#I have to listen to every little thing that my family members say and not disagree about anything they feel strongly on. It’s

[doberbutts]

Me: it's important to teach boy children consent and autonomy, here is a direct example of this in my autistic nephew and how his social behavior improved because I directly showed him how much the consent and autonomy of his probably-also-autistic little sister matters when she was afraid to hug me because I was a big scary man she didn't know

Person who heard the word "boy" and turned off their brain:

Once again I will say this is basic, basic, basic feminism that people act like is the absolute worst thing in the world because God forbid we try to fix the problem of male violence statistics by starting with teaching children how to be better than we were raised. This is an established feminist talking point because you will not improve anything unless you teach both the girls AND the boys that consent matters.

Yes, absolutely, by showing two scared little children that a strange man wasn't going to touch them without their permission, I was directly teaching my nephew that he can grow up to be a rapist and serial killer. You caught me red-handed in my dastardly plan to ensure that every little boy grows up this way.

Anyway I deliberately used the phrasing "don't teach [my niece] that she has to let strange men touch her" because both of my sisters, myself, both of our parents, and several members of our extended family have had incidents where we felt forced to let strange men touch us and have lasting trauma from that. And I probably got it the easiest because at least I was listened to when I realized what was happening and went to a different adult for help. The man in question having just been arrested for assaulting someone else a few weeks prior to this conversation with my sister where she was forcing her daughter to hug me, which my sister knew about because she's the one who told me he was arrested. That's why she understood my point and stopped dragging her daughter over to me.

[vivwritesfics]

Petit Monstre

Lando Norris + Y/N Leclerc = In Love

LandY/N + Charles Leclerc = One very angry big brother

2.1K

Lando Norris x Reader

Masterlist

"Are you a member of the Leclerc Family? Have you had to put up with these jokers for your entire life? Well you could be entitled to compensation."

Y/N Leclerc had her arms crossed over her chest, sunglasses covering her eyes, as she gestured back at her brothers. It had been incredibly difficult to get Charles and Lorenzo to participate, but Arthur had helped her to convince them.

"Call today and we at the Leclerc Justice Foundation could make you filthy, stinking rich."

The Leclerc brothers nodded their heads, sending sunglasses from the top of their heads to in front of their eyes.

The video was one of Y/N's most viewed on Instagram. It was hilarious, showing off exactly how much fun her brothers were. Y/N spent all of her time following Charles and Arthur around the world.

Her brothers were her everything. Y/N spent more time than she should have in the Ferrari garage with Charles. As his baby sister, she was his everything. Charles didn't bring his WAG to the races, he brought his little sister.

"What's up, Mon petit monstre?" Said Charles as Y/N walked over to him.

She pulled his hat from her head and placed it on her own. "Charlie," she said as she sat in the chair beside him. The hat was much too big on her head, sliding forward over her eyes. Y/N pushed it back and looked at her brother. "Do you think maman would kill me if I got a tattoo?" She asked her older brother.

"If she doesn't, Lorenzo will," Charles answered and went back to scrolling through his phone.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N draped herself over his back. "I ditched Arthur for you, you know," she muttered, giving him back his hat. "Think I made a mistake."

"No, you didn't. I'm way more fun than Arthur is and you know it," he said, finally turning to give her attention.

The youngest Leclerc sibling loved following her brother around Formula One. Mainly, she loved his friends, the other drivers she saw walking around the paddock. Of course, Charles had that rule around the paddock: No going near his little sister.

Everybody listened to that rule, everybody but Y/N. She didn't listen to her brother because, well, where was the fun in that.

Y/N avoided Max and Pierre. She wouldnt dare flirt with them. They were Charles' best friends and the first people he would murder. So, her next target?

Lando Norris was interesting to Y/N Leclerc. She had no other word for it, just interesting. Different from anybody she'd met before. Full of life and excitement. Y/N didn't know much about him until her brother introduced them (And then threatened Lando's life when he was caught flirting).

What Charles didn't know was that the flirting had continued behind his back. And Y/N was loving every second of it.

"Danny thinks I should get a tattoo," Y/N said, somewhat bitterly. "He thinks I should get a little cat on my hip."

Charles gave her something close to a glare. "No, Y/N, you're not getting a tattoo," he said, putting an end to the conversation.

But Y/N didn't much care about what her brother was saying. Not when none other than Lando Norris walked past. Her eyes snagged on his body, but she didn't let her gaze linger.

Her brother could never know. That was what the fun was, keeping things a secret from her brother. There was a certain thrill that came along with keeping things hidden. The less Charles knew, the better.

Arthur Leclerc had always prided himself on knowing Y/N the best out of all of the brothers. This wasn't entirely true though. He was slightly too young to be as protective if Y/N as Charles and Lorenzo were. He pulled her hair and pushed her around while Charles and Lorenzo helped her to cross the street. Arthur thought the most, but he didn't know quite as much as Charles and Lorenzo.

Arthur, though, was the first to work out about Y/N and Lando. Well, it was less working out and more accidentally walking in on the both of them post coitus.

It had taken Y/N a lot of time, money and love to stop Arthur from spilling everything to Charles and Lorenzo. She knew what would happen; they'd go into crazy protective brother mode and send her back to Monaco to be watched over by their mother.

If Arthur, Charles and Lorenzo got their way, Y/N would never date. She had to hide her first couple of boyfriends from her brothers, which sucked because a few of them were only with her to meet the Charles Leclerc.

While Y/N was watching Lando, her gaze a secret, Lando was staring at her through her sunglasses. He was too busy staring, almost running into a wall as he did so. They were supposed to meet later that night and Lando couldn't wait.

"Do you think you could go and bother somebody else?" Asked Charles as Y/N stole his hat yet again.

Y/N shook her head. But when she put her finger to her head in mock thought. "Well, I guess I could go and bother one of your friends, then," she said. "Maybe Carlos or Pierre or Esteban," she teased and walked away.

The fact that Charles didn't see his little sister for the rest of the day was... worrying. She was off doing god knows what, disturbing whoever. At least she wasn't causing chaos in the Ferrari garage anymore.

Y/N checked her phone. A text from Arthur, using their secret code, asking if she was seeing 'You-Know-Who' tonight. She messaged him back a quote from Harry Potter and then answered his question. Yes. Yes she would be seeing 'You-Know-Who' tonight. She'd be seeing him right now, in fact.

Hands covered her eyes. "Guess who," said a voice.

"Oh Carlos! I've been waiting for you all day!" Y/N cried and turned around, a wide smile on her face.

When she saw Lando standing there, her smile dropped. But it didn't last long. The smile was back on her face as she stepped into his embrace. "Hey," she said in a singsong voice as she looked up at him.

"Carlos, huh?" Lando tightened his grip on her, rocking from side to side as he held her.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders and struggled her arms out of his grip. She wrapped her arms around his neck and played with his hair. "Just wanted to piss you off," she said and kissed him.

Lando refused to let go of her. "So, we on for tonight?" He asked, releasing his grip slightly.

As Y/N nodded her head, her phone went off. She reluctantly stepped away from Lando and answered her phone. "What the hell do you want?" She snapped at her older brother.

"Just wondering where you are, mon petit monstre," Charles answered.

Turns out Charles started to worry while Y/N wasn't causing chaos in the Ferrari garage. She was either missing or getting bad ideas from Danny.

"I'm fine," she somewhat snapped. "I'll be back soon." Hanging up the phone, Y/N placed it back in her pocket and turned to Lando. "Sorry, Lan," she muttered and wrapped her arms back around his neck. "I've got to go before Charles comes looking."

Lando let out a sigh and kissed her. "Okay. I'll meet you in your hotel room later," he said and kissed her once again. Lando released Y/N and walked away. She waited one minute before following him.

***

Y/N waited in her hotel room, sat on her bed in her favourite set of underwear. It was black with little neon yellow/green stars on it. The same neon yellow/green as Lando's LN4 logo.

There was a knock at her hotel room door. A specific knock that she and Lando had come up with so they knew it was them and nobody else. After the knock the hotel room door opened and Lando stepped in (Y/N had given him her spare key card).

"Wow," said Lando as he stepped into the room. "Wow, wow, wow." He pushed the door shut behind him and leaned against it. "How did I get so lucky?"

"Just shut up and come here," she said and grabbed a hold of him. Y/N pulled him close and pressed her lips against his.

Lando was underneath her, his shirt off as they made out. His hands roamed her body touching her waist and running his hand down her back, towards her ass. "My god," he muttered as he pulled away. "You're incredible."

"I know," Y/N said and returned to kissing him.

Suddenly, there was a knock at her door. Y/N and Lando froze. "Y/N? It's Charles!"

"Shit, fuck, shit!" Y/N whispered as she jumped away from Lando. She grabbed his shirt and pulled it on as Lando climbed off of the bed. "Hide somewhere!"

"Where?"

"I don't know!"

They were frantic, running around to try and make things look normal. Y/N made the bed look as though she had just climbed out of it while Lando hid on the floor beside it. The bed was between him and the door hiding his body.

Running to the door, Y/N checked one last time that everything was normal and pulled it open. "Hey, Charlie," she said, breathless. "What can I do for you?"

Charles walked into the room and sat on Y/N's bed. "Something's up with you," he said and looked at his sister. "There's something you're hiding and you've got Arthur in on it too."

But then Charles took a closer look at what Y/N was wearing. "Is that an LN4 shirt?"

"Maybe," she said and looked away from her brother. "I think Lando's merch is cool."

Charles shook his head. "Just tell me what's going on with you, please! I'm worried about you!"

"Well don't be! I'm a big girl and I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," she said.

There was a sneeze, a sneeze neither of the Leclerc siblings let out. Charles looked around the room. "Is somebody else here?" He asked and stood up.

"No!" Y/N cried, rushing over to the other side of the bed. Where Lando was hiding. Probably a bad idea, considering Charles now knew exactly where to look.

He stared for a full minute at the McLaren driver laying on the floor. "Lando," he said and gently kicked his foot. "What are you doing here?"

Lando was laying face down. It looked rather uncomfortable, but Charles wasn't ready to let him up just yet. "What are you doing here in my sisters room?"

Lando didn't answer.

"Lando?"

The McLaren driver pushed him up into a more comfortable position. "Oh, hey, Charles. What're you doing here?"

"I have every right to be here, you?"

"I..."

Y/N grabbed a hold of her brother. "Charles, he's dating me. We're dating."

Charles got up and left the room.

"Well, that went brilliantly," said Lando as he finally got to his feet. But Y/N was just staring at the door. At the door her brother had just left through. "Y/N?" He said, placing a hand on her back.

She just kept staring at the door. "He hates me."

"No, he doesn't."

"Yes, he does."

Y/N didn't speak to her brother until the next day, when she was down in the Ferrari garage, trying to get her to speak to him. "Come on Charles, you're overreacting," she said as she sat beside him.

"He's not going to talk," said Carlos as he came to sit beside her, sandwiching her in between the two Ferrari drivers.

Y/N turned her attention towards the Spanish driver. "Did he tell you?"

Carlos shook his head. "Lando did," he answered. "He's very happy."

Suddenly, Charles sat back and looked at his little sister. He stared at her, his green eyes staring into her soul. "Do you really love him?" He asked.

Y/N nodded her head. "Yeah, Charlie, I really do."

"Does he love you?"

"Yes!" Carlos answered for her.

Charles relaxed. He placed his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling. "I'm going to say this one time and one time only, you and Lando have my approval. If he ever does anything to hurt you, Arthur, Lorenzo and I will murder him."

"That works for me."

[lure-of-writing]

His little sister

Summary: Azriel point of view of the things you do as Rhysands little sister (This should be read only after reading all in a days work and knock before you enter otherwise it probably won't make any sense as you need the know what happened in the other two for this to make sense )

word count: 2.5 k

Note: Hello! For a while I was stumped on how to continue the little sister series so boom! I present to you Azriel's pov. I would love to hear what you guys think about having things from this perspective also! please don't be shy and let me know!

The playful touches and not so subtle glances across the room paired with the seductive bit of your lip as it lifts into a forbidden smile is not lost upon the spymaster of the night court. In fact everything you did never went unnoticed by him. As Rhysands little sister he was more or less forbidden from having any relationship with you that was purely platonic or sibling-like. Much to the high lord's irritation, once you learned of the rules set in place for the general and the shadow singer, you had made it your own personal mission to see just how much you could get away with. Just how far could you bend the rules before your older brother snapped? 

Azriel was well aware of the game you played in hopes of causing your brother a small amount of distress. Unfortunately for him, he respected his high lord and his wishes to much to counter your advances with some of his own but that doesn’t mean he can’t help you accomplish your lifes works of making your brother rub his temples with a long sigh and a shot of whiskey or which ever bottle of alcohol appeared before him first. 

It had been just a few short weeks after your fifteenth birthday when you had learned about the guidelines Rhys had set for the two other males in your family. Being told what to do never sat well with you, neither did being told who you can and can’t do things with. At first your reaction was to find your brother and argue with him until he couldn’t think straight but when you were on the way to his office you bumped into your favorite member of the bat boys.  Azriel was leaning  against the wall of Rhysands office waiting for his meeting with Helion when you were stuck with a brilliant idea. “Az?” his hazel eyes shifted from the dark oak doors to where you stood in the middle of the hall. “Yes?”  as soon as the word had left his mouth he knew you were up to something. It was the way your eyes lit up in excitement and you shuffled over to him with hurried steps. Huddled close to his body you beaconed him to lean down so you could whisper in his ears. Wordlessly he follows your commands. “Would you like to help me make Rhys question why he was blessed with being my brother?” 

The sly smile and trouble that brewed in your eyes was enough to get him to say yes. Not like he could ever say no to you in the first place but that wasn’t important. From that moment on he would allow you to flirt with him and crawl into his lap with no rejection. This drove Rhysand up a wall. He said that they could not try to flirt with you but you never said anything about it being the other way around and you had taken full advantage of that each and every single time the opportunity presented itself. 

Family dinners amongst the inner circle were never an uncommon thing but since everything that transpired over the last fifty something years had the family dinners becoming a more common tradition. After dinner talks and catching up had been moved to the living room. Silently Azriel sat by himself, listening to his family talk. Perfectly content with listening rather than speaking. While Cassian went on this third rant about why he was certain that he could fight Bryaxis, if and big if here, they weren’t so scary looking, when you had gotten up from where you were sat next to Mor on the floor. He watched as you left the room and not even a second later his shadows informed him that you were getting another wine. 

His attention shifted from his brother onto you when you had reentered the room with a glass full of wine and strutted over to him and made yourself comfortable in his lap. Az would never admit it but the feeling of your arm draped over his shoulder and playing with his hair was one of his favorite feelings in the world. As your body leaned into his, the temperate difference between the two of you became very apparent to the shadowsinger. Without thinking he placed his much warmer hand on your freezing and goosebump covered leg to help warm you back up. The slit in your dress had done nothing to help keep you warm. 

Without saying anything he watched as his brother marched his way over to where you had chosen to sit, also known as Azriels lap. He watched as Rhys reached his hand out in hopes of pulling you off of closest friend and he watched as Rhysands face morphed into one of confusion to anger as Azriels wings furled around you to keep your brother from grabbing you from him. If there was one thing that the shadowsinger knew with one hundred percent certainty, it was that you could handle yourself. The context didn’t matter, you could always handle yourself. So while you and your brother went back and front he mindlessly began to rub comforting circles where his hand had found purchase on your leg. And once Rhysand had made his way back to his mate, he had leaned down and pressed his lips against your hairline. “You are a menace” giggling you smile up at him before shrugging and taking a sip of your forgotten wine. 

Visiting the court of nightmares was never something that brought Azriel much joy. More often than not he was watching for any threats against his high lord's life, now he had to worry about his high lady also. It wasn’t as if Azriel wasn’t capable of handling such a task but when you had revealed that you would also be in attendance, it brought Azriel another level of stress. He knew that you could handle the court politics and the volleyball of words sent back and forth with hidden messages. Hell you had even been trained by all three males and Morrgian. You were more than capable of looking out for yourself but there has always been a part of Azriel that couldn’t rest when he knew you could be in danger at any moment. 

Now the notoriously quiet male, while known for not saying much, always had something to say when it came to you. There was no comment too small that you made that didn’t get an answer from Az in return.  As you finally made your way down the staircase to your awaiting family Azriel had just about a thousand thoughts and compliments he could give you at any moment. While your brother had a meltdown in the background all Azriel could focus on was you and as you made your way down the last few steps he reached his hand out helping you the rest of the way down. Shamelessly he looked you up and down not caring that your brother just might beat his ass for looking at you in such an outfit. Once his eyes reached your, you sent him a wink and beaming smile. Az could tell that you had wanted to ask him what he thought of your clothing choices but decided that dealing with your brother would be the best idea  before he dragged you back up the stairs himself and forced you to change. 

While at the place of nightmares the shadows that sung to Azriel hung close to his body, only leaving to secretly watch over you and make sure you were ok. For most of the night all was well, at least as well as things can get in the court of nightmares. That was until his shadow came back to inform their master of the predicament that had presented itself to you. He watched from afar as you pushed your way out of the crowd and towards himself. Pushing off of the pillar he was once perched against he made his way towards you. Az’s blood began to boil when he watched the random fae male wrap his arms around your waist and pulled your body into his. In two long strides he was in front of the strange male and yourself, demanding he release his grip on you or he would do it for him. There wasn’t a part of Azriel that enjoyed the violence he brings upon those he was tasked with gathering information from but holding truth teller to the male's neck did in fact bring him joy. 

Upon your release he guided you back to where he was previously standing to make sure you were ok and that the random male didn’t inflict any harm to you. After his thorough evaluation of your body met his standards he returned his gaze to meet your and suddenly your cold hand was pressed against his warm cheek and the burn of the two temperatures had never felt so nice before. Once again your hand had found its resting place in his hair and your lips on his and Azriel swore hes never felt something as soft as your lips on his.  As soon as your lips had met his, Az knew he was in for a whole world of pain when Rhysand got his hands on him but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Az recently pulled away when he felt the anger of his high lord coming at him with the purpose of making him bow to the power radiating off of Rhysand. “We should probably get out of here before he kills you.” looking down he saw the mischief twinkling in your eyes and he positive nobody can pull off that look quite like you can. The wink you sent over your shoulder as you grab his hand pulls him out of the trance you had put him in. Willingly Azriel followed your lead out of the ball room while you bumped into his arm periodically. “Honestly he just might kill us both.” he felt you mumble into his shoulder as you hid your face and laughter in his body. Chuckling he couldn’t help but agree before winnowing you back to the house of wind. 

After Rhyand had actually considered beating the shadowsinger to a pulp your usual antics had dwindled in frequency which saddened Azriel more than he was willing to admit. During training you kept clear of him in case your brother didn’t approve of you even looking in his general direction and it had been almost two weeks since he had last talked to you for more then five minutes and honestly it was starting to drive him crazy. After a family dinner consisting of you, Nesta, Cassiand and himself he finally approached you. “You're going to the Summer court tomorrow right?” As the resident know-it-all he already knew your answer but he waited nonetheless “Yes?” Azriel watches as you place your book in your lap to give him your full attention and he swears he could bask in it forever. “I’m not doing anything for the next week, would you like me to go with you?”  The beaming smile you sent him was confirmation enough. 

That's how he found himself in your room the next morning helping you get ready. You had asked his opinion on basically every piece of your outfit and Azriel had never been so happy to assist someone put together their clothes for the day. After you had pulled all the needed pieces of clothing from your closest you held up the corset you picked for him to see. “I’ll need your help putting this on.” And that's how once again Azriel feared Rhys would consider pummeling him once more. 

Not once during Rhysands withering glare did Azriel stop pulling the strings of your corset until they were tight enough and only then did he gently pull the strings into a bow before removing his hands from your body. After finishing his assigned task Az thought it was best to leave the siblings to deal with each other and he would wait for you on the rooftop to begin your journey to the summer court. Only after he could assume was a long lecture from your older brother on being safe did the two of you join him on the roof. “I swear if a single hair on her head is out of place I will kill you.”  As much as Azriel wanted to laugh at the worn out sound of his friend he simply nodded his head before acknowledging what he said. 

The week in the summer court with you felt more like two days. Any time with you never felt like enough. On the way back Rhysand had talked to him and you that he wanted a debrief before you did anything upon your return. Gently he set you back on the ground once he had landed in front of the river house and he already missed the feeling of your body on his. He really wished and in that moment that he never agreed to those rules Rhysand had set for him and Cassian all those hundred of years ago. 

The silence that engulfed the room would make anyone who didn’t know the two males squirm from how uncomfortable it was, but these two males had dealt with much more stressful problems and had sat in more silence than the average people did. Azriel knew that lately your antic had been pushing the line but he had never stopped you nor had he ever thought too. Mainly because he didn’t want you too but also in fear that if he asked you to stop you would never come to him again. “Truly Rhys there is nothing going on between me and your sister. You and I both know she only does this to get under your skin and she does that very well. As long as it bothers you then she will keep doing it. You know this.” 

After a long and much needed talk Azriel made his way to the stand outside of the river house collecting a much needed breath of fresh air while he came to terms with his conversation with his oldest friend. A few moments pass before you come waltzing out of the house as if you had accomplished some great mission. “Maybe next time he’ll knock” Azriel knew exactly what you were talking about and couldn’t help but laugh at what you said. He didn’t need to ask you what you did as the one shadow that always kept you company told him all about what you had just done to your brother and his poor unsuspecting mate. Without another word Azriel scooped you into his arm while pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. Gods he wished this wouldn’t be the last time he felt your skin against his lips.

Rhysand had asked him to put a stop to your behavior towards him. Not that you made the shadowsinger uncomfortable, gods no, you could never do that. It was just you were your brother's pride and joy and he refused to let the males he considered his brothers to be the reason your heart broke. Rhysand would never be able to forgive or look at Azriel the same and he knew that. Azriel just wished the golden string tying the two of you together didn’t have to be hidden from everyone including you.

Taglist: @kemillyfreitas @gorlillaglue25 @willowpains

[flippedorbit]

if i get talked down to one more god damn time I’m leaving again. I don’t care that its fucking storming outside

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Dating Bang Chan

pairing: bang chan x afab!reader

genre: fluff, suggestive

warning/s: mdni, mentions of insecurities

a/n: i had a stressful week and this was just sitting in my drafts. this is just a collection of random thoughts i had bcs i'm soft for chan♡ 

(i'll probably do this for every member eventually)

Chan is such a sweetheart. Expect to be hugged and pulled into his lap all the freaking time. He needs to have his hands on you somehow no matter where you are or what you're doing. Chan will give you a back hug and then pull you into him, burying his face in your hair. He loves skinship like that especially with people who bring him comfort like you do.

Chan is the type of boyfriend who will always ask if you're hungry, thirsty or cold and if you need anything at all he will stop what he was doing and get it for you. He always wants you to feel comfortable.

He is also very playful and will tease you all the time. I also feel like he is that type of boyfriend that will swoop you up and put you over his shoulders all the damn time especially while you're doing something just to get a rise out of you. He will laugh cutely as you trash around and yell at him to 'put you down or else' but you both know you're laughing too.

You become so close to his mother and sister, and you and Hannah team up to tease him together. Berry also adores you and always runs to you whenever you visit. Chan will playfully pout and sulk, saying that 'his family replaced him' but he is actually so thrilled that you get along.

He daydreams a lot about your future together, imagines you two getting married and starting a family and it makes him all giddy and giggly. Some things he's too shy to say to you directly so he puts them in songs that he writes for you.

Chan will watch every movie and listen to every song you recommend him. He wants to know what you like and why you like it so send him cute songs and tell him that they made you think of him.

Late night adventures. Driving around aimlessly as you listen to music, getting something to eat from a convenience store or a gas station. He pulls up somewhere secluded where you have the perfect view of the city. You eat, talk and look at the stars together. Kisses are shared, hands are roaming and pretty soon you end up in the backseat of the car.

Chan will take you out to dinner, bring you flowers, take you out to the arcade, to an ice cream date, to the beach, everywhere and anywhere, he just wants you to have fun together. But he will also enjoy a quiet night at home, while he works on his laptop and you're cuddled up to him reading a book.

He always puts you first, your needs above his so you have to scold him when he tells you he forgot to eat dinner. You bring him food to the studio and he's happy to see you but sad that he made you upset. You tell him you'll forgive him if he eats everything you brought him and he happily will.

Arguments with Chan would probably mostly happen when he's sleep deprived because he gets snappy then. His voice raises a little (not on purpose) but as soon as he sees tears forming in your eyes he will start apologizing. You tell him you need a few moments and obviously he does too, so he leaves to another room to cool off a little. When he comes back out, you two sit down and talk it out. You never want to go to bed angry or without resolving a fight.

No matter if you live together or you're sleeping over at each other's places you can forget about personal space. When you go to bed at night, Chan will cling onto you, he will pull you into him and hold you tight. Good luck on trying to move until the morning. Showers together because why wouldn't you wanna save water?

Absolute gentleman. Will open doors for you, move your chair, help you put your jacket on, you'll never have to carry anything heavy. He knows you can do it but he just wants to treat you like the queen you are and you better indulge him or he will sulk.

Sometimes, Chan feels insecure and nothing can make him feel better than your arms around him, his head on your chest as you gently tell him about everything you love and admire about him. He's used to always being alert and taking care of others so he'd love for you to take care of him sometimes like that, baby him a little, it lights his heart up.

Little moments when he's concentrated on something or lost in his own little world always make you gush at him and your camera is full of his cute moments, when he realizes you're filming him, he gets shy and you capture his sweet smile and cute giggles.

This man will also never give you room to doubt yourself. He will remind you every single day how much he loves you and respects you. How beautiful you are to him, every single part of you, every scar, stretchmark, anything you're insecure about he'll give extra kisses and caresses to that part of you just so you start loving yourself more.

Back hugs. Back hugs. BACK HUGS. FOREHEAD KISSES. HAND HOLDING. THIGH SQUEEZING.

Make him sleep please! He needs to rest and often pulls all-nighters but if you offer him cuddles he can't say no, he has to join you in bed.

You wear matching bracelets!🥺 And they're ones that you make by yourselves with cute colorful beads and maybe your initials and it's just so adorable!

Random cuteness agression moments where Chan can't contain all the love he has for you so he attacks you with kisses all over your face. You squeal and you both end up giggling and play-fighting. Will also tickle you every chance he gets. You're never safe from Chan the tickle monster. (He just loves touching you and loves seeing you laugh, deal with it.)

Okay but your mom will love him so much. He's the type of boyfriend that will treat your mom like his own. Anything she needs help with, he will help no questions asked. She's already calling him her son-in-law.

You need help fixing something around the house? Chan is your man. Just imagine those arms of his as he's working on something, wearing just a tanktop. (😩)

You can talk to him about anything really, he loves to listen to you ramble about your friends or work, sometimes he starts teasing you in the middle of your rambling, repeating what you're saying or reacting dramatically. You smack his thigh or arm and whine that he's not taking it seriously. He just laughs at you and promises to listen seriously with a goofy face.

But when it comes to actual serious issues, you can really rely on Chan. He will hold your hand and caress you as you tell him your worries. He'll listen without interrupting, letting you vent to him. When you're done he will do everything he can to comfort you, motivate you, make you feel better, help you get through whatever you're struggling with.

Talks about you all the time, he's so proud to be yours and he's just infatuated with you. Giggles to himself when he thinks about you. He just adores you so much.

[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "I love you because..."

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read a love confession for you. it could be a friend, a colleague, someone you help/ed, a family member, your guides or ancestors, your higher self or your present/future partner/spouse. meditate to put yourself in a receiving mode and go check your one, dear soul. enjoy your Valentine's day: whether you feel lonely or not, whether you are in a relationship or not, know that you are deeply loved.

if you rather get a message from your present/future partner/spouse, check my instagram @/psychelis.new

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

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1 2 3 4

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pile 1

I love you of a quiet pure respectful love, because you're strong and brave and you taught me that struggles can be overcome and new goals can always be reached. You taught me a lot also about love and friendship: maybe you don't know, but I have been going through a very tough situation and finding you/having you near, listening to you, helped me so much. You were (and are) like a dream come true to me. You made me stronger, inspired me and helped me move on with a lot of confidence and hopefulness more, and I'll always be thankful to you for this. I am not sure you know about this, about my feelings, I always look at you from a distance and freeze in awe in front of your kindness and beautiful smile. I would like to approach you and thank you personally but I am not sure you would accept it from me. I am still afraid to be abandoned or to disappoint you but I am sure one day I will be able to change this also thanks to you. One day I will be bold enough and thank you properly. I am working to get ready for that day and have no more fear.

[more symbols/signs: fairytales, children, The Little Prince (the dialogue with the fox in particular), fox, star, comets; could be friend, sb in your same school/job place crushing on you, ex, -online- admirer, childhood friend/crush; I'm getting lot of school-related/young energy, could even be a student if you're a teacher or sth; it seems someone who isn't used to kindness and gentleness/support and bc of this you made them addicted to this side of yours]

song: fetish | selena gomez, gucci mane

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pile 2

I love you because you guide me and give me peace. Your voice is like a tender sound calming my nerves, your words are warm and embracing me anytime I need love. You came up unexpectedly and brought the wind of change with you, a warm tender soft one that caresses me and plays with my hair making me smile of a peaceful smile. Something I could hardly experience before. I love you because you help me feel better and change/grow for the better. You've helped me cleansing from my toxic past and you made me see things from a different perspective. Like in a snap of fingers, everything went from chaos to calm, in my mind and in my heart. You always know what to say to bring me back on my feet, to balance me, and you guide me in every move I take. I am thankful for having you by my side, my true anchor and gentle loving sister soul. Never cease to speak to me, I love listening to your ideas and words, you always sing the most beautiful song in my ears, just for me to listen to.

[more symbols/signs: water, emotions, rain/rainy day, wind, sound, dreamcatcher, weather vane, bells, air signs; possible strong mental/5d connection; could be a soulmate (romantic or platonic), also a colleague or family member/ancestor or your partner's higher self]

song: every breath you take | denmark + winter

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pile 3

I love you because amidst all of the chaos, there you were and still are. I love you cause you always wear a smile and try to keep your joy with you, and share it around. I love you cause of your sweet tender habit to dance and turn around everytime you're happy. I love you for all the beauty you bring with you, even if you cannot see it. I love your regal side and your cute side. I love all the different people you are, especially your curios self, never ceasing to learn more of what's around you (please keep yourself safe). I love how you can lose yourself daydreaming about love and what's next for you, but also how you are so easy to distract... Maybe you should focus more, yes, but who cares? I like to distract you too cause when you notice you always get so pouty and offended with me and that's so very cute. Please try to let go of the past, trust yourself. I know you hurt still, but better things will come and you know it too. Don't let the anxiety/worries take over you, stay confident and trust that all will be great. I will also help you make it so.

[more signs/symbols: crowds, -long time- friend/s, studying together, raincoat, jeans, flirting; feels a classmate or friend -maybe a group of friends-, possibly someone crushing on you; young energy but especially from you here so the person/people could be "older" for some of you]

song: golden hour | jvke

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pile 4

I love you because that's what I was born for. I love you cause that's my duty, to care for you and protect you. But I also love you because you resemble me: you're determined, confident and you work for your dreams. You don't let anything or anyone bring you down and even if you don't feel this way now, I know you have it inside of you. You just need to believe again in all that you really are, you just need to remember who you really are. Let me in, let me help you remember it all. Let me help you give you your power back. We can have it all again, together. Don't let the demons you have learned to live with, govern you: you're the one in charge of putting them back to their place. You're the one able to give yourself all that you want, love included. Take care of you, give yourself breaks and get ready: a lot is in store for us. I'm sorry you have/had to wait so much. Please forgive me.

[more symbols/signs: vinyl, music, nostalgia, dancing, gala, Europe, dresses, castle, deep heart connection; possible past life connection (around 1700-1800 centuries; kingdoms); power couple; possible ex/situationship that now is on hold or future partner/spouse, guides/ancestors/departed pet or higher self; in all honesty the first message I got is the last line I wrote. Much more than the reasons they love you for, they wanted you to know how much they long for you now]

song: in the name of love | bebe rexha, martin garrix

[the-witch-of-one-piece]

Secrets Kept From Him Ran Haitani x Fem Reader Chapter 1: Secrets WC: 3.5K+ Resident: @enchantedforest-networkTW: Past relationship with Ran, Disappearing, Slight Suggestive Themes, Angst, Drinking, Suggestive Language, Secret Child He Doesn't Know About (unedited) MINOR DNI 18+

‘I promised to be by your side’ for years this phrase would haunt Ran in his sleep. His eyes opened up in the darkness of the room. He turned his head to the

side to see the woman he picked up for the night who was fast asleep. It just didn’t feel right no matter how many girls he brought home, nothing felt complete. To be exact no one could replace you. 5 years had passed by without a sign of where you left. He had tried to track you down when you first left. Trying to get a hold of family members, friends even trying to find connections to search for you. But each time there was a lead it was a dead end. ‘Why do I keep doing this to myself… they are not the same’ he sighed. He was doing this to himself, comparing each woman with you. Behind his smile only his brother could see that he wasn’t happy. The following morning Ran was still charming as he called a cab for his late night friend to be picked up. “Thanks for last night, I'll give you a call sometime.” flashing a smile seeing the woman get into the cab as it began to travel down the road. The smile on his face faded, his hands placed in his pockets as he went into his home. 

~~~~~~

“We just got in…no we are heading there right now…” you sat in the back of the private car as you were on the phone, you were looking through the windows, it's been years since you've been in Tokyo. It still looked the same. The bit of nostalgia hitting you as you passed by some familiar buildings. “Hey listen I will call you later tonight and keep you updated.. Okay… okay bye.”  you hung up the phone. “Everything is so big over here!” your daughter looked out from her booster seat. “You used to live here right mommy?”  her violet eyes looked over at you. “Yeah before you were born.” softly smiled as you ran your fingers through her long soft locks. 

You left Tokyo when you found out you were a few weeks pregnant. Ran didn’t know about the baby. It did worry you when finding out about your pregnancy, you were scared shitless. Ran coming home sometimes covered in blood, you had expressed your concerns for his safety many times. He would simply say ‘you don’t need to worry about a thing my love.’ but it worries you every single time. You worried you would get a call about a deal going south and he wouldn’t make it or if someone found out about you or your guy's baby you wouldn’t know what this person might do. You couldn’t take that risk, you needed to protect yourself and your baby. 

It hurt you to leave him  the way you did without any notice nor telling him where you were going. The days passed into months and your daughter was brought into the world. Along with trying to figure out how to be a mother you were dealing with your own anxiety. Looking at her growing each day she inherited Ran’s looks. You had a little piece of Ran with you. You wanted to give your daughter the opportunity to grow up in Tokyo and enjoy it like you did as a child. “We should be arriving at our new home tomorrow sweetheart.” you spoke. You bought a home on the other side of Tokyo avoiding some of the places you and Ran would visit. He was a creature of comfort he would usually stick to the places he was familiar with. The home would have all your belongings by the end of the day today. You were going to stay in one of the Hotels that had great reviews online. It was fairly new as well. Still in the back of your mind wondering what would happen if you would have run into him by accident or his brother… You wouldn’t know what you would do. Your mind would play thousands of possible scenarios from him being happy, to being betrayed and upset with you.

“Mommy we are here!” your daughter exclaimed as the car stopped in front of the Hotel. “Great lets put our stuff in the hotel and do a bit of sightseeing before it gets late.” opening the car door.

~~~~~~~~

“Ran, are you paying attention?” Rindou called out to his brother who was spaced out.

“Hmmm oh yeah, what time do we have to meet up with them again?”  They were in the car going to the destination meeting some possible clients for the club. One being a heiress of a prestigious alcohol company. Ran knew what he exactly had to do to get this contract with her. Even if it meant he had to sleep with her. “Seriously you cannot mess this up. If we can reduce the cost of this we are golden.” Rin looked over at his brother. “I know. Why don’t I just sleep with the bimbo first then you talk to her about contracts, she wouldn’t be able to process the quote we give her without thinking about events that happened before that.”  Ran suggested giving a smirk. His brother let out a deep sigh pinching the bridge of his nose “You have that full confidence in you by all means have at it. Might leave this to you right now then come back later on.” As the car pulled up to the hotel. Ran pulled up a photo of the heiress to make sure he wouldn’t mistake her for anyone else. He studied her features, making him woo her easily. He did look different from the last time you saw him. His hair was styled differently and wear a nice suit. You and your daughter were exiting out to the lobby. Your attention was on your daughter as she was happily talking to you as you held her hand.In this brief moment your paths crossed with his but both were too busy in your own worlds to notice each other at that moment. A faint smell of a familiar cologne hit your nostril for a moment. Looking up for a moment you were passing a group of gentlemen thinking it was one of them wearing the cologne Ran used to wear. You refocused your attention on your daughter.

Ran would be heading to the bar of the hotel where he is greeted by the striking beauty who was waiting for him. “Ms. Yamaguchi, I'm glad you were able to make it on such short notice.” Ran smiled as reaching for her hand kissing the back of it. “You do look lovely tonight. I’m Ran Haitani.” “Lovely to meet you Ran. They told me you were handsome but not so charming as well.” she looked at him with a sultry look. “You have a brother as well Rindou if I remember correctly… where is here tonight?” She looked towards the doorway. “He had to take care of some things at the club. I guess in the meantime while we wait, we can get to know each other? Can I buy you a drink?” the smile that no woman could resist. She gladly accepted his offer. It would only take him an hour to end up in her hotel room. 

Few hours would pass as you made your way back to the hotel with your daughter along with someone you trusted since the day you left. “We are glad you will join us for dinner tonight. I made reservations.” you smiled. Looking over at your aunt who you kept in contact with. 

“I'm glad to be finally seeing you both in a while. For a chance you both get to visit me for once.” she chuckled while walking into the hotel lobby. Your aunt never met Ran before, only had heard about him from the stories you would tell her. She did suggest telling him the minutes you gave birth to your daughter but she respected your choices on why you didn’t. 

When you pressed the elevator button you waited patiently. You saw something on your daughter's face. Kneeling down,facing away from the elevator cleaning her cheek. On the other side of the elevator coming down, Ran was focused on the lovely Ms. Yamaguchi. Her hands draped around his neck. As she playfully talked to him. “I never had a client take such good care of me.” her finger tips touching his lips. “Well there will be more if you like later on.” he was leaning in before the elevator stopped. They were on the lobby floor. When opening the door they saw a mom kneeling down with her back toward them, seeming to be cleaning her daughter's face accompanied by an elderly lady. Ran smiled as he exited the elevator. He noticed the little girl and thought she was adorable. Her eye color was similar to his own; he didn't really pay mind to all the details of the girl but her eyes. They made their way towards the bar where Rindou was. They heard the little girls say “mommy lets get in the elevator!” “Okay okay let's hurry in.” you chuckled. From that distance Ran heard the familiar voice that stopped him for a moment. When his head turned around he was able to get a look of the mom who was standing up. From a side view his heart dropped seeing you.  He watched you holding onto the little girl's hand entering the elevator. “Ran dear everything alright?” Ms. Yamaguchi asked when Ran seemed to pause for a moment.  He couldn’t just move seeing that you were here in the hotel he was at. He needed to talk to you. Ran composing himself quickly he turned his attention back to Ms. Yamaguchi. “Yes of course I thought I knew someone. But shall we meet up with my brother?” he asked, covering his issues with a smile. During the discussion between Ms. Yamaguchi and Rindou , Ran wasn’t paying attention. His mind was focusing on other things. His past love being here and trying to figure out what his next move would be. He could wait in the lobby till you came down again. Rindou would look at his brother's direction seeing he was preoccupied in thoughts. “Ran… Ran.” Rindou called out.

“Hmm I’m sorry what is happening?” he asked. 

“Must be still a little dazed and confused because of our private discussion earlier.” Ms. Yamaguchi smiled. “We were going over the quantity and price range.” Rindou spoke. “We agreed on this number.” Rindou pulls out a small notepad along with a pen jotting down the number and handing it to Ms. Yamaguchi.

She looked at the number. “I think we can make this work. Your brother can be very convincing ya know. I will have the contracts ready by tomorrow for both of you to sign.” She picked up her drink while taking a sip. The next thing she knew she had her phone ring. “Hello yes…Well I'm in the middle of something right now. I left you in charge for one minute and you decided to screw things up.” she sighed she brought the phone away from her ear “I do apologize gentlemen but something needs my attention. I will have my assistant send over the contracts in the morning. If you will excuse me I need to take care of this.” She got up from the seat walking away.  Rindou looked at his brother “What the hell is going on with you?” “What if I told you about someone from the past staying in this hotel right now.” Ran gave his brother a side glance bringing his drink to his lips. “Can you confirm they are here?” Rin leaned back in his chair. “She is here, I saw her. She still looked the same, just like I remember.” Ran spoke. “There is something else too.. She had some company with her” “Company you say? Who’s the guy?” he asked. Rin was already prepared to make something look like an accident waiting for his brother to describe the guy you might be with. “It wasn’t a guy…. It was a little girl and some older woman I’ve never seen before.” Ran began to remember the child feature more. The pretty violet eyes that resembled his, the child that looked no older than 4 or 5. “I need to talk to her more before assuming something… Listen, she will eventually come down. I wanna talk to her.” ~~~~~~ Fixing your daughter's hair you had her in a pretty purple dress. “You look great sweetie.” holding her hands. “You do too mommy.” her small hands cupping your cheeks as she gave your eskimo kisses. “You guys ready?” you asked your daughter and aunt. “Ready!” they both exclaimed. Walking out of the room. Getting into the main lobby you headed to the area where the restaurant was. 

Rindou wanted to see if Ran really saw the woman from his brother's past. He was casually sitting in the lobby looking at his phone each time the elevator opened and his eyes were on the elevator. His eyes focused on you when you stepped out with your daughter and aunt. He was in a bit of disbelief seeing you. Picking up his phone. “Hey you were right…. She is heading towards the restaurant.. Just one thing don’t act like an idiot just-” the phone was cut off “son of a .” he grit his teeth. He didn’t want his brother to do anything drastic infront of people. Ran was already at the restaurant. He had a seat in the corner where the bar stand was. Just a minute later after hanging up with Rin. He saw the group of three arriving at the check in. The server shows you to your table. The more he watched you the more he wanted to walk up to the table and talk to you. Hearing the small giggles coming from your daughter his heart was breaking. There was no doubt that was his little girl. It was like a little replica of him as a child. He wasn’t a part of yours and her life. He wanted to get a better view of you both. Still questioning who the lady was you were with. He was by the walkway in the corner where it lead to the kitchen he leaned on the rail. Your daughter was looking around the restaurant amazed by how beautiful everything was. “Mommy look at the big fishes in the tank!” she pointed to the large aquarium-like tank behind them. “ I know they are big fishes.” you watched the fish swimming peacefully. Your daughter's  eyes are still roaming around. She happened to glance at a table where she saw a family sitting. She didn’t know who her dad was, she had asked about him but you kept it very short with the answers. Excuses of daddy being very busy with work. She watched as the dad interacted with his children, making them laugh. Ran saw her looking over at the table and her smile disappeared for a moment. You caught onto seeing your daughter frown on her face. “You okay sweetheart?” you asked her. “Mommy, will I ever get to meet my daddy? At my old school I would see daddy’s pick up their kids from school and the kids would do all these things with their daddy’s… I just…” she stopped her sentence and looked down fidgeting with her hands. Your aunt looked over at you, after hearing what your daughter said. She had told you many times and now your daughter was asking about her father. “ I know, baby.” you cupping her face lifting her cheeks up to look at you. Just this statement was killing you so much. She was suffering not knowing who her father was. “You will meet him one day.. I promise.” you smiled, kissing her forehead. “Why do we get something sweet after dinner? I will let you choose something from the menu.” you wanted to see that smile appear on her face. “Really?” her eyes brighten up. “That sounds like a good idea now. Why don’t I help you choose Sweetie?” your aunt suggested to your daughter who happily scooted closer to her as they both looked at the menu.

 Picking up your wine glass you sipped on your wine. You started to realize how many families were in the restaurant.  Your eyes began to wander around the restaurant to see some happy couple and families enjoying their meal. When your eyes reached the corner of the room they didn’t move when they landed on him. His distinct violet eyes appear back at you, even though he had a new hairstyle. He was there looking back at you, the eye contact didn’t break for a second. The moment your eyes looked away was when your daughter caught your attention. “Mommy I want this one!” She brought the menu close to you to show you the item she wanted.

“That does look like a yummy treat, sweetie.” you smile. You took a quick glance back at the corner where Ran was standing and he was gone. “Mommy is gonna go to the bathroom really fast okay? Behave for your aunt for me?” turning your attention back to your daughter. Your daughter nodded promising she would behave for you.

You got up from the booth and made your way to the corner of the restaurant. You couldn’t believe your feet were walking toward his direction. Your heart was pounding against your chest, as you approached closer. When you reached the area you saw an empty hallway. Walking down the empty hallway you saw the different paths to the hotel. You were looking down at the hallway but no sight of him. The quicker you were looking down the aisle when you felt someone grabbing your hand pulling you into an aisle of where rows of doors continue down the long hallway. The smell of his YSL cologne hit your nostrils, the hypnotizing violet eyes were close. It didn’t take long or Ran’s slender arm to wrap around your pulling you closer to his body. His other hand caressing your cheek as he brought you to his chest in a tight embrace. His head is buried in the top of your head taking a deep inhale of your scent. “____.” he whispered your name. It didn’t take much longer until you found yourself holding him. His embrace was just like you remembered, and how much you missed every moment of it. “I missed you…” 

Intersted in joining the taglist please fill out form below to get notification of your favorite character when they are being posted! Link here ->taglist

Chapter two link here ->ch.2

[yandere-romanticaa]

A month has passed since a strange cult took you within its ranks. It wasn't necessarily by choice but it was something you needed to do in order to survive. Your entire village had been destroyed in a sudden onslaught of ferocious demons, massacring all of your friends and family.

You were left with nothing.

For days you had roamed the mountains and with a heavy heart had accepted the fact that you were going to die, be it from starvation, dehydration or some stray demon devouring you from head to toe.

Lord Douma had other things in store for you.

He was a strange one, the man who rescued you. He was oddly easy to amuse and absolutely everything you did was incredibly entertaining to him. One of his favorite past times were when he would simply stare at you as you talk about your life and perform everyday, mundane duties. At first you thought nothing of it - he saved your life, the least you could do was indulge him just a little bit.

Red flags started to show up soon though - the way he would move and carry himself, it simply was not natural. Whenever there was a meal, Douma would not even look at the food or even have a sip of water. You chalked it up to him having his own private meals and decided to think nothing of it.

You had managed to settle within a comfortable routine which just so happened to often cross paths with the great Lord himself. He seemed to greatly enjoy your presence and would have you with him from the moment the sun had risen until wee hours in the morning.

How was he never tired?

Suspicion slowly turned to fear as you noticed that some members of the cult were missing. No one knew what came of them or where they were last seen, as if some foul creature had spirited them away.

You brought up your concerns with Lord Douma but he just called you silly and told you not to worry about it. "Nothing bad will happen to you!" he'd say reassuringly but his words gave you shallow comfort.

Douma, for whatever reason, was also quite fond of physical touch and you were his favorite when it came to that. He was absolutely shameless and would explore your body however he saw fit. Amongst those odd trysts, you noticed that a powerful metallic smell would cling onto him and would never go away no matter how hard you washed his clothing.

No amount of praying could prepare you for the horror you'd encounter on one moonless evening.

You had woken up due to a strange noise and, against your better judgment, decided to investigate. With nothing but a single candle in your hand and a long but thin nightshirt covering your body, you ventured downwards the dark and creepy hallways. It felt as though the shadows themselves were out to get you because you'd flinch at every single sound no matter how miniscule. The closer you got to Lord Douma's chambers the stranger the noises got - giggling, slurping and crunching could be heard as a horrible stench filled the air, a smell so vile that it made you want to throw up your dinner. You'd often ask him what he liked to eat but naturally, Douma would just dodge your question or say something really silly. "It's easier if I eat alone!" he'd say as he caressed your hair. With each step you took the stench became stronger and stronger and Douma's words continued to ring inside your head like bells.

"You see, I'm a bit of a night owl! It's also not smart to come to my chambers without knocking first!~"

You should have listened to him and his thinly disguised warning.

Through the tiniest of cracks you saw Douma on the floor, covered in fresh blood. A wicked grin danced across his lips as he toyed with the severed limbs with the mauled corpse of a young woman, her eyes stricken with fear even in death.

It took you every ounce and willpower to not scream bloody murder.

With the way he was treating the corpse you'd think that Lord Douma was but a child with a precious toy. His light tone and playful gestures sent chills down your spine as you covered your mouth with your hand, a desperate attempt to conceal any potential noises that may escape you. You watched him for a few moments as you let it all sink in, not even realizing just how much your entire being trembled with fear. Just before you could make a break for it you heard Douma speak.

"I know you're there, watching me. I don't know who you are but I can smell you!"

Crap.

Dropping the candle to the floor you could do nothing but freeze as Douma continued to speak, total indifference lacing his voice.

"I would leave, if I were you. I am in a good mood tonight and shall play stupid so I won't turn around to see your face! Now, be a good little disciple and go back to bed!"

Squeaking like a helpless puppy, you ran away with your tail behind your legs, not realizing that Douma knew damn well that it was you. The demon could sense your presence across a giant mountain if need be and your sweet smell would invade his senses every time he would think about you. It was a shame that you saw him in such a state but he really did not want to kill you. He was content with playing dumb and hoped that it would be the same case for you as well.

As long as you kept your lips sealed, everything was going to be alright.

Part 2 here!

[corroded-hellfire]

With Eliza at school and Luke nervous about a little girl a thought came to me.

How would Eddie react when Eliza came home and I just talked about a boy giving her things, like a picture of them holding hands?

And Luke talking to reader, asking how her dad made her fall in love with him.

Obviously you don't have to do this if you don't want to.

I love you.

This request just seemed like the perfect one for @munson-blurbs and me to write for Valentine's Day. I hope you enjoy and that Cupid shoots all of you in your wonderful butts with an arrow 💘

Warnings: smut, oral, f receiving, male masturbation, pregnant!reader, older!eddie

Words: 2.6k

[As You Wish masterlist]

Little Eliza Munson slides her glittery green Little Mermaid backpack off and sets it down on the coffee table in the living room. Her small Mary Janes had been kicked off near the front door and now she tucks her pink sock-clad feet beneath her as she unzips the bag. 

First out comes the folder that her homework is always secured safely inside. Keeping with the theme of Disney Princesses, a smiling Mulan stares up at Eliza as she opens the folder. Before she can get to her homework though, a drawing slips out and floats down onto the carpet next to her. Heaving a sigh and rolling her brown doe eyes in annoyance, she snaps the folder closed as Luke traipses into the room.

Drawings weren’t uncommon in the Munson household. In fact, there was probably a drawing from every member of the family hanging on the over-crowded fridge. But as Luke glimpsed this slightly crumpled paper next to his sister on the navy carpet, he knew he didn’t recognize the style—or lack thereof—from anyone in the house. 

“Liza, whatcha got?” he asks his sister. 

“A drawing from my boyfriend,” Eliza replies, nonchalantly. 

A loud bang and a murmured “shit” from the kitchen has Luke snorting in amusement at what was obviously their dad’s reaction to Eliza’s little announcement. 

“Oooh, Liza likes a boooooy!” Luke teases as he walks over towards her. He bends over to pick the drawing up, but Eliza snatches it and slams it down on the table in front of her before he can. 

The little girl wrinkles her nose in disgust. “Ew, no! I don’t like him. He’s always eating sand from the sandbox.”

Ryan pokes his head in from the kitchen, his mouth full of food like he hasn’t eaten in days. “Hey, Luke used to do that.” He strolls over to his siblings. Luke glares at his older brother as he continues speaking. “When did you finally stop? Last month, right?” Eliza giggles and it diverts Ryan’s attention back to her. “Then why is he your boyfriend if you don’t like him?” The oldest Munson sibling takes a seat down on the floor next to the little girl. He tilts his head as he inspects the drawing the boy made for her. Ryan is able to make out that it’s supposed to be Eliza holding someone’s hand—presumably the boy who drew it. The little hearts around their heads in reds, pinks, and purples add the final touch.

Eliza shrugs. “Cuz he said so.”

“Who said what?” Eddie asks as he comes into the living room. He’s caught wind of what’s going on from being just on the other side of the wall in the kitchen, but he doesn’t wanna come in ready to send this four-year-old boy with a crush on his daughter to Siberia. “Please don’t tell me you listened to Luke again. Didn’t you learn your lesson when we had to unglue those shoes from your feet?”

Luke throws his arms in the air. “Why am I being attacked like this today? You know what, I’m going to find the one person in this family who actually likes me.”

Ryan smirks to himself and can’t help adding, “Wormy Munson died when you were four, dude. He’s long gone.”

Luke flips him the bird as he walks out of the room. Eddie crouches down and looks over the drawing with Ryan when Luke returns with you in tow. 

“It’s them,” Luke says in a whiney voice, pointing to his older brother and father.

You sigh and shake your head as you rest your hand on your swollen belly. “Why are you all picking on my son?” You wrap your arms around Luke the best you can in your heavily pregnant state and press a kiss to the side of his head. “My little angel did nothing wrong.”

“Yeah,” Luke adds petulantly, and it transports you back to when he was five. Ryan rolls his eyes and Eddie lets out a bark of laughter. Even Eliza isn’t buying it. Luke pretends to recover from his ordeal and turns to the little girl. “Okay, Eliza,” he says to his sister, “tell Mom what you just told us.”

“My boyfriend drawed me a picture, but he’s gross and I don’t like him.”

“He’s only her boyfriend because he said he was,” Ryan tells you. 

“Honey,” you say with a soft sigh, “if you don’t like someone, you can say ‘no, thank you.’”

“And if he doesn’t listen, you can always hit him with the one-two.” Luke demonstrates by punching the air. 

Eddie shakes his head and waves his hands in front of him. “Absolutely not.” You breathe a sigh of relief that he’s putting an end to Luke’s bad advice until he says, “you gotta kick, too. Aim for the—”

“Okay, that’s enough violence for our four-year-old, thank you very much.” You waddle your way into the kitchen and open the cupboard to find one of the few boxes that haven’t been ravaged by teenage boys. “Who wants fruit snacks?”

“Not Liza’s boyfriend,” Ryan snickers. “He’s still full from all the sand.”

Luke looks at you for a moment but doesn’t speak until you’ve handed a pouch of fruit snacks to Eliza. “Was Dad your first boyfriend?”

Eddie wraps his arms around your growing middle. “No, but I was her last,” he teases, kissing your cheek with an exaggerated mwah!

The boys mirror each other with their grossed-out faces. Luke shakes it off though and playfully nudges his father out of the way with his shoulder.

“So then how did he make you fall in love with him instead of with another boy?” he asks. 

An instinct is telling you that there’s more behind this line of questioning than simple curiosity of your and Eddie’s relationship, but you know better than to pry in front of his siblings—or his dad, for that matter. 

Taking advantage of the others being occupied by the snack, you tug Luke towards the front of the living room and plop down on a couch with him. You’re facing him as much as you can with a seven-month pregnant belly, adjusting to a comfortable position.  

“So, what do you want to know?” you start off asking Luke, keeping your eagerness to a minimum. The last thing you want to do is scare him away by seeming too excited. 

“Well, like…” Luke looks down and picks at a loose thread on his sock. “What made you want to be with dad? Like, you were in college when you two met. There were all those college guys, but you wanted dad. Why? What did he do to…get your attention, I guess?”

Your memory flashes back to when you first met Eddie. It feels like you’re watching a mini movie in your brain about how the two of you ended up together, a reel that wouldn’t be allowed on cable TV. The story isn’t exactly something you want to tell your son, so you comb through to find the bits that can be given as advice. 

“What did he do to get my attention?” You shrug and shake your head. “There wasn’t something he specifically did that made me want to be with him. It was a bunch of things that make up who he is. The first thing that caught my attention though was seeing how great of a dad he is to you two boys. You guys just adored him, and he’d do anything for you. It melted my heart.”

Luke chews on his lower lip as he considers your words. “So, there wasn’t something that he…bought you or anything?” He scrunches up his nose in contemplation. 

“Luke,” you say with a kind chuckle. “You can’t buy someone’s affection.” When he stays silent, you decide to press your luck. “Is there any particular reason you’re asking?”

His cheeks go pink; it makes you think how bashfulness is an odd look on the boy who is seemingly unfazed by everything. 

“There’s, um, this girl at school. And I was gonna ask her to the Valentine’s dance, but I don’t wanna look like an idiot.”

You smile. Mystery solved. Honestly, you should have known that Luke would be experiencing these kinds of feelings sooner rather than later. “Part of liking someone is taking that risk,” you tell him. “Although I highly doubt you’ll look like an idiot.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He shrugs, not fully satisfied with that response. “I just don’t wanna do too much, but I also don’t wanna do too little.”

The gift question makes more sense now. Usually, Luke’s gift-giving was reserved for birthdays or bribery, but it looks like he was making an exception to the rule. 

“Well, maybe you could get her a rose? Just one, not a whole bouquet,” you suggest. “And then you can ask her to the dance.”

“You think that will work?” Luke asks, a nervous quiver in his voice. 

It breaks your heart to see him this anxious, and you wish you could make certain that his plan will be successful. 

“Since I don’t know this girl, all I can say is that it should work. And if it doesn’t, she’s not worth your time because she doesn’t realize how thoughtful and caring you are.” You think for a second and then add, “not to mention hilarious.”

“And devastatingly handsome,” he quips with a straight face, making you giggle.

“Of course, that too.”

Your youngest son stands up from the couch and presses a kiss to the top of your hair. Pregnancy hormones have you tearing up as you remember when you used to do that to him. 

“Thanks, Ma.”

Luke helps you off the couch and as you walk closer to the kitchen you can hear your husband and daughter conversing. 

Eddie stands in front of Eliza with a serious expression. “Now, what do we tell boys we don’t like when they like you?”

“No, thanks!”

“Right!” He offers her his hand, and she slaps him five. “And now what do we tell boys if you do like them?”

Eliza thinks for a moment before remembering the answer. “I got a tall Daddy and crazy big brothers.”

“That’s my girl!”

Luke walks past and chimes in. “Tell them one of your brothers went insane from scurvy. Like it seeped into his brain and turned him into a flesh-eating zombie.”

The little girl makes a grossed-out face, giggling when Eddie gently slaps him upside the head. As if wanting to join in, you feel a kick from within your belly. 

“You wanna know how I snagged this gorgeous lady?” Eddie puts an arm around you and looks at Luke. “Turned on the ol’ Munson charm. It’s irresistible.” 

The comment about his irresistible charm plays on a loop all evening. Once the kids go to bed, it’s time for you to see if you can whip up some charm of your own. 

While Eddie brushes his teeth, you strip down to nothing. Well, nothing but the necklace he gave you on the night you two first slept together. The night you’d finally felt him inside you after months of using your own fingers and pretending it was him. The night he promised to knock you up with his babies. 

Mission accomplished. 

He walks back into the bedroom, his eyes immediately drawn to the pendant resting between your milk-filled breasts. 

“Jesus, baby.” He practically flies into bed and starts kissing you. His burgeoning erection presses against your thigh through his boxers. 

You tilt your head slightly, so he knows to move his lips to your neck. “Been thinkin’ about you, Eds. How good you treat me, how loved you make me feel…”

Eddie’s fingers find your clit and make precise circular motions. “Always gonna treat you good. Like my goddamn princess.” His mouth finds your collarbone. “The way you look when you’re pregnant…god damn.”

Smiling, you start to push yourself up, but he shakes his head. “I wanna spoil you tonight.” He positions himself between your thighs, licking a gentle stripe up your folds. “Tastes so fuckin’ sweet. Here, see for yourself.” He leans over your stomach and kisses you so you can taste your own arousal on his tongue. 

“‘S all about you tonight,” Eddie promises. He lowers himself back down and buries his nose in your pubic hair. His tongue glides over your clit, softly at first, but gradually increases in pressure. 

“Mhm, y-yes. R-Right there,” you murmur, relishing in the build-up to the stimulation. 

Eddie’s hips rut against the mattress as he wraps his arms around your thighs to pull himself closer to you. The feeling of your fingers tangling in his hair has him surging towards painfully hard. 

The soft moans and whimpers that float from your sweet lips break Eddie’s resolve and he reaches down to wrap a hand around his aching cock. He strokes himself in time with the flicks of his tongue over your aroused clit. 

“Eddie…Eddie—oh!” You throw your head back against the pillows. A pleasant warmth grows within you and it has you arching your back, legs tightening around your husband’s head. 

“Gonna cum,” you whimper.

“That’s my girl,” Eddie says against your dripping, throbbing pussy. “Cum for me, princess.”

Sparks dance in your vision as your orgasm breaks over you. It makes its way throughout your body, curling into every corner until it feels the absolute euphoria that Eddie brought you. 

Trying to catch your breath, you watch with dark eyes as Eddie pushes himself up to his knees. You know what he wants, so you lay down as flat as you can so it’s easier for him to crawl over you. 

Eddie’s still fisting his cock, the tip angry and leaking precum. He manages to straddle your body and braces himself with one hand pressed on the mattress right beside your head. His other hand works over his cock until the rhythm becomes erratic—your husband’s telltale sign that he’s about to cum. You only encourage this by arching your back and presenting your enlarged breasts and rounded stomach to him. 

With one final growl, Eddie releases over your bare skin. You watch as the pearly white lines make patterns across your belly with each pump of his fist over his cock. There’s so much and you love it. 

Once he’s finally spent, Eddie collapses down on the bed next to you. You miss when he’d just fall down onto you after sex, but the growing in your womb has put a pin in that for the time being. 

Neither you nor Eddie want to clean his cum from your body, but Eddie grabs his boxers and takes his time in cleaning you. If he went over your nipples more than once or maybe give a tit a squeeze here and there, what of it?

After a few attempts, you manage to roll onto your side so you’re lying face to face with your husband. He leans in closer and gently presses his nose against yours. 

“You always make me feel so good,” you say softly.

Eddie smiles and it makes your heart kick up. That smile will never lose its magic. 

“The pleasure is all mine,” Eddie replies sleepily. 

You lean in the last few inches and press your lips against Eddie’s. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby,” you say.

“It’s not Valentine's Day yet,” Eddie says with a soft chuckle. 

“True,” you say as you curl up into his chest. “But I don’t need that day to tell you and show you how much I love you.”

“You’re right, sweetheart.” Eddie smiles and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “You’re my Valentine every day.” 

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Azul Ashengrotto - Apprentice Chef Vignette

"Master Chef"

[Kitchen]

Master Chef ― Azul Version ～Let's Make Rice Croquette 1～

Ghost Chef: Alright, today we'll have you make "rice croquettes."

Azul: Rice croquettes, hm. The ristorante my mother manages serves them, so I have tasted them before.

Azul: If I recall, the crisp shell on the outside and the soft risotto on the inside, as well as the different possible combinations of ingredients within it, make for a fantastic dish.

Ghost Chef: Your family runs a ristorante? Then you must be very knowledgeable in the kitchen. This course may be too easy for you.

Azul: Oh no, not at all. I appreciate all the guidance and encouragement you can give me.

Ghost Chef: Come now～ Don't be so modest! Alright, time to start cooking.

Ghost Chef: First, you'll make the risotto. Mince the onion and fry it in the pan.

Azul: Mince the onion, right. …Just in case, I will go over the proper procedure once. Could I ask you to confirm if what I say is correct?

Ghost Chef: Absolutely. It's good that you don't try to breeze past the basics.

Azul: After cutting the onion in half lengthwise, place the cross-section face down on the board. While leaving the root intact, make cuts at even intervals from the edge to the center.

Azul: Then, turn that onion 90 degrees and cut perpendicular to the previously made cuts… Does that sound correct?

Ghost Chef: Yep, that's perfect. Make sure to cut them in 3 to 4mm intervals so they're big enough to taste and use for forming the balls.

Azul: Understood. Now then, I hold the knife in my dominant hand, hold the onion with my other hand, and slice with the knife vertically…

[slip! roll…]

Azul: …Pardon me. It seems I didn't have a tight grip on it.

Azul: …Now then, I'll try that once more―

[slip! roll…]

Ghost Chef/Azul: …

Ghost Chef: Uhhh… Azul-kun, by any chance… Do you not have much experience in cooking?

Azul: That's correct. I am hoping to improve myself in this regard slightly through this Master Chef curriculum.

Ghost Chef: So, when you said you'd appreciate my guidance and encouragement, you really meant it!?

Azul: Indeed. Is something the matter?

Ghost Chef: You were carrying yourself with the confidence of a seasoned chef… So I completely assumed you were already skilled in the art of cooking.

Azul: I am able to discern the difference between something tasting good or bad, but cooking is outside of my wheelhouse.

Azul: And thus, I enrolled in Master Chef, as I believed that since this course is geared towards those unfamiliar with cooking, it would be a perfect way to start gaining experience.

Ghost Chef: I see… I find your approach commendable, Azul-kun. You're completely different from the owner of the restaurant I worked at back when I was alive!

Azul: The owner of the restaurant from when you were alive? …Could you perhaps elaborate a little more on them?

Ghost Chef: That owner couldn't cook anything at all, but would always find something to complain about my dishes.

Ghost Chef: Every time they tried to lecture me, I'd fume and think, "They're all talk, they don't know a thing about the amount of effort I had to put into this!"

Azul: …I think I understand. Just the other day, one of the staff members of the Mostro Lounge said something similar to me.

Azul: Something along the lines of… "MAAAN, AZUL, ALL YOU DO IS YAP YAP YAP EVEN THOUGH YOU DON'T KNOW SQUAT 'BOUT COOKING～"

Ghost Chef: Is that so? Then… Is that the reason why you decided to try to gain cooking experience?

Azul: Indeed. Although, I wouldn't say I'm quite so immature as to take such an emotional outburst that seriously…

Azul: But I find it vexing to even be told such a thing, so if someone believes I lack experience, then I should work at it to mitigate that. Thus, I've come here.

Ghost Chef: Good for you, Azul-kun, listening to what your staff has to say and putting yourself in their shoes.

Ghost Chef: Hearing that situation, I'll make sure to do my best and explain everything to you from a chef's point of view.

Azul: I can't possibly imagine that there would be any similarities in the point of view between the temperamental guy from my dorm and a chef that worked at a five-star restaurant…

Azul: But this should surely be a good experience. I am fully open to your instruction.

Ghost Chef: Sure! If you ever have any questions, you're always free to ask me anything.

Azul: Thank you.

[sizzle, sizzle…]

Ghost Chef: Looks like the onions are cooked. Time to add the rice into the frying pan.

Azul: Understood.

[rice pours into the pan]

Ghost Chef: If you stir too much, you can damage the rice. The key here is to gently cook it over low heat.

Azul: Chef, what constitutes low heat?

Ghost Chef: You'll want to set it to about where the tips of the flames aren't touching the bottom of the pan.

Azul: I see. I'll lower the heat slightly, then.

[click…]

Azul: Perfect. Now I just need to stir the wooden spatula slowly so the rice doesn’t get dama… HUH!?

[cracking sounds]

Azul: In the short amount of time that I took to adjust the heat, the rice started sticking to the pan…!

Azul: If I were to try to forcibly peel it off, the rice could be damaged and there is a risk that the quality of the dish would be lowered.

Azul: However, if I were to factor in the cost of the ingredients and the time until judging, I won't be able to remake this from scratch…

Azul: Chef, is there a way to recover my progress when the rice has stuck to the frying pan?

Ghost Chef: Yep. Just add a bit of the bouillon we were going to add later, and slowly peel it with your spatula.

[sizzle!]

Azul: It came off so cleanly…! Even in the face of a mistake, you can quickly turn things around… As expected of a pro chef.

Ghost Chef: Ahaha, you must be exaggerating! Although I can't say I dislike your compliment.

Azul: Not at all, this was very eye-opening for me. Please, let us continue.

[Kitchen]

Master Chef―Azul Version ～Let's Make Rice Croquette 2～

Ghost Chef: ―While the risotto cools, why don't you select what you want to put inside the croquettes?

Ghost Chef: Just like you said earlier, part of this dish's fun is the different combinations of texture and flavor that can be made from the chosen ingredients.

Azul: I can absolutely do that. Fufu… I should be more capable of this process.

Azul: For this dish, there will be 3 croquettes on 1 plate. …With that in mind, I would want to create some kind of theme to bring them together.

Azul: My chosen theme will be… "A Subtle Surprise."

Azul: The risotto has a simple tomato-based flavor… Therefore, with these standard ingredients, the results could go either way.

Azul: I'll have to weave everything together and consider good texture, how fulfilling it is, and that hint of surprise― All while not deviating from the recipe…

Azul: …Alright, I'LL GO WITH THESE!

[Cafeteria – Judging Venue]

Silver: …Something smells good.

Silver: I do hope I can live up to what's expected of a Master Chef judge…

Azul: Pardon me. I have brought your dish... Oh, I see, so the person who ordered this was Silver-san.

Silver: So, you're the chef, Azul? I'm looking forward to tasting it.

Azul: I, too, look forward to your tasting it. Here are the rice croquettes that you've ordered.

Azul: These have just finished cooking, so the insides will be hot. Please take caution when eating them.

Silver: Got it. Then… I'll try them now.

Silver: [blows on croquette]

[bite, chew, chew…]

Silver: Oh… There's cheese inside of this one. Delicious.

Silver: This one… There's shrimp. This is also delicious.

Silver: Finally, the third one… I see it has quail egg inside. Right, all three were delicious.

Azul: …Huh, are those your only thoughts?

Silver: Yes. It's was very good.

Azul: Please think a little harder. Isn't there anything else, like comments on specific ingredients you liked, or certain surprising flavors?

Silver: Specific ingredients I liked…? That would be the quail egg.

Silver: It was nice to see the meal I chose was not only filling, but filled with highly nutritional eggs.

Azul: YOUR MAIN TAKEAWAY WAS HOW FILLING IT WAS!? …Ahem, pardon.

Azul: Perhaps I should ask this differently. How did it taste?

Azul: The first one you tried was filled with cheese. I mixed basil into it to help its compatibility with the tomato-based risotto.

Azul: For the shrimp one, I added fried garlic chips to it to give it a little flavorful kick.

Azul: Finally, the boiled quail eggs. I flavored it with a tad bit of ketchup to add a bit of extra favor.

Azul: With that added moisture, it should have softened the flakiness egg yolk slightly, and make for a more enjoyable flavor…

Silver: I see, you put a lot of thought into it.

Silver: Even after your explanation, I still don't really get it at all, but everything truly was delicious.

Azul: YOU DIDN'T GET IT AT ALL!? That's absurd…

Azul: If the judge himself doesn't understand, then all of the extra efforts and ingredients that I put forth into it will have all been for naught!

Ghost Chef: Come now, Silver-kun is saying it's delicious, so I don't think it was all for naught at all.

Azul: However, if my efforts truly couldn't be conveyed… Did I not use enough basil, garlic, or ketchup?

Ghost Chef: I feel like you wouldn't want to put too much in it, either… It can be difficult because everyone's tastes are different.

Silver: My apologies. Perhaps if your judge had been anyone else, they would have been able to fully taste the efforts you put into it the flavor.

Ghost Chef: But you thought it was delicious, right, Silver-kun? That means that Azul-kun's flavoring was still spot on.

Azul: Right… That's right. Putting aside any improvements needed for the cost in time and ingredients, I was able to actually put together a dish that someone considered delicious.

Azul: If I can keep improving my cooking skills little by little, then I won't ever have to hear someone say I'm just "yapping" ever again!

Ghost Chef: Ahaha… Even though you said you wouldn't take something like that seriously… Looks like those words really did have a hold on you.

Requested by Anonymous.

[bountydroid]

Darlin' pt 9

pt 1 / pt 2 / pt 3 / pt 4 / pt 5 / pt 6 / pt 7(SMUT) / pt 8 / pt 10 (SMUT)

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader

Description: Cooper gets vulnerable as they head to Moldaver.

TW: Angsty

Notes: Sorry this is a little shorter, I wanted to get something out for you guys since it has been so long. I appreciate your patience. Darlin' will end at the end of the TV series. So probably 1-3 more parts I haven't decided yet.

Sweat dripped down my face as my brows creased together. The very limited charm of the Wastelands has completely left, leaving me sweaty, angry, and very very tired. Cooper and I haven't said a word to each other since we left Sorrel behind. I know that he knows that I want answers, that I am upset, that I am scared. Instead of explaining himself, however, he stayed silent. This only increased my worries. My thoughts and fears ran rampant in my brain as I thought of every possibility. This woman, she meant something to him. I hoped that she was maybe a family member or a close friend. I knew it was likely false hope, but the thought of everything between me and Cooper was a lie? That he was leading me to a lover? I couldn't handle that thought, it was eating me alive. 

"Should be a couple o' days more walkin' darlin'. You think your little legs can handle that?" He jested, trying to improve the gloomy mood that hung over us. 

"Okay," I whispered back, I didn't know if he even heard me as I kept my eyes trained on my feet. I watched the sand move around my shoes like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Anything to keep my mind off of her. I could feel his eyes on me as he looked behind him, taking in my defeated form.

"It ain't what ya think." He says as he stops walking, finally addressing the issue. "It ain't like that."

"Whatever you say," I mumbled again as I brushed past him. I could feel his hand wrap around my wrist as he tugged me backward against his chest. 

"Listen to me damn it." He said angrily as he held me tight against him. I could feel myself starting to shake. I've been fighting the tears this whole time, but his raised voice finally broke the dam causing a broken sob to leave my mouth. 

"Don't yell at me." I cried out, frustrated at his reaction. I wanted him to kiss me, to coo at me, to hold me tight, but that wasn't the kind of man he was. He was just as broken as I was, and the years of wandering the Wastelands on his own left him an angry old man. 

"There ain't nothing worth cryin' about." He said as he spun me around to face him, "So stop it. Now." 

"Oh, am I inconveniencin’ you?" Venom slipped out of my mouth as I finally met his eyes, "Better leave me here then and just go after her."

He sighed, clearly annoyed as he pinched the leathery skin between his eyes. "You can be so damn stubborn." He mumbled. After he said that I let out an annoyed huff before turning back around with every intention of storming off, but before I could, he grabbed my arm again. "Stop it."

"Who is she then? When did our little adventure go from hunting bounties to hunting her?" I rambled angrily, not being able to keep the questions in any longer. "And when were you gonna tell me you are 200 years old? When did you meet her? You've been in the ground a long time, is she 200 years old? Is she your wife-"

"She's not my wife." He interrupted as he pinched my lips together to silence me. There was a moment of silence before he let my face go. Instead of continuing to berate him, I opted to stay quiet and rub my sore lips. "I ain't used to having someone I gotta explain myself to." He continued.

"You make it sound like such a chore." I scoffed out.

"Just listen to me, damn it. She's not my wife. She's not a lover. So, settle down." He huffed angrily. 

I silently stared up at him waiting for him to continue, to explain the pieces I was missing, however as time went on it became clear he wasn’t going to say anything else. My face changed from anger to disbelief as he stared down at me with his signature stony expression. I wanted to scream at him. To yell in his face. To berate him for keeping me in the dark. Instead, I just turned around quietly and started walking in the direction we were going earlier before shooting back at him with an aloof tone. “Whatever you say.”

I heard him scoff behind me, but this time he didn’t stop me from walking away. Instead, he chose to yell after me. “Does my age bother you? Me bein’ a ghoul is fine but an old ghoul? That's too gross for you?”

I stopped dead in my tracks before I whipped around to face him again. The look of disbelief still graced my face. “Of course that doesn’t bother me, Cooper. I can’t believe you would think that.” I could feel the tears returning to my eyes as we stood there staring at each other. “It’s the secrets that bother me. I told you everything about myself, but all you’ve told me is you had a wife and a daughter at some point. I’ve given you everything-“

“I know. I know darlin’.” He interrupted me as he walked up towards me. His scarred hands quickly found my cheeks as he cupped my face gently. The annoyed look he’d worn on his face this entire argument was gone, instead replaced with a look of sadness. “You deserve better than me.”

“Don’t.” I responded quickly, “Don’t do that. I am not gonna let you push me away Coop.” 

He gave me a sad smile before dropping his hands from my face, “Guess I am stuck with you then?”

I let out a surprised laugh as I grabbed ahold of his hands. “Yea. So you better start treatin’ me right.” I teased. 

His sad smile was exchanged for a happier one as he looked down at our joined hands. “How about we keep goin’ and find a place to stay for the night?”

I nodded my head quietly as I gave him a small peck on the lips before turning around, and dragging him close behind me. He scoffed and shook his head in disbelief, he had no idea what he had done to deserve love. He was a cold, hard man who thought he'd live the rest of his life alone and he had been fine with that. 

-

My mouth hung open in shock as we sat around the fire. Cooper explained everything, the vaults, the experiments, and his wife's role in everything. We took little breaks here and there, as it was clear this was hard on Coop. He hadn't told anyone about these things even before the bombs dropped. If he was a softer man, he would've cried. I sat still and listened carefully while casually rubbing his back with reassurance. I was happy that he felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with me.

"And Moldaver, well she was the woman who helped me realize the truth about my wife. Now that I know she is alive, I am hopin' she knows where my daughter is." He explained quietly, a look of defeat on his face. 

"Do ya think she's still alive?" I asked tentatively. 

"If Moldaver is, I don't see why not." He responded. 

I nodded my head quietly as I tried my best to take in all of this information. This was beyond me, and we both knew it. 

"Well, I'll help you find her," I said giving him a small smile.

He scoffed as he he frowned. "You don't have to, it'll be dangerous darlin'."

"I know." I said reassuringly, "But we are a team now." I kissed him on the cheek softly, my lips lingering on his face. "You are stuck with my Cooper Howard."

Tag list: @bruhidkjustwannaread @msrawog @valdemarismynonbinarylove @whizbang-cap @topiramateagreeable 

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@sarahmclean15

[starkwlkr]

Oh I love your baby Leclerc works and I have a request like before you jump onto baby no 2, wouldn’t it be amazing to have a one shot of the day ruby was born like how Charles reacted to holding her for the first time. His feelings as a father and a girls dad thinking he has a huge responsibility to live up to his daughter’s expectations. Something like that.

your daddy’s here | charles leclerc

this is so cute 🤍 my knowledge about childbirth is limited but since my sister had a baby in december and i was with her the day before she gave birth i’m just going to use that to write this 🧍🏽‍♀️

January 2019

Y/n and Charles waited for the results. While she was calm, Charles couldn’t contain his excitement. He immediately started picturing them as a family. Him, Y/n and their new baby.

“Okay, do you want to look first or how do you want to do this?” Y/n asked as the timer on her phone went off.

“I want to look together if that’s okay with you.” Charles say next to her on their shared bed. Y/n nodded and flipped the pregnancy test over. She gasped when she saw the words Pregnant’ on the small screen. “We’re going to be parents. Holy shit!” Charles yelled as he immediately hugged the mother of his child and started kissing her face all over.

“Wait, what if our child decides to be born on a race day?” Y/n asked once Charles stopped his kisses.

“I won’t race, simple. I’m going to be there in the hospital with you. You’re crazy if you think I’m going to miss our child’s birth.”

Thank god that didn’t happen.

September 2019

Charles had won in Monza. Y/n wasn’t in attendance since she was days past her due date so she stayed in Monaco with Pascale. They watched the Grand Prix on the tv. Charles even blew a kiss to the camera for his family back home.

Y/n’s doctor had told her the due date was September third, but Baby Leclerc was being stubborn. Yeah, they kept the gender a secret until the birth so everyone referred to their child as baby leclerc. Arthur was the first one to call the baby that name. With the Singapore Grand Prix happening in less than two weeks, Charles was getting nervous.

“Okay, baby leclerc, you have to come out soon.” Charles said to Y/n’s large stomach. He took the opportunity to fly back to Monaco to be with Y/n in case the baby decided to be born.

“They loves hearing your voice. Maybe they’ll listen to their father and come out tonight.” Y/n teased. It was like the baby was listening to her because the next thing she knew, she was in a hospital bed with Charles in a chair beside her.

He had texted all his family members many updates every five minutes. Everyone could tell he was ready and excited to be a dad.

“I’m going insane, Charles, I just want the baby out already.”

A painful and long labor was what it took for baby leclerc to come out. A girl was what the doctor announced to the couple. Charles cut the umbilical cord. He watched as several nurses took the baby girl and placed her on Y/n’s chest. He walked over to his two girls and watched in awe.

“She’s here, she’s actually here.” Charles kissed Y/n’s forehead. “You did so good, mon amour.”

“I think she wants her daddy to hold her.” Y/n smiled even though all she wanted was to rest. She didn’t want to miss the loving moment when Charles finally held his daughter.

“She’s so little. My little girl.” Charles carefully took the baby into his arms. Charles had always heard how first time parents are afraid of holding babies because they think they’re going to drop the baby. But not him, he would never. He held her safely in his arms, smiling down at her. “Hi, baby. I’m your papa.”

Y/n never understood how some adults could look at a baby and say ‘she looks like her father/mother’. It never made sense to her because the baby was just born, how could they find the resemblance? Now she completely understood what they meant. Their daughter looked exactly like Charles. Their nose shape, the mouth, it was all him.

After getting the baby all cleaned, weighed and measured, Charles couldn’t wait to hold his daughter again. The nurse handed the baby girl back to him and congratulated the couple.

“Do you have a name for her?” The nurse asked.

“I have a name, but I wasn’t sure if you’d like it.” He shyly said as he turned his attention to Y/n.

“What is it?”

“Ruby. Like your birthstone.” Charles said.

“Ruby. I love it. Ruby . . . Jules. Ruby Jules.” Y/n confirmed to the nurse.

“I like the name Louise too. Ruby Jules Louise Leclerc.” Charles added. The nurse nodded and excused herself. “Ruby Jules.” He said once more. He loved how it sounded.

“I know you wanted to make at least one of our kids after Jules.” Y/n kissed Charles’ cheek.

“We’re going to have more?” Charles chuckled. “With you I’ll have all the babies you want. We can give Ruby Jules all the siblings.”

“Some, not all. You try popping out a kid.”

Liked by lorenzotl, pierregasly and 107,638 others

charles_leclerc Baby Leclerc ❤️

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Liked by estebanocon, scuderiaferrari and 102,678 others

y/nleclerc proud mama to my special girl ✨🫶🏼

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[bluecollarmcandtf]

"Dude, I took over your dad's body.."

"...and goddamn is there a lot of him to work with! I've been a ghost for years now, but I've never been inside a 6' 3" ex-linebacker! I've been checking him out all afternoon, and let me tell you that this man is big and hairy all over," he punctuates his comment with a wink.

Your dad, the man you've looked up to your entire life, is saying things you don't want to think about while casually laying on the couch in nothing but a robe and booty shorts. The urge to puke is suppressed, but you know that Jimmy has crossed a line here. Your deceased friend has possessed bullies, professors, and more, but he's never had the balls to take over your own family. What was he thinking?

"I jumped into him while he was at work. I think his coworkers probably found it strange when I picked up his briefcase and waddled his ass out the door," Jimmy chuckles at the memory, "But don't worry. Your old man had plenty of sick days he wasn't gonna use."

It doesn't take long for you to burst out in anger at the spirit controlling your father. Your face is hot, and you can't stand to watch your dad get puppetted around like a fool!

"Calm the fuck down!" he swears uncharacteristically, "Give this big guy a hug. Come here. Daddy needs some love..."

The thought of hugging your father while he's being forced to act like this feels wrong, but you relent. A part of you is glad for the embrace. It might not actually be your dad, but paternal comfort is exactly what you need right now, and your real dad isn't the type to give his child a hug.

"That's it, son," Jimmy pets your head with your father's thick hands, "Let daddy take care of you. Let your dumb old fart-of-a-father give you some much-needed attention."

You can't help but chuckle at the self-deprecating joke. Your real dad was too proud to laugh at himself, and he'd never made an effort to be anything other than distant and formal with you. In fact, there was a lot your real dad would never do; he'd never leave the office in the middle of the day, he'd never lay around the house like a lazy bum, and he'd certainly never let his hairy chest and thick legs be on full display in front of his disappointing gay son.

Suddenly, while still embraced, you realize there's something poking into your waist.

"Sorry, dude," your father whispers in your ear, "I guess your dad is just happy to see you."

You push him away, insisting that Jimmy needs to stay out of family members' bodies because this just feels so wrong! You search the pair of unnaturally blank eyes for any sign that Jimmy might be listening to you.

"You need to relax, bro," your dad (Jimmy) groans in annoyance. He looks disappointed, but then he sparks up and gives you a new look of excitement. "Son," he says with exaggerated machismo, "Take a page from my book and learn to chill out. It doesn't matter what the world thinks about you or me. I'll prove it to you..."

With a placid grin and blank gaze, your father lumbers past and marches straight out the front door of the house. You're almost too stunned to follow. Was Jimmy really going to parade your dad's body around the neighborhood in nothing but his robe?

"Afternoon, neighbor," your father's rumbling tone bellows across the street, "Lovely weather, today. My son thought I should take my fat hairy gut for a little stroll in the sun. You know us dads have got to keep our boys happy. Am I right?"

Mr. Jones stares at your father from his porch, just as shocked as you are. He often drank beers with this man and every other neighborhood dad at backyard barbecues and living room game watches. This was not how he normally interacted with the man, and it obviously struck him as weird.

"You alright, Bob?" he asks hesitantly.

"Right as rain, neighbor!" Jimmy answers with a tone that's too goofy to pass as my dad's, "If that's how you're staring at me now, I wonder what'll happen if I take this robe off..."

Before Mr. Jones can process the flirtation in your father's voice, you shuffle your dad further down the street and away from the whole interaction. That may have been hilarious, but Jimmy was going to destroy any reputation and respect your father had around here!

You demand to know where Jimmy is going with this body. It's not like you have any ability to even slow the ghost down when he's got the weight and strength of your 200 lb father.

"I'm thinking the park. Your dad could use some cardio," he smirks, an unfamiliar expression on the grown man's face, "Or maybe the public bathroom on the north end. You know, it has that hole in the stall..."

No amount of reasoning or arguments can change Jimmy's mind. Apparently he's set on wearing your father to the city's most notorious gay hookup spot.

"Don't look at me like that," his gravelly voice sounds amused by your frustration, "With me in charge, your dad will be the dirtiest slut that bathroom's ever seen. Don't you think it'll be funny to see such a massive, manly bear serving man after man in there?"

You sigh in disbelief.

"Or...maybe I don't have to rent out your dad's body to a bunch of strangers..."

You wonder where he's going with this. It sounds like an ultimatum is coming, and you don't like the idea of your crazy dead friend giving you an ultimatum.

"...your dad could hold off on bottoming for strangers...if...you let him be your submissive little bitch."

The choice is an annoying one, but you're pretty sure you can't let your dad have unprotected sex with strangers in a public place. This is what he'd want right?

"That's what I thought," the grin on your father's face twists maniacally. He tussles your hair like he's the proudest dad in the world, "Let's head on back home, buddy. Daddy's gonna lick every inch of sweat off that body of yours. He's got years of emotional absence to make up for."

One of his beefy arms cradles your back and turns you around. You're relieved to no longer be headed towards the public bathroom, but you're still a little nervous about what awaits you at home. How does Jimmy expect you to enjoy any of this when it's your dad doing all these things to you?

"Daddy's gonna treat you to a night that's all about you," he goes on, "Cooking you dinner, rubbing your feet, cuddling on the couch, and so much more. I want you to think of some humiliating things daddy can do for you while we walk back. Make sure they're extra degrading or your dad will just have to step out of the house and degrade himself where the entire city can see..."

The last comment gives you butterflies in your stomach, but it also gives you a bit of a hard-on. Maybe Jimmy playing with your dad wasn't so scary of an idea after all. With him possessed, anything was on the table: personal affirmations, some much needed bonding, roleplay, revenge, humiliation. Heck, you could even give your father a golden shower and Jimmy would have him smiling through it!

Walking home, you steal glances at your dad, towering over you as his rotund gut leads the way. Home can't come fast enough!

[eddiesghxst]

PRICE OF FAME (PART 3/12)

ALRIGHTY HERE WE GO !!

————

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: rockstar!eddie x journalist!reader

summary: eddie and gareth don't get along and eddie thinks you look cute when you're sleeping

contains: enemies to lovers trope, smoking, alcohol use, maybe gareth's a bitch lol, scary feelings, a sprinkle of fluff, and eddie being down bad in every way, shape, and form <3

word count: 5.3k

| previous part | next part |

| series masterlist | -main masterlist- |

Breakfast has been your favorite part of joining Corroded Coffin on tour. Aside from the fluffy, soft, sweet pancakes, grease-dripping bacon, and toe-curling orgasmic coffee, breakfast has always been lighthearted and fun. Richie makes everybody sit at the table together like a family so there can be some sense of normalcy throughout the busy days; it’s nice.

You alternate with your seating, wanting to get to know all of the crew members as best as you can while you have the time, and you’ve had decent conversations amongst some awkward ones. On the first day, you sat next to Mitch, the light coordinator, and listened to his story about how he met his husband. They’re expecting a baby this fall, and you two bounced a few names off each other for him to consider. On the second day, you sat beside Kaylee, the tour stylist, and talked about your college horror stories. On the third day, you sat next to Brandon, a stage manager, and spoke about… well, you don’t really remember because he talked the entire time, and you kind of blanked out. Slowly, you’ve made your way around the table each day, learning little things about the group.

Today, however, there is not the usual lighthearted and familial atmosphere at the table.

You came down to the breakfast hall a bit late from your shower, and the second you stepped into the room, you could sense the tension still hanging from yesterday. You haven’t spoken to or seen Eddie since he confronted Gareth at the studio, and you’re not sure if he’d even want to see you, but you have no choice but to take the only open seat next to him.

You quietly say good morning to everyone, and Richie is the only one who gives you a warm response. “How’d you sleep, birdie?” He questions around a mouthful of eggs. You nod and settle in, “Good, I almost slept through my alarm.” You jokingly admit. Richie chuckles, “1500 thread count sheets will do that to you.” He says, causing the table to erupt in a soft symphony of laughter.

It falls awkwardly silent, and you try your best to avoid glancing at Gareth, but there’s no doubt everybody notices the shiner he’s sporting on his eye. The room is filled with sounds of forks clanking against plates and the quiet mumble of short, faint snippets of conversation until Richie clears his throat, “We’ve got an interview with the press at twelve and rehearsals at three, like always, so do what you need to do before then. We can’t be late for this interview, got it?” He reminds the crew, and everybody’s head nods in understanding, all but one.

“I’m not going.”

All eyes turn to Gareth, a full plate sitting untouched before him as he slumps back in his seat. Beside you, Eddie lights a cigarette, and you opt to busy yourself with taking a bite of your French toast, practically feeling the anger radiating from Eddie as he takes a drag. Richie clears his throat once again, scooting closer to the table and tilting his head with a look of confusion, “Um… why not?” He questions.

Gareth glances at him as best as he can with his black eye, “Because I’ve got an eye the size of a tennis ball on my face, Richie.” Everyone at the table seems to uncomfortably shift now that the elephant in the room has been addressed. Eddie doesn’t waste a second to speak up from beside you, “Nothing you didn’t deserve.” For the first time since yesterday, Eddie looks at Gareth and sees the swollen eye he left from yesterday. Eddie doesn’t show a single hint of regret.

The table returns to quietly eating as Gareth ignores Eddie’s comment, “I’m not going.” He reiterates. Richie sighs and rubs the coarse mustache on his face, “You have to go, Gareth. Just put some shades on.” He suggests, returning to his food as if the conversation finished, but Gareth holds up. “I’m not gonna sit there in shades like a fucking idiot, man.”

“Well, you don’t have a choice, son,” Richie snaps, dropping the fork in his plate to look at Gareth. You wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole, and you’re sure you’re not the only person with that wish when you look at the other crew members at the table. “This band has an album coming soon,” he reminds the group, “We don’t have time for rumors and gossip to start circulating; you need to show up as a unit. This isn’t up for debate.”

The conversation could’ve ended there because, quite frankly, it seemed like Gareth was willing to go with it, but Eddie couldn’t let the moment to say something slip, “Just let him go, Rich.” He shrugs. You glance at Eddie, watching as he taps his cigarette ash into his plate, “It’s not like he brings much to the table anyway.”

Across the table, from the corner of your eye, you see Gareth lean forward to glare at Eddie, “The fuck does that mean?” He snaps.

Eddie looks at Gareth for the second time and shrugs, “Means you’re a shit band member, man. Fuckin’ Mitch has done more for this band than you ever have or could’ve done.” He gestures towards Mitch, ignoring when the man slightly cowers in his seat. Gareth looks at Eddie with a stone-cold glare, saying nothing momentarily and letting the thick blanket of silence curl around everyone's neck. He leans forward and points a finger at Eddie, who’s not even looking at him anymore, “Fuck you. You wonder why Chrissy left you for Jason Carver, it’s because you’re a fucking asshole.”

“Jesus Christ, guys–” Jeff tries to interject, but Gareth continues speaking, “At least Jason acknowledges her. That’s more than you ever did.” He jabs. Eddie chuckles, shaking his head before speaking around a cloud of smoke, “You don’t know shit about me and Chrissy.”

Gareth tauntingly laughs, “Nah, she filled me in quite a fuckin’ bit.”

The invisible ticking time bomb seems to have gone off in Eddie’s mind. He stands up from his chair, a loud screeching noise grating everyone's ears as he flicks his cigarette into his plate, “The fuck did you just say?”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Richie interjects, standing up and raising his hands as a gesture to stop. “Enough. Fucking enough,” he glances between the two heated men in annoyance, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you boys, but you need to figure your shit out on your own time.” He snaps. Your hands rest in your lap, anxiously picking at the seam of your jeans, wanting to shrink into your seat because you can’t help but feel as if this is your fault. It was your journal he read anyway; you play some part in the issue, right?

Richie sits back down with an exhaustive huff, picking up his fork to resume eating, but before he picks up a piece of his food, he gestures at the table, “Either sit down and finish your goddamn meal, or fuck off somewhere. Both of you.”

Eddie stands for a moment before deciding to leave without another word.

By the time the press interview rolls around, you’re more anxious than you thought you’d be. Between the time frame of breakfast and now, you had more than enough time to ponder over the messy situation you’ve accidentally created between Gareth and Eddie.

Truthfully, you had no idea that the Chrissy Gareth had mentioned during your conversation was Eddie’s ex-girlfriend Chrissy; hell, you didn’t even know Eddie had an ex-girlfriend named Chrissy until yesterday!

On one of your few sit-downs with Gareth, you ended up discussing his love life, and you took the leap of faith to ask him if he’d ever been in love.

“…There was one girl. Her name was Chrissy; we went to high school together.”��

“You dated?” “No,” Gareth shakes his head, “No, we never dated. But I always had this weird connection with her… like we understood each other in a deeper way.”

You smile in awe of the sweetness behind his words, jotting down little notes in your journal as he speaks. “I always admired her to an extent, but she, uh,” he clears his throat and scratches at his jaw, “she was in another relationship for most of the time I knew her.”

Gareth silently watches as you continue to write. You look up at him when you realize he’s been silent for a while, and you open your mouth to ask what is wrong, but he speaks before you, “Is this um,” he gestures towards your journal, “this bit isn’t going in the final publish, right?” He asks. You tilt your head, a few questions running through your mind, but you brush them off, “Um… well, I suppose I can leave some of it out, yes.”

Gareth nods, shifting in his chair and clearing his throat. “Okay, good. Um… well, anyways,” he begins, “Me and Chrissy didn’t hook up until I went back to Hawkins during our break off from last year's tour.” 

Ultimately, Gareth had explained that Chrissy had recently left a three-year relationship when they’d hooked up. He explained that they crossed paths at a bar, and things took off from there, but he cut it off with her the following morning. He never told you why he cut it off, but you now understand the guilt of betraying his best friend had forced him to do so.

You had no idea that the entire conversation was pertaining to Eddie’s ex; if you had known, you would’ve never written it down. You wouldn’t have even finished the conversation if Gareth had told the whole truth because, quite honestly, you would rather not be in the mix of this disaster. 

You’re disappointed. Upset that Gareth practically used you to get the guilt off his chest. And the truth is, that conversation did little to nothing for Gareth in the long run; he still felt guilty for never telling Eddie, and it’s only gotten worse with the added tension between them now that the secret is out.

Eddie was cold toward you before, but now he’s thicker than the ice in Antarctica. He’s avoiding you at all costs— and maybe he’s just avoiding everybody. Still, you can’t help but take his avoidance personally, especially when you’d thought you were finally reaching some sort of middle ground with him.

You sit off to the side of the stage with the rest of the band’s crew as you watch them take their seats for the press interview. Eddie sits on one end of the table while Gareth sits at the other end, the other two members filling the two seats in between. Gareth had no choice but to cover his black eye with a dark shade of glasses, and it seemed like nobody paid mind to it— typical rockstar wardrobe and all.

The interview was off to a good start, with reporters asking questions about the upcoming album, life on the road, and relatively anything about the music. Near the end, however, is when things seemed to get rocky. The questions became more of a filler than anything important, and boys were evidently tired of answering. It wasn’t until a journalist asked a specific question that things seemed to reach a tipping point.

“There’s been rumors that this album has more love songs than usual. Could you confirm or deny that?” 

The boys look at each other, and Gareth leans forward to respond, but Eddie beats him to it. “There were a few, yeah, but um… They didn’t make the final cut, so maybe next time.” 

The energy vividly shifts amongst the boys; Gareth looks at Eddie and scoffs before leaning back into his chair, clearly throwing in the towel for the rest of the interview. You don’t understand the apparent dispute just now, but you find out when the boys finish the interview and walk into the green room.

“What the fuck, man?” Gareth spits, walking a few paces behind Eddie. “We’re not cutting the song.” His loud voice booms through the room, not caring if anybody will overhear their dispute. 

“I’m not putting a song out that you wrote about my fucking ex-girlfriend, Gareth. Are you out of your fucking mind?” Eddie snaps. 

Richie turns to the band and crew members and motions for them to leave the room, which nobody even bothers to protest, eager to escape any more awkward conversations for the day. Everybody else makes a beeline for the tour bus, planning to fill in the few hours before rehearsal.

You glance back at the room where Eddie and Gareth are bickering, and you bravely choose to sit in the chair outside the doorway. You try not to stick your nose in their business, but they’re arguing loud enough for you to hear snippets either way. The conversation doesn’t last long before Gareth storms out of the room and down the hall, bursting through the doors and out of sight.

You glance back into the room where Eddie stands, fishing out his pack of cigarettes and sparking up. You figure now is better than ever, so you clench your bag strap and stand up, hesitantly stepping into the room. Clearing your throat once you’re a few steps away from Eddie, you watch as he exhales a cloud of smoke. He glances at you and turns away, “What do you want?”

You take one step closer, “I um… I wanted to apologize.” You begin. He looks at you again, brown eyes tired and riddled with pain— and you can’t imagine how much of a whirlwind the past twenty-four hours have been for him. “For what?” He asks, confusion and annoyance laced within his tone.

He’s turned to face you, shiny chains glistening on his hips beneath the building lights. You shake your head, struggling to find the words, because, was this really even your fault?

You obviously can’t apologize for Gareth fucking his ex-girlfriend— you had no part in that— and it’d seem silly to apologize for accidentally dropping your journal. So, what exactly do you apologize for? How do you let him know that you’re sorry this was how he found out, even if it isn’t entirely your fault?

You decide to try and redirect your wording, “I want you to know that I was never going to put that in the final article.” You say.

Eddie scoffs, taking a drag of his cigarette before responding, “And why would I believe that?” He questions. 

He’s gazing at you like the first night you’d met when he was watching you from across the green room and commanding you to leave. You think he has the same intentions now, but Eddie has yet to learn that you’re stubborn.

“Well, for starters, Gareth asked me not to put it in,” you admit. Eddie’s jaw tenses and part of you feels as if you’ve tossed Gareth under the bus, but you had no choice. This was Gareth’s doing, and if you have to tell the ugly truth to save your image, then so be it. “He didn’t tell me why, but I know now. And now that I know the full truth behind that story, I definitely won’t write it in.”

Eddie watches you momentarily, intense eyes burning holes through you before he turns away. He scratches his jaw for a moment, taking a breath before returning to you. Eddie points to you, the burning cigarette hanging between his fingers as he speaks, “You know,” he begins, “somehow, you’ve managed to persuade everyone that you’re some sweet, innocent small-town journalist that just wants to ‘appreciate the artists,’ but that,” he gestures to your bag where he knows your journal is resting, ashes fluttering to the ground with each wave of his hand.

“That proved everything I believed about you.” He says. “People like you are fucking vampires. You suck the life out of people to keep you alive, and it’s fucked up.” He snaps. 

Your face twists in anger, subtly shaking your head as you subconsciously step closer, “Eddie, I didn’t… I didn’t even know she was your ex, and if I did, I would’ve never written about it.” You exclaim, tossing your hands in exasperation. “And I’m sorry you found out the way you did, but you can’t hate me for something someone else did!”

Eddie frustratedly rubs his face, “That’s not the point!” He exclaims. “I read your journal. I saw everything I needed to see to confirm that I was right about everything with you and this fucking article.” He stresses, his loud voice echoing throughout the empty room.

“I'm not here to destroy your life, Eddie!” You snap, voice raising to match the level of his own. Eddie steps closer, towering over you and glaring so intensely into your eyes that you almost cower, “I don’t fucking believe that for a second.” He snaps back.

His chest rises and sinks like a rocky boat beneath his angry breaths, and he’s so close you can smell the cigarettes and mint on his breath. The scent of his cologne wrapping around you and choking you like a snake.

You don’t know how much more patient you can be with Eddie. You don’t know how much more of this back-and-forth you can take before it drives you insane. You want it to end. You want him to understand that you’re not his enemy; you never were.

You can only think of doing one thing: unzipping your bag and reaching in to grab your journal. Eddie watches with a hint of confusion in his eyes as you crack open the journal and start flipping through the pages. “What are you doing?” He asks in annoyance, patience running thin at your silence.

You flip through nearly half of the book before finding the pages you sought. You don’t think twice before ripping them out, not even caring if it destroys the binds of your precious journal. “The fuck are you doing?” Eddie asks again.

You tear each page out and drop the book to the floor, ignoring Eddie’s questions as you shred each torn-out page to pieces. Eddie watches in silent and hidden shock as each pen-soaked strip flutters to the ground, creating a heap of trash between where you both stand.

You tear the last piece and let it fall before looking at Eddie, watching as he gazes at the torn pages. Nearly five pages worth of writing, gone.

“There. It’s gone. Do you believe me now?” 

Eddie says nothing when he drags his gaze up to look at you, shock-ridden across his face. “I’m not who you say I am, Eddie. I’m not here to ruin your life; that was never my intention.”

Eddie stays silent, seemingly lost for words, and even if you want him to say something, your braveness has begun to falter, and you itch to leave the room. You’re strong-willed, but you’re no fucking superwoman, and Eddie has pulled every exhausting breath out of you, and you can’t seem to get a grip because every time you breathe in, all you smell and feel is Eddie.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

You grab your destroyed journal from the floor, not bothering to try and fix the binding before you shove it back into your bag, and you don’t say another word as you leave the room.

You’ve been writing for hours when you check the clock— twelve thirty-two. The band played a show tonight, but you decided to stay in your hotel to let your ankle rest— you haven’t been taking all the precautions the medic advised you to, so by the time lunch rolled around, you were in an uncomfortable fit of pain. You used your free time by tweaking the draft of your article— adding in new pieces of information and taking out unnecessary notes. You’re about twenty pages in, but by the end of the month, you’ll have compiled it all into ten; but for now, it seems your brain has become a muddled mess of words and ideas. 

You suppose drinking three glasses of wine didn’t help fix that, either. You’re tipsy, teetering on the edge of drunk, and that’s a dangerous place to be when you’re practically working. You don’t even want to think of the past drunken works you’ve made; they’re worse than you’d like to admit.

You sigh, dropping your pen onto the hotel desk, leaning back in your chair, and rubbing your hand down your face in exhaustion. You glance over to the chair you’ve propped up to rest your injured leg, deciding that you should probably ice it since you’ve neglected to do so all day.

You figure you’re done writing for the day anyway, so you put your things in order before grabbing the ice bucket and making your way out of the room to find the ice machine. 

What you don’t expect to find on your journey is a sleepy Eddie sitting in the hallway just a few doors down from yours. Maybe you drank four glasses of wine.

Out of common, drunk courtesy, you redirect your path and limp over to where he sits, arms folded across his chest and head leaned back against the wall with shut eyes.

You gently say his name to grab his attention, but he doesn’t budge. You shuffle closer, calling his name out again, and when that doesn’t work, you gently nudge him with your non-injured foot. His eyes flutter open, blinking away the light sleep from his eyes as he looks at you.

You tilt your head in question and ask, “What are you doing sleeping in the hallway?” 

Eddie shifts in his spot, grunting and glancing at the bucket in your hands. From the looks of it, Eddie is as sober as can be, so you guess he decided to skip out on the after-show festivities they usually partake in. “I um… I lost the key card to my room.” He explains, gesturing to the door across from where he’s seated.

“The band is out for the night, and the lobby’s closed, so…” 

You nod in understanding, glancing around the empty hallway, catching sight of a cleaning lady entering a room down the corridor. And technically, you don’t owe Eddie anything.

You could leave him here in the hallway to spend the night sleeping on the hard ground, and it probably wouldn’t bother him either way because Eddie clearly doesn’t like you, but fuck you feel bad.

You’re not a terrible person. You wouldn’t kick somebody when they’re already down, and Eddie… Eddie is clearly down.

Before you can thoroughly think it over, your liquor-weighted mouth speaks before you can stop yourself, “You could crash in my room for the night.”

Eddie looks at you with the blankest expression he could ever muster and blinks, “Why would I do that?”

God, he’s such a fucking asshole.

You shrug, gently swinging the bucket in your hand and glancing around again, “I don’t know, unless you'd like to sit here all night like a moron, then be my guest.”

Your ankle hurts as you stand and wait for Eddie to make up his mind, and just when you almost decide to throw in the towel and let him fend for himself, Eddie grumbles a short “Fine,” and gets up.

You watch as he reaches down to grab his leather jacket and turns to you, “You can go ahead; I have to get ice for my foot.” You tell him, pointing to your door so he knows where to go.

Eddie glances down at your injured leg and says nothing before he reaches forward and gently takes the bucket from your hands— cold, jewelry-covered fingers brushing up against your warm knuckles and sending shivers up your spine.

He hands you his jacket, and you stand silently, confused by the exchange. Before you can ask what he’s doing, he answers your question, “I’ll get the ice.” And he doesn’t even bother looking at you before turning around and leaving to find the ice machine.

You’re too drunk to figure out what that was about, and your ankle is starting to throb under the pressure of standing, so you walk back to your room clutching his jacket and trying your hardest not to let the familiar scent of Eddie knock you dead.

You leave the door slightly propped open for Eddie and place his jacket on the chair near the desk. In the meantime, you busy yourself with removing your suitcase and clothes you’d haphazardly tossed around from the extra bed where Eddie will be sleeping. You figure you’ll just head to bed once Eddie gets here, so you exchange your jeans and fitted top for shorts and a ratty old He-Man shirt from high school.

You’re setting your previous clothes aside when Eddie steps into the room, a bucket full of ice in one hand with a Coke and chips in the other. You raise an eyebrow, questioning the extra items, and he shrugs as he shuts the door with his foot, “What? The vending machine was right next to the ice, and I was hungry.” He explains as he places the bucket on the desk, making sure to avoid placing it on your work pages. He tries his best not to look at what you’ve written, and you don’t point it out when he clears his throat and diverts his attention to something else. He grabs the wine bottle and shakes it, raising an eyebrow when he realizes it’s less than halfway full, “I take it someone had a good time?”

You roll your eyes, walking over to take the bottle and put it back on the desk. “Not that it’s any of your business.” You respond, turning to grab a ziplock to fill with ice. Eddie takes the bag from you and shoos you away, “Go sit down, I’ll do it.”

Your face twists in confusion, “You’re starting to scare me. Are you gonna kill me?”

Eddie laughs and busies himself with scooping large chunks of ice and dropping them into the open ziplock. “I will if you don’t sit down.” He responds.

You relent and walk over to your bed, sitting at the head of the mattress to lean against the pillows near the headboard, doing your best to shove a pillow beneath your foot lazily. You sit silently, hands folded against your stomach, watching Eddie work.

He’s wearing his usual black jeans, decorated with hanging chains from his waist, and a plain white shirt, hidden muscles flexing beneath the soft cotton. His shoulders are broad yet hidden beneath the thick, curly mane of hair he has. Tattoos litter his arms, a few trickling down to his fingers, and you catch glimpses of his knuckles dripping with drops of water from the ice and— fuck.

There’s no way you’re checking out Eddie Munson, the asshole who’s made your life a living hell these past few weeks. You really can’t handle your liquor.

You panic and grab the TV remote, quickly turning it on to fill the silence. You distract yourself by watching the random sitcom playing until Eddie steps into your view. You must’ve been focused on the show because Eddie seems to have traveled to the restroom to get a towel to wrap around your makeshift ice pack. Your sheets are pulled back, leaving your bare legs on display, and you can’t help but squirm when Eddie stands at the foot of the bed and takes in the sight of you.

He says nothing as he gently lowers the ice onto your ankle. His inked fingers sink into the plush cotton of the towel, and if Eddie weren’t an artist, you bet he could land a job as a hand model. Or maybe you’ve really lost it.

His gaze flickers to catch your wide eyes, and you hold your breath when he speaks, “Is it too cold? Do you need another towel?” He asks. You stutter to answer him, so you shake your head no, eventually sputtering out a response of, “N-no, it’s fine. Thank you.”

Eddie turns to grab his snacks and falls into the other bed with a sigh, cracking open the bag of chips and popping a few into his mouth. You grimace and pull the sheets over your body as you comment, “If you bring ants to my room, I swear to god, Munson, I’ll hunt you down.” 

Eddie chuckles, glancing at you as you shift around and get comfortable in bed, “Not with that broken foot, you won’t.”

You glare at him over the heap of expensive duvets and pillows, “I wonder whose fault that is?” You respond, falling back into bed when you see him roll his eyes. 

Eddie clears his throat after a moment, “Speaking of that,” he begins; you peek over at him once again to watch as he puts the chips aside and grabs the remote to start flicking through channels. “Since we’re off these next four days, you should keep it light on your feet.”

You sarcastically laugh, “Don’t tell me you’re actually concerned for my well-being. This night keeps getting weirder and weirder.” You joke. Eddie pauses his task to glance at you, “No, I just…” You raise an eyebrow, urging him to continue. He rolls his eyes, “I’m not a complete asshole, you know?” He grumbles, turning back to the TV.

You’re snuggled into your sheets now as you watch Eddie flip through the channels, admiring how different features of his face light up under the different colors from the screen. He’s… pretty.

“What do you have planned for your days off?” You question behind a drawn-out yawn. You think you catch a glimpse of a smile on Eddie’s lips, but you can’t see very well in the dim lighting. “My Uncle Wayne is flying in, so… I’m spending time with him,” Eddie explains. You smile, “Your uncle?” 

Eddie nods, and you hum, “That’s nice… Can I meet him?” 

You’re never drinking wine again.

Eddie looks at you as if you’ve asked him the dumbest question on earth, “Why would… why?”

You shrug, “Maybe he’ll help me figure out why you’re such a grump.” You half-heartedly tease. Eddie scoffs, returning to watch the movie he’s landed on, “If you think I’m grumpy, you’re not equipped to meet Wayne.” He comments. And then something remarkable happens.

Eddie smiles to himself.

It’s small and obviously not meant for your eyes, but you see it either way, and it… fuck, it makes you feel things you would’ve never imagined you could for such an asshole of a man. What is going on?

“He can’t be any worse than you.” You joke. Eddie scoffs, “Nah, Wayne takes the cake for grumpiest man alive,” he bids. 

Eddie tells you about Wayne, little memories he remembers that bleed into more memories until, eventually, he’s practically taking a walk down memory road. You go back and forth with him, commenting when you had a similar situation or when Eddie mentioned the same show you loved in high school.

At some point, Eddie’s stories and the low hum of the TV lull you to sleep, and you find yourself lying in cotton candy clouds, sinking into the softness and letting it surround you. 

Eddie’s not sure when you checked out on him, but he figures he’d been talking to himself for a while because you're fast asleep when he looks over at you.

He watches you for a moment and appreciates the way the blue and white hues of the TV dance across your face. Your skin looks soft under the fluorescent lights, and he thinks the steady rise and fall of your breaths is more entertaining than any movie he could’ve landed on. And you’re so pretty— soft and molded to perfection, and Eddie thinks he might like you more like this; when you’re not talking and being the most obnoxious person he’s ever met. Eddie hates the feeling he gets in his chest from just looking at you. 

You’re cute, he thinks.

He shakes his head to free himself from whatever weird feelings are spiraling through his mind, and he turns off the TV, letting the darkness swallow the room.

He’ll just have to worry about his feelings another time, he thinks.

————

part four

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a/n: HII U MADE IT TO THE END, U CAN ALL THANK MY STINK @mmunson86 FOR THE TINY PIECE OF FLUFF, THIS WAS FOR U BAE <3 ANYWAYS, PLS LET ME KNOW HOW U LIKED THIS PART I ALWAYS LOVE TO HEAR UR FEEDBACK, ILY BYE

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cutie lil taglist: @mastermindmiko @whataboutbibi @ryanmxrie @ihatepeanutss @tlclick73 @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @jesssssmaybankk @eddiesguitarskills @bibieddiesgf @chloe-6123 @micheledawn1975 @demxnicprxncess @emma77645 @sidthedollface2 @mvnsonslvt @s-u-t

[loveluvrs]

third time's the charm l oscar piastri x reader

request/summary – Hellooo!! Would you be able to write an oscar piastri blurb with little examples of the reader showing him off and him getting all flustered? For example, drunk in a club with her friends / to make him feel more confident / ect..? 🫶

author's notes – idk if this was what anon was thinking of but this is what i imagined 😭

I walked into the paddock, hand in hand with Oscar. I was talking about the newest episode of the series I had been binge watching. Oscar, as usual, had settled into listening to me attentively, as I yapped on relentlessly without an end in sight. 

I stopped when I bump into Max’s mum and sister. His family was like a second family to me, and I hadn’t gotten a chance to see them yet since Oscar and I started dating. 

“Oh, hi! I’ve missed you guys so much. This is Oscar, you guys already know he’s my boyfriend,” I say excitedly as he reaches his hand out to greet them. “He loves the curry I make just like you guys do. Sometimes I think he may like it even more. I mean, he always begs me to make it whenever he’s visiting home,” I ramble on excitedly. 

“Ooookay, we should get going now. Nice to meet you,” Oscar says before dragging me along with him to Mclaren garage. “What happened? I was talking,” I ask with a pout. 

He laughs as he rolls his eyes playfully. “Yeah, I know, babe. You never stop talking, do you?” he says playfully, “you should remember to breathe every once in a while.”

“Ha ha. Very funny. I wasn’t even talking that much! I was just introducing them to you and telling them how much I love you!” I say defensively with a confused look in my eyes. 

“Love, you were telling them I beg for your cooking, that’s embarrassing!” Oscar says with a slight laugh. It’s only now I stop and notice that he’s turned slightly red, making me giggle. Oscar gives me an unamused look before saying, “don’t laugh at me like that, you do this every time!” 

“I’m sorry,” I say with a giggle, “you know I only do it because I love you. I just want people to know how great you are, promise!” Oscar opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted when some of his team members approach him to talk to him about the upcoming race weekend. “We’re going to talk about this later,” Oscar says softly as he points a finger at me playfully. 

——

I screamed as Oscar won the sprint race in Qatar, and I immediately rushed over to him after the race, peppering him with kisses all over his face. “I’m so so proud of you, oh my god!” I say excitedly. Oscar’s face was already red from the heat, and it somehow turned even redder when he saw the cameras approach us. He whined slightly as he burrowed his face into my neck. “Baby, don’t embarrass me,” he mumbles quietly in a shy voice. 

“My boyfriend just won a sprint race in his rookie season in F1, of course I’m gonna show you off and embarrass you. Don’t expect anything less from me,” I tease as I give him one last kiss before sending him off. 

When Oscar returns to our hotel room that night, I’m already half asleep. He spends a bit of time on his phone while in my arms, trying to keep up with everyone’s messages. He stops when he sees an Instagram post from me, his embarrassed and red face that was caught on the cameras now plastered all over this post. “Did you really have to post that?” He asks me playfully.

“I absolutely did. You’re amazing, and you’re mine. Two things every person should know,” I say playfully, earning a playful eye roll from him. “But I look awful, babe!” He protests, zooming in on himself in the photo. I stifle a laugh. “Thousands of people would disagree, actually. Plus, you don’t look awful, you look happy!” I say softly. 

He gives me an unamused look. “What if I don’t want to look happy?”

I giggle. “Then you are one sick weirdo, Oscar Piastri,” I tease with a soft kiss to his lips. 

——

It’s Oscar’s birthday today, and I have been meticulously planning out every single detail for the past few weeks, including a party with some of his closest friends after qualifying session that day. Despite my protests, Zak also insisted inviting some sponsors to the event and key investors of Mclaren, to act as an opportunity for networking. I reluctantly agreed, although I knew Oscar wouldn’t like it. 

As I thought, Oscar seemed a bit overwhelmed by the amount of people there. He was whisked away to a new person every two minutes, and it was all too much for him to handle. He eventually sat down next to me outside with a loud sigh, leaning his head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to invite this many people, but Zak said this and that. And you know how he is, he wouldn’t have stopped until I said yes,” I say with a frown as I clearly notice how he isn’t having the best of times at this party. Instead, he just smiles, leaning in to give me a soft kiss. He stands up again, holding his hand out towards me. “I don’t care. Just be by my side while I’m being interrogated?” He asks playfully. I giggle, and with a nod I take his hand, our fingers intertwining. 

We soon see one of my old friends that I knew from RedBull, and I introduce Oscar formally to her. As always, I begin to praise Oscar as a driver and as a person. And as always, he gets incredibly red. This time, however, I catch myself before it gets too bad, cutting myself off. When my friend walks away, Oscar has a frown on his face. 

“Why’d you stop? You usually go on for longer,” he asks softly. I shrug. “You always get embarrassed by it, so I just realized and quit while I was ahead,” I say quietly in a kind of embarrassed tone that he even noticed I cut myself off. 

Oscar shakes his head. “Oh come on, babe. Yes, I do get extremely embarrassed by it. But rambling on about me is so you, and I never want you to stop, you hear me? If I can’t praise myself then I need someone who will,” he says with a playful smile. 

“Promise? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything,” I say softly.

“No no no, absolutely not. You could never make me uncomfortable, ever. And you rambling on and showing me off is embarrassing, yes, but I love you for it. I promise,” he says softly. 

“Well, if you insist… then I guess I could squeeze in a few rambles here and there..” I say playfully with a giggle. 

[fluentmoviequoter]

Every Day After

Requested Here!

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!shy!SWAT!reader

Summary: You are Deacon's best friend, and when you're poisoned and nearly killed, his protective tendencies make an appearance as he stays by your side to help you heal.

Warnings: angst to fluff, depictions of benzene poisoning, references to drug use and distribution, mention of character death, poisoning scene loosely based on 1x19 "Source"

Word Count: 6.6k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Being shy and being a member of 20-David don’t always mix well. Some days, you can talk with them without any problems; other days, they push you a touch too far, and you’re more comfortable being quiet. But no matter what kind of day it is, your team is your family, and they have your back.

One member of the team, however, you consider to be your best friend. David “Deacon” Kay is one of the best friends you have ever had, and when he jumps in to defend you and protect you, it’s easy for the rest of your team to see why you’re so attached to him.

“Where’s Deac?” Hondo asks as he enters the locker room.

“Not here yet,” you answer after closing your locker.

“You mean you didn’t carpool? Deacon was okay letting you out of his sight for that long?”

“He’s my friend, not my probation officer,” you reply softly.

Hondo smiles at your comment before explaining, “I just mean you’re usually together. Don’t see you separated much these days. Is there a reason for that?”

“Not whatever you’re thinking,” you answer, your voice weaker than it was a moment ago. “He’s my friend.”

“Who’s your friend?” Deacon asks, using the other door to come in.

“You,” Hondo answers, winking at you. He chuckles when you turn your chin away from him and steps toward the door as he calls, “We’re rolling in twenty to serve a warrant, so do your thing.”

“You alright?” Deacon asks, placing his backpack in his locker.

You nod, reaching down to tie your laces and take a moment to breathe. Your job is stressful, so finding quiet moments whenever you can helps you be a better S.W.A.T. officer.

“Here,” Deacon says, gently knocking your hand out of the way as he ties your laces.

Standing up straight, you watch Deacon double knot your laces and ensure your safety before tapping the side of your boot. He stands and meets your eyes.

“You good?” he asks, looking into your eyes as he rolls his shoulders.

“I am. Are you?”

“Always,” Deacon answers with a smile. “When you’re around, at least.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, gesturing toward your boots.

“That was adorable,” Street says.

You look over quickly, surprised to see him standing in the doorway. His smile grows when you lock eyes with him; you immediately drop your eyes to avoid his pleased look.

“A little Cinderella-esque, but cute. We just got a tip that our guy’s gonna try to run, so we’re rolling now. Unless you two need a minute?”

“We’re good,” you reply, while Deacon says, “Let’s do it.”

Deacon spreads his hand across your upper back, sweeping his thumb over the base of your neck in a comforting motion. You know he has your back, and the rest of your team is there for you, too, but physically feeling Deacon at your side makes you feel prepared to take on anything.

Climbing into Black Betty, you sit in your usual seat beside Deacon and listen to Hondo explain the warrant and the layout of the house you’re breaching.

“This guy will be armed, but we don’t know what else he may have goin’ on in there, so stay liquid,” Hondo concludes.

Deacon nods once as Black Betty stops. You follow Deacon to the west side of the house, waiting for Hondo’s signal to shoot a flashbang through a window before using the new opening to enter the residence. Deacon moves in first, clearing the room before you cover the hallway so you can move deeper into the house.

Tapping Deacon’s shoulder, you let him know you’ve got his back before he enters a bedroom.

“Closet only,” Deacon alerts, stepping back into the hallway before you.

Something hits the floor in the closet, but before you can turn back to check, the door slings open, and someone steps out. The suspect appears to be male, but you can’t tell much about his physical composure as he slams you into the wall behind you. You raise your arms to his neck, attempting to push him off of you. He grunts as he pushes harder, raising you so your feet are off the floor. Deacon moves in your peripheral, but you use the suspect’s momentum to kick him in the torso, falling onto him as he tips back.

“You’re under arrest,” you pant, flipping him onto his stomach and removing handcuffs from your belt.

“Get down!” Deacon yells.

You don’t hesitate to obey his demand, dropping to the floor beside the suspect as someone opens fire.

“30-David, we’re taking fire in the west hallway,” Deacon radios.

Looking over, you don’t see Deacon and assume he has taken cover in one of the bedrooms.

“One suspect in custody, one armed but not visible. Likely barricaded in the back room at the northwest corner,” Deacon continues.

You feel a hand on your ankle but immediately recognize the touch. Twisting, you confirm your suspicion when you see Deacon gesture for you to stay quiet. He raises to his knees in a doorway, and you move your weapon to your back just before he pulls you into the bedroom.

“Thank you,” you whisper as he closes the door.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replies, matching your volume. “Nobody else even got in, we’re trapped in here.”

“We need our cuffed guy. At the least, maybe we can trade him to get out.”

“I’ll get him, but if he makes noise, I’m pushing him back out.”

You nod and help Deacon pull the man you just fought with into the room. He pants as the door closes but doesn’t fight against you or Deacon.

“Yo, this dude is crazy,” he says, though you suspect he’s talking to himself. “I’m just try’na buy some dope fo’ ma cousins and he tell me to get in the attic and get the 5-0 off his trail.”

You furrow your eyebrows as you listen. The story may not make sense to everyone, but being a cop in Los Angeles quickly teaches you just what people are willing to do to score drugs.

“Did he offer to trade you drugs for getting the police away from him?” you ask.

“Sure did. ‘N’ then he dipped.”

“That’s not him in the back room, the one that was shooting at my partner?”

“Nah, that the guy who stay here. He bad, too, though. Ain’t nobody on this street mess with him.”

“Hondo,” Deacon radios.

“Are there more people coming?” you ask quickly.

“Is you a cop?” the man asks sarcastically.

You turn toward Deacon, and he nods to answer your unasked question about getting out of here. He will get you out of this, and you trust him, but you don’t want to imagine what he’d do to save you. He may be protective of you, but you care about him too and don’t want him to risk his safety, or worse, his life, to keep you out of harm’s way.

“Deac,” you whisper.

He looks at you, and you point to a loose piece of flooring beside the wall.

“This house may have a crawl space,” you explain, moving toward the corner.

You begin pulling pieces of the floor up quietly, smiling when you reach a spot without a subfloor. Deacon sees the opening above the small crawl space and drags your apprehended suspect toward it.

“I’m going to uncuff you,” Deacon says. “But there are dozens of officers waiting out there, so if you try to run you will fail and rack up more charges than you’re already facing.”

“Man, just get me outta this psycho’s house!” the man responds.

Deacon lets him go out first, not trusting him to be behind you. Helping you into the hole, Deacon waits until you’re moving toward the access panel on the south wall to slide into the opening. He pulls a few pieces of flooring back into place, hoping that if the “psycho” owner of the house manages to get in the room faster than expected, he won’t realize how you escaped.

When Deacon stands after army crawling the entire length of the house, you immediately hug him. His arms wrap around you without hesitation, glad to see you safe and out of the house. When a shot sounds from the other side of the house, Deacon wraps an arm around the back of your head and rushes across the yard, ushering you to Black Betty.

“Thanks for keeping me informed,” Hondo chides when he sees you.

“Radios don’t work when they get crushed,” Deacon argues, pointing to your destroyed radio. “You can thank this guy for that.”

“Man, my name’s Randy. Please take me to jail and don’ let these fools fin’ me,” your radio destroyer and previous enemy interjects.

“New warrant just came through,” Luca alerts. “We can hit his stash house, try to draw him out.”

“Fantastic,” you grumble.

Deacon pats your back, a reminder that you’re not alone, and the team now has an idea of what you’re up against. While Luca drives to the stash house, you take a mental note of your new injuries. For the most part, you feel fine, but you know there will be bumps and bruises tomorrow, and you’ll feel them when the adrenaline wears off.

“You need to get everything checked when we’re done. He hit you hard,” Deacon says quietly, ensuring no one else can hear.

Nodding, you agree to whatever he says. Deacon saved your life and though you don’t think you need a doctor, you’ll do anything he wants right now.

“We’ve got intel that this place is empty but stick together anyway. The call was right before we left, so it could be full now,” Hondo alerts. “We’re not here for the drugs, narcotics’ll deal with all that later, we’re just trying to catch a rat.”

“By becoming the cheese,” Street complains.

“We’ll be fine, playboy,” Luca promises.

“As long as you stick to the plan and listen,” Hondo amends. “Let’s get to it.”

You lead Deacon inside this time, using a small lock bypassing device. As you clear the first floor, you don’t see any sign of anyone using the building, and there isn’t as much as residue from drug use.

“Looks like he moved,” Deacon muses.

“Maybe our tipster made more than one call,” you agree.

“We don’t know that,” Deacon reminds you. “Stay vigilant.”

You nod, letting Deacon take the lead as you climb the stairs.

“This level looks just as empty,” Deacon says into his comm. “Second floor appears to be a code 4.”

“Something ain’t right,” Hondo replies.

“Deacon,” you call.

You don’t attempt to conceal your worry, and he turns quickly.

“Don’t move,” you add. “This place is rigged.”

“Rigged how?” he inquires.

“Hondo, you need to get everyone out,” you radio. “Watch the floor and don’t step on anything that isn’t flooring.”

“Copy that,” Hondo responds before commanding the team to exit cautiously.

“Why?” Deacon asks.

“You too,” you demand. “You need to go but be careful.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it harshly as you look down. There’s a small button under your boot, and you’ve already depressed it. The moment you move off of it, something will happen. It doesn’t appear to be a landmine or any other kind of explosive, but that makes you more concerned because you don't know what it is.

“Deacon, please,” you beg, your voice a whisper as you look at him. “Just give me a minute to try to figure this out.”

“No,” he answers. “I’m going to take a few steps back, and you decide what you want to do, or we can wait for a bomb squad.”

“It’s not a bomb.”

“Then do what do you need to do. I trust you.”

You want him to leave but don’t want to be alone if this is the end. You tap the wall beside you and quickly realize that whatever this detonator is connected to is probably directly to your side, hidden between the studs.

“Can you- can you back up, like a lot?” you request. “I want to try something, but if I’m wrong, you can’t be this close.”

Deacon nods, taking about ten steps backward. He stops, his complete focus on you as he keeps a hand on his gun. Whatever happens, he’s prepared to rush toward you. Feeling helpless is something Deacon hasn’t felt in a very long time. He realizes you wouldn’t be in this position if he had done a better job protecting you and tries to find a way to take your place. He steps forward, but you raise a hand to stop him before speaking.

“I’m going to move backward, really fast,” you explain. “Last chance to leave, Deac.”

“Wait-“

You move your foot up, stepping back, your movements fast but not fast enough. Something sprays from the wall beside you and into your face. As you gasp for air, Deacon runs toward you, pulling you over his shoulders as he watches the floor. Rushing through the stash house, Deacon radios for Hondo to get an ambulance.

Bursting through the door, Deacon lowers you to the concrete and watches you. Your breaths are short gasps, and a bright red rash spreads across your chest and face. Deacon pulls your Kevlar vest over your head and tugs your shirt down, giving you more room to breathe and removing any pressure from your chest.

“What’d she get hit with?” Hondo asks, kneeling beside your head.

“I don’t know!” Deacon answers, not meaning to take out his fear on Hondo but failing to hide it. “Whatever it was came from the wall and she immediately started having trouble breathing.”

“This isn’t good,” Hondo adds. “Her airways are closing; we only have a few minutes to figure out what this is and counteract it.”

“We don’t have time for an ambulance,” Luca says. “Get in, Betty and I will get you there.”

Deacon nods and pulls you into his arms again before laying you on the floor of Black Betty and pulling your head into his lap.

“St. Stephen’s is the closest hospital,” Luca tells Street. “I need you to call ahead and give them as much information as you can. They’ll need to be ready.”

“I’m on it,” Street replies, moving into the backseat beside you and Deacon. He talks quickly and quietly to the doctors on the other end of the line, but when your gasps turn to strangled wheezes, he yells, “Just be ready!”

Luca pulls into the emergency room ambulance entrance a moment later, rushing to the back to open the doors. Several nurses take you from Deacon, put you on a gurney, and run into the hospital. Deacon runs behind them, leaving the rest of the team outside.

“How long has it been?” Hondo asks. “She only had eight minutes, tops.”

“Six since they came out,” Street answers, looking up from his watch. “If it’s too late, Deacon…”

“Will never forgive himself,” Luca finishes. “And we won’t either.”

Hondo’s phone chimes, and he looks at it before shaking his head, his jaw clenched as he makes a half-sigh, half-laugh sound. “Our guy just turned himself in. And Deac’s buddy Randy lied to them about who was in the house. They knew where we were the whole time.”

“We have to leave her?” Street asks.

“For a bit. We’ll get updates and come back later,” Luca answers. “She’ll be fine.”

As Street, Luca, and Hondo leave to return to HQ and question Randy and the original suspect, Simon, you’re surrounded by nurses and doctors. As you near the eight-minute mark, the doctors decide to run down a list of possible treatments.

“Symptoms align with benzene poisoning by inhalation,” someone comments.

“Intentional overdose?” a young woman in bright pink scrubs asks.

“Get her out of here!” a doctor snaps, glancing toward Deacon with an apologetic look.

“That explains the skin irritation, irregular heartbeats, and lung irritation may be the cause of the shortness of breath,” the first person continues. “That would have been an incredibly high, concentrated dose.”

“Whatever she got hit with was thick enough that I could see it standing five yards away,” Deacon offers.

“I’m calling it,” the chief doctor says, “benzene poisoning by inhalation. Get her on oxygen, clean her eyes and skin, and get these clothes off. We need to remove the outside traces and get her breathing regulated before we move on.”

The nurses jump to action, and Deacon steps back as you’re wheeled into a room. The doctor who sent the Barbie lookalike away opens the door to your room a few minutes later, gesturing for Deacon to step inside.

“Her breathing is regular, heart rate has returned to a stable, though slightly elevated, number, and we’re running some tests right now to check for long-term damage,” he explains.

Deacon keeps his eyes on you as he listens to the doctor, letting the steady rise and fall of your chest prove that you are okay, that you are alive. No thanks to Deacon. Immediately upon hearing that you may have long-term damage, Deacon lets himself remember that it is his fault you are in this hospital bed, on oxygen, and possibly in danger of losing your career. He should have been more careful, he thinks, done more to protect you.

“Sergeant, I’m unsure if it’s my place to say this, but you saved her life, so don’t allow yourself to think otherwise. I’ll be back in a bit to check in on her, but if you need anything, press that call button.”

“Thanks, doctor,” Deacon replies, his eyes still on you.

Deacon takes a seat in the chair beside your bed, forcefully tearing his eyes away from you to text Hondo and Luca that you’re stable but unconscious. They reply quickly, saying they’ll be back soon and asking for more updates as Deacon gets them. He hopes he won’t have to tell them about any permanent damage.

“Deac?” you mumble, your voice quiet and distorted by the oxygen mask covering your face.

“Hey,” he answers, dropping his phone into his lap as he leans toward you. “Let me tell someone you’re up.”

“Deac, wait,” you request. When he sits back down, you say, “Thank you. You saved my life.”

“I should’ve noticed that it was a trap,” Deacon argues.

“The doctors said it was benzene. That doesn’t kill you unless you have prolonged exposure or inhale an incredibly large dose. I would’ve died if you hadn’t been with me.”

“I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me at once,” Deacon replies, hoping to lighten the mood.

“I- I’m really dizzy, Deac.”

“I’ll get the doctor,” Deacon replies, pushing the call button before he walks to the door and stops a nurse.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Grayson,” the doctor says as he enters your room, looking at your chart on a tablet. “You seem to be one lucky officer.”

“I’ve got a good team,” you answer, looking at Deacon’s hands rather than any of the faces in the room.

“Well, I understand you’re feeling dizzy and have a bit of a headache, so I’ll make this quick. Those symptoms should go away, but it may take up to a few weeks to see improvement there. Other common symptoms of benzene overdose include nausea, and the breathing difficulties you experienced was caused by lung irritation which may cause shortness of breath. Weakness is the only other symptom I’d expect to see. Since your exposure was so concentrated and delivered so quickly, I don’t think you’ll experience any of the more intense effects, but I’d like to keep you for observation for, let’s say 36 hours just to be sure we found everything.”

“Will I get completely better? Where I can go back to work at S.W.A.T.?” you whisper, even though you are terrified to learn the answer.

“Oh, I have no doubt you will be back in uniform within a month. Again, there’s only a few symptoms that may last, and at the most they should pass within a month.”

“Thank you.”

The doctor nods and hands Deacon a piece of paper before he leaves. Deacon returns to his spot beside you and looks at the paper before passing it to you.

“When you’re up for it, you’ve got some bed-bound exercises you can do to stay in fighting shape,” Deacon explains.

“Where are Hondo, Street, and Luca?” you inquire.

“They got our guy, so they went to interview him and Randy.”

“Randy lied, didn’t he?”

Deacon nods, and his jaw clenches as he realizes that Randy probably knew about the benzene trap and may have even been the one to set it up, yet let you go, knowing you were headed for a death trap.

“What happens when I get discharged?” you ask, looking at the blanket as you keep your head down.

“They’ll probably want you to take it easy for a few days, be around someone in case something happens, and then you can ease back into fieldwork. With your record and how much Hicks and Hondo trust you, you probably won’t have to wait long after you get medical clearance,” Deacon explains, smiling as he thinks about you getting back to work as soon as you can.

“I don’t have anyone,” you whisper.

Deacon doesn’t catch it, leaning closer to look at your list of exercises. When it’s time to go home, they may not let you because you live alone and don’t have any family nearby. You grow sad at the idea of going to a rehab facility or staying in the hospital longer just because you don’t have any family nearby to take care of you. Suddenly, your head begins pounding, and the room seems to spin. You raise your hands to your head, putting pressure on your eye sockets to ease the pain. Deacon’s hand jumps to your back, pressing against the top of your spine as you ride it out.

“I don’t like that,” you murmur, moving a hand to your stomach as it churns. “It’s going to be a long few weeks.”

“We’re going to make Randy and Simon pay for it, though,” Deacon whispers. “And we’re all here for you.”

You nod, and when Deacon leaves to answer a call from Hondo, your nausea worsens.

“Tell me they’re talking,” Deacon answers.

“Oh, they’re talking, just not giving us enough to put it on either one of ‘em,” Hondo answers. “I need you to do me a favor though.”

 “Anything.”

“You and Randy had some kind of connection, however brief it was. We’re thinking if you come in and tell him she didn’t make it, he’ll give something up.”

Deacon looks back into your room, but you’re turned away, curled into the fetal position, and, unknown to Deacon, fighting to keep your bearings as the dizziness causes nausea and worsens your headache.

“I’ll be there in twenty,” Deacon replies.

“Sergeant, I’ve got her test results here,” Doctor Grayson says as he walks down the hall. “Everything looks good in the long-term, so we’re just going to have to wait out the side effects. I’m going to discuss continued care with her now, would you like to join?”

“I’ve got to get down to the station, but if you’ve got a-“

“Complete list of recommendations and necessary actions,” Doctor Grayson finishes, passing Deacon a paper. “Along with a few more low impact exercises, since she is clearly ready to get back to work.”

“Thank you, doc. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Doctor Grayson watches Deacon leave before knocking and entering your room.

“Sergeant Kay had to return to the station for a moment, but I have good news for you,” he begins.

You sit up against your pillows, giving him your full attention. Your mind wants to think about Deacon, curious about what he’s doing.

“I could use some good news,” you reply.

“Your test results look good, and I see no indications of long-term damage or complications. So, once these initial symptoms pass, you should be as good as before. What symptoms are you experiencing now?”

“Headache, dizziness, and nausea. Every once in a while it feels like my chest gets tight, but the dizziness is the worst.”

Doctor Grayson nods, pressing a button on his tablet. “I think you’re going to be ready for discharge tomorrow evening, as I said originally, I’d just like to observe you a bit longer and make sure nothing changes. You will need to have whoever you will be staying with complete the discharge paperwork; having someone nearby will be crucial to your recovery and ensuring those symptoms don’t get out of hand.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t have any family nearby and there’s no one I can ask to take me in for who knows how long while I recover,” you explain softly.

“We’ll discuss this further in the morning, but my team and I will make sure you have somewhere safe and comfortable to stay, I promise that. I’ll be back once more before the end of my shift, but you know where the call button is.”

While you try to fall asleep, hoping it will help you heal faster and move on from the intense dizziness and nausea, Deacon is lying to criminals and hoping it will help you heal by getting some answers.

“Randy, remember my partner? The woman you helped me get out of the house this morning after you tried to kill her?” Deacon asks.

“Yeah, nice lady, but she can kick,” Randy replies.

“She died fifteen minutes ago. From an involuntary benzene poisoning. You know what that means, Randy? That someone poisoned her, murdered her, and is going to prison for a very long time.”

“Ooh,” Hondo adds, tilting his head in disbelief. “Cop killers never do well in prison, but when it’s one of our own? A S.W.A.T. officer? You’re dealing with a whole ‘nother set of problems in this room alone.”

“Benzene ain’t kill people after the first time,” Randy argues.

Deacon slaps the table as he leans over it. “You put enough benzene in that wall to kill me, Hondo here, and yourself, and you’re the only routine drug user in here.”

“Man, she really dead?”

“She is,” Hondo answers. “And now we have to tell her family, even though we’re grieving too.”

“I only did that ‘cause Simon told me to. He said it wouldn’t hurt nobody, just confuse ‘em or some’in. I ain’t mean’a kill nobody, specially not no cop!”

Deacon nods at Hondo before they walk out of the interview room, and Randy is left to wonder why they seemed so happy after learning that he set the trap that killed you. Across town at St. Stephen’s, you do feel like you’re dying just because you’re refusing to take more than anti-inflammatory pain relievers, unwilling to use anything stronger after years as a cop.

“Sergeant Kay will be back soon,” your nurse says. “He called and asked about you a few minutes ago. You must be very close.”

“We are. My team is the only family I have, but they’re also my best friends.”

“I didn’t mean your team. How are you feeling? Is the dizziness any better or worse?”

“It’s about the same,” you answer, forgetting her first point.

“Well, that’s good, at least it’s not worsening. We weren’t expecting a miraculous recovery this quickly, but Doctor Grayson wants us to give you as much time to sleep as we can, so you won’t have many, if any, middle of the night pokes and prods from us.”

“That sounds nice,” you answer with a small smile.

“I’ll leave you to rest until your friend gets back.”

You fall asleep before Deacon returns, and when he sees you resting, he texts Hondo an update and makes himself comfortable for a night at your side. There is a folder with Deacon's name on it on the small countertop in the corner of the room. Deacon opens it and finds a list of rehabilitation centers and a note that you can’t go home alone tomorrow before he decides to do something while you sleep. Deacon has been restless since the moment you alerted him to the traps set in the storehouse, but he finally has something to do that will help you.

“Excuse me,” he says, approaching the nurses’ station with a kind smile. “I’m Deacon Kay, I came in with-“

“My favorite patient,” the nurse finishes. “What can I do for you, Sergeant?”

“Doctor Grayson left this list of rehab clinics for me, but I’d like to take her home with me tomorrow. I don’t feel right sending her somewhere when I’ve got plenty of room.”

“And I have no doubt you will attend to her no matter what. If you fill out the discharge forms, she’s free to go with you when the doctor signs off. Doctor Grayson comes in at four, so he’ll be the one signing off.”

Deacon accepts the clipboard holding the discharge paperwork and takes it back to your room to complete it. The nurses watch him with smiles, able to tell that he’s more than a friend and protective as more than a teammate, even if he’s unwilling to admit it.

You whimper in your sleep, pressing your face into the cushion to relieve your headache. Deacon moves a hand onto your bed, only pulling it away from your side to flip to the next page of paperwork.

“When did you get back?” you ask into the pillow with your eyes closed.

“Not long ago. How are you feeling?” Deacon replies, smiling when you take his hand.

“The headache is getting worse.”

Deacon brushes his thumb over his knuckles as you curl tighter around the pillow.

“I’m sorry,” Deacon whispers.

“It’s not your fault, Deac. You saved my life,” you reply.

“Shouldn’t have endangered it.”

“Deacon-“

You get dizzy before you can say anything else, gently squeezing Deacon’s hand as you clamp your eyes shut. Deacon stands, laying his other hand on your shoulder as you wait for the dizziness to pass. You know now to expect the nausea that follows, but each time it happens, the nausea is less intense.

“Do you think it’ll really take weeks to feel better?”

“No,” Deacon answers. “You’re strong – and stubborn – so you’ll fight to get back in fighting shape.”

“It hurts.”

Deacon frowns but doesn’t apologize again, though he’s blaming himself for everything. Maybe having a soft spot for you, as the team so lovingly puts it, made him blind to certain dangers of working together. He trusts you and would do anything to protect you from the risks of being a S.W.A.T. officer; now, he wonders if being distracted by you made him stop thinking about what he could do for you.

“You should go home,” you say. “It’s getting late.”

“I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right here when you wake up, or if you want to stay awake.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Deacon doesn’t add that despite how much he wants to, he needs to stay by your side and do what he couldn’t do earlier today: protect you and be there for you through all this pain and recovery.

When you wake again, the sun is up, and Deacon is no longer in your room. You can hear him talking, though, and when the door opens, he steps inside with Doctor Grayson.

“Good morning,” Doctor Grayson greets. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

Shrugging, you don’t want to bring up how sad you are to go spend the next few weeks alone in a rehab facility, which is arguably no better than a hospital.

“You did well last night, so I’m comfortable sending you home now, given that your discharge situation has changed.”

“It has?” you ask, looking at Deacon rather than the doctor.

“I’m taking you to my house,” Deacon explains. “Not for you, for Hondo. He needs hourly updates and none of the rehab places do that.”

You duck your chin, hiding from Deacon’s teasing as you smile. Part of you wants to insist Deacon doesn’t have to do this, but the other part desperately wants it.

“Are you sure?” you whisper.

“Positive.”

Deacon sets a backpack on your bed, gently taps your leg, and walks out to complete the discharge. You open the bag and smile when you see some of your clothes and a blanket. Standing carefully, you change into the clothes and wait at the edge of the bed for Deacon to return.

“Let’s go,” Deacon murmurs as he takes your hands.

Pulling your backpack over his shoulder, Deacon keeps a hand in yours as he walks beside your wheelchair. When you reach the hospital entrance, Deacon’s car is waiting, and he helps you into the passenger seat before setting your bag in the back and getting inside.

You close your eyes, your stomach churning and your head spinning as the car moves. Deacon offers a hand over the console, and you hold it as he drives through Los Angeles and to his house. Releasing a shaky breath as he parks, you squeeze his hand in thanks.

“It’s going to be a long few weeks for you,” you mumble.

“You’re wrong, but we’re not worrying about me. Our top priority is you and getting you healthy again. That means that you need to talk to me, even if you don’t want to, okay?”

You nod, and Deacon smiles as he argues, “That’s not talking.”

He gives you a break from his teasing and helps you inside before carrying a few bags in from the car. You recognize them and realize he must have gone to your place last night to get everything you’ll need over the next few weeks.

“Deac, why’d you go back to the station yesterday?” you ask, reclining on his guest bed while he unpacks your bags.

He points to the water bottle beside the bed, waiting until you start drinking to say, “Hondo had an idea to flip Randy, and it worked. He gave up his boss, and they found enough evidence to charge both of them with a long list of felony charges.”

“What was his plan?” Deacon doesn’t answer, so you ask, “You told him I died?”

“Yeah,” Deacon says softly.

You nod before you move to the edge of the bed. Deacon rushes to your side as you stand and wobble slightly. As he grips your arms, you lean your head against his shoulder, taking deep breaths as your heartbeat pounds in your ears.

“Do you still get nauseous after this happens?” Deacon whispers, rubbing his hands over your shoulders.

“No,” you reply. “That passed after the first few hours. Now I just have a headache that won’t go away and get really dizzy. It’s random, so I don’t know when to expect it.”

Deacon nods and makes a mental note to keep a very close eye on you, especially when you’re up and moving around. Deacon's heart breaks as he watches you be affected by something he should have never let happen. Watching you be poisoned, being helpless in the hospital, and feeling like he can’t do enough to help you is weighing on Deacon, but he can’t worry about himself when you’re struggling because of him.

“Stop,” you demand, so softly that Deacon barely hears it.

“Stop what?” he asks.

“You’re blaming yourself. I could tell from the moment you turned around in that house. There’s nothing you could have done, Deacon, to keep this from happening, but you saved my life. So, please stop blaming yourself and thinking about what you could’ve done differently.”

Deacon thinks about everything you said, and his mind lingers on how your shyness was nowhere to be seen as you asked him to stop blaming himself. You read him with no effort, and the realization makes him smile.

“I’ll try. But only if you promise to talk to me, really talk to me, and let me know what’s going on,” Deacon offers.

“Deal. Right now, the floor is kind of spinning, but I need to walk around because everything is stiff.”

“I got you,” Deacon murmurs, letting you hold onto him as you walk around his house. You know he means it in more than the obvious way; he’s always had you and always will.

“Why’d you stay?” you ask. “In the hospital, I mean. And then you brought me here. If you did it just because you blame yourself-“

“Not at all. I was blaming myself, you’re right about that, but I did this because I care about you. That soft spot that the guys tease me about… that’s you. So, when I get overbearing and protective and everything else you’re going to see over the next few weeks, just know that it’s because I care about you.”

“I’m your soft spot? Because we’re friends?”

Deacon smiles, letting you lead him toward the patio door. “Something like that.”

Your breathing catches, and you stop to take a few shaky breaths before returning to your normal breathing patterns. Deacon rubs his hand up and down your spine as he waits, hovering nervously beside you.

“The headache is a little better,” you tell him. “Either walking around or your touch is curing me.”

“Why not both?”

You smile before looking away from Deacon. He walks you back to the bedroom and digs through one of your bags before handing you a piece of paper. While you look at the exercises depicted on the therapy list, you lean back against the pillows, tired and experiencing the worst headache of your life.

“Don’t rush anything,” Deacon says. “You’re already getting better, but don’t risk that trying to heal on your schedule.”

“What does ‘something like that’ mean?” you murmur. “About why we’re friends and I’m your soft spot.”

“It means that you’re my soft spot because we’re friends for now.”

“You don’t want to be friends forever?”

Deacon chuckles and sits on the edge of the bed as he answers, “Not really. I’ve always wanted more.”

You sit up quickly and wince in pain. You don’t hesitate before asking, “You do?”

“Are you okay?” You shrug, and Deacon answers, “Yeah. You’re my friend, but, c’mon, you couldn’t tell?”

“I thought you were just being nice, protecting me because we’re teammates.”

“That’s part of it. But even if you left S.W.A.T. today, I’d still be right here.”

“If I didn’t know you, I’d think that’s why you’re so upset,” you muse. “But you’re just a great man.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

You shake your head and look away from Deacon.

“Could we- could we try to be more? After I’m back in fighting shape?”

Deacon smiles, leaning closer to you as he promises, “Yes. Just tell me when.”

You lean back, huffing when your headache worsens suddenly.

“I thought the Hondo-induced headaches were bad, but this makes them seem easy.”

“I’m telling Hondo you said that.”

“No, you aren’t. You know I’m shy and injured.”

“You haven’t been acting very shy.”

“Because I’m disoriented and have a crush on you,” you mumble as you drift to sleep.

“I’ll be right here when you wake,” Deacon whispers.

“And every day after?”

“And every day after,” he promises, smiling as you fall into a restful sleep.

Deacon has no doubt you’ll be back to yourself in a few days, meaning his advances will make you shy, but, for now, he’s happy waiting on you hand and foot, doing everything he can to help and keep you comfortable.