#anyways i hope you like this little piece I did!

[justmymindandstuff]

Can you do Aemond x f!reader? And the reader being a lot like Helaena (I'm projecting lol, I want an autistic reader basically). Just fluff between them, maybe newlywed?

Learn to Love you - Aemond Targaryen x WifeReader

summary: Aemond tries to understand his new wife, but you are too much like his sister. He can't get through to you. One evening he tries it with direct confrontation and is rewarded with a glimpse of you and hope for the future. After this evening his wife is not a complete stranger anymore.

words: 2.818

warnings: softAemond, a bit angst

a/n: based on the request above. Unfortunately it didn't turn out quite as fluffy as it should. I hope you like it anyway :) I'm not autistic myself and don't want to hurt any feelings with the portrayl of the Reader. I based her on Helaena in the show.

Gif not mine// English is not my first language// no use of Y/N // AO3 // not proofread// requests are open

Aemond moves quietly through the halls of his home. The Red Keep slowly goes calm. The sun has already set, and most have retreated to their private chambers. Aemond is tired and longs for his own chambers and his bed. He had spent the evening a little longer than usual talking with Ser Criston. The sworn shield of his mother and he had trained together in the courtyard in the morning. Criston had discussed a few improvements with him. If his sore muscles would allow it, Aemond would try out the improvements tomorrow. But before he can retreat for the evening, he still has a task to complete. He still has his evening visit with his wife to attend to.

His marriage is not really how he imagine it would be. It's been almost a week since you two got married. You've known each other for 10 days. When you arrived at the Red Keep and he saw you for the first time, he had been relieved. A pretty face and a friendly smile had greeted him. Aemond tried to get to know you and realized that you are more than just a pretty face. You are nice, polite, smart, well-read, but strange. Often you drift off into your own world. Captured by your thoughts. You will be in a place where Aemond cannot follow you. And he quickly realized that you can't stand it when he touches you.

During your wedding ceremony, you didn't touch him more than necessary. The touch of your lips almost triggered a panic attack for you. You tore your hand away from his. Aemond would have liked to hold your hand a little longer. On this night, he did not dare to lay with you. This didn´t change over the last week, so you are still a maiden. Not that Aemond has told anyone, and as far as he knows, you haven't said a word either.

Maybe it's because he is a stranger to you? Aemond doesn't really know what to do. He doesn't like the situation. But he also doesn't know how he should change it. His usual solution, Vhagar, will definitely not work here.

He tried to seek advice from his brother. I don't know. With Helaena, it was different. I knew her well before we got married. For your wife, you are just a stranger. Aegon is right but Aemond didn't know how to change that.

So he went to his mother. Give her time to get to know you.

Both pieces of advice only led him to visit you every evening and try to get to know you. However, you mostly sit there in awkward silence and do not look at each other. You still feel uncomfortable in his presence he knows this.

Arriving at your chambers, he takes a deep breath once more and steps inside. The room is still lit by a few candles. He closes the door and watches as you pace restlessly in front of the fireplace.

"You are later than usual." you say, stopping in your movement. Now that Aemond is here, the unrest fades a little. Still, it bothers you that he doesn't come to visit you during his usual time frame. It's actually almost time for you to call your maids so they can help you change and you can go to sleep.

“I apologize for being late.” Aemond says even though he doesn't understand why it bothers you. Have you already gotten your hopes up that he won't come today? You look at him for a moment and then nod.

Without saying a word, you sit down in the armchair by the fireplace where you sit every evening. Aemond takes off his sword belt and places his weapon next to the door. He had considered that it might make you nervous that he carries a sword with him. So he puts down his weapon every evening before he sits down with you. Fortunately, you know nothing about the dagger in his boot.

Aemond even had a dagger made for you as a wedding gift. A beautiful weapon, with a gracefully curved handle and on the blade, just before the hilt begins, is a small dragon embossed that is inspired by Vhagar. Aemond hasn't had the chance to give you this gift yet. He knows that you need to get to know him better in order to understand the thought behind it. You should always be able to protect yourself, in case he might not be able to someday.

He shakes off the thought and sits down in the other armchair next to the fireplace. You don't look at him, but into the flames. Just like every evening. When you start to speak in a quiet voice he almost flinches.

"Why are you later than usual?" your hands are playing with the fabric of your skirt. You haven't changed for the night yet. You´re never when Aemond comes into your chambers. Even your hair is still braided into tight braids. Aemond feels like a visitor in his wife's chambers.

"I discussed my training with Ser Criston. There were a few problems this morning," he replies honestly.

Your face shows no reaction as you respond. “Are you hurt?”

Are you worried about him? No. Why should you? He is a stranger to you. But he still worries about you even though you are a stranger to him. After all, you are married. He wished he could read your thoughts.

"No, I am not hurt. Even though I don't really want it, Ser Criston is always a bit cautious during training with me." he is trying to ease your worries. If you are worried. Again, he tries to read your expression, but your face remains still. Your only reaction is that you turn your head to look at him. The fire in the fireplace casts warm light on your profile and your skin shimmers almost like gold. Once again, Aemond notices how beautiful you are. You look at him, and your gaze prompts Aemond to continue speaking. "I don't want him to hold back because, in a serious situation, my opponent won't hold back either."

"Which serious situation?" you still ask in a quiet voice.

"I don't know. If my family is in danger." and then he adds quietly. "If you are in danger."

The corner of your mouth twitch slightly and you almost smile. Then you turn your gaze away again and look into the fireplace. Aemond suppresses the urge to reach for your hand in your lap. Silence spreads again between you. The uncomfortable silence causes a hot burning sensation in Aemond's gut. Still, he can't take his eyes off you. You seem a bit sad. He decides that it can't go on like this. Aemond has to swallow and gathers all his courage to speak again.

"You are not happy."

This time you turn not just your head towards him but your whole body. He is surprised when your gaze meets him and you look directly into his eyes. Rarely can you hold his gaze. Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you think. It takes a moment before you respond.

"No. No, it's just that it's hard for me. My father brought me here, and this is a strange place for me. All the people around me are strangers. I miss my family and my home. Everything I knew was taken away from me. I was used to everything at home. I had my routines and everything. It's hard for me to adjust to all these new things around me. But it doesn't have anything to do with you."

Aemond is surprised by your words and needs a moment to truly understand what you have said. Guilt overwhelms him. It is his fault that you were kidnapped from your home. Because you had to marry him.

"I'm sorry," he says. Now it is him who cannot withstand your gaze and he looks at his hands.

"I don't blame you." once again, you surprise him your voice is now a bit firmer. "It wasn't your decision to marry me. Just as it was not my decision to marry you. That was agreed upon by our parents." you sigh. "You are not happy either. And that is my fault. I know that I'm weird."

"No! I don't find you weird."

You laugh softly and at the sound Aemond's heart skips a beat. He is looking at you again, he wants to hear you laugh once more.

"You don't have to lie."

"I am not lying. I don't find you weird. You remind me of my sister."

Your eyes start to shine. "Hel. I like her a lot."

He feels a slight tug at his heart. Aemond knows that you usually spend your days in the company of his sister Helaena. He has seen both of you walking in the garden a few times or engrossed in conversation while eating. He would be lying if he said he wasn't jealous of Helaena.

"Yes, I know. Do you spend a lot of time with her?“

You nod. "Yes. I enjoy being with her." "What are you doing all day?"“ Aemond is clinging to every strand. Everything is better than this uncomfortable silence between you.

"Oh, very different things. Sometimes we read together, or she explains something to me about insects. Sometimes I read one of my poems to her. Or I’ll give her one to read."

Aemond is captivated by the sparkle in your eyes.

"You write poetry?" he asks, annoyed with himself for not knowing this about you, but Hel did. Your cheeks are slightly turning red, and for the first time, Aemond feels like he can read your emotions from your face.

"Yes, among with other things. I also enjoy reading poetry. My favorite poet is Marcus Hill. He writes incredibly well. My poems are not even close to being that good. But I don't just write poems, I also write short stories. This helps me organize my thoughts better. But I like most writing poems.“ you speak a little faster than usual, which reveals your excitement to Aemond. He can't help but smile at the sight. Now that you are passionately talking about your interests, you are even more beautiful.

Suddenly you jump up from your chair. Aemond's hand instinctively goes to where his sword's hilt usually is. In the next second, it becomes clear to him that there is no danger, and he relaxes again. You didn't notice anything because you turned away immediately and took a few uncertain steps through your chamber before turning back to him. Uncertain, your hands begin to play with the fabric of your skirt. You take a deep breath and then search for his gaze for a second before looking away again. Aemond leans forward a bit, tense with anticipation. Finally you start to speak. "Would you like to… I mean just if you want? You don't have to." You stop yourself, take a deep breath and gathering your thoughts. "Would you like to read one of my poems?" you ask softly.

Aemonds heart skips a beat and a pleasant warmth spreads within him. "Yes. Very gladly."

You nod, turn back around, and walk to your nightstand. You pick up a book with a leather cover and open it. Aemond notices from his seat that it is stuffed with written pages, and almost every book page is filled with your neat handwriting. You rummage through the loose papers and then pull out a page before you close the book again and carefully place it back in its spot. You are coming back to him.

"I wrote this on the day of our wedding," you say, handing him the sheet of paper. In that moment, your fingertips brush against his. The touch is so fleeting that Aemond is not sure if he might have just imagined it.

He turns his gaze away from you and directs it to the folded paper between his fingers. He wants to open it to read your poem, but before he has really moved his fingers, your hand shoots forward and holds his hand firmly. Aemond skin tingles and he lightly closes his hands around yours.

"No. Please don't read it here. That would be too embarrassing for me. Please read it later and tell me tomorrow what you thought," you say quickly. Aemond looks up again and directly into your eyes. He saw you that close for the last time on your wedding day in the sept. A shiver runs through his body and he can only nod. You also nod and allow him to briefly squeeze your hand before you pull back and sit down again in your chair opposite to him. He already misses the feeling of your soft skin under his fingers.

Aemond folds the paper with your face completely again and then puts it in the pocket of his shirt. Suddenly, this piece of paper is his most precious possession.

"Now you know something about me." you notice. Aemond can't gauge whether the fact bothers you or not. He hopes it  doesn´t. Before he can ask, you are already speaking again. "You like sword training. I could watch your training?” you suggest.

Aemond thinks about the training courtyard. About the loud clashing of the swords striking against each other, the sreams of the knights, the swearing and the rough manner of speaking among men. And then he thinks of you, his gentle, fragile wife. Sometimes the gentle background music that plays during dinner is too loud for you. You would hate it.

"No, this is not a suitable environment for you, my Lady. The men do not know how to behave in the presence of a princess." he explains.

"Oh."

Aemond sees how you stiffen a little again and turn your gaze back towards the fireplace. The fire is almost out. Aemond is afraid that the closeness he has found today will slip away from him again, and as a result, he starts to speak a bit too quickly.

"But if you want, I can join you on your walk tomorrow?" he is momentarily afraid that this will disrupt your routine, but you look at him again.

"Yes, that would be nice. I always take a stroll through Queen Alyssa's garden after afternoon tea."

Aemond must suppress a smile. He is, of course, well informed about your daily routine. Even though he hasn't really been able to talk to you until today, he has always kept a close eye on what you're doing. "I am happy to be allow to accompany you." his gaze falls on your hands folded in your lap, and once again, longing pulls at him to reach for your hand. "When we go for a walk. Would you allow me to hold your hand then? I know you don't like my touches. But...

"No. It's not your touches that I don't like.I don't like touches from anyone, regardless of who." you clarify things quickly. "But yes. I will allow it. I know about it know, so I can prepare myself for it. If I´m prepared I can hold your hand.”

This time Aemond cannot suppress his smile. A pleasant anticipation for tomorrow fills him and he feels as if he has made a significant step forward in his marriage today.

The ringing of the bell in the great sept makes you both flinch. Startled you look out the window, then you get up and walk through your rooms. "I have to call my maids and go to bed.It's already past my usual time."

Aemond quickly gets up as well and nods. Bad conscience about the fact that he disrupted your routine today weighs on him. He turns to the door and goes to his sword belt to put it back on. As he just fastens the buckle and turns to leave, you turn to him once more.

"Thank you, Aemond. Our conversation was good for me. I enjoyed it very much. I´m looking forward to our walk tomorrow and I'm curious to hear what you think of my poem."  and then you smile directly at him for the first time.

His heart starts to race immediately, and Aemond is sure that he has just fallen in love. Unconsciously, he places his hand on the pocket where he has put your poem. Then he returns your smile.

"Yes, I also enjoyed it very much. Good night, my Lady Wife. I will see you tomorrow."

"Good night, my Lord Husband.” you respond still with a smile on your face.  

Aemond nods briefly and then leaves your chambers. His steps are light, and he intends to speak with the steward first thing tomorrow morning so that he can arrange for the poet Marcus Hill to be invited to the Red Keep as soon as possible.

[pathologicalreid]

litmus test | s.r.

in which Spencer needs your expertise to help solve a murder, but crime fighting is most decidedly not for you

who? spencer reid x chemist!reader category: flangst (like. the end is a little angsty and it has case details) content warnings: typical cm violence, science talk, fem!reader, reader is not built for crime, morgan being an older brother, some fun banter!! death by firework is crazy lmao word count: 1.68k a/n: this is one of my favorite fluff pieces i've written in agessss i missed chemist!reader so much i learn so many things when i'm writing her. this was a request! i hope you like it as much as i do!!

“Do you have a second?” Spencer asks, his voice slightly choppy over the phone. Between his ancient phone and being inside concrete police precincts, some disconnect was bound to happen.

Saving your document to your computer, you rest the lab phone between your shoulder and ear, “If you’re asking me if I have any corrosive chemicals in my hands, the answer is no.”

He chuckles lightly, “I never know with you.”

You roll your eyes in response, even if he can’t see you, “It was one time and I needed a new phone case anyway.”

“You fused the plastic of your phone case to the material of your phone,” he retorts far too quickly for your liking.

“Yes,” you acquiesce, “but I know the exact chemical reaction that caused that phenomenon.” You cross your legs one over the other, maintaining your balance on your lab stool as you speak to Spencer over the phone.

He gave a light hum in response, “Speaking of chemical reactions – I need your help.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, “You’re asking me for help in chemistry?” There really was a first time for everything, you suppose.

Spencer was more than capable of navigating a lab on his own, even so, he admits, “You have more applied practice than I do.”

Pursing your lips, you nod to yourself, “Fair enough. What’s stumping you, Dr. Reid?” Your inquiry, while innocent enough, garners a wolf whistle from your graduate assistant.

“There’s something burning a hole in these bones, and I’m not sure what would be causing it to happen this fast,” he explains, giving you minor background information on how long the bones were out and if the medical examiner had treated them with something.

You clear your throat, frowning at the notes you had scrawled down in front of you, “Burning or corroding?” What was seemingly a meaningless distinction would actually allow you to filter through approximately half of the possibilities.

“Corroding,” he corrects himself, “My mistake.”

Crossing off some of your notes, you purse your lips at the new possibilities, “No worries. Did you try flushing it out with water?”

You hear papers flipping on his end of the call before you get a response, “That would destroy evidence.”

“Well,” you raise your eyebrows, “It sounds like your evidence is destroying itself.”

“Baby,” Spencer says in a no-nonsense tone reserved for when he was deep in a case. You could’ve sworn you heard Morgan in the background of the call mocking him for the pet name.

Turning back to your notes, you sigh, “Yeah, yeah, all work and no play. Was the body buried?”

“Partially,” his reply intrigues you, “I can have Garcia send you the crime scene photos if you think it’ll help.”

Wrinkling your nose at the thought, you made an unsure sound, “Right, because nothing says lunchtime like getting up close and personal with a homicide victim.”

“What lunchtime? It’s three pm in D.C. right now,” he caught you, a slight chiding tone in his words.

Ignoring his questions, you ask more of your own, “Was the body near water? Did they test the pH of the soil and water?”

There were more papers flipping, likely someone presenting the results of those tests to him, “Yeah, the soil was a five-point two and the water was a seven-point eight,” he listed off for you.

While your knowledge of the pH of the soil in Iowa was limited, you did know that those levels were pretty on par for the northern Mississippi River. “O-kay,” you say, extending your vowels, “and they didn’t find anything else on the scene that points to corrosive materials. Hydrofluoric acid?” You posit, “No, you know what – maybe you should send me those files. My work email is encrypted, you can give it to Penelope.”

He speaks to someone else in the room with him and you resist the urge to ask him if he’s enjoying Iowa, “It’s sent,” he confirms with you.

Pulling up your email only takes a moment, and once you get over the initial shock of seeing a dead body on your computer screen, you lift your lab glasses to the top of your head in order to get a better look. “I mean,” you think for a moment, “those look like alkali burns to me. I’ve never seen them on bones before, but you should do a litmus test to check either way.”

“So, we rinse it with water?” He asks, seeking instruction from you in a way that makes you feel oddly powerful.

Your eyes widen, “No, no, no. If it’s a metal compound then it’ll be covered in a mineral oil, so rinsing it with water would actually make the burn worse.”

Pausing for a moment, you consider the possibility that Spencer didn’t have the luxury of time – he was trying to solve a murder, not do experiments in a lab.

“Alkali burns can be serious, it all depends on what caused them, and most are helped by rinsing with water. So, unless you have the time to test for metal compounds, I’d go ahead and rinse it. You might want to brush the damage to the bones with a dry brush first. If there’s lime on the bones it’ll foam, which not only will corrode the bones even further but it might release a toxic gas,” you have no idea how the corrosion would interact with bone marrow, but something tell you that you don’t want to know

“Wait a minute,” Derek interjects, being included in the conversation now that Spencer put the call on speaker, “I thought things like alkaline water were good for you.”

You scoff instinctively, “Oh, there’s no definitive evidence that shows alkaline water as having any real health benefits. Especially not the benefits that the internet says it has.” Straightening up in your stool, you continue, “In fact, there is evidence from the NIH that says drinking alkaline water could cause kidney damage. There’s a particular-“

“My bad,” he interjects, effectively stopping your rambling before it really took off, “I forgot whose girlfriend I was talking to.”

Groaning at your new vexation, you huff, “Oh, fuck off, Derek. Go kick down a door.”

Spencer quickly switches the phone back, “Thank you, angel.”

Squinting at the photos that were still on your laptop screen, a crude, disturbing thought came to mind, “You know, sparklers can cause alkali burns. It might be something to consider because of the diameter of the burns.”

Your boyfriend was silent on his end of the call for so long that you had to check and make sure the call hadn't dropped. “Did you say sparklers?”

“Yep,” you confirm, “like the ones you can get everywhere this time of year.”

He says something to Morgan, placing his hand over the receiver so you can’t hear, “There’s only one spot in this town, though. I’ve gotta go, see you soon.”

“Stay safe, please! I prefer your bones unburned,” you rattle off into the phone before it clicks, placing the phone back on the stand and deleting the crime scene photos from your inbox.

The front door to the apartment opens and shuts quietly, with Spencer under the assumption that you already went to bed, he was surprised to find you on the couch, nursing a cup of tea. “Hey, baby,” he chirps, unusually peppy for this time of night.

“Hey,” you say half-heartedly, threading your fingers through the handle of the mug.

Your somber tone gets Spencer’s attention, “What’s wrong?”

The slight panic in his voice causes your eyes to snap up to his, “Nothing,” you murmur. “It’s just… the woman who was in those pictures. There- the burns on her bones, they were signs of torture, weren’t they?”

You’d been thinking about the burns ever since Spencer showed them to you, “Yes,” he answers with a reciprocating softness, sitting down next to you on the couch. “The medical examiner concluded that she was burned antemortem.”

That woman had been burned alive by fireworks, sparklers had seared their way through skin and muscle until it finally met her bones. You blink a few tears from your eyes at the thought, “I like my lab, Spence.”

The confusion on his face was palpable, “I know you do.”

“I like my minimal human interaction and my chemicals, and I like knowing why certain things cause certain reactions. I like it when things make sense.” You take a deep, shaky breath, “Killing someone. Torturing someone with fireworks. That just doesn’t make sense to me.”

You had no interest in hearing the excuses that the killer had provided. You had no interest in hearing the psychological breakdown of that woman’s killer. Spencer knows that, “The photos got to you?”

Taking a sip from your mug, you nod solemnly, “I can’t stop thinking about the way it must have felt. Oh, the smell must have been horrible. That poor woman.” In theory, it was a ridiculous notion, killing someone with fireworks seemed neither probable nor possible. Yet here you are.

“But we got the person who killed her,” Spencer reassures you, resting his hand gently on your knee. “We couldn’t have done it without you,” he adds.

Your face warms at his compliment, “I wish I could have helped before she was killed.” You were grateful that Spencer hadn’t passed on any personal information about the woman, it was easier for you if you kept things in separate storage files in your mind.

Spencer hums, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “There’s always going to be another one. I’m sorry about the photos, I should’ve made sure Garcia only sent the necessary ones.”

Nodding absentmindedly, you look at him thoughtfully, “This will pass, but for tonight I just feel bad for the victim.”

“I can have Penelope share some of her favorite baby animal videos, if you’d like,” he offers softly, resting his head on your shoulder.

In return, you give him a small smile, “Well, I suppose it really can’t hurt.”

[pedroshotwifey]

what about a drabble about a first date with logan who's trying so so hard to have manners and be a gentleman but he's nervous and keeps messing up and its so adorable and cute????? of course reader tells him to chill out and be his normal fucking self because that's who she likes. I felt so bad for him in a clip that's circulating on tiktok where someone says to him that he's not the kind of guy they'd take home bc that's only for good guys

Okay so I loved this so much and then I got excited ab writing Logan and it turned into more of a fic than a drabble, but here it is 😭

First time writing him so I hope it sounds alright! I did use a little something from the recent movie to add a bit of oomph to the ending. Again, thank you much for this request, it's so cute 🥰

Just realized I made it an f!reader insert, but if you want to message me, I can easily switch some things around and repost if you want a diff reader!

The Right Guy

Pairing: f!reader x Logan/Wolverine

W/C: 1.1k

Fluff/diet angst, Just a few F bombs here, nothing bad (they told me absolutely no coke)

******

You scold yourself as you check the small watch on your wrist for the tenth time in ten minutes. In your defense, the time is absolutely crawling by. Logan should be here for your first date in about five minutes, and you’re nervous as hell.

You’ve been crushing on him since you were hired at the mansion a few months ago, so since he asked you out a week ago, your stomach has been constantly swarmed by butterflies. He’s sweet, funny, carefree, but mature—and not to mention sexy as hell. You really don’t want to mess this up. 

Lucky for you, it seems that he feels the same. He tends to be a little more nervous around you, his blush more prominent when you tease him. It both comforts you and gives you confidence. He seems to genuinely like you for who you are. 

Because of that, you decided to wear your favorite dress for your date. He told you he’d be taking you to a restaurant, but didn’t get specific, so it was honestly the safest choice anyway. It’s one of those that could be casual just as easily as it could be fancy. A few well-selected pieces of jewelry can make a world of difference, after all. 

You glance in the mirror, and then back at your watch. It’s right as the long hand makes a round to signify that it’s two before seven that you hear a sharp knock at your door. You jump up from your seat, slightly startled. If anyone had been in the room with you, you'd probably be embarrassed. 

Thankfully, since you’re home alone, you ignore the scare and head for your front door. You take one more deep breath and pull on the knob to reveal your handsome date. You look Logan up and down, expecting his usual outfit—blue jeans, a white shirt, and either his leather or jean jacket. What you get instead, is a suit. You have to make a physical effort to not show your confusion. Okay, maybe you expected a nicer shirt or something—ironed jeans if he really wanted to go crazy—but a suit? 

“Oh, hey!” Unfortunately, it’s a bit harder to keep the confusion out of your voice. Don’t get it wrong, it’s nice of him to try to dress up for you, and he does look very nice, but he doesn’t look like Logan. Your eyes catch on his hair—the usual tufts you love so much look to be somewhat flattened by a gel. 

It’s while you’re distracted by this that he reveals a hidden hand holding a bouquet of flowers—your favorite, actually. So why do you feel almost…disappointed? No, that can’t be it. It’s so cute that he’s putting all this effort in for you, but you really just want the normal Logan.

“Oh, wow,” you say, trying to shake off whatever this strange feeling is. “Thank you, Logan.” 

You carefully accept the flowers and step aside to let him inside while you put them in water. It’s strange that he hasn’t said anything else yet. Wait, should you say something? No, he usually says something. There’s usually a joke cracked by now. It’s weird that he’s not, right? Ugh, maybe it’s you being weird? The awkward tension between the two of you is suffocating.

You’re almost disoriented with your overthinking as you move about your kitchen, pulling down a vase to fill with tap water. Logan, of course, notices. 

He softly clears his throat. “Everything alright?”

You set the vase down on your island and look at him, lips pursed. Should you say something? Well shit, he probably sees something wrong by now—you’re staring at him like you want to say something. Damn it. 

You open your mouth and close it again. How do you even say what you want to say though? 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you lie. Right to his face. 

You smile and walk back to him, trying your best to ignore the expression on his face. Great, now you’re being weird, too. Why the fuck is this weird? 

You breathe out as you close and lock your door, mentally prepping yourself for what you’re really hoping will be a good date. Logan’s waiting for you next to his—

Car? 

Where the fuck is his bike? 

Whatever—it doesn’t matter, it’s fine. Everything’s fine. It’s probably just in the shop or something. 

You give him a tight-lipped smile as you walk to the vehicle, and he opens the passenger door for you. You slide into the seat and wait for him to shut the door before exhaling again. This is all very sweet, but you’ve got to say something. 

You stare at him as he gets into the driver’s seat. Again, he notices. There’s a thick, momentary silence.

“Look, bub, whatever it is, I—”

“You’re not acting like you,” you blurt. 

He stares at you for a second, but you’re pretty sure he knows exactly what you’re saying. You’re pretty sure that’s exactly what he’s trying to do. 

“Logan, you don’t have to put on this show for me,” you say as gently as you can, though it comes out maybe a tad aggravated.

He lets out a slow exhale through his nose and closes his eyes for a blink. You feel bad pointing it out, but there’s no way you can go through a whole date with this stiff act. He opens his eyes back and you offer him a sympathetic smile, your hand reaching out to cup his jaw. He leans into your touch, his own hand coming to envelop yours. 

“I want to go on a date with the Logan I already know, with his bike, and his blue jeans—you move your hand to his hair, messing it up enough to loosen the gel hold—and his crazy ass looking hair.” 

He huffs a laugh, looking at you with tired eyes. You understand how much he must have stressed over all the little details he put in for you. 

“It was very sweet of you to do all this, but you don’t need to perform for me, Lo.” 

He nods slowly, taking a moment to think over everything. “It’s been a long time since I took a chance with somebody,” he confesses, his gruff voice holding an emotion that makes your heart ache for him. “I wanted to be the right guy for you.” 

Your stomach flips. “Logan, you are the right guy for me. You’re always the right guy.” 

Before he can say anything else, you lean forward and plant a kiss on his lips. Surprise halts him for a second, but he’s quick after to reciprocate, his lips moving slowly but passionately with yours. One of his large hands snakes behind you to cup the back of your neck, the other gently tilting your chin. 

You kiss until you’re out of breath, and when you pull away, you let out an airy laugh. Despite the suit, he looks like your Logan again. Wild hair, wild eyes, pink in his cheeks. 

“C’mon, Romeo,” you tease. “Let’s get that damn jacket off and order a pizza and beer.” 

[arlospace]

Things are haaaaappening

The new chapter of welcome to the theater by @melacka is up! This is the last piece of art I made (I couldn't pick just one moment so I made this one a tiny comic), but there are still two more chapters on the way. I'll put a little snippet under the cut ;)

<Part 1 <Part 2

“Can I give you a lift home?” he said into the quiet of the night, desperate for anything to prolong his time with Aziraphale. “It’s a bit late for your bus, isn’t it?”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re still running,” Aziraphale said, looking vaguely in the direction of the nearest bus stop. “And I can always walk, anyway. I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.”

“It’s no trouble,” Crowley insisted. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to do it. My car’s back at the theatre and you’ll have to head halfway there to get your bloody bus, so you may as well let me drive you.”

“But you’ve been drinking—”

“I’ve only had the one glass of wine,” he said but Aziraphale still looked unsure. “Okay, one and a half. But that coffee would’ve helped sober me up if I needed it, anyway.”

“You didn’t feel like drinking tonight?” Aziraphale asked, sounding a little put out. “I was certain you would enjoy—”

“I had plenty to enjoy!” Crowley cried with a laugh, remembering the enraptured look on Aziraphale’s face as he ate his meal. “Believe me, I wasn’t looking for anything to dull my senses tonight.” When Aziraphale only looked confused, Crowley sighed. “Let me drive you home. I promise you’re safe with me, angel.”

“Oh Crowley,” Aziraphale whispered, cupping his cheek briefly in his hand. “If only that were true.”

And then, before Crowley could even hope to come up with a suitable response along the lines of what the fuck? he was off tottering down the street. Crowley took off after him and caught up quickly.

“You alright, Aziraphale? Did you have too much to drink?”

“Oh, hardly, dear boy. I’m not drunk, merely a touch maudlin.”

“Of course, you’re the type of guy to use a word like maudlin and mean it wholeheartedly,” Crowley groaned. “Even when you’re drunk—”

“I’m not drunk!”

“—you’re still the most articulate guy I’ve ever met.”

“One can’t help who one is.”

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

(Look at that goofy little angel go)

[mrsportgas]

The Neighbor. Chapter 2

Summary: The story takes place in the real world. Shanks, your unbearable neighbor, makes you a proposition that you're unsure whether to reject. It could be the start of a friendship, or maybe something more?

SHANKS X YOU

WARNING: Except for the first chapter, the rest will contain scenes of sex and violence, making this fanfic strictly +18.

TAG LIST: @buggsclownie @commanderfreethatdust

"I'd rather freeze," I whispered to myself.

"Are you coming or not?" Shanks repeated as he approached the porch of his house.

"I'm not going into a stranger's house, thanks."

"You're friends with Luffy, right? Tell him you're at my place, and tell your friend too. Anyway, I don’t think I’m a stranger. I wasn’t going to do anything weird to you."

"That's what you say." The truth was, the cold I felt was unbearable. I figured if I told Nami or even Luffy and something happened, at least they’d know where I was. "Fine, but as soon as Nami arrives, I'm leaving."

Shanks left the bags at his door and walked over to where I stood, shielding myself with the umbrella. "Shall we?" He started walking. I had to jog a little to catch up and fit under the umbrella. As we passed by his car, I noticed it was the same Range Rover that had splashed me earlier.

"Hey! You were the one who drove through a puddle and soaked me!" I said, pointing at my drenched clothes. Shanks scanned me from head to toe with his eyes, licking his lips as he did. Realizing it, I felt so embarrassed. Was he checking me out? At that moment, I couldn't tell if it disgusted me or if I liked it.

I snatched the umbrella from his hands and ran to his front door. "Open up, I'm freezing to death, you freak."

Shanks hurried to the door, running his hand through his wet hair. Damn, he might be older, but he looked amazing. He quickly opened the door, holding it for me to pass.

"Don't look at my butt," I said curtly.

Shanks burst into laughter. "Do you ever relax? What do you think I am, some pervert? A kid like your little friends?"

I entered the house quickly, and honestly, everything was perfectly decorated. Every piece of furniture, every painting, was meticulously placed, and it was all beautiful. There were paintings, statues, and various trinkets from around the world, along with elegant rugs, sofas, and tables.

"Do you like it?" Shanks asked with a smirk as he leaned, arms crossed, against one of the tables.

"Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m not as easily impressed as your other friends."

Shanks laughed out loud. "Come on, you'd better take a shower before you soak all the rugs in the house."

"A towel will do."

Shanks motioned for me to follow him to the bathroom. We went upstairs to a huge room with an even bigger bed, and behind one door, the bathroom. "There’s the shower and towels. Do whatever you want."

The bathroom was enormous, with a large shower and a jacuzzi. Clearly, the man had money, unlike our rented house where the faucet barely worked.

Once inside, I locked the door. I didn’t want that pervert opening it or trying anything. I took off my wet clothes, trying to spread them out as much as possible on a radiator on the wall. I took out my phone again to see if anyone had messaged me, but there was nothing. I called Robin, and finally, it started ringing.

"Y/N? Is everything okay?" Robin answered on the other side of the line.

"Are you with Nami? I locked myself out and can't get in," I replied, hoping Nami was there.

"HEY Y/N!!! COME HERE NOW!!!" I heard Luffy shouting in the background.

"I don’t have my keys, and my clothes are soaked. I need to wait for Nami to get home. Luffy, I’m at your friend’s place."

"Okay, Y/N, I’ll try to contact Nami, or if she comes here, I’ll tell her to bring you the keys," Robin replied.

"HUH? What friend?" Luffy could be heard asking in the background.

"Shanks."

"That’s awesome! Have fun!!! I didn’t know you two were hanging out!" Luffy responded without thinking.

"Luffy, he's just my neighbor, that's all," I said, knowing he wouldn't understand the situation and would keep thinking there was something going on with Shanks. "Robin, we'll talk later. I'm fine. I hope Nami replies soon."

"Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out. Call me if anything happens."

We hung up. I grabbed a towel and got into the shower, cranking the water up to boiling. I really needed it; my body warmed up almost immediately. Shanks’ smile when he looked at me came back to my mind, and I found myself daydreaming about his body and that smile.

Someone knocked on the door. "I left some clothes on the bed. I imagine you’ll want to change; I doubt you can wear your own," Shanks said from the other side of the door.

"Thanks," I replied, unsure of what else to say and feeling embarrassed by my recent fantasies.

I finished showering and wrapped the towel around myself, slowly opening the door just in case he’d decided to wait for me in the room. But no, even the bedroom door was now closed. I quickly grabbed the clothes Shanks had left—a pair of sweatpants, a hoodie, and some slippers—and took them back to the bathroom to change, feeling secure knowing the door had a lock. When I was ready and mentally prepared, I checked my phone again, but still no word from Nami.

I hesitantly went downstairs. Shanks was in the kitchen, leaning on a high table while looking at his phone.

"Want something to drink? Are you hungry?" he asked, not taking his eyes off his phone.

"I’m fine, thanks," I replied, feeling a bit awkward, rubbing my arms to warm up a little more. "My name’s Y/N, by the way."

Shanks lifted his head and walked out of the room, returning with a blanket. "Here… Y/N," he said with a smile on his face again.

He placed the blanket over my shoulders, brushing my body lightly with his hands. I shivered, feeling his warm touch on my skin, and a part of me wished that moment would never end.

"So, Y/N, what brings you to this city?"

"My Ph.D., and you?"

"I work as a CEO for a multinational," he responded cheerfully.

"I see…"

"You know, I grew up with nothing, so when I realized I could use my brain, I worked hard to get all this so I’d never go hungry again, nor would my parents, although now it’s just me."

"Wow… I’m really sorry."

"Thanks, but I’m fine. As you’ve probably noticed, I spend my time traveling the world and working now and then, although I’ll be stuck here for quite a while," he added.

I responded with a kind of nervous laugh.

"What's your PhD about? What do you want to do with it?" he asked as he sat next to me at the high kitchen table.

We spent quite a while talking about my PhD, university, and our mutual friendship with Luffy. It turned out we had much more in common than we initially thought. So much so that I lost track of time.

"Are you hungry? I was thinking of ordering dinner," Shanks said suddenly, moving a bit closer.

"Actually, I am hungry, but I was supposed to meet my friends for dinner. I hope Nami replies soon."

"Well, I'm going to order something, and if you have time, you can have some. If not, no big deal." A big smile appeared on his lips again, making me blush. "What do you like?"

"Order whatever you like."

"Do you like sushi? Check this place out—they just opened. Let’s try it."

"Yeah! Luffy mentioned it yesterday, but they say it's the most expensive place in the city. I'll pay you half."

"You're at my place, you're not paying anything," he laughed.

"Then order something cheaper."

"I don’t care about the money. I’ll get this; it looks good." Shanks started picking out all kinds of sushi, condiments, and appetizers.

Suddenly, my phone started ringing. It was Nami finally calling.

"Y/N!!! I stayed late at university, and then my phone died, I'm so sorry! I just talked to Robin and charged my phone. I'm on my way now. Are you okay?"

"Nami! Yes, I’m fine, I’m at the neighbor's place. Call me when you get here."

"I just ordered everything. Consider it an apology for splashing you with the car," Shanks said with a playful grin. "If you want, sit by the fireplace so you can warm up while you wait for your friend."

We both got up and headed to the sofa. I sat on the end closest to the fireplace, and to my surprise, Shanks sat in the middle. Though I was feeling more and more comfortable, I had to admit that I was starting to enjoy his company.

After a while, the doorbell rang, and we both assumed it was the delivery. Shanks stood up and opened the door.

"Hey, old man, I hope you didn’t do anything to my friend," Nami said, walking right in without caring if she was invited or not.

"Your friend’s just fine, don’t worry," Shanks replied, surprised by her boldness.

"Nami! Let’s go home," I called from the sofa.

"So, it’s true you’re doing okay," Nami teased me, trying to get a reaction.

I got up, folding the blanket, and headed toward the door.

"I know we ordered food," I said, looking at Shanks.

"Don’t worry, you had plans with your friends first."

I smiled slightly, "See you around."

I followed Nami out the door, and we quickly headed back to our place, going straight up to my room. Nami closed the curtains quickly. "Tell me everything."

"Nami, nothing happened. He was just being nice."

"Y/N, you’re wearing his clothes…"

"Oh my god! My clothes… I left them in his bathroom…" We both burst into laughter. I recounted my little adventure as we laughed.

"So, you like him, huh?"

"Nami… He’s just our neighbor, and he’s nice, that’s all," I said, trying to brush off Nami’s mischievous grin. "I should go get my clothes and return his."

"Okay, so I shouldn't wait for you to go back?" Nami asked with a little nudge to stop teasing me.

"You can go ahead if you want, I'll go later."

The truth was, I felt bad since he had ordered dinner for the two of us. And honestly, I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted to keep talking to him. So, I changed my clothes and headed back to his door, ringing the bell. "I brought your clothes," I said as soon as he opened the door, hoping he’d ask me to come in.

"Thanks, that was fast," Shanks replied.

Seeing that he hadn’t picked up on my hint, I tried again. "Has the food arrived? I’m hungry."

"Aren't you supposed to have dinner with your friends?" But seeing that I wasn’t making any move to leave, he added, "Do you want to come in?"

Shanks stepped aside, leaving the door open for me to enter. I felt a small sense of relief as I crossed the threshold, returning to the warmth of his home. It was strange how such a short time had been enough for me to feel more comfortable around him, although there was still something about his demeanor that kept me on my toes.

He led me back to the living room, where a low table was now set up with all sorts of sushi, colorful rolls, and some dishes I didn’t even recognize. There were several bottles of sake and tea, and the fireplace was still glowing, casting a warm and cozy light around the room.

"Sake?" Shanks asked, lifting one of the bottles and pouring into two small cups without waiting for my answer.

"Just a little," I replied, taking a seat on the sofa while he sat down beside me, this time closer than before but not uncomfortably so.

I tried my first bite of sushi, and it was delicious. Luffy was right about the food, as always. Shanks watched my reaction with a satisfied smile.

"Good, right?" he asked, sounding confident.

"It’s not bad," I said, trying to sound indifferent, though I knew my expression gave me away. I couldn’t help but smile.

We spent the next few minutes chatting about trivial things: the food, Luffy’s adventures, and our lives before ending up in this city. Shanks spoke with such ease that, for a moment, I forgot about the age difference between us or the fact that, until a few hours ago, I barely knew him.

When we finished eating, he offered me more sake. I hesitated at first but accepted a second cup. I could feel the warmth of the alcohol starting to relax me, and little by little, my guard came down.

"You know, you’re different from what I imagined when I first saw you," Shanks said as he leaned back on the sofa, gazing at the fire in the fireplace.

"Oh yeah? What did you think?" I asked, curious.

"Well, when I soaked you with my car, I thought you’d hate me. Then, when you resisted coming into my house, I knew you had a lot of character. But you’re more… interesting than I expected. You have more layers, you know?"

"Layers?" I laughed at his choice of words. "Like an onion?"

"Something like that," he replied with a smile. "But seriously, I’m intrigued by what you do. The effort you put into your PhD, the passion you have for your studies… It's refreshing to meet someone with such clear goals."

His gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, the atmosphere filled with a tension I didn’t know how to interpret. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but I wasn’t expecting it either. I couldn’t help but blush.

“I’m just trying to do the best I can,” I replied, attempting to steer the conversation away from myself. “And you? You must have had to work incredibly hard to get where you are.”

Shanks set the sake glass on the table and got comfortable, now looking at me directly.

“Yeah, but I’ve also been lucky. I think in life, you have to be in the right place at the right time… and know how to seize opportunities when they come.”

I felt the weight of his gaze, making the air feel thicker. We were sitting closer now, and the spark in his eyes wasn’t something I could easily ignore.

“And what do you plan to do now that you’re here for a while?” I asked, trying to break the silence that had formed between us.

“Right now?” he asked with a small smile, as if he knew what I was trying to do. “I suppose I’ll take the time to enjoy the company… and see what comes up.”

I couldn’t help but notice the hint in his voice. I bit my lip, feeling the atmosphere fill again with that strange mix of attraction and hesitation.

Suddenly, the sound of my phone vibrating on the table broke the tension. It was Nami.

“Excuse me,” I murmured as I picked up the phone and stood to answer it. Looking at the screen, I saw a message:

Nami: “Are you coming in the end? Everything okay?”

I looked at Shanks, who was still watching me with that same smile on his lips, then back at Nami’s message. I hesitated for a moment, then typed my response.

Me: “I’m fine, don’t worry. I think I’ll stay here.”

I put my phone away and turned back to Shanks, who had now also stood up.

“Everything okay with Nami?” he asked casually.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. I told her I’d stay a bit longer. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” he replied as he slowly approached, his eyes still locked on mine. “In fact, I’m glad you decided to stay.”

I felt a slight shiver run through me, but this time it wasn’t just from the cold.

Shanks was slowly getting closer. I could feel his presence filling the space around me as his gaze remained fixed on mine. The warmth of the fireplace still filled the room, but it wasn’t the only thing making my senses sharper.

Without a word, Shanks sat down next to me on the couch, closer than he had been before. His fingers brushed against my leg with a softness that surprised me. It wasn’t intrusive, but the warmth of his hand on my bare thigh, right where my sweatpants left the skin exposed, made me hold my breath. I glanced down, seeing his hand moving slowly as he traced soft circles with his fingers.

“Are you comfortable?” he whispered, his voice low and deep, filled with a sweetness I hadn’t expected.

“Yes…” I replied in a murmur, my body reacting faster than my mind could process. His hand moved up slightly, now caressing my arm with the same care he had shown on my leg. His touch was gentle, almost as if testing the limits.

The contact was disconcerting but also exciting. My thoughts tangled between the sensation of his fingers on my skin and the uncertainty of what would come next.

I could feel the tension building in the air, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. I bit my lip, trying to organize my thoughts, but the moment felt as if it were about to burst in any direction.

Just when it seemed everything was about to overflow, Shanks slowly withdrew his hand, giving me space and a smile full of intention. “It’s late now. Shall I walk you home?”

I wasn’t sure how to interpret his words, but I nodded. “Yes, that would be best. Thanks for dinner and for letting me stay here a while.” I stood up, feeling the warmth of the fireplace and the touch of his hands still lingering on my skin.

Shanks grabbed the jacket he had left on a chair and offered it to me. “It’s cold outside. I don’t want you getting wet again.” I put it on, grateful for the gesture. We walked together to the door, and with a subtle motion, Shanks opened and held it for me to pass through.

The night air was cold, but less biting than it had been earlier. We walked in silence the few meters separating our houses. When we reached my door, Shanks stopped and looked me directly in the eyes.

“It’s been a good night, Y/N. I’m glad you came.”

“Yes, it was… interesting.” I smiled shyly. Though the air was still charged, the proximity to my door made me feel a bit safer.

“Goodnight, Shanks.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Sleep well.”

I watched as he turned and crossed the street back to his house. When his door closed behind him, I sighed and opened mine, climbing the stairs to my room, my mind still swirling from the events of the night.

The next morning dawned fresh and quiet, and to my relief, I didn’t have any academic commitments. Nami, Robin, and I had planned to go out that night. A new nightclub had opened in town, and we had decided it was the perfect occasion to dance and forget about the hectic week we’d had.

Around nine at night, we gathered at the apartment. Nami, as always, looked stunning in a tight dress that fit her perfectly. Robin had opted for something more casual but equally elegant. I, for my part, had chosen a fairly sexy but flattering dress, not wanting to go unnoticed.

“Ready?” Robin asked as she touched up her makeup in front of the mirror.

“Yes, let’s go. I need a couple of drinks to relax,” I responded, still thinking about what had happened the night before with Shanks. I hadn’t shared all the details, just mentioned that I’d had dinner at his place, but Nami kept making playful comments whenever she had the chance.

We walked together to the nightclub, which was already packed. The neon lights and the music pulsed through the air, making the floor vibrate beneath our feet. We entered, and soon we were lost in the crowd. As we danced and laughed, I began to relax. The rhythm of the music made me forget, for moments, the nervousness I had felt since the night before.

Suddenly, I saw a familiar figure at the bar. Shanks. He was surrounded by a group of friends, all laughing and drinking, clearly enjoying the night. He was wearing a tight black shirt that highlighted his physique, and his red hair was slightly messy, giving him a carefree, seductive look. I froze.

“What’s wrong?” Robin asked, noticing my reaction.

“Nothing, it’s just… Shanks is here,” I replied, discreetly pointing toward the bar.

Nami turned and saw him. “That’s Shanks? Wow, I didn’t expect to see him here,” she said, smiling mischievously.

“Are you going to say hi?” Robin asked, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“I don’t know… I don’t want him to think I’m following him or something,” I replied, feeling a bit awkward.

“Oh, don’t be silly. Let’s go to the bar anyway, I need a drink,” Nami said, already pulling us by the hands toward where Shanks was.

As we approached, Shanks looked up and saw me. A wide smile spread across his face, and he stepped away from his group of friends to come closer.

“Y/N, what a surprise to see you here,” he said, his voice rising above the music.

“Hi,” I responded with a nervous smile. “We came out to have some fun.”

“Do you want a drink? My friends and I have already ordered a bit of everything. Help yourselves, girls,” he said, also addressing Robin and Nami.

“Yes, sure, why not?” I replied, feeling my nerves intensify. Shanks offered me a drink and gestured for me to join him in a quieter area.

While Robin and Nami stayed chatting with the rest of the group, Shanks and I found a corner where the noise of the nightclub wasn’t as overwhelming. We sat on a couch, our legs brushing accidentally.

“I thought about you today,” Shanks said suddenly, looking at me intently.

“Oh, really? Why?”

“I felt like our evening was cut short. I was tired, but I wanted more. How about another dinner? What do you say?” he asked, his tone serious but filled with a slight provocation.

I stared at him, feeling that same tension from the night before returning all at once.

“That could be a good idea,” I replied, smiling shyly.

Suddenly, Nami appeared abruptly, dragging Robin by the arm. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Shanks leaned toward me, whispering, “I’ll see you later. Enjoy your night.” With that, he stood up and returned to his friends.

Nami pulled us toward the bathroom. “Girls, emergency. One of the friends from next door is my PhD advisor.”

“And what’s the problem?” Robin asked, confused.

Nami blushed instantly. I already knew what was going on.

“That’s why you stayed so late the other day and didn’t answer my messages. You like him!”

Nami quickly covered my mouth as if anyone could hear us. “Maybe, I don’t know.”

“He’s very handsome,” Robin said

The three of us laughed and took the opportunity to tease Nami for a while, returning all the comments she made to us daily.

“Girls, I’m going to refill my drink, I’ll be right back,” I said, noticing that the drink Shanks had given me was empty.

As I approached the bar, Shanks and some others from his group were laughing and chatting with a group of girls. One of them, in particular, couldn’t stop touching and flirting with him, and Shanks didn’t seem to mind much.

I timidly approached the bar and ordered my drink. Suddenly, someone put their arm around my shoulders.

“Y/N, I didn’t expect to see you here… are you stalking me?”

Kid.

“Kid,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What do you want?”

“Are you alone? Come with me outside for a while, let’s talk,” he said, grabbing my hand.

“No, I’m with friends, thanks,” I replied.

I grabbed my drink, intending to find my friends and leave. I spotted Nami and Robin, who had joined the group and were each talking with one of Shanks’ friends.

Kid pulled me toward him, gripping my hand tightly. “Who did you come with? Your new boyfriend? I bet he’s got nothing on me. I’m better,” he said.

I tried to pull away from his hand, but his grip was strong. “Come back to me, or I’ll break that idiot’s face.”

“Leave me alone, Kid.”

“Come on, who is it? You probably made him up,” he said, loosening his grip just slightly but not enough for me to escape the situation.

“Him,” I said, pointing at Shanks.

Kid burst out laughing. “Yeah, right, like anyone would believe that. Prove it, then. Go over there and show me you’re with him, and I’ll leave you alone.”

I turned and saw the worried looks on my friends’ faces and Shanks glancing in our direction.

Kid let go of my arm, and I used the opportunity to escape from him.

“I’m waiting, Y/N,” he shouted after me.

I had to do something; I had to get rid of him. I downed my drink in one gulp to gather the courage and make a decision. Okay.

I quickly made my way through the crowd toward Shanks. He greeted me with a look of surprise, though there was an intense look in his eyes, scanning me from head to toe, not missing a single move I made.

I got closer, and Shanks instinctively leaned toward me, much to the astonishment of the girl who was gripping his bicep. Without thinking about the consequences, or anyone else around us, or even what Shanks might think or want, I grabbed him by the neck. My hands moved to his face, and I quickly pressed my lips toward his, not giving anyone time to think about what was about to happen.

Our lips fused together passionately. Shanks grabbed my waist, and his other hand moved to my hair, gripping it firmly. After a moment, his tongue pushed past my lips, deepening the kiss with fiery intensity while his friends began cheering and laughing. I was so embarrassed that I pulled away from his lips. Shanks let go of me, but his gaze lingered on my wrist.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked with concern.

I looked down at my wrist, which was red from Kid’s rough grip.

“What happened, Y/N?” he asked again as I remained silent.

The ringing in my ears grew louder and louder. I had been too impulsive, and now everything was crashing down on me.

Shanks took my other hand and led me to a quieter part of the bar, where the atmosphere was calmer.

“Are you okay pretty? Do you want me to take you home?” he asked gently.

I shook my head. I needed to calm down and get back to normal. I didn’t want to ruin the night.

“Who is that guy?” he asked again, his tone more relaxed, as he moved a little closer and gently massaged my back.

“He’s my ex. He won’t leave me alone,” I said, closing my eyes, trying to clear my mind. “I’m sorry about earlier. I was stupid. I shouldn’t have kissed you without your permission.”

Shanks leaned in even closer, slowly pressing his body against mine, and once again, his lips met mine with great passion. He kissed me for a few seconds, then moved toward my ear.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered while gently biting my ear.

I nodded, completely surrendering myself.

He lifted my dress slightly, slipping his hand under it and grabbing my butt firmly, massaging it while he returned to kiss me again, fiercely.

TO BE CONTINUED

[themeraldee]

I was thinking about how what Homelander clearly considers part of Madelyn's betrayal, alongside the lying about him having a son, was her being afraid of him. And that fear being why she appeased him the way she did, *just like everyone else does*, when he'd hoped she was different. That she actually cared. But no, like everyone else who actually SEES him, she was scared of him. This made me think, what if he figured the only way a person could truly love him on a personal level would be if they'd had no exposure to who he is. Someone who doesn't know about the violence, who he can just be the charming hero in the sunlight for (I guess this would be pre his S3 revelation that certain people still like him even when he kills in broad daylight lol). Or so he hopes. He is desperate to please, after all. So then I thought, what if he somehow cultivated a relationship like this, away from Vought, and then this person was presented with the dark truth about him. Maybe from someone aligned with Butcher, maybe just accidentally, but for the first time he sees that familiar fear flickering in them too. This person who was supposed to be uncorrupted. Who was supposed to love him. Who he'd been so good for. I can see multiple endings to that scenario, some much darker than others. I guess a lot would depend on how this person reacted, if they could still accept him, how deep that fear goes. Anyway sorry for the very long ask! No pressure to do anything with this, I just wanted someone equally obsessed with this hot mess of a man to bounce it off of.

anon I AM OBSESSEDDDDDD. I feel a series brewing.... I honestly ADORE this idea. I love how heartbreaking it was to him that even though Madelyn has known him for so long and has been a part of like everything he's ever done she was still scared of him. How crushing must that feel that the person who's been by your side and at your beck and call for decades is afraid of you???

Him whisking you away to live this peaceful apple pie life with America's true hero you can't believe just happened to fall for you just to have the curtain pulled right in front of your eyes.

afagfhjdfadjlhf

I'm such a sucker for giving Homie all he wants and needs so like I totally want reader to go low-key darkside. Like. You realise noone will ever love you the way he does. Isn't a little grey morality worth this all-consuming eternal love you'd otherwise never feel again. Forever chasing this feeling the rest of your life.

After he finds out that someone spilled the beans to you he comes home crushed. You're nowhere to be seen. Again, another attempt at love ruined. Does he not deserve to have that? He undresses leaving his bloodied suit (after whatever carnage he came back from) in pieces on the floor frustrated, not bothering to clean up before you come home.

Except he wakes up to you being there in the morning cooking breakfast for him. You greet him with a, "good morning. I did my best to wash your suit. I didn't wanna ruin the fabric and throw it in the wash so I hope that's good enough. I really need you to find out for me how they usually wash it for you." You're being so nonchalant, talking about his bloody, viscera covered suit that you painstakingly scrubbed in the morning right as you're making some eggs and bacon for breakfast.

And he's kinda just staring at you shocked, waiting for you to meet his gaze. And when instead of fear he sees love and acceptance it's like his heart could burst from the relief.

ORRR it could go dark and sad - which I won't get into buutttt much to ponder.

[writerwithtoomanyships]

Good omens has gotten me into sketching again, so enjoy a rough sketch of aziraphale

[letters-from-anwei]

1 year of Catechism !

A year ago, the first two chapters of Catechism were out and I made the first post on this blog ! My offering to you is this little Yun I doodled 💖

It's a small blog but I really enjoy seeing all your reactions every time a new chapter drops ! To all of you who always like and reblog, I see you and I love you !

Here's to another year full of dramatic pasts, revolution, and of course, gorgeous panels 🥂

[ronanlynchbf]

and then an overwhelming sense of dread apear.

[somethingsomethingcomic]

beware my wine rants

[ostensiblyfunctional]

I'd like to say thank you to @heartonxions for making my squirrel brain go on a rampage about how Gajeel got rid of his Phantom Lord mark. I have Ideas now, it's great, I love being hunted down by the writing bunnies /pos

[ni-kol-koru]

Midorima Shintarō enjoyers, I have a gift for you 💚

[orcelito]

Ykno the suckiest thing about being broken up with for someone else is that like. Well I'm doing generally fine, all things considered, but I Am kinda sad thinking about the things I've lost and all the casual affection that I can't have now.

But she's out there having all the affection she wants from her coworker, and it's just like. Damn this feels so skewed and SO unfair.

[camping-with-monsters]

🪷The Woman of Geese🪷

A piece that’s, admittedly, very different than my usual work. I’m trying to gain some confidence in drawing more figure based works, and the likes of artistic nudity.

I took a bit of a “renaissance” inspiration for this. While I’m likely far from the colors, I think I had the right idea with the articulation and overall setting and mood, even if there are still some imperfections to this work.

I was originally super nervous to post it, but generally speaking, there’s nothing that’s too incredibly awkward about it, and perhaps I’m just a little paranoid that people will be weird about it.

Regardless, I’m still pleased with the result :)

[princekirijo]

Honestly would love to try writing again but I don't think I would post it anywhere.

[earl-grey-crow]

so. coyle.