your hands and he shook his head, his mouth slightly open. His expression prompted you to try and explain.

“I can drive! Like I promise I can, I just don’t.” You tried to save, glancing between the camera and George.

“Yeah, because you don’t have a license!” He said, throwing his hands out, a grin threatening to spread across his face.

“I can leave. I can leave right now and cancel this whole thing.” You threatened, pointing down to the ground with what you hoped came across as power. George took a second to respond, steeling himself from laughing.

“How exactly would you leave?” He said, beginning to laugh. Your expression instantly changed into a stone cold one in response to his joke and you turned to the camera with a fed-up look on your face.

“Do you want a badminton lesson or not, you bastard?” You questioned him and he finally relented.

“Fine, fine. Shall we start?” He said and you nodded. After the cameras cut you both were quickly praised for how well you get along and your entertainment value before quickly being ushered onto a badminton court and handed rackets. The director quickly counted down before the lights turned on and the camera started recording.

George turned to you.

“We haven’t been given much direction so you’re just going to have to start teaching and hope it works out.” He smiled and you shot back a smile filled with as much joy as you were feeling.

“We haven’t been given any direction, so we’ll just get this out of the way. You know how to hold a racket, no?” You asked and George smiled guiltily.

“Maybe.” He shrugged, letting the racket drop from his grasp as he brought it up and clatter to the floor. You sighed and picked up the racket before giving it back to him.

“This is going to take a while.”

After roughly 45 minutes of the camera capturing you both making jokes and doing little Jim-from-the-office-esque cut away’s to look at the camera (and teaching George how to play badminton), George was ready to play a match.

You ducked under the net onto the other side of the court and held up the shuttle.

“I’ll take it easy on you, yeah? Can’t have you giving up the racket already.”

“Nah, I’ll be able to take it.” He dismissed, showing a smirk and waving his hands around. You deadpanned him.

“I think we should at least do one practice match.” He blew out air from his mouth in a mocking gesture and scrunched up his face.

“Nope! Do your worst, I’m sure I'll be able to beat you.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Or at least get a few points.” You tilted your head in question. He narrowed his eyebrows and sighed before admitting.

“I want to teach you to be able to drive.” You ‘ahh-ed’ and nodded before raising the shuttle again and nodding at him. He nodded back and you dropped the shuttle and hit it as a singles serve. George quickly moved closer to the net before gently hitting it over to you.

You, bearing in mind that he told you to do your worst, advanced quickly in footwork you’d practiced for over twenty-two years to quickly smash it straight onto the floor within bounds.

You made eye-contact with George through the net and saw him visibly gulp. You, then, turned to the camera and gave it a thumbs up before turning back and reaching under the net to scoop up the shuttle.

“I feel as though I’ve made a mistake.” He said and you huffed out a laugh.

“You asked an olympic gold level athlete to beat you at their game, it’s not going to go in your favour.” You fixed him an incredulous look and he just accepted what you said with a raised hand.

The game continued on, George not doing any better and you only continuing to prove your prowess at your sport. The ways in which George lost became increasingly more difficult to watch as the game went on, staff behind the camera having to muffle their laughs into their sleeves as George flailed around trying to return your hits.

It was down to the last serve of the match (score 20:0) and you geared up to do a fancy serve, aiming to land it just in the boundary line in order to make George run over to get it. Just as you released the shuttle, the door to the entrance of the gym slammed open, making both of you turn your heads to look at the intruder.

Max Verstappen was standing, still in shock, as he took in the sight of the Mercedes camera crew with many cameras pointed his way and the two players in front of him. He blinked as though coming out of a daze before awkwardly laughing.

“You alright mate?” George asked, focused on the guy in the doorway. While he was distracted you quickly tried to scoop up the shuttle, hoping George wouldn’t notice. “Oh yeah I’m fine.” The guy responded, his Dutch accent shining through in his words.

“I was just looking for Y/N.” You snapped your head to face him, ignoring George’s incredibly questioning look.

“Uhh yeah? Is something wrong?” You asked and the man bashfully (you read that right) turned to you. He seemed almost hesitant to speak.

“Can I talk to you after you’re done?” He asked, looking at your forehead to avoid looking at your eyes.

“Sure?” You said, questioning why the stranger who was also a world champion wanted to talk to you, and why he approached in the way a teenage boy approaches his crush.

He nodded and entered the gym, the door slamming behind him. He lumbered over behind the camera crew, holding some sort of bag and then just stood there and George made eye contact with you. You shrugged at the question in his eyes and the director cleared her throat, causing you both to look at her.

“We’ll start the take again, yes?” She asked and you nodded as did George before he paused.

“Wait, didn’t it fall to the ground?” All movement on the set stopped. You chuckled, albeit nervously.

“No, what are you talking about?” You asked, prepared to start gaslighting, a disbelieving expression on your face.

“I could’ve sworn you let go of it before… that happened.” He said, vaguely gesturing to the door, a grin beginning to spread on his face. You exhaled air and widened your eyes.

“Mate, I think we need to get your memory checked because I didn’t even let go of it.” You said, shrugging and George quickly glanced over to the staff.

“I’m not hallucinating this, no?” None of them replied. He frowned before saying. “We’re colleagues, you guys should have more allegiance to me than to my cousin.” He pleaded as you coughed whispering “Badminton Gold Medallist” very obviously into your fist.

He turned to fix you a glare.

“I am not hallucinating this. I think you’re lying.” You shrugged at his words, smirking.

“I don’t think so. I genuinely think you were hallucinating.” You said as you shook your head, staring at him in pity. He sighed before saying,

“How would your mum feel if she knew you were lying to me like this?” Oh he brought out the big guns.

“Ok, you’re right, I was lying. Please do not tell my mum.” You quickly admitted, holding up your hands and bowing your head. He started laughing as you quickly looked to the camera.

“My mother did not raise a liar.”

“You just lied.”

You snapped your head back to him.

“Irrelevant.” You pointed a finger in his direction and he started smirking, causing you to groan.

“Does this mean I get a point?” You groaned again and George started laughing as did the staff and camera crew. There was one loud laugh and, as you glanced in the direction of the camera crew, you realized it came from the intruder. What a weird turn of events. You had no idea why he was there or why he wanted to speak to you.

After his brief stint of feeling superior, George quickly served the shuttle in a way you could only describe as dramatic, only to hit it too short so that you got the point and you won the game. You shook his hand under the net, sarcastically thanking him for a fair game.

“Hey, I got that point fair and square.” He said, eyes wide and pointing at you.

“Sure you did, buddy.” You said and patted him on the back. He laughed and the camera crew cut the cameras. The driving part of the video wasn’t scheduled for another hour and it only took 20 minutes to get there and get set up, so the director called for a 30 minute break.

After this was announced George gestured at you to walk to Max Verstappen rather vehemently, so you did, cautiously approaching the man. As you approached he looked up from where he was focused on his phone, quickly turning it off and standing up to shake your hand.

“Hi.” He said, sounding almost breathless as he grasped your hand and shook it almost violently.

“Hi?” You responded, thoroughly confused but letting him continue his assault on your hand.

“I’m Max Verstappen.” He introduced, his eyes shining as he looked at you. You nodded, a small, disbelieving smile growing on your lips.

“Yes, I know who you are.” You replied and he inhaled air audibly.

“You do?” He asked, leaning a bit closer.

“You’re a bit hard to avoid.” You said before carefully tacking on “Not that I go out of my way to avoid you.”

“I’m kind of surprised you know who I am to be honest.” He said and you almost laughed at his humbleness. After a few seconds of him continuing to hold your hand he seemed to come to himself and let go of your hand. He cleared his throat before continuing.

“I don’t know if you know, but I’m a huge fan of yours.” You had not known that and wouldn’t have been able to guess that in a million years. But it definitely explained a few things

“Oh really? That’s cool, I’m flattered.” You smiled, realizing his incredibly odd behavior was him being star-struck.

“Uhh thanks.” He said before taking a deep breath.

“We started our professional careers around the same time, I don’t know if you know.” He started. “I know your parents always wanted you to be a badminton player, like how my dad always wanted me to be a driver, so I kinda connected to you on that.” You were surprised the man had so much to say, knowing of his usual reservedness or, in George’s words, ‘passive-aggressive-ness’.

“And then, when we started at the same time, I thought it was cool how we both kinda matched each other at how well we did in our sports. Like when I won the championship, you won gold. Yeah. I just thought it was cool.” After that huge speech he went back to looking at his feet.

“So you’ve been a fan for a while?” You prompted, finding his outburst cute. He looked up again to continue speaking.

“Yeah, I actually watched your Olympic final before the Hungarian GP, like before I had to get in the car!” He said happily and you paused for a second, a confused expression taking over your face.

“Didn’t you crash in that race?” You asked, a slight hesitation in your voice. Max frantically shook his head, laughing awkwardly.

“Uh no. Someone did crash into me though.” He said, emphasizing the ‘into’ as if trying to make sure you knew that he wasn’t a bad driver. You definitely knew though, the many texts you’d received over the years from George about the older man making sure that if you knew one thing about Max Verstappen, it was that he was a damn good driver.

You both descended into awkward silence as you sucked in air through your teeth and rocked back and forth on your feet. He wasn’t helping, after his correction he’d taken to clearing his throat and scratching the back of his neck. You opened your mouth to speak before closing it, having nothing to say except that this might’ve been one of the most awkward situations you’d gotten yourself into.

“I was wondering if you could sign some merch?” He quickly blurted out, snapping your eyes from the roof to his face. You could only nod as he took off his bag and opened it, revealing probably the biggest stash of your merch you had ever seen. You let out a quiet ‘wow’ as he started pulling stuff out and putting it on the chair he was previously sitting on, choosing not to comment on the way he flushed at your words.

His collection was expansive, there was team shirts from your first team, caps with your name on them, your country’s badminton jersey from the olympics with your name on it, a few banners, a badminton bag part of a collection you’d modeled for, and even more merch from all your brand deals. Did you know that you had a special edition of a garbage bag from that garbage company series or a pair of socks from a luxury sock brand? No, but Max definitely did.

He wouldn’t look at you as you took in the scale of all the items. He was probably single handedly paying your rent with the amount of stuff he had bought. You could only look on in awe at the magnitude. You kinda felt bad, you only had a cap with his name on it from a lame attempt to tease George at Secret Santa that backfired when the cap was launched at you and nearly knocked your teeth out.

“It’s not all, if you were wondering.” He said as he quietly stepped back from the pile and you turned to him, an heavily incredulous look on your face. You took note of George in the background of your vision, playing suspiciously on his phone, almost looking as if he was recording.

“Wow, you really are a fan.” Was the only thing you could manage to say as you stared at the array, stuff falling off the chair and onto the floor. You took a deep breath before slapping your thighs as you crouched down, grabbing one of the hats. You turned to look at Max.

“You got a pen?” You asked and he hastily retrieved one from his pocket and handed it to you. You chose not to address the way his hand lingered as it touched yours barely as he handed you the pen.

You signed the hat before reaching deeper into the pile, grabbing a shirt and signing it too. The cycle continued for a few items before you must have grabbed something that upset the pile and you were suddenly buried in your own merch. It’s always those closest to us we can’t trust.

The darkness encapsulated you and you tried to shake off the large mass, but your attempts proved unfruitful. After a few seconds you just resigned yourself to being buried in assorted items with your name plastered on it. I mean, when did you sponsor a lamp company and why was there a lamp with your badminton racket holding the lightbulb? How the hell did Max fit that in his bag?

After 30 seconds you saw light again, Max’s mortified face staring down at your splayed out form. His head was encapsulated by the stadium-grade lights and it was almost as if an angel was looking down at you from the heavens.

You tried to haul an arm up to hopefully pull yourself out, but you couldn’t move your arm. It was pinned down by a… was that a BearBrick version of you? You really have got to pay attention to the contracts you sign. Max eventually got the memo by the shifting plastic (?) and pulled the bear off of you, leaving you to sit yourself up rapidly with a gasp, like a swimmer getting their first breath after nearly drowning.

It took you a second to regain your senses, but when you eventually came back to normal you could hear three things. The silence that was permeating from the film crew who could only stare in barely-concealed horror, George’s raucous laughter as he struggled to hold his phone properly to capture you both, and Max’s rushed apologies, repeatedly muttering how sorry he was as he took your hand and hauled you so you were standing.

You took a second for your iron to stop fucking with you before you patted Max on the shoulder, him letting go of your hand in response and you leaned over to put your hands on your thighs, hanging your head forward before lifting it to see the catastrophe of your merchandise all over the floor.

Max hadn’t stopped apologising and you feared he might combust if you didn’t address it soon. You turned to him, taking in the way he was glaring at the floor and hadn’t stopped fidgeting with his hands, and you sighed. That only seemed to make him shrink in on himself, still apologising before you took his hand and almost dragged him across the hall, out towards the door he had entered the hall through.

There was a small paved walkway outside the hall, the pathway separated from the tin walls of the hall and the road beside the hall by two nice patches of greenery. There was a railing on the outside of the pathway and you leant back against it as you let go of Max’s hand and surveyed his form.

For a world champion, a man who should walk around full of pride, he really presented himself as quite small. Maybe that was just because of the circumstances, but he should be more confident in himself, you couldn’t help but think to yourself.

The way George had described him in his ranting sessions contrasted heavily as to how he was acting in front of you, all shy like. You wondered where the ballsy man who pushed people off track and didn’t really care went. If you were a two time world champion you’d walk around bragging about it everywhere you went.

‘Hey pretty lady, you want to go out? I’m a two time F1 world champion and I can make all your dreams come true!’ To be fair, that probably wouldn’t work on any self-respecting woman, but hey! There’s a lot of women in the world, Max could definitely pull at least one of them.

How did you get here? Your mind was just wondering about, you guessed. The man was attractive, so it did make sense you’d be thinking along these lines, but normally you have a three hour grace period where you decide if a man is a creep before thinking along the lines of if you want to… respectfully ponder his relationship status.

Max, unfortunately and probably against his wishes, had kinda come off as a bit of a creep, though you knew that if you told him that he would probably shrink in on himself like before and disappear. However, you still found yourself thinking about him like that. Maybe you found it cute, the way he was such a fan? Maybe you were just really flattered that such a famous person liked you so much? Maybe you just found his mannerisms really cute?

You didn’t know.

At this point it had been a minute or so of you both quietly standing there, Max having finally stopped apologising as you took his hand. You breathed out and Max’s eyes snapped to you.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know that would happen, I wouldn’t have brought everything if I’d have known. I shouldn’t have brought everything, it was too much. This is our first time meeting, this was probably so weird. I didn’t mean to weird you out, I’m sorry. I probably just embarrassed you in front of all of those people, you didn’t deserve that.” The unspoken ‘I just embarrassed myself in front of you’ was heard loudly in your head, as you stared dumbly at the man who had just poured out all of his worries in front of you.

He went silent again, leaving you with time to process all he had said. While yes, it was definitely a bit much for a first meeting, why did you find it sort of sweet? And, to be quite honest, you didn’t really care about embarrassing yourself in front of the crew. As despondent as it sounds, you’d done worse for less. You decided to tell him as such.

“Nah, you’re fine.” You said and he looked at you again.

“To be honest, I just pulled you out because I didn’t want you to be embarrassed.” He opened his mouth to speak but closed it at your words. A pause.

“I’m still really sorry about this whole thing, I shouldn’t have stopped by.” He said quietly.

“How would I have known that two time world champion Max Verstappen was my biggest fan then?” You teased and he shook his head, a small smile appearing on his face.

“It was cute honestly.” You said, and his head jolted up to make eye contact, shock plastered all over his face.

“It’s kinda sweet to know someone so respected has such respect for me.” You said quietly, looking to the floor, a smile spread across your face.

“Uhh yeah, I definitely have a lot of respect for you.” He said, clearing his throat. You then looked up at him, like really looked at him. You took a moment to decide something before continuing to speak.

“Would you like to go for dinner at some point?” You asked and Max looked as if he had been shot for a second before jolting out of it.

“Pardon?” He asked and you winced. Alright, message received. You just awkwardly waved it off.

“Oh nothing, just something stupid.” “No please, what did you say?” A tone of desperation took over his voice and he grasped your hand. You looked at his eyes, genuineness shining through then. Ok, one more shot.

“Would you like to go for dinner?” You asked and he immediately started nodding his head violently.

“Yes, I’d love to! Can I have your number so we can talk about it?” He asked, and reached into his pocket to grab his phone before coming back empty-handed. He groaned, realising his phone was still in the badminton hall and you laughed.

“Of course, you probably need your phone though.” Max looked over to you as though to say something sarcastic but stopped as he saw your smile. You pretended not to notice and went to open the badminton hall door.

“Are you ready to go back in?” You asked and he groaned.

“We’re going to have to pack it all up and face Russell.” He said, resignedly, and you laughed.

“Sounds like a good prelude to a dinner.” And he smiled, looking back at you.

“It does."

You did eventually learn how to drive, by the way. It just wasn’t from George teaching you.

get the title now (i don't know how to embed spotify links so this is what you get, sorry) also probably my worst work but oh well

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen one shot #formula one fanfic #formula one imagine #f1 fanfic #GEORGE RUSSELL AS YOUR COUSIN #i'm tired LOL #this is so bad lmao #don't call me out on mischaracterization #Spotify

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bookobsessedram · 2 months

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How the 141 celebrates Valentine's Day with their s/o A/N: This is late so please forgive me!

How the 141 celebrates V-Day

Ghost: I don't imagine him wanting a big spectacle, at least not for himself. But he would want to celebrate quietly with you. Flowers on the nightstand with a handwritten note, breakfast in bed (he practiced so many times so he wouldn't burn the food). He'll spend the day with you, binging rom-coms on the couch while you sit in his lap. He'll make you your favorite dinner at home and set the table with candles and rose petals. Ghost may not say it often, but through his actions you know just how much he loves you.

Soap: I picture Soap as a very outdoorsy person, so in my mind he wants to spend the day outdoors with you (but not in a sweaty, bugs everywhere kind of way). If the weather is nice he’ll have a picnic with you in the park, and will have made homemade chocolate strawberries, sandwiches cut into hearts, a bottle of wine and an obnoxious amount of sweets. If the weather is rainy or freezing cold, he’ll lay out the blankets on the floor and have a cuddle party! Soap will put on your favorite movie and let you ramble to him about anything and everything while he excitedly rambles back, the night ending with you in his arms and his hands running through your hair. He just loves spending time with you and being near you, and today is no exception.

Gaz: Kyle, like Ghost, doesn't make a big deal out of it, but he is so sweet to you all day (as if he isn’t sweet to you every other day). He'll have your favorite flowers on the table when you wake up (or delivered to your work if you have to work that day). He’ll cook you a homemade breakfast, treating you to the best pancakes/omelets/favorite breakfast food ever. In the afternoon (or whenever you like), he’ll give you a massage, using the time as an opportunity to pamper you and make you feel relaxed and calm from the feeling of his warm hands easing the tension in your body. Gaz will bend over backwards for you, and refuses to let you do anything that day unless it’s relax or give him a kiss.

Price: As the fandom has collectively established, the captain is fairly old-fashioned. He definitely takes you to a fancy, candle-lit restaurant, and he pulls your chair out and brings you roses like a gentleman (and he absolutely matches his pocket-square and tie to your outfit). He treats you to the best meal he can afford, and makes small talk with you over wine, complimenting you and kissing your hand over the table all night. When the two of you are done eating, warm and fuzzy from the wine and the meal, he takes you home and slow dances with you in the living room to your favorite song, twirling and dipping you as the two of you laugh and enjoy each other’s company. Price is nothing if not a romantic, and he loves to treat you like royalty.

#valentines day #x gn reader #call of duty #captain john price #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #kyle garrick x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #captain john price x reader #x gn y/n #ram writes

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drdemonprince · 3 months

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the housing crisis in the small city i live in is getting worse. my friends are moving but i need to be here a bit longer still. so i’m looking for a new apartment for me and my cat and i’m frustrated on top of being frustrated bc my brain wont let me lie to landlords and property managers.

nowhere i can afford allows pets. they want SO much fcking money, plus all utilities, plus deposits higher than the rent—and i still can’t have a small animal. i do not respect the concept or practice of landlord-ing but i keep getting this block around lying and terror about being caught. (also, my cat is not a chill silent baby all the time- he’s a big talkative fellow with shit to say sometimes, so being like *blink blink* “umm no cat here” while he breeoowwws in the background sounds really brazen to me).

i think this could be a very small gesture towards being ungovernable but it feels really big and somewhat impossible at the moment. any words of advice for moments like these?

Dog you can totally lie about not having pets and get away with it. If your landlord doesn't live in your building/if it's a big management company you are ESPECIALLY likely to be able to get away with it, because any maintenance person that gets sent to your unit to perform repairs won't have any access to the office files that list whether you are paying pet rent, and the person who processes new leases isn't the same person who processes rent checks ANYWAY, so there's like three layers of people not giving a shit and not looking into records they don't even have access to in the first place to protect you.

When I got my chinchilla, I carried him and his giant cage, food, and a huge pillow case sized bag of hay into the lobby of my building and walked it all right past the manager's office in broad daylight and nobody said a thing. At my next apartment, i also lied. At my third apartment after that, I also lied. At my current apartment I just didn't volunteer the information and they never asked. My chinchila litterally tears up the WALLS with his teeth and runs on a giant wheel made out of an industrial-sized cake pan that is advertised as "just as quiet as a small washing machine." He bangs around in that thang every NIGHT for hours and no neighbor has ever even complained about it. if it were a big dog barking all the time and being badly behaved, that would be one thing. but a cat meowing is like. nothing.

You can do this homie. For your sake in housing, in employment, and in interactions with our evil government you gotta work on your ability to lie. and this is a fabulous place to start. bost building managers that are showing apartments don't give a shit about you and are exhausted and annoyed all the time -- asking if you have pets is a quite throwaway question, not some CIA grilling where they're putting their high empathy lie detector skills on you.

they ask you if you have a pet, imagine that they are asking you whether your pet is going to be a problem. say no. collect the keys on moving day and bring the cat in, in a carrier, with all the other junk you're hauling and act completely bored and tired. you can get away with a LOT acting bored and blase and tired. unless your landlord lives with you, it won't even be an issue.

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royal-ruin · 4 months

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f1 fanfic recs (part 1) sebastian/lewis

other f1 fic rec lists here f1 fic rec masterlist here personal favorites are starred, by the way. everything is complete unless stated otherwise.

yay, i decided to start off with some sewis to spice up your day!

The Kingdom Lights Shine by ingoodcompany (~2k)

They have a loose sort of plan. For some nebulous future time.

And then Lewis wins his eighth World Championship.

Love Wins by 12romy (~3k)

Lewis and Seb have a plan, and nothing will stop them from carrying it out.

swoon over you by penelopes (~3k)

[The three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again. Then Seb’s message pops up. Do you want me to pretend to have an emergency and call you?

Oh, thank God. Would you??? Lewis quickly types out. He’s not bailing on the date if he has an emergency, right? No one would have to know.]

Or, Lewis is on an awful date and Seb comes to the rescue.

you don't know what you want (just tell me what i want) by blafard (~4k)

["You're not listening," Lewis says, but it's not mean. He's simply stating a fact, like that the sky is blue and that Lewis Hamilton is a winner and will collect his eighth championship before the year is over.

(Even though he likes to pretend that this year he's not so sure, and that this year has been different to all the others. Seb's retirement echoes in the space left between him voicing his insecurities.)

"I'm not," Seb agrees, unable to stop a small smile to slip over his lips.

Lewis hums. "You don't sound very sorry."

"I'm not," he agrees once again and then they're both laughing.]

or Seb retires and relearns to fall in love with racing and Lewis.

rumour has it by ambiguouspace (~4k)

It's 2021 and Sebastian Vettel isn’t driving in Formula 1. No one can figure out why he’s still hanging around the paddock every race, though.

aka Seb takes a year off to be an F1 wag.

this love is a strange love by bones_2_be (~4k)

Lewis has a bad crash, and the resulting concussion leaves him in rough shape.

In which Sebastian does what he can for Lewis in the immediate aftermath of a serious concussion.

stars by the pocketful by ohmygasly (singsweetmelodies) (~4k)

[Lewis holds out his hand, and Sebastian looks at him, clasps it, but then leans in to hug him without letting go of his hand (and Lewis can't help but pause on the fact that out of the whole grid, Sebastian only hugged him. Only him.)

Lewis closes his eyes, and leans into the touch just a little too much, cameras be damned. This is goodbye, this is the end of an era, and for all that he has always kept a brutal hold on his emotions - he thinks he can afford to let go, just a little, for this. For Sebastian.

Then, inevitably, Sebastian's hand slips out of his, and Lewis thinks, is this the last time? ]

Seb and Lewis: a first, a last, and then a first again.

he‘s been gone. now he‘s back. by grussell63 (~5k)

The internet goes from not seeing Sebastian Vettel and Lewis Hamilton for weeks to getting a bunch of content within a week.

or: Lewis appears at the Race of Champions in 2022 without even competing.

*slow show by ambiguouspace (~6k)

[Lewis is ten kilometres into his ride before his phone buzzes again.

It’s a bad idea to sleep with another driver, right? George’s message says, and Lewis almost falls off his stationary bike.]

Lewis hands out relationship advice. Eventually, Sebastian does too.

ugh one of the first fics that got me into this fandom and it makes me laugh every time.

with the certainty of tides by ambiguouspace (~6k)

[[Image of a magazine cover, with Lewis Hamilton in profile. Cover title “Lewis Hamilton finds his voice”]

Liked by jonathan.reid.94 and 561,205 others

mercedesamgf1 We’re incredibly proud of @lewishamilton and everything that he achieves on and off the track. Link in bio for his game-changing cover story with @britishgq ✊🏾🌈

View all 15,578 comments

mercedesamgf1 While we welcome respectful and constructive conversation, hateful comments on this post will be deleted.

3 hours ago] Lewis Hamilton comes out. The internet has some thoughts on the matter.

ugh i adore these unconventional format fics.

like today wants tomorrow by distressedgremlin (~8k)

One year after they have both retired, Sebastian and Lewis try Le Mans.

one of the tags is "what's more domestic than driving a 24-hour race with a third wheel" and i think it is an incredibly accurate description of this fic.

*come home to me by misonikomi (~18k)

Seb left a 40 million dollar contract to be at Mercedes, and has so clearly been delegated to the number two driver. He must have known how the team was going to treat him, as the new driver and as someone who hasn’t won the WDC in a few years. He had known, and had signed the contract anyways.

Lewis thinks about whether he trusts Seb, and what trust even means, for people like them.

just reread it cuz i completely forgot it, and oh my god, it has so much to do with lewis healing from the trauma that nico left behind in his wake.

Let's try something else by 12romy (~20k)

Seb is tired of the homophobia in F1. Thankfully, Lewis has a plan.

as always i am a sucker for fake/pretend relationship fics.

*The Numbering at Bethlehem by Kaytheologie (~26k)

Yale AU: in which Lewis is a Shakespeare professor, Sebastian is a math professor, and a fuckbuddies arrangement turns into more than either of them could have imagined.

it was truly a vibe to read it on a long train ride.

**the heartbeat is a hunger by withfeathers (~40k)

2019 FORMULA ONE SPORTING REGULATIONS

[Art. 34: BONDING Teams are required to register all bonds between drivers with the FIA at the beginning of each season. New bonds must be formally recognized through a bonding ceremony under supervision of at least one FIA representative [...].

Art. 34.1 [added on 1.01.1993] Bonds between drivers competing for different teams are prohibited.

I'm so unused to being - well, understood perhaps. - Vladimir Nabokov's first letter to his future wife, Véra]

when i say this fic fundamentally changed my brain chemistry i genuinely mean it. it is a must-read.

*Hard Year / Good Time / Socks Up / Foot Down by bestliars (~50k)

Sebastian is thirty-four years old. He went into the barriers on lap twenty-eight of the Azerbaijan Grand Prix. He doesn’t remember the crash. He remembers being twenty-five, getting ever closer to both the consecutive race win record and a fourth championship. Apparently there’s a lot he needs to catch up on. One pressing question: why is Lewis Hamilton asleep in the chair beside his hospital bed?

oh my god, one of my favorite fics of all time! i've read it twice even though it's pretty long by my standards.

unfortunately, i haven't currently read too many seblewis fics, feel free to recommend me any of your faves. i hope you find something to enjoy here!

btw, if the links to the other f1 fics don't work yet, it's cuz i haven't sorted it out yet haha, it'll prob take me a day to fully organize it.

#f1 fic rec #f1 fanfiction #f1 #sebastian vettel #lewis hamilton #fic rec list #seblewis #445 #544 #5/44 #44/5 #lh44 #sv5 #sewis #sewis fic #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction

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mishwanders · 1 year

Text

I Don’t Want To Set The World On Fire

Pairing: Albert Wesker x GN! Disabled Reader (cane user)

Warnings: Alcohol, soft smut oneshot with oral (reader receiving), spooning, and aftercare. Minors DNI.

Summary: An invitation to dance under the moonlight turns into something more.

Read On AO3 [ X ]

You sat there across from Wesker on the couch, feeling the alcohol warm your throat, loosening your tongue. It was late into the evening, yet you both were still wide awake, chattering away at whatever crossed your minds as you continued to drink the whiskey in your glass. Wesker sat back in his spot, arm resting lazily across the back of the couch as he sat there, listening to you, while taking a swig of his own drink.

“So you’ve never danced with anyone before?” Wesker asked

You shook your head, “No, being crippled kind of makes me the least likely choice when others have made their pick.” You confessed, “Besides, I prefer to be the one playing the music, I still get to participate and bring some happiness to those who can.”

“That’s a bit of a cop out.” He replied

You scoffed, “How so?”

“Because it doesn’t make you happy.”

“That’s not true - you’ve seen me play - so you know how much I enjoy it.” You shot back, triumphantly, before receding back into your seat. “It’s just, sometimes I wish that I could be someone's choice, you know?”

Wesker eyed you for a moment, pondering over his next move. He smiled as he stood up, holding his hand out to you in invitation. You looked up at him in surprise.

“May I have a dance then?” He asked

“We don’t even have any music.” You protested

“I beg to differ, you have a record player right there.” He replied, pointing at it on your tv stand. “Plus, once I move this coffee table, there’s plenty of space.”

You looked between him, the record player, and the coffee table and chuckled. “I’m not going to be able to convince you of this, am I?”

“Not even in the slightest.” He said, a smile appearing on his face once again. “So, what’s your answer?”

“Alright fine, but I get to choose the song!” You replied, placing your drink on the coffee table.

You took hold of his hand and he gently pulled you up while simultaneously picking up your cane from where it was resting on the edge of the couch, placing it under your hand before proceeding to push the coffee table out of the way. You walked around him and over to the otherside of the room, rummaging through the hefty collection of records until you found a particular one with the sleeve turned a shade of tan from its once paper white. The band on the cover were all dressed in suits, one holding an acoustic guitar with the words “The Ink Spots” over them. You pulled out the record and placed it on the player, placing the needle on the song you thought would be best for the occasion.

The tune of the guitar intro to “I Don’t Want To Set The World On Fire” began to play and Wesker chuckled, finding the song to be of choice. He walked closer to you, closing the gap, wrapping an arm around your waist and removing the cane from your hand, resting against the tv stand. He pulled you even closer to him, attempting to help you stay stabilized.

“Go ahead, step up.” He instructed

“Not afraid I won’t crush you?” You asked

“No, I’m stronger than you realize.” He said

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You brought your hands up to his shoulders, holding on as he lifted you up slightly, until you were on the top of his feet. Wesker took your right hand in his and began to sway gently with you to the rhythm of the song. You held onto him tightly, getting used to the motion, trying to stay balanced against him. Wesker looked into your worried eyes, a reassuring look on his face.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

You felt the heat rise to your face at his words, as you continued to peer into his eyes. Care was not something that was always afforded to you, rarely considered a priority unless absolutely necessary. But Wesker made it a point to always look after you, with every movement, every placement of his hand on your body to ease some of the pain, doing what he could to dispel any of your worries.

You’d wondered how you’d gotten so lucky to have him in your life. Regardless, you knew one thing for sure - you didn’t want to let him go.

The two of you continued to sway to the music, growing closer and closer to each other in time, lips inches apart, gently drifting into the other until the lines were blurred. You put your hands around his neck, taking your chance to kiss him. Wesker hummed into it, pressing even closer into you, his desire pulling you in deeper.

The music stopped and you both pulled away, breath caught in your throat, heart pounding like a drum in your ear. Before he even had a chance to speak, you let go of his neck and reached out for your cane, stepping off of him. You let the other hand glide down his arm, taking his hand in yours.

Neither of you spoke, but it seemed as if Wesker had read your mind. He guided you out of the living room and into the bedroom, settling himself on the edge of the bed, moving your cane over to the side as you settled yourself in his lap, straddling over him, hands caressing his face as you peered into his eyes. He wrapped an arm around you again, his other hand placed along the edge of your hip.

“Let me know if something feels painful.” He said

“Alright.”

The two of you quickly fell back into it, lips crashing into the others, both tasting the faint hint of whiskey that was left behind on each other's tongues. Both of your hands began to wander each other, grasping and tugging the barrier of clothes away, no longer wanting to continue to stay hidden from the other.

Wesker pulled away from your lips, trailing kisses down your jaw and neck, nipping at the skin as he continued to make his way down your body, down your shoulders and to your chest. Your hands were entangled in his hair, pulling at the nape of his neck as soft moans escaped your lips. Wesker loved to hear it, knowing that it was all because of him. He encouraged it more with each whisper of praise against your skin, causing you to flush even more by the sound of his voice alone.

Wesker's hands began to roam you again, finding their place on your thighs, caressing them gently. For a man with so much power in his hands, he knew how to handle you with care, causing you to melt with ease into every touch, knowing that he wouldn’t harm you in that moment. Wesker looked up into your eyes and you could see the unspoken question swimming within them.

“I’ll be okay, you can lift me.” You stated

He smiled and pressed your chest against him, keeping a strong grip along your thighs as he picked you up and turned you around, crawling onto the bed and placing your back to the cool surface. You arched your chest back up into him in defiance of the cold, but Wesker took the opportunity to slide a pillow underneath your hips. You allowed your body to fall back down to the bed, holding him close to you for warmth. Wesker chuckled as he placed another kiss on your lips, before breaking away once again.

“Comfortable?” He asked

“Just as long as you stay close, the sheets are too cold.” You replied

“Don’t worry, they won’t stay that way for long.” He commented

You felt yourself flush again at his words, seeing a grin appear across his face, knowing he noticed it too.

“Don’t be shy with me now.” He said

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulled him closer.

“Just shut up and kiss me, please.” You begged

Wesker wasn’t one to refuse when you asked so nicely. He did as you asked, planting his lips on yours again before trailing down your body, causing your stifled groan to erupt into a soft laugh at the sensation of his soft lips grazing across the sensitive skin along your sides and stomach.

“Where are you going?” You asked

“I think you already know where.” He replied, settling himself towards the edge of the bed, right in between your thighs.

Wesker trailed kisses along the soft skin of your thighs, his eyes watching you as your breath began to deepen, feeling you relax into his hands as his lips finally met their destination. His hot breath danced across you as his lips connected with your sensitive skin, tongue twirling along the length of you, coercing all of his favorite sounds from you.

Your hands gripped onto the sheets as he continued to pleasure you, his name pouring past your lips in whispered moans, filling him with a sense of pride, knowing that he was the only one that could make you feel like this. Wesker continued to do what he knew best, drawing you closer and closer with each movement, each stroke of his tongue, of his lips. He listened to you, learned what you did and didn’t like, taking care to note how your moms ebbed and flowed like a river out of you with each and every change.

It was like music to his ears, a song he never wanted to end.

Your hands began to search for him, needing to touch him. You entangled your hands in his hair, grip growing tighter as you began to grind yourself into his mouth, feeling his moans vibrating against your skin.

Your breath grew quicker as you came closer to losing yourself, completely absorbed in chasing your own high, in complete disregard of every other sensation.

Something Wesker noticed.

He tapped your hip, causing you to let go of his hair. He released you from his mouth, moving over you to see the confused, pained look on your face. You had pushed yourself too hard.

“Dearheart, you know you were supposed to tell me.” He said

“I wasn’t thinking about it.” You replied, eyes slamming shut. “Shit!”

Wesker rolled over to your side, helping remove the pillow from below you. He then wrapped his arm around your waist and gently pulled you close to him, allowing your back to rest against his chest. You pulled the pillow back, this time placing it in between your legs, relieving some of the painful pressure. Wesker placed a kiss on your shoulder, gathering your attention once again.

“Do you want to continue?” He asked

“Yes.”

“Then I need you to communicate with me.” He said

“I will.” You replied, “I promise.”

He planted another kiss, this time on your neck.

“Good.”

Wesker reached behind him, over to the drawer. He fumbled around with it until he was able to get out the bottle of lube, proceeding to apply it liberally where needed before lining himself up to you and sliding in.

You held your breath as the sensation of him slowly easing in, feeling him stretch you out. Once he was as far as he could go, he placed his hand on your hip, waiting for the okay. You rested your head back against him and whispered -

“I’m alright. You can go ahead.”

His pace started out slow as he waded through the waters of your pain tolerance, watching what once was a grimace of suffering turned into the face of pleasure once again. That’s when he quickened his pace, snapping his hips into yours harder as his desire for you pulled at him, chasing his own pleasure with you.

“You feel so good dearheart.” He whispered, snaking his hand away from your hips and between your legs.

His praise almost sent you over the edge, his hand helping you closer to you. You placed your own over his, guiding him to stroke you just the way you liked.

“I’m okay, just please don’t stop.” You begged, “I’m so close.”

You felt your heart pounding harder in your chest and your breath grew quicker, drawing out with each movement of his hand, his hips, every moan and word of praise that escaped past his lips, entangling with your own. It didn’t take much longer before you felt yourself unravel under his careful touch, meddling and blurring every line of your body with his. Weskers followed quickly in line with you, unable to contain himself for much longer.

The two of you laid there together for a moment, recollecting yourself as you came back down from it all. You turned your head, looking up at him.

“I’m sorry, I got carried away.” You said

“It’s okay, that’s why I look after you too.” He replied, “why don’t we get cleaned up?”

You nodded and he got up off of the bed, placing his arms under your back and legs, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck before he proceeded to pick you up and carry you away into the bathroom.

Once inside, he settled you down on the edge of the tub, proceeding to get the shower ready. When the water was warm enough, he helped you in, allowing you to sit on your shower stool in front of him, proceeding to help the other clean up between lingering kisses. When you were both finished with the shower and dried off, Wesker picked you back up again, carrying you back to bed with him.

Wesker pulled you into his arms, holding you close against his chest as you snuggled up close to him, enveloped in his warmth, melting into him as sleep began to overtake you.

“Goodnight, Wesker.” You whispered

Wesker leaned down, pressing a kiss on top of your head, a gentle smile on his face.

“Goodnight, dearheart.”

Author’s Notes: The original version of this super self indulgent fic came from a Leon x oc fic I wrote forever ago. Since I’ve deleted that one, I wanted to remake and improve a specific chapter from it, because I personally loved it, just not with those characters any more. I’ve written some disabled smut in the past with Chris, Leon, Jill, Carlos, and even Heisenberg, so I’ve rewritten this with one of my other favorites - Wesker. I hope y’all enjoyed it!

#spicy writing: albert wesker #albert wesker #stars wesker #albert wesker x you #wesker x reader #wesker x you #dbd wesker #dead by daylight wesker #albert wesker x reader #wesker #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fic #Albert wesker x gn reader #Albert wesker x male reader

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