#And we can silently walk past each other | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

colonelarr0w · 11 months ago

Note

singledad! nanami having the hots for yuji’s kindergarten teacher who has the tendency to overwork herself to the bone in the name of her precious students

he gets her to unwind with him 🫣 they fuck LMAOOOLLL

Sypnosis - Read above request.

Pairing - !SingleDad Nanami x !Kindergarten Teacher Reader

Warning(s) - None besides some foul language.

Word Count - 2.6k

A/N - Hi, yes, okay, I know the request had a smut element to it, but I took a fluffy route. If you want a part two that has that smut element or an alternate version that focuses on that smut element, please send me a request and I will get to it as quickly as I can! But I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it!

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

ENCOUNTER 1 :

“There! He’s over there!” Yuuji says happily, his grip over your hand tightening as he points to a blonde-haired man standing in the crowd of awaiting parents. You follow his gaze, smiling kindly as the man lifts his hand in a wave, grinning at both you and Yuuji.

“Alright, off you go then,” you smile down at Yuuji, releasing his hand and watching as the six-year-old toddles over to his father, wrapping his arms around the taller man’s leg and smiling widely up at him. His father stands straight, waving once more to you before vanishing into the crowd.

ENCOUNTER 2 :

"Mr. Nanami, correct?" You cast a glance down at your clipboard before your gaze returns to the blonde male standing in front of you. He nods, smiling apologetically as Yuuji tugs once again on his arm, trying his hardest to get his father's attention. "You can both come inside."

Nanami smiles again as he walks past you, taking a seat on the too-small chairs that you had set up in the center of the classroom. His knees curl up to his chest, but he says nothing as you sit in front of him, smiling first at Yuuji before your gaze shifts to settle on him.

"Yuuji is an absolute pleasure to have in class. He's very helpful with others and myself, he focuses on each task he's given – he's a very gifted student," you explain, lifting up the pages on your clipboard and smiling as Yuuji's toothy grin widens, gleeful with the praise you were giving him.

"Is that so? I'm very glad to hear that," Nanami nods, turning then to Yuuji and placing a palm over the top of his head. The six-year-old giggles, leaning into his father's touch with a closed-eye smile.

You watch the interaction with a gentle smile of your own, fingers releasing their hold on the papers of your clipboard and listening as they quietly fall into place.

ENCOUNTER 3 :

"Papa, look! It's Miss (Y/N)," Yuuji bubbles happily, tugging on Nanami's pant leg and pointing in the direction that he had seen you. Curious, Nanami allows his gaze to follow Yuuji's finger – the scolding he wanted to give about pointing falling dead in his throat.

You're preoccupied with whatever shopping list is curled between your fingers, lips pressed firmly together in thought as you struggle to decide which brand of potato chips to buy. Nanami can't help but silently admire you from his place farther down the same aisle. His lips tug upward in a soft smile – maybe one day he would have enough courage to stride up to you.

ENCOUNTER 4 :

"Oh, hello. Did Yuuji forget something at home?" you inquire curiously, raising an eyebrow as a very disheveled Nanami straightens himself out in front of you. His fingers fiddle with his tie, trying to make it look a touch more presentable – but to no avail.

"I apologize for my appearance, this morning has been hectic. But yes, Yuuji accidentally left his lunchbox," Nanami answers, holding up the small metal lunchbox decorated with superhero stickers – some scratched and some brand new.

You smile gently at him, reaching out to take the lunchbox from his fingers. "Don't worry, we all have those mornings," you say reassuringly, chuckling gently at Nanami. He returns your smile, cheeks warming at the lingering feeling that your fingers had left behind.

ENCOUNTER 5 :

"Hey, isn't that Yuuji's teacher?" Gojo asks, lifting his index finger to point across the bar. Nanami's eyes follow Gojo's finger – which then widen at the sight of you mingling with a few friends, nursing a fruity cocktail in your hand.

Nanami hums in response, trying his hardest to return his attention to his drink, but your outfit is much too tight, pushing up exactly what needs to be pushed up and making your figure just that much more attractive. Behind his eyeglasses, his gaze roams up and down the dips and curves of your body, his lips quirking up in tune with his wandering eyes.

"Yeah, it is," he mutters offhandedly, lifting his glass to his lips and resting it against the skin there. Gojo smirks, lowering his finger before standing from his place at the bar. Nanami's eyebrows pinch together in curiosity, watching the snowy-haired male swagger his way across the bar – not stopping until he reaches where you stand with your friends, then throwing a slender arm over your shoulders.

The once loose grip Nanami had over his glass is replaced by a tight curl of his fingers, one that could surely shatter the glass should he apply the right amount of pressure. His eyes narrow in an almost predatory manner – watching as Gojo smiles at both you and the friends that had come along with you.

You return his smile and laugh at the cheesy jokes that he throws your way, but Nanami can see the hint of discomfort that lies behind the curl of your lips. Oh, so that was Gojo's plan.

Downing the rest of the whiskey in his glass, Nanami stands from his place at the bar, striding across the small space until he stands just a few inches away from you, your friends, and Gojo – the latter of whom is wearing that shit-eating grin he always wears when his plans work out just the way that he wanted them to.

"Oh! Mr. Nanami! I didn't expect to see you out here," you say, turning quickly to glance at the blonde as he wanders into your line of vision. Your smile, once uncomfortable and forced, was now that same smile that you flashed at him when you noticed him at dismissal. "It's nice to see you."

Nanami's cheeks heat, and he silently thanks the bar for being so dim, its lighting hiding the gentle pink hue that imbues over his face. "It's nice to see you as well Miss (Y/N)," Nanami nods at you, feeling himself smile as you shift an inch closer to him.

"Oh, would you like to join me at the bar? Your friends can as well, if they'd like," Nanami offers, shooting Gojo a pointed glare. Gojo only smirks, shrugging his shoulders indifferently. That bastard.

You glance to your friend, who nods encouragingly at you. You turn back to Nanami, smiling at his offer and reaching a hand out to squeeze his arm – your touch lights a small fire underneath his skin, one that he most certainly does not complain about.

"We'd love to, thank you."

ENCOUNTER 6 :

"Where's your father Yuuji?" Your voice is a quiet mumble, your fingers still closed around Yuuji's as the both of your gazes sift through the crowd of awaiting parents – and yet Nanami is nowhere to be seen. The pink-haired boy sinks back onto his heels, a saddened look falling over his face as he leans into your side.

"I don't know," he mumbles in response, his eyes already glossing over with tears. You soften, kneeling down to be at eye-level with the boy and smiling as reassuringly as you can at him. "Did he forget me?"

You shake your head quickly, squeezing the tiny hand that still rests in yours. Yuuji sniffles, his cheeks puffing out in an adorable pout. "No! No honey, your father did not forget you. It could just be that work is keeping him a little later."

Seemingly satisfied with your explanation, Yuuji nods, rubbing his free hand against his tear-filled eyes, sniffling. You smile again, squeezing his fingers before guiding him back to the entrance of your classroom.

He follows, sitting down at his seat and taking the coloring sheets and colored pencils that you offer him, already scribbling away at the black-and-white monkey that laid in front of him. You take the seat at his left, feeling your heart warm as Yuuji tilts the sheet towards you – a silent invite for you to color with him.

You take one of the colored pencils that he offers you, coloring in a small section of the page and occasionally looking up to your classroom door – where the hell was Nanami?

"Wait here for a moment Yuuji, I'm going to call your father, okay?" You lift a hand to ruffle the boy's hair, smiling at him before silently moving towards the chorded phone tucked into the corner of your classroom, located just behind your desk.

Just as you finish dialing in the now familiar number, the door to your classroom opens, revealing a disheveled Nanami. He leans quietly against the doorframe for a moment, catching his breath before Yuuji turns, smiling widely at the sight of his father.

"Papa!"

You turn from where you stand beside the phone, smiling in relief as you watch Yuuji bound up to Nanami, wrapping his little arms halfway around his father's legs.

"There you are. I have to admit, I was getting a little worried about you," you admit with a smile, waving to Nanami as you walk closer to the pair, watching through softened eyes as Yuuji reaches for his completed coloring page, wanting to show his father.

"I apologize for my lateness. I had not expected my office to keep me as late as they did," Nanami apologizes, bowing his head at you. You wave him off, then folding your fingers together in front of you.

"It's not an issue at all. Though you did give Yuuji quite the scare," you admit, not failing to notice the way that Nanami's smile fades for a quick moment, but returns when Yuuji lifts his coloring page up to him.

"Oh," he hums, turning to Yuuji and laying a palm against the youngster's head, lovingly ruffling his hair. "I apologize Yuuji, I didn’t mean to frighten you."

"It's okay Papa! Miss (Y/N) and I colored together!" Yuuji bubbles, his eyes crinkling in a wide smile as his eyes momentarily flicker to you. "See? I made this one look like you."

Nanami smiles fondly, then turning to you and once again mouthing his thanks. You merely wave him off, watching with a smile of your own as Yuuji continues to explain each little character that he had colored in.

ENCOUNTER 7 :

"Good morning Miss (Y/N)!" Yuuji exclaims happily, smiling brightly up at you as Nanami leads him forward, releasing the little boy's hand as he tugs his father towards you.

Biting back the yawn that rises in your throat, you will yourself to smile back at your student, waving politely at him and watching through half-lidded eyes as he lets go of Nanami's hand. He opens his mouth to question you, but is immediately distracted by the call of one of his friends.

"Good morning Miss (Y/L/N)," Nanami bows politely at you, one that you return clumsily. His eyebrows pinch together in a mixture of curiosity and concern – you weren't acting like your regular self. Your once bubbly attitude and bright greetings were replaced now by half-assed "good morning's" and small waves that carried none of your usual warmth.

"Morning Mr. Nanami," you return, your smile wobbling as your eyes flicker to meet his own. It's then that he notices the exhaustion that weighs heavy on your eyelids, practically tugging them down to a point where you look as though you're about to fall asleep standing upright.

"Are you feeling alright this morning?"

"Oh yes, just tired is all," you wave off his concern, smiling once again at him before a comfortable yet uncomfortable silence falls over the both of you. "I'll be seeing you later?"

"Yes, have a good day," Nanami smiles at you, his heart warming when you return it – though it doesn't quite reach your eyes that way that it would normally. You wave again at him as he walks off, then turning to your awaiting students and clapping your hands once together.

ENCOUNTER 8 :

"Oh! Miss (Y/N)! My papa wanted to talk to you after school today," Yuuji mentions to you, smiling as he glances up from the worksheet that he had been previously occupied with. Your eyebrows pinch together in intrigue, glancing down at the pink-haired boy and tilting your head at him.

"Alright then, I'll be waiting for him," you reply with a kind smile, then continuing your routine check on the rest of your students, being sure that none of them were struggling with the work that you had handed out.

< … >

"Yuuji mentioned that you wanted to speak with me?"

Nanami swallows the growing lump in his throat, suddenly feeling oddly choked up as you stand in front of him, lifting his hand to scratch at the back of his neck. His shirt feels tighter than before, the air surrounding him is suddenly hotter than it had been previously.

"Yes – uhm – my apologies if I am taking up your time," Nanami begins, fiddling with his fingers and scratching at already existing hangnails, "but there is something that I wanted to ask of you."

You smile kindly at him, a gentle laugh falling from your parted lips – a sound that Nanami wishes that he could commit to the very depths of his memory.

"You're not wasting my time at all," you're quick to reassure him, your gaze momentarily flickering to Yuuji as he takes advantage of the empty classroom, organizing the books in your small-shelved library.

Nanami inhales deeply, holding the breath in his chest and wondering if what he was about to ask would make you view him in a different light – though he sincerely hoped that you wouldn't.

"I was wondering...and forgive me if this is too forward...if you would like to join me for coffee sometime this weekend?" His voice is dangerously quiet, a light shake to his voice as the fear of being rejected finally sinks into his bones – maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all.

Your laughter dies down, fading completely as you stare at Nanami – you certainly hadn't expected him to ask you that.

Just as Nanami opens his mouth to apologize again, you cut him off.

"I'd love to."

With cheeks dusted pink and a smile that could only be compared to a lovesick fool, Nanami glances up at you, feeling his chest warm at the sight of your dimpled cheeks and crinkled eyes.

< ... >

"So that's how you and Papa fell in love?" Yuuji tilts his head curiously, biting back his yawn as he nestles further into his comforters. You smile gently at him, reaching a hand out to affectionately ruffle his hair, threading your fingers through his pink locks.

"That's exactly how Papa and I fell in love. He took me for coffee that very weekend, and the rest is history," you recall with a lovesick smile plastered onto your face. Yuuji smiles sleepily, a sight that you mentally commit to memory.

"I'm happy you and Papa met," Yuuji whispers adorably, yawning again before his heavy eyes finally flutter shut, exhaustion taking over him. You smile again, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss against his forehead before you stand from his bed.

You turn your head, jumping at the sight of Nanami standing in the doorframe to Yuuji's bedroom, leaning against it with crossed arms and a gentle smile on his face. "How long were you there for?" Your voice is almost accusatory as you walk into your husband's arms, resting your own around his neck and tracing your fingernails along his nape.

"Long enough to hear you retell that story for – what – the eighty-fifth time?" Nanami perks an eyebrow at you, leaning down to slot his lips against yours. You hum against his mouth, tugging him a bit closer and biting playfully at his bottom lip.

He pulls away after a moment, the tip of his nose affectionately brushing against your own, his large hands squeezing playfully at your waist.

"And every time I tell it, you hang off of my every word, don't you?"

Nanami smiles, his lips ghosting over your own as he tugs you impossibly closer, your chest pressed flush against his own.

"That I do."

#colonelarr0w #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #nanami kento x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento fanfiction #kento nanami fanfiction #kento nanami #nanami kento #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

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tamwritesstuff · 2 months ago

Text

for anyone in need of a little bit of angst, here's a snippet of the conversation between lucanis and viago after crow!rook gets stuck in fade jail :)

Lucanis strides into the Cantori Diamond looking like death.

The casino is bustling with activity as usual. The movement of people, the clinking of glasses, the sound of coins exchanging hands. It almost makes it seem like any other day. Lucanis knows it’s not. He had never enjoyed places like this — not the way Illario did — and even being on the top floor of the casino, above all that noise didn’t make him any more comfortable. Still, he had always found the time to greet some of the other Crows wandering about the room, even if it was just a quick nod. Now, fledglings flinch away as he walks past them not paying them any mind.

Teia sees him approach from the other corner of the room, and something in her posture seems to relax. “Thank the Maker!” she exclaims, running to meet him. “What in Andraste’s name happened, Lucanis? You sent word you were all going to an island to stop some ritual and then we didn’t hear from you in days!” she frowns, “and after the things we’ve been hearing from Minrathous—”

Lucanis can feel her anxious gaze on him, waiting for a response but he has no words for her. He closes his eyes, chest roaring with pain. Joder. Caterina’s training hadn’t prepared him for this. All his life he had measured suffering in broken bones and stab wounds. Now his heart is faced with a loss so devastating it reverberates through his entire being.

“Lucanis?” Teia calls softly, almost startling him.

“Ghilan’nain’s been slain” he manages to say at last. The only good news he has to offer. She makes a sound of surprise, turns to look at Viago only to find him already looking at them. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes as he stares at Lucanis.

“Where’s Rook?” he asks, voice deceptively calm.

Lucanis goes still, grief and pain wreaking havoc inside of him. He doesn’t know what expression is reflected on his face but it must be enough to convey what his words cannot because Viago takes a step back. “No,” he says and there’s a sharpness in his tone, a denial that Lucanis knows all too well. “No” he repeats, turning his back and leaning his hands on the table for support.

Teia stares at them, horrified, “How—”

Spite growls. He tricked her! He took her away from us!

Lucanis can feel the demon’s anger like a mirror to his own, a painful, angry thing wanting to be let out and ravage the entire room. And yet when he speaks the words are deadly soft. “The Dread Wolf betrayed us, betrayed her” The words are a new kind of pain. He pauses, hoping that if he doesn’t breathe too deeply he won’t feel the hollow echo of his empty chest. “He trapped her in the Fade”

Viago turns abruptly. He doesn’t make any move to strike, but there’s a cold violence to his gaze, like the silent swish of a blade right before it draws blood. They stare at each other for a moment, neither of them moving. Then Viago's face changes, hard blankness breaking for a moment to reveal the feelings beneath. Loathing.

#datv spoilers #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #lucanis dellamorte #viago de riva #lucanis x rook #rookanis #dragon age fanfic #my writing #oc: artessia de riva

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samuelsdean · 8 months ago

Text

Flicker

pairing: dean winchester x reader

summary: "can i hold your hand?" you blurted out, surprised by your own boldness. a flicker of surprise crossed dean's face, quickly replaced by a ghost of a smile that sent a jolt through you. "yeah," he said, his voice softer than you were used to hearing. "yeah, you can."

genre: fluff

word count: 1.3k

author's notes: hi! here's another dean fic because i'm having a winchester brainrot after choosing to rewatch the show for the nth time. it's fluff again because i'm a sucker for soft!dean and i like it when idiots who are mutually pining for each other finally hold hands after 9989 years.

THE WIND HOWLED LIKE A WOLF ON A FULL MOON ON A PERPETUALLY OVERCAST NIGHT. It scoured the dust from the abandoned house's roof, a skeletal silhouette against the bruise-colored sky. The once-white picket fence weathered to a sickly gray, stood like crooked teeth in a decaying grin. The trees behind it, looming and stark, clawed at the sky, their branches whispering secrets the wind refused to carry.

You shivered, the cold a mere whisper compared to the unsettling feeling that prickled your skin. This place, nestled in a forgotten fold of a desolate highway at the edge of a forest, vibrated with a wrongness that made the hairs on your arms stand on end.

"This place feels… dicey," Dean muttered, his voice barely audible over the wind. He scanned the deserted midway, his eyes narrowed in a way that spoke volumes of past encounters with the unsettling.

"Think the rumors were true?" you asked, swallowing hard against the lump of unease in your throat.

The "rumors" were the reason you were standing in this creepy house at dusk. A string of disappearances, whispers of screams echoing in the dead of night, all traced back to this desolate stretch of road. Apparently, there was an urban legend of sorts in the area where a couple would get a flat tire out of nowhere, and with the area being nothing but just a highway and trees, the couple would choose to trek to a nearby house, only for them end up missing right after.

"Why? Are you scared?" A wry smile tugged at the corner of Dean's lips as he teased you. Before you could shoulder-check him for bugging you, he added, "Maybe, maybe not. But sticking together's the best bet we got, wouldn't you say?"

His gaze met yours, and for a fleeting moment, you saw a flicker of something akin to concern beneath the gruff exterior. It was a rare glimpse into the man who carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Dean Winchester grew up suppressing whatever emotion he had besides his usual cocky demeanor and smirks because he had to raise Sam, his younger brother while hunting whatever it is that crawled out of the depths of hell. And Dean did a damn great job at that, Sam was now off to Stanford.

At that moment, the fear dissipated, replaced by a fierce determination.

"Yeah," you said, your voice firmer than you felt. "Let's get out of here."

He extended his hand, his calloused fingers surprisingly warm against your own. You hesitated for a beat, the implication of the gesture hanging heavy in the air. It was more than just a practical suggestion; it was a silent promise of support, a brief moment of connection you craved with this gruff hunter.

"Can I hold your hand?" you blurted out, surprised by your own boldness.

A flicker of surprise crossed Dean's face, quickly replaced by a ghost of a smile that sent a jolt through you. "Yeah," he said, his voice softer than you were used to hearing. "Yeah, you can."

You laced your fingers through his, the gesture a silent affirmation that went beyond the immediate danger. But for you, it was also a chance for something more, a stolen moment of skinship you yearned for.

As you walked, the wind seemed to whisper secrets around you, the creaking of the dilapidated house a morbid soundtrack. Each creak sent shivers down your spine, but Dean's grip remained steady, a reassuring anchor. You couldn't help but steal glances at him, his profile etched sharply against the dying light. The way his worn jacket barely contained the heat radiating from his body made your cheeks flush.

His hand, usually so quick to let go, lingered in yours. You weren't sure if he noticed the way your thumb brushed against his calloused skin, a silent plea for a little more contact. Maybe it was the adrenaline pumping through your veins, or the way the danger heightened your senses, but Dean felt like a furnace beside you.

Suddenly, a flash of movement in the corner of your eye. A hulking shadow, all wrong angles, and unnatural speed darted behind a boarded-up ticket booth. A guttural growl, unlike anything you'd ever heard, ripped through the air. Your heart hammered against your ribs like a trapped bird.

"Did you see that?" you whispered, your voice barely audible over the wind.

Dean squeezed your hand, a silent acknowledgment, his hold tightening almost imperceptibly. This time, you were certain it wasn't just the danger.

"Stay close," he said, his voice low and gravelly.

He unsheathed his knife, its silver glinting in the fading light. You drew your own weapon, a wave of nausea washing over you. You hated this part, the constant feeling of being on the edge of a knife.

Stepping cautiously forward, you and Dean crept toward the source of the movement. The closer you got, the more the air crackled with an unnatural energy, the scent of decay thick and cloying. As you rounded a corner, the full horror of the creature revealed itself.

Towering over you was a monstrous figure, its once-human form twisted and warped. Its skin, a patchy mix of worminess and sickly shade, hung greasy. Claws, like sharpened daggers, protruded from its elongated fingers. But the most terrifying aspect was its face. A grotesque mockery of a human, its eyes burned with a bloodshot sclera devoid of any humanity.

The Rougarou, a creature born of insatiable hunger and despair, let out a bone-chilling roar, the sound echoing through the abandoned carnival. It lunged a blur of teeth and wormy skin.

The fight was a desperate ballet of survival. Dean, drawing on years of experience, moved with practiced efficiency, dodging the Rougarou's attacks while searching for an opening. You fought with a mix of fear and determination, adrenaline fueling your movements.

The Rougarou swiped at you with a clawed hand, leaving a searing mark across your arm. Pain flared, but you gritted your teeth, refusing to let it slow you down.

Dean created an opening, shouting, "Fire!" You lunged for your pocket, the familiar weight of the lighter a comfort in your hand. Snapping it open, you flicked the wheel, a flame erupting in the dying light. Hurling it with all your might, you aimed for the Rougarou's chest.

It shrieked, a sound that seemed to tear at the fabric of reality itself. The flame erupted on its body, a blossom of searing orange against the decaying flesh. The Rougarou thrashed, its inhuman roar turning into a desperate, pained yowl. It stumbled back, clawing at the burning fur, an unholy stench filling the air.

Fear, raw and primal, flickered in its eyes. But fear was a fleeting emotion for the creature. It roared again, charging at you with a desperate, burning lunge. This time, you were ready. You rolled to the side, the creature's claws missing you by a hair's breadth. Taking advantage of its momentum, Dean drove his silver knife into the Rougarou's back.

The creature howled in pain, clawing wildly. With a final, earth-shaking tremor, it collapsed, dissolving into a cloud of black smoke that dissipated with a sickly sweet stench.

You and Dean stood there, chests heaving, sweat clinging to your skin. The silence that followed was deafening.

"That was..." you started, your voice raspy.

"A Rougarou," Dean finished, his voice grim. "Nasty sons of bitches."

He reached out, checking the wound on your arm. His touch was surprisingly gentle. "You okay?"

You nodded, a weak smile playing on your lips. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks to you."

Dean met your gaze, a flicker of something warm passing between you in the fading light. He didn't say anything, but the way his hand lingered on your arm spoke volumes.

Together, you walked out of the abandoned place, the wind whispering through the trees, no longer sounding ominous but strangely peaceful. The horrors you'd faced had brought you closer, forging a bond forged in danger and shared survival. You knew this wouldn't be your last hunt, but for now, you had each other. And in that knowledge, you found a flicker of hope, a warmth that chased away the lingering chills of the night.

#supernatural #supernatural fandom #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fic #supernatural fluff #supernatural angst #supernatural smut #dean winchester #dean winchester fandom #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x oc

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azzibuckets · 17 days ago

Text

sweet [part five]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count: 3.1k

masterlist | sweet masterlist

It’s fleeting, the hardened look that passes over Azzi eyes. If Paige wasn’t so familiar with even the subtlest shifts in Azzi’s body language, she would’ve missed it. The squint of her eyes, the tenseness of her jaw; Azzi’s not just upset, she’s furious. And Paige has always felt bad for the people Azzi’s felt this way towards, the silent anger radiating off a face that was normally bright with a dimpled smile. She’s always thanked God that it was never her, that between them it’s always been a back and forth of shy smiles and blushes.

But now Azzi is staring at her as if she doesn’t even recognize her, and Paige is at an utter loss of what to do. “It’s always just sex with you, isn’t it?” Azzi says wryly. She pushes harshly away from Paige, wiping her neck, as if trying to erase the marks already bruising her skin. “I’m going to bed.”

“Wait, Azzi.” But Azzi ignores her, flipping to her side and pulling the sheets tight over her rigid body.

Paige knows there’s no use in arguing. It seems like hours that she stares at the ceilings, scared to even move. Tears gather at the corner of her eyes. Furious at herself, she scrubs them away. And she’s almost asleep, the physical and the mental exhaustion from the day creeping up on her, when she hears sniffles coming from the other side of the bed. And then Azzi is crying, and it takes everything in Paige to not turn around and take the other girl in her arms.

Azzi makes it a point to ignore her the entire time during rehab the next day and on the drive home. As soon as they return to Storrs, she locks herself in her room with Micaela, making it clear that she wants nothing to do with Paige.

But after a week of sleepless nights, Paige has had enough. She can’t stand the thought of living in a world where Azzi can’t even bear to look at her. Knowing Azzi won’t respond to any of her texts or calls, she takes it upon herself to check her apartment, but the younger girl’s room is empty, looking a little bare. Confused, she runs to Werth and checks the gym, the media room, and finally the kitchen, only to find Amari and Caroline the only ones there. “Where’s Azzi?”

Amari and Caroline exchange concerned looks. “She left,” Amari says gently. “She didn’t tell you?”

“Left?” Paige’s head spins. “Where’d she go?”

“Back to Virginia. She said she’s gonna finish out her rehab there.”

“What? Did she tell you guys?”

Amari looks at her, worried. “She told all of us last week, the day y’all came back from New York. We thought you knew?”

The day they came back from New York. “Fuck. How long is she gone for?”

“Probably past the end of season, maybe even the end of the semester,” Amari says, her eyes rounding in worry as she observes Paige’s increasingly frantic state.

“Fuck,” Paige repeats, massaging her temples. “She left and she didn’t even tell me?”

“You kinda deserve it,” Caroline says pointedly, always Azzi’s biggest defender.

Paige tries to muster up a glare at the brunette, but she’s exhausted, and she knows she has no one to blame but herself. “Yeah, I know,” she finally mutters dejectedly.

“So what’re you gonna do?” Amari questions.

Paige slumps into a chair beside them, kicking at the leg of the table. “I don’t fucking know. She doesn’t even wanna talk to me anymore.”

“Then make her.”

“What?”

“Go to Virginia. Apologize and make things right,” Caroline says, her voice hard. “I’m sick and tired of hearing you two pine over each other.”

In a daze, Paige walks the entire way back to her apartment. By the time she unlocks the door, she’s already bought a plane ticket for the same night. She startles when hands touch her shoulder and spin her around. “What’s up? You look pale.”

“Azzi went back home,” Paige responds distractedly, tapping at her screen as she texts Tim asking if he can pick up her from the airport.

“Home?” Ella laughs. “Well, she finally listened.”

That gets Paige’s attention. Looking up from her phone, she squints. “What?”

“I asked her to give you space,” Ella cocks her head. “She said she would, but you guys went to fucking rehab together last week. But now she’s gone, so I guess she really did listen.”

A knot of something painful starts to form at the base of Paige’s head. “You- what? Why the fuck would you ask my best friend to give me space?” she demands.

“Dude, you’re always so fucked up worrying about her. Even now, you look like you just fainted.” Ella regards her coldly. “Excuse me for wanting us to go on one date without you thinking of her.”

When Paige stares at her, her mouth agape, Ella steps even closer, wrapping a hand around her bicep. “Come on,” she purrs. “We can have so much fun now that’s she gone.”

“We’re over.” Ella has the audacity to look surprised.

Paige grabs her purse from the coffee table and pushes it roughly into her chest, causing the girl to stumble back. “Now get the fuck out of my apartment.”

Paige is already in her room by the time the door slams shut. She stuffs things haphazardly into her backpack as her mind reels. Azzi had left. Azzi had thought Paige didn’t care about her. The mere thought of Azzi thinking she could ever be a burden makes Paige feel sick with fury. God, she had said all those things to Azzi, just for her best friend to think she was doing her a favor?

••

“Thank you for picking me up on such short notice.” Paige fiddles nervously with the straps of her backpack. “I’m not sure if coming here was a good idea but-”

“Paige,” Tim interrupts her train of thought, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. “You know you’re always welcome. But, just a warning…Azzi might not be the happiest that you’re here. But give her some time, and she’ll cool down. She always does.” Tim’s unwavering confidence should give Paige a boost of the same energy, but it only shakes her up more. Everyone’s expecting them to make up like they always do after every petty fight, but what if they can’t make it through? What if this is it? Paige has never fucked up like this, never hurt Azzi so much that the younger girl felt the need to put multiple states between the two of them.

When Tim pulls into the driveway, Paige asks for a moment. The older man gives her a comforting hug before heading up to the house first, giving her space. Taking a deep breath to try and calm her racing heartbeat, she fluffs up the flowers, attempting to make them look prettier. She adjusts and readjusts the envelope placed in the middle of the petals. She runs her hands through her hair and scrubs at the stain at her sweater but to no avail. Paige is going to apologize to Azzi, and she’s going to make it right. Rolling her shoulders, she steps out of the car and marches to the front door.

Before she can even reach for the handle, the door swings open. Paige blinks.

“You’re here,” Jon sighs in relief, throwing his body at her. Paige balks for a moment before returning the hug.

“Were you watching me?”

Jon smiles sheepishly. “Sorry, but you were taking so long. Why were you looking in the mirror so much? You look fine.”

Paige blushes and pushes him away. “Stop stalking me.”

Jon beams at her again, before his smile drops suddenly. “Uh, just so you know, her girlfriend’s here too.”

And just like that, all the confidence Paige has spent the last fifteen minutes gathering disappears. Paige clears her throat, not sure if she heard him right. “Micaela’s here?”

“They were calling for a long time yesterday night. And she showed up this morning.” Jon pauses, looking at her meaningfully. “With a suitcase.” Then his smile is back, just as bright as it was before. “I talked to her a bit. She’s cool. But you’re Paige.” He pushes her towards the staircase. “Go.”

Azzi’s door is opened a crack, and Paige peeks through. Micaela and Azzi are on her bed, Azzi snuggled in her arms. They’re watching something on the TV. Micaela kisses the top of Azzi’s head, and Azzi looks up at her and laughs.

Fuck. Paige can’t do this. She backs away from the door. Micaela, she treats her so well. She puts Azzi first. And Micaela hasn’t hurt Azzi like Paige has. This is the biggest Paige has seen Azzi smile in months - her best friend is finally happy.

In that moment Paige decides that she needs to let Azzi go. She sets her bouquet of flowers down outside the room as quietly as possible. She takes the envelope, crumples it up and puts it in her pocket. She was stupid for ever thinking that flowers and a letter would make up for all the shit she’s put Azzi through.

“Where are you going?” Paige is halfway out the front door when a firm voice stops her.

“Home.”

“Come in and close the door.” Paige wants to tell Katie that she isn’t her mother and that she has no right to tell her what to do. But Katie has been there for her when her own mother hasn’t, has welcomed her into her home for months at a time and still checks up on her every week over text. So she closes the door and faces the older woman, unable to look at the eyes so similar to the ones she’s fallen in love with.

Katie beckons for her to sit, and she follows suit. “As her mother, I don’t think I’m supposed to say this,” Katie says slowly. “But don’t give up, Paige.”

“She’s literally sitting in there with her girlfriend.” Paige’s bottom lip trembles. “I’m too fucking late, and I can’t even blame anyone but myself.”

“I know it feels like there’s no solution. But-”

“With all respect, you don’t understand, Katie.” Paige cuts her off. “I don’t think we can ever go back to the way we were.”

“And that’s the problem. You’re so focused on trying to return back to normal but is that what you really want? Maybe it’s good you guys can’t ever be the same again. Maybe it’s good you two take the risk to become something more.”

Paige stands up, resolute this time as she reaches for her duffel. “I can’t,” she says. “I can’t ruin this for her.”

“Stay,” Katie urges. “If not for Azzi, at least for yourself. I just checked the weather. There’s going to be a blizzard. It’s not safe for you to travel.”

Paige is about to open her mouth to protest before a familiar voice rings out. “Mom?” Azzi bounds down the stairs, a smile on her face. Micaela is close behind, reaching for her waist and laughing. But then Azzi’s eyes shift to where Katie’s looking, and she sees Paige. Her face drops immediately, and the action is enough to send Paige’s stomach hurdling. “Paige?”

Paige lifts a hand, forcing a weak smile onto her face. “Hey.”

Katie glances between the two of them. “Azzi, sweetie, Paige is here to stay for a few days,” she says lightly.

Azzi scoffs, disbelief etched onto her face. “Like hell she is.” She walks up to Paige, jabbing a finger in her face. “You can’t just show up at my house and expect everything to be fine, you asshole.”

“She can’t go home right now,” Katie says gently. “The snow’s six feet thick outside. It’s not safe.”

“We’ll find a way to make it work,” Micaela says softly, grabbing Azzi’s wrist in an effort to calm her down. “Let’s go, Az.”

Paige burns. No one calls Azzi that but her. Azzi glares at Paige one last time before following her girlfriend back upstairs. Katie’s eyes follow them, worried, until she heaves a sigh and faces Paige again. “Come on, hon,” she says. “You can stay in the guest room.”

Before now, Paige has never stepped foot in the guest room. It’s always gone without saying that whenever she stayed over, Azzi’s room became hers. Their clothes would mix in heaps on the floor until Paige would return home with a suitcase full of items half hers, half Azzi’s. The scent of lavender in the room would, for a few weeks, be overtaken by the more woodsy scent of Paige’s cologne. Now, the guest room is clean and airy, and it smells like lilacs.

Paige doesn’t like it.

But she sets her stuff down and texts the group chat to let them know she won’t be home for a few days.

Dinner is a silent affair, with Tim trying but failing to crack jokes to lighten the mood. Paige occupies herself with Jon and Jose, asking them about their basketball season and school, while Azzi talks in low tones to Micaela from across the table.

Paige is picking at the food on her plate when Micaela’s voice brings her out of her thoughts. “So, Paige, how long are you here for?”

Paige swallows her broccoli a little bit too quickly and coughs. “However long it takes for the storm to die down and my flight to clear.”

“And what were you here for?”

To finally confess to your girlfriend that I’m in love with her. Paige stabs another broccoli with her fork. “Just had some stuff to do in the area.”

“No use paying for a hotel when we have an extra room here,” Katie pitches in, saving her from having to lie even more. And while it’s clear neither Micaela or Azzi believe her, they don’t prod any further, leaving Paige to finish her food in silence.

••

“Can’t sleep?”

Paige turns around, surprised to see Micaela standing there, her expression clear. She leans back against the counter, tipping back her drink. “Something like that.”

“Mind if I join?”

Paige’s first instinct is to say no, but she realizes with a start that this is the girl Azzi loves. And if Azzi loves her, and she loves Azzi, there must be some part of her that can get along with Micaela. So she nods. “There’s grenadine and lemonade in the fridge.”

Micaela rummages through the fridge before returning with a concoction of her own. They stand in silence for a while, each of them sipping their own drinks, until Micaela says, “I’m not stupid. I know something happened between the two of you when you went to New York.”

Paige stares down at her glass, tracing its rim with her thumb. “Look,” she finally responds. “I fucked up with Azzi. I hurt her, a lot. I didn’t wanna come to terms with my feelings because I was a pussy. But don’t make that same mistake. I see you with her,” Paige pauses. “And she looks like how she used to. Before her injury. And if you’re the one who can bring her back to that, then I’m gonna help you.”

Micaela nods, taking everything in. “You still love her.”

“I don’t think I’ve admitted that to myself yet.” Paige finishes off her drink. “She was - is my best friend before anything else. I know that she knows I’ll die for her even if we never end up talking again. And I think I can be okay with that. That as long as she knows that I have her back, that there’s someone who’s always on her side, then I’ll be fine.”

Micaela tilts her head, studying her carefully. “Thank you,” she says softly.

Paige turns away, her eyes burning. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for Azzi.”

••

Paige stays true to her word. She sends Micaela Azzi’s rehab schedule and at-home therapy treatments. She carefully compiles a list of her comfort movies and shows and texts them to Micaela. When Azzi has a particularly rough day at rehab, Paige spends the entire time she’s gone building a pillow fortress on the couch in the basement. When Azzi’s in a mood, she likes feeling like a child again - it makes her worries a little smaller, a little easier to deal with. So Paige lays out blankets, fluffs up pillows, and buys popcorns and caprisuns from the store.

When Azzi comes home and hugs Micaela, raving about how cute it is and how much she appreciates it, Paige lingers near the stairs of the basement. The sound of Azzi’s giggles, even if not aimed at her, put a smile on her face.

She looks up as Tim passes by. He fixes her with a stern look. “Just so you know, I don’t approve of anything you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” Paige tries to look innocent.

“You’re only going to hurt yourself doing this, Paige,” he warns.

Paige bites down on her lip, the skin there already tender from all her worrying. “As long as she’s happy,” she says stubbornly.

“Stop hiding,” he says lowly. “Show her you love her.”

But Paige can’t.

So she continues to love Azzi from afar. She makes sure there’s always multiple ice packs in the freezer. She prays every night before bed that God will take Azzi’s pain away and speed up her recovery process. She texts Azzi’s old high school friends, letting them know she’s back in town and to drop by to say hello when they can.

It’s 12 am and she’s cutting up strawberries when she hears steps and heavy breathing from behind her. Turning around, she’s surprised to see Azzi glowering at her.

“I found out.”

“Found out what?” Paige’s mouth is dry. This is the first time Azzi’s addressed her directly since the day she arrived, and to say she’s nervous is an understatement.

“Everything.” Azzi clenches her jaw. “The pillow fortress? The ice packs? The fucking strawberries you’re cutting that will magically end up in my lunch bag with Nutella tomorrow?”

Paige drops the knife on the counter, as if that would make her look any less guilty.

“Why do you have to make things complicated?” Azzi says, her voice hoarse as if she’s been crying. “I think I’m finally over you and then you show up to my house and you start making me feel things for you that I shouldn’t feel.”

Paige takes a cautious step forward. “Why can’t you feel them?”

“I have a girlfriend. And aren’t you scared? Right now we can still go back to being us. We can be friends. But this-” Azzi’s voice cracks. “We’ve caused each other so much pain and we’ve never even been together that way. Imagine if we actually dated and we broke up. God, Paige, that would fucking wreck me. At least when we’re friends I can rest with the fact that you’ll always be there somehow.”

“So you don’t even wanna try?” Paige’s tone is incredulous.

“Do you have any idea how much power you have over me?” Azzi chokes out.

Paige closes her eyes briefly. “I would never hurt you.”

“How can you say that?” Tears leak from Azzi’s eyes. “How can you say that when you already have?”

“Azzi.” She reaches for her hand. “Let us try. You know - you know I love you? I know I’ve been an ass, and I’ve fucked up over and over again. But I can’t-”

“Stop.” Azzi shakes her off, walking backwards as if even being near Paige is physically hurting her. “Please don’t make this hurt more then it has to.” She crosses her arms over her chest, withdrawing into herself as she shivers. “I thought I finally found it. Micaela - she’s perfect. Was perfect. Doing all these things that only one person before has ever done for me. Then we get into an argument and I find out that you’re behind all this shit? That my girlfriend has been lying through her teeth this entire time? God. When am I ever gonna find someone that actually cares about me?”

“Azzi, I just need one chance. Please.” Paige watches Azzi back away, and every fiber in her being is screaming at her best friend to stop running away her. “I care about you. And I found out what Ella said. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Fucking hell, you’ve never been a burden to me, Azzi. How could you ever think that?”

“It’s not gonna work out, Paige. It won’t.”

“So that’s it?” Paige spreads her arms, lets then fall helplessly by her side. “You’re just gonna give up before we even try? Like a fucking coward?”

“You have no right calling me a coward,” Azzi laughs bitterly. “Not when you used me for sex and dipped whenever the conversation got too serious.”

“You’re the one who always left first, not me,” Paige grits out through her teeth. “You’re the one who suggested being friends with benefits. You are just as much guilty as I am.”

“Well, I regret it.” Azzi’s words come tumbling out before she can stop them. “I regret everything.”

“You regret everything?” Paige repeats back, shaking her head in disbelief. “I might be an asshole, but you’re even worse than I am. I can’t even believe you right now.”

“Go home.” Azzi turns her back, and her body shudders, as if she’s sobbing. “I don’t want you here. You should’ve never came.”

“Gladly,” Paige spits out. “I fucking hate you for this.” And as she stands there, chest heaving with the arrows she’s thrown, chest hurting with the hurt of everything said and unsaid, she knows that she’s lying. That she could never hate Azzi, as much as she tried. But everything hurts too fucking bad, and Azzi is looking at her as if she’s the worst thing in the world. And when Paige goes home and looks at herself in the mirror, she thinks that maybe Azzi isn’t too far off.

••

Azzi walks into the guest room. She lies on the bed, inhaling the faint scent of Paige still lingering in the air. She turns on her side, burrowing her face into one of the pillows when she hears something crinkle. Confused, she reaches into the bedsheets and finds a worn, crumpled card. Her heart skips a beat when she flattens it out and sees familiar handwriting scrawled messily across the paper.

Dear Azzi,

I talk a lot. But I think you know me well enough that I show my feelings best through actions, not words. I’ve said hurtful things to you. I don’t know how to verbalize myself in a way that makes sense.

But I care about our relationship, so I’m writing this letter to try and finally put into words correctly the way I feel about you, because it’s the least you deserve - something honest, and something real from me. I know if I try to say this all in person, I’ll fuck it up somehow. So here is my letter, to you, that I’ll probably read and rewrite a million times.

I love you. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize it. But I do. And I know now that no one has ever made me feel what you do.

I know now that you were frustrated with me because you thought I never saw you beyond a friend with benefits. But I swear that everything I’ve done, everything I’ve hurt you with, was because I was trying to protect myself from the pain of realizing that you have always been more than just a friend. It has never been because I saw it as “just sex.” I saw it as more, I wanted it as more, and I was too immature to deal with it in a way that was kind to you. I’ll regret that forever.

I have never not loved you. I don’t think I will ever stop loving every single thing about you. And I keep repeating myself, but I really am sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you everything that you deserve, but still, I want to try. Hence why I’m coming here like a sap with all the flowers and shit tryna win you back.

But if somehow everything goes wrong and we never end up speaking again, just know that I’ll think about you every night before I sleep, just like I do now. Just know that I’ll always give us a second chance. I think we are inevitable. (I hope i spelled that right)

And if hopefully everything goes right and you forgive me and I somehow am able to be a part of your life after everything, then I promise I’ll work every day to show that I am serious about us. No other person, no other distractions, nothing else. Just you.

But no matter what happens, whatever decision you choose, as long as you’re happy, I’ll find a way to be happy.

Love,

Paige

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconnwbb #pazzi #wcbb #uconn wbb #paige x azzi #angst #fic #paige bueckers x azzi fudd

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sprouts-xreader-stories · 3 months ago

Text

Focus! :(

REBLOGS > LIKES

Requested : No

Genre : Fluff, Canon X Reader, Albedo X Reader, Arataki Itto X Reader, Scaramouche X Reader, Kinich X Reader, GN!Reader, Separate

POV : Second Person

Warnings: Not many! Just a few minor curses here and there. One mention; Itto calls you wife once. Otherwise, entirely GN. Also, mentioned height difference when it comes to Scara; you’re shorter than him.

Albedo ~

You groaned internally. He was rambling again. He had a nice voice, sure, but you just… Weren’t feeling well.

“Bedo,” you called. He didn’t hear you. “Bedo,” you repeated, louder. He still didn’t hear. You sighed and pushed yourself off the table, careful not to knock any of the glass vials over. His coat hung off your shoulders, and you carefully pulled it back up before walking to him.

“Albedo.” Your voice had gone deadpan. He still wasn’t paying attention. And so, abruptly, you kissed him.

“So… Those two would go toge-”

He dropped whatever he was holding, the (empty) glass clattering to the floor. Miraculously, it didn’t break. Albedo paused entirely, bright blue eyes flickering down to you before he gave into the soft feeling of your lips. He was the one to pull away. “…uh… you needed me?”

Itto ~

You grinned from your spot on the grass. Watching Itto (try to) train before getting bored distracted by the kids running amok and going to play with them instead was stupidly funny. Currently, he was feigning a failure. The children were playing hide and seek. And Itto was standing right next to one of them. And pretending he couldn’t see them at all.

“Oh, this-… Ugh! Where could they have gone?” He pondered aloud, grinning. Sharp fangs glinted in the light as he abruptly grabbed the squirming kid from behind a barrel. “Oh. That’s where.” He lightly poked her before setting her down, watching her run off.

“Itto, we gotta go,” you called out. But your boyfriend didn’t hear you. You smirked. You knew exactly what to do. So, you crouched down and hid.

“…who’s next…and-! Wait where’d they go-”

He noticed. And immediately, he went around, carefully taking the kids’ from their hiding places. “Alright, kiddos, we had fun, but I really gotta get going my wife’s disappeared-” He explained, almost too quickly for the young ones to understand. But, they went around, trying to help him find you.

“Over here!” A young boy called out, pointing at where you were. You crawled out and crossed over to your boyfriend. He just sighed lightly. “Don’t do that again.” “Maybe listen next time, and I won’t.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

Scaramouche ~

Both of you were particularly quiet. Like he said, “It’s rather pathetic to force a conversation just to occupy silence”. So, most of your time was spent in silence, just enjoying each other’s presence.

You were completely silent as you chewed on the lotus crisps he’d made. For who… Well, for what his past was, he was a decently good cook. He was entirely focused on the ingredients, humming something of a soft song.

“Scara?” You spoke up after swallowing. He didn’t respond. You frowned. “Scara…?” You repeated. He still didn’t answer. You sighed softly and got off the stool, walking to him. “Scara…” You carefully touched his arm. He glanced at you, but didn’t speak. Without saying a word, he pulled you closer, in front of him. Caged in by his arms in something like a hug; he was busy chopping up whatever was in front of him, sure, but you were begging for his attention. And even someone as strong-willed as him couldn’t resist.

He didn’t speak. Just held you close, his chin resting atop your head.

Kinich ~

“Ajaw. Shut up, you damned dragon.” Kinich hissed. He was pissed off with the thing, at this point. “Ichi,” you murmured. Ajaw kept bickering, complaining, just being annoying. Kinich waved him away. He didn’t feel well today, and Ajaw wasn’t helping.

“Ichi, love,” you repeated, frowning. He didn’t hear you. Ajaw was drowning you out. “Ajaw. Can you stop, please? Just for a sec.” “No, Kinich’s sick, which means he might die soon-!” The dragon cackled, much to Kinich’s annoyance.

“Go. Away.” Kinich swatted at the pixels. Ajaw just laughed and kept eagerly waiting, making small sounds of excitement. “Ichi?” You finally started, once the room was quiet. “Hm.” Good. There was his attention.

“Uh-… Your food’s done.”

@drxgonspine , @akuutff , @emotionalsupportgoblin420 , @sh0uz , @vexter-the-comedian

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evie-sturns · 6 months ago

Text

signals - Chris Sturniolo

summary: after you accidentally reject your best friend chris, he gets upset with you because you gave him 'mixed signals'.

contains: angst, crying, bestfriend!chris, arguing, fluff

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

chris lays on my chest as we both mindlessly scroll through our phones, no words have been said in the past 30 minutes, we've just been enjoying eachothers company.

suddenly chris speaks up,

"i can tell you anything- right?" he says quietly, putting his phone down beside him.

i let out a small laugh,

chris and i have been best friends since our childhood, we've grown up together, we know each other better than anyone else.

"of course you can." i say, sitting up against the headboard. i run my nails through chris's silky brown hair.

"i just.. i just feel like over the past like- couple years, we've gotten much closer." he starts,

"and i kind of hate to admit this, because we promised this wouldnt happen, but i really, really like you" chris blurts out, his pale cheeks flushed pink and his blue eyes staring directly into mine.

"what-?" i laugh nervously,

chris goes silent, fidgeting with his nails.

"what do you mean 'what'?" chris says, his voice small.

i inspect his facial expression for any signs that hes joking.

"you're kidding- right?" i say with a nervous smile on my face, my heart beating in my chest.

"obviously im not kidding- im trying to fucking confess to you!" chris grows frustrated, running a hand through his hair.

i grab his hand and intertwine our fingers, in an attempt to calm him down.

"i- only see you as a friend chris-" i say bluntly,

chris's face falls,

"what?"

i clutch his hand tighter, chris looks heartbroken.

"im sorry-" i start but he cuts me off,

"i dont understand, for the past 3 fucking years you've been doing shit like this-!" chris rambles, pointing down to our interlocked hands.

"you literally led me on to the point of me confessing to you, you keep 'kissing up on my face and shit and hugging me all the time-" chris continues to ramble on, he looks angry.

"im sorry- im just a touchy person." i interrupt him,

"just a touchy person? friends don't act like us," chris starts up again.

"you dont understand how confusing it is to have the girl i like- yo! touching up on me every. single. time. we see eachother? does it not say something that almost everyone we know thinks we're dating!?" chris raises his voice,

"dont put this on me." i state,

chris stands up, "you never fail to make me look like a moron."

i furrow my eyebrows, "chris, you're just upset right now." i speak softly,

"of course im upset- you've gave me mixed signals for the past couple years!" his voice raises,

"i havent," i state,

chris's eyes are glazed, he looks like hes on the verge of tears.

"chris c'mere." i mutter, patting the spot next to me on the bed, urging him to sit back down.

"what are you gonna do next? makeout with me when i sit down? then tell me that its a friendly thing to do!?" chris yells,

im taken aback by his yelling, chris never yells at me.

"you're a real bitch y'know that?" chris says, his hands balled up in fists at his sides.

"chris-" i try to interrupt his tangent,

"no!" he cuts me off, his voice shaky and his hair now dishelved.

i watch as a couple tears fall down his cheeks, which he quickly wipes away with the back of his hands.

"look i think you should maybe go home- and sleep on this for a bit." i sigh, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

chris had planned to sleep over here, like most nights, but thats now been cut short.

chris covers his eyes with a hand, throwing his head back before walking out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

what. the. fuck.

"what just happened." i groan to myself, flopping backwards on the matress,

i hear chris lock himself in the spare room,

i feel uterlly overwhelmed, trying to process what just happened.

i dont know why i rejected chris so harshly.

i've never really thought of him romantically, its never been something that crossed my mind. but chris is a sweet boy, he gets along with my family, he's kind to me, most of the time.

hes also attractive, its embarrassing to admit, but my social media is constantly filled with stupid edits of him.

it wouldn't hurt to give him a try? give us a try.

(the next morning)

i dont remember when i fell asleep last night, but its currently 9:00am the next morning.

i groan as i peel open my eyes, the blinding sun shining through the curtain onto my face.

i sit up, standing up out of bed and walking into my bathroom,

i quickly brush my teeth, touch up my makeup, and fix my hair before walking out of my bedroom into the empty hallway.

my feet take me towards the spare bedroom, where chris is currently in.

i open the door, chris is laying across the bed, his phone in one hand.

"hey." i whisper softly,

chris glances up at me, his eyes puffy.

"im sorry about the things i said." chris mutters, looking up at me

i jump into bed beside him,

"ive just never really been rejected like that." chris says softly,

i nod,

chris looks like hes on the verge of tears again,

"you're allowed to cry, that was a pretty big night, wasn't it?" i speak to chris as though hes a child, which seems to calm him down somewhat.

chris nods, tears continuing to roll down his face.

"i just didn't sleep at all last night- and im so so embarrased." chris sobs, burying his face into my shoulder.

"shh- hey-" i whisper, stroking his back.

"you wanna hear something?" i ask,

chris nods,

"i thought about it last night, and i wasnt fair on you, ive never even thought about you romantically, but now that i know thats even an option ive realised that i think i do love you a lot chris." i start

chris tenses,

"maybe we could give it a try?" i ask,

chris looks at me and nods frantically, "y-yes! yeah!" he tries to play it off poorly.

i smile, "yeah?"

chris grins back, "yeah!"

i lean foward and pepper kisses all over his face, before placing a final kiss on his lips.

chris smiles against my lips,

god, this felt so right.

-----------

a/n: just felt like it tonight!

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#sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #christopher sturniolo

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alisonsfics · 7 months ago

Text

too good to me

pairing: carmen berzatto x reader

summary: after weeks of stress and being on edge, carmy blows up and yells at marcus, but carmy holds such a special place in your heart that you go to his apartment afterward to see how he’s doing

word count: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, arguing, general angst and then fluff

You all knew that something had been on Carmy’s mind. The past few weeks, he’d been more than just anxious. He was really putting his perfectionist tendencies to the extreme. It had been three weeks since officially opening The Bear.

Carmy knew that the first few weeks were crucial to a new business, especially one as volatile as a new-age restaurant. He’d been stressed, which was nothing new for him. But, it was more extreme. He had gotten into an hour-long screaming match with Richie about what specific angle the hostess stand should be pointed.

Everyone was trying to keep Carmy calm, but it had to be done carefully. If he picked up on a tone that was too sympathetic, he’d yell “I’m fine,” and storm off.

With everyone walking on eggshells around him, the tickets for the orders got a little jumbled and in a backwards order.

“Somebody better fucking fix this.” Carmy said, running his hand through his hair. You’d seen him do that move a hundred times, and it usually meant that everything was getting overwhelming. “It’s alright, Carmy. I can handle this. Just go take a quick break outside for me, please?” You asked him.

You were Carmy’s weak spot.

He’d always had a special place in his heart for you. He was wrapped around your finger. If anyone else had told him to take a break, he would have told them to fuck off.

Carmy walked around the corner, where Marcus walked up to him with a new pastry in hand. “Hey, chef. I was thinking we could add a new pastry to the menu for that special event next week?” Marcus asked. It was a perfectly innocent question, especially since Marcus didn’t have any urgent work to be done. In that moment, Marcus was just lacking in reading the room.

“Tonight’s service is a disaster, and you’re wasting your fucking time doing this?” Carmy yelled, smacking the dish out of Marcus’ hand.

That was too far. Farther than Carmy had ever pushed it.

You inserted yourself between the two men. “Marcus, you okay?” You asked him. He nodded his head, but looked down at a small cut on the back of his hand. You placed your hand on his forearm. “Go get that cut washed, and then help Sydney sort out those tickets please.” You said, remaining calm.

“Yes, chef,” Marcus said, walking towards the sink.

Carmy was frozen in place, like even he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. “You,” you started to say, turning around to face Carmy.

“I know,” he said, softly.

“Go home, Berzatto. You need to cool off.” You said, trying to be firm but also gentle. Carmy huffed and ran his hand through his hair again. “But I just…one more—” he started to say.

“Home, Carmen.” You repeated, firmer this time. You called him many things: Carmy, Carm, Bear, and the occasional pet name, but never Carmen.

He walked away, but you heard him slam his hand against the wall as he left.

Still rattled from the whole encounter, you tried to get back on your game. “Syd, you’ve got this,” you encouraged your friend, as she directed the kitchen. The rest of the service was a little bumpy as all of you were still a little distracted.

At the end of the service, you were all silently cleaning up your stations. Normally at this point in the night, you were all catching up and joking around with each other. But instead, you all were recalling the night’s events in your heads.

You lightly knocked on the door of the office, where Sugar was sitting and looking through some forms. “Hey, Nat. You mind if I head out a little early? Richie said he’d clean up my station. I was gonna go check on Carmy and see if he’s alright. I’ve been really worried about him.” You told her.

“Yeah yeah, go for it. I think he’ll want to see you. And it’ll be good for him to talk to someone, and you’re the only one he really talks to.” Sugar told you, pulling you in for a quick hug before you left. She hesitated. “Let me know how he is…I’m worried about him,” she told you, softly.

“I will, I promise.” You said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. You turned to leave the office. “Carm’s lucky to have you,” she told you as you walked away. You turned backwards as you kept walking. “The feelings mutual,” you added.

You walked up to Carmy’s apartment and knocked on the door. “Carmy, it’s me, please let me in,” you said.

You heard silence on the other side of the door. You fished your spare key out of your pocket and slid it into the lock. You turned the key slowly and let yourself into his apartment.

You walked into his dark apartment. You saw Carmy’s silhouette as he sat on the couch, staring out the window.

“I gave you that key for emergencies.” He said, coldly. You flipped on the light switch, bringing some light into the dark apartment. “I think what I saw earlier calls for a little intervention, don’t you?” You asked. Carmy sat in silence, continuing to stare out the window. You walked around to the front of the couch so you could face him.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He said, still refusing to look at you. Carmy felt guilty about what he’d done. He’d never yelled at you before, and he was ashamed that you had to see him scream like that. Carmy cared more about your opinion than he did about anyone else’s.

You walked towards Carmy, only stopping inches in front of him. “When was the last time you ate?” You asked, blatantly. He leaned back against the couch, trying to add some more distance between you both. He shrugged, genuinely not knowing the answer to your question.

You dug into your work bag and pulled out a takeout box. You stopped by Carmy’s favorite burger restaurant in Chicago to grab him some food. You knew Carmy would sometimes forget to eat when he was feeling anxious. “Eat it,” you told him, handing the box over to him.

He reluctantly opened the box and started eating. You set your work bag on the ground and sat down on the chair that faced the couch.

Carmy shifted nervously in his seat as your gaze was set on him. He was unnerved that you weren’t talking about what happened at the restaurant.

Carmy could normally read you like the back of his hand, but something about your current expression was throwing him off. He couldn’t tell if you were going to scream at him or not.

“Are you here to yell at me like everybody else? I already know I screwed up. I shouldn’t have yelled at Marcus, and I shouldn’t have argued when you told me to leave.” He told you, hoping he could apologize and avoid you yelling at him.

“You know that I’m not here to yell at you. You really fucked up, but Marcus knows that you were just stressed. I’m here to make sure you’re doing okay because I’ve never seen you blow up like that” You said, finally showing your cards. Carmy frowned, looking guilty.

“God, you’re too good to me. I acted like a piece of shit today, and you’re still trying to make sure I’m okay.” He said, still amazed by the love you had for him. He was looking at you like you were his whole world.

He set down the takeout box and used his hand to call you over to him. You stood up and walked towards him, and he patted the seat next to him.

You joined him on the couch. You both were sitting so close together that you were practically in his lap. He turned his body so he could face you.

He let his hand rest on your thigh, feeling more grateful for you than he ever had. You let your fingers caress his bicep, “you deserve to be okay. I want you to be okay,” you said, softly.

You studied his face. You noticed the small bags that had formed under his eyes. You wondered when the last time he’d actually gotten a good night’s sleep was.

You softly brushed his hair out of his face. When he was stressed, Carmy liked to pull on a certain strand of hair right in the front. You knew him like the back of your hand. You noticed all of his quirks; quirks that most people never picked up on.

Carmy watched as you gently tried to soothe him. He was sure you could see the adoration in his eyes.

“I hope you know how perfect you are. You always know exactly what to say.” He said, smiling at you. He pulled your hand away from his hair and interlaced your fingers. He’d wanted to kiss the back of your hand, but couldn’t push himself to do it.

“Do you wanna talk about why you’ve been so stressed recently?” You asked. You were treading lightly, but you wanted to understand what was making him so anxious. You hated seeing him push everyone away, and you wanted to help in any way you could.

He shrugged. “It’s just the restaurant,” he said, not knowing how else to explain it.

“The restaurant is doing amazing though, Carmy. You have no need to stress about that. You’ve been doing such a great job.” You told him, sincerely.

You watched him get a little more nervous. He was looking down at his lap, avoiding meeting your gaze. You ran your thumb over the back of his hand, trying to silently reassure him.

“You can tell me anything, Carm,” you said, softly.

“You just mean so much to me,” he started to explain. You were a little confused as to where he was going with this conversation. The room was silent as Carmy gathered his thoughts.

“Everything at the restaurant has been going so well. Every time my life has ever gone well, something terrible has happened next. I feel like I’m just waiting for everything to…I don’t know, crumble? Losing the restaurant would be terrible, but losing you and the rest of the team would be devastating. You guys are my family.” He told you, his voice cracking with emotion.

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. You quickly pulled him into you arms, giving him the tightest hug you could. He clutched onto you like he was scared you’d disappear if he let you go.

“You aren’t going to lose anybody,” you said, holding back tears just from watching how emotional Carmy was.

The soft leather scent of Carmy’s cologne occupied your thoughts as you held him close. You both stayed attached like that for a few minutes. The room was silent, but a comfortable silent.

When you both finally pulled apart, Carmy dried the tears off his cheeks. “Nothing bad is going to happen with the restaurant. We’re all family, and that doesn’t go away based on what happens with the restaurant. You will never lose me, or any of us.” You promised him.

You earned a small chuckle from Carmy when you held your pinky up to him. “You won’t lose me either,” he said, dutifully going through with your pinky promise.

You both stared into each other’s eyes, unsure what to say next. The tension in the air nearly made it hard to breathe.

“I should probably get going and let you have the rest of your evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said, standing up from the couch.

You had never felt so awkward around Carmy. Just the task of walking to the front door felt like a giant opportunity to embarrass yourself. Carmy also quickly jumped up from the couch, feeling equally self-conscious.

His hand lightly grazed your back as he led you back to the front door. “Thank you for coming over and talking to me. You really helped calm me down.” He said, sincerely. You smiled and nodded your head at him.

“Make sure to call me if you ever need to talk about anything. I promise that I’ll always be here to listen,” you assured him.

The tension returned.

You both chose to avoid it.

“Well, goodnight,” you both quickly said, at the same time. You rushed out the door, and Carmy closed it behind you.

The door clicked into place and seemingly broke you both out of your trance.

You both realized you had missed the perfect opportunity. The perfect opportunity to finally confess those feelings that had been weighing you down.

You lowered your head, almost shamefully, and started walking down the hallway.

Carmy leaned his head against the closed door, wondering how he could have missed it. The girl of his dreams was walking down the hallway away from his apartment, away from him.

He started to walk towards his bedroom when he suddenly thought “fuck it,” and turned around.

At the same time in the hallway, you had the same thought.

Your heart beating in your ears, you turned on your heel and headed back towards Carmy’s apartment.

Carmy started walking back towards the front door. Before he could reach the door, he watched the knob spin and the door fling open.

You were back and standing in front of him.

Realizing you both had the same idea, Carmy quickly closed the gap between the two of you. His strong tattooed hands cupped your cheeks as he finally kissed you. You kissed him back immediately, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.

He moved one of his hands away from you, but just a second, so he could quickly close the front door behind you.

He pushed you against the back of the door. The back of your head bumped against the door causing you to grin against the kiss. “Oh, shit, sorry. You okay?” he asked, cupping the back of your head. You quickly nodded your head. “I’m fine, I promise.” You said, grabbing his collar and pulling him back to kiss you.

He smirked against your lips at your eagerness to not break the kiss for even a second. He held onto your waist and pinned you against the door, while you wrapped your arms around his neck and toyed with his hair.

His lips felt perfect against yours. The kiss was somehow everything you’d dreamed of but completely unexpected.

You shifted your weight against him, gently nudging him away from the door. Carmy picked up on what you were doing. You noticed his signature smirk as he guided you towards the couch.

You fell back onto the couch, pulling Carmy down on top of you. All his weight landed on you, causing you to wince. “Sorry, that more violent than it was supposed to be.” He said, sheepishly. He quickly shifted his weight, so he was holding himself above you.

You both were giggly as these little mishaps continued to happen. It suited your relationship. You both had always been able to joke with each other, especially because of your matching sense of humor. It made sense that when you both finally got together that Carmy would accidentally bump your head against the door. But it didn’t make things awkward. You both were so comfortable just giggling with each other.

“Get back here, Berzatto,” you said, connecting your lips again. He quickly obliged. While Carmy loved laughing with you, he had been waiting years to kiss you and wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbled as he kissed you. You quickly slipped his tshirt over his head and tossed it to the side.

Then, you both heard a strange muffled sound. You pulled out of the kiss and gave Carmy a concerned look. It sounded like someone was in the apartment.

Your face completely changed when you realized what it was. “Carmy, that’s your phone. You butt dialed someone,” you whispered. His eyes also grew wide. He quickly grabbed his phone out of his pocket, hoping he could hang up and not say anything.

Once his phone was in his hand, he realized it was a FaceTime call and he was now face-to-face with his sister.

“Oh, shit. Sugar?” He said, the shock clear on his face. You immediately held your hand over your mouth, trying to remain completely silent.

“Hey, uh yeah. You called me? Are you okay?” She asked, confused by the whole situation.

“Oh, I must’ve done it on accident, sorry. Listen, I’m really sorry about yelling tonight. I’m gonna come in tomorrow and apologize to everyone though.” He said, sincerely. You were finding it so hard to not giggle. He was on the phone with Sugar while lying directly on top of you, and you just had to stay silent.

“It’s okay, Carm. Everyone knows you’ve been going through a lot. Y/N was going to head over to your apartment. Did you talk to her?” Natalie asked, genuinely invested.

Carmy quickly nodded his head. “Yeah, she came by earlier and we talked. I’m doing a lot better. Yeah, she’s umm—” Carmy stalled as he tried to come up with a lie.

Natalie picked up on his hesitation immediately. “Oh shit. Is she— are you two— wait is she there now?” She asked, putting it all together. You froze, trying to anticipate Carmy’s next move.

He quickly sat up on the couch before pulling you into his lap. “Hi, Nat,” you said, smiling at the camera and bracing for her reaction. You both watched her jaw drop.

“Did my two favorite people finally confess their love for each other? Oh, you guys,” she awed, being able to read you both just from the way you both were blushing.

Carmy buried his face in your neck. He knew how long Natalie had been rooting for this to happen, and he was having a hard time controlling how red his face was.

“You’re good for him. I’m really happy for you guys,” she said to you. You smiled in return and thanked her.

“Well, I’ll let you both get back to it.” She said, winking at you both and ending the call.

“So, how long before everybody knows?” He asked you. You just laughed in response, knowing it wouldn’t be long.

“I think she’s already sent an all-caps text to Sydney and Richie, and the rest of them will know before we go into work tomorrow.” You told him, honestly.

“We could just stay here tomorrow. We don’t really need to go in, right?” He said, pressing kisses to your cheek.

“Would that be the responsible thing to do?” You teased him. He chuckled and pecked your lips. “You know I would spend every second with you, whether it was responsible or not.” He told you.

You giggled, stopping him from kissing you. “Awww we’re only fifteen minutes in and I’m already your biggest weakness? You big softie,” You continued to joke around with him.

“You’ve always been my weakness, sweetheart,” he said, quickly picking up and carrying you to his bedroom.

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daycourtofficial · 11 months ago

Text

You’re losing me

Summary: Azriel has always put his duties as spymaster above his own needs and wants. How long can you let him keep putting work over you before boiling over?

Author’s note: I am so sorry about this babes, this is pure heartbreak. Anyway angst is a new genre for me so please lmk how this goes for you (good, bad, awful - lmk)

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

You sit in the library of your shared home, the soft cushion of your favorite armchair not providing the comfort it used to. The library was your favorite room in the house - you and Azriel spent thousands of hours in here reading independently, reading to each other, or just enjoying the silence with each other for company.

The room was beautiful- you both adored the entirety of the house, but this room drew both of you in immediately. It’s beautiful stain-glass windows creating brilliant hues of color to move about the room during the day, bringing life to the dark wood that adorns the walls of the room.

Vivid colors from the scenes in the stain glass window would dance across the floor, as if reenacting the depictions just for you two.

It’s dark now, the sun having set hours ago, and you can’t remember the last time you enjoyed the light of the room. The last time you and Azriel had enjoyed the light of the room.

The last time you and Azriel just enjoyed each other’s company without knowing he was going to leave in a matter of hours.

It was a song and dance you were familiar with by now - he’d return home from doing some work requested by Rhys, you’d make him some food, you two would snuggle or have sex, and he’d be gone by the time you woke up.

It wasn’t always like this, but the two years since the war have caused Azriel to dive headfirst into his work, accepting every scrap of work Rhysand would push his way, darting out the door like it was calling to him.

You hear the front door open, knowing who it is despite their silent entrance. Sighing, you stand up and walk out of the library, closing the door behind you.

You walked through the halls of your home, feet softly padding on the hardwood floor until you see him across the living room, still in his leathers.

It used to amuse you, when he’d return in his leathers, compared to you in your frilly nightgowns. It was quite a sight, the dark leather surrounded by the satins and cottons of your nightgowns.

Now it just furthered to prove the divide between you.

“Az, we were supposed to go to the bakery today to taste cakes.”

You hardly let him walk through the door before picking a fight, but his absence at the bakery hours ago left you ample time to stew in your negative emotions.

He runs his hand down his face, the purple and blue bruising under his eyes having grown more and more prominent over the weeks. Truthfully, you don’t want to start a fight, but you’ve let too many of these things slide in the past two years and you’re at your tipping point.

Missed dates, rescheduled dinners, missed anniversaries, cancelled trips. You had tried talking several times about it, but you need your fiancé around more than he has been. No amount of begging can make him do anything about it, though.

The most egregious of all was the continually delayed status of your wedding ceremony. You’ve had to rescind the invitations two times now, and you’re have tempted to send out fresh ones that just say “date: TBD”.

He just sighs in response, telling you, “I had to work, I had a mission.”

You sigh, knowing it was the truth. Your fiancé would never cheat on you, but he would put everyone else’s needs above his.

And above your own.

“Azriel, I really needed you today. It was important to me for you to be there.”

“It’s just a cake - pick any flavor you want. You know what I like,” he says, sitting onto the couch and taking off his boots.

“It’s not just a cake! This is your wedding too - I cannot make every decision for this. It’s supposed to be about us, not about me.”

You shake your head, exasperation bubbling to the surface, “I feel insane going to these appointments because I have a fiancé who never shows up! I swear I heard the florist say she pitied me because I pretended to be engaged!”

Azriel drags a hand down his face, “can we not do this now? I’m exhausted and want to bathe before bed.”

You huff out a laugh, as Azriel tries to move past you but you continue to follow him. “When would be a better time? You’re hardly home lately, and you leave at a moment’s notice for Rhysand.”

He whips his head at you, “it’s my job, my duty.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure you could delegate a decent proportion of your work to the people under you that you both hand selected and trained yourself!

He sighs, exasperated, “it’s my job.”

A line you’ve heard a thousand times. You knew who he was when you began dating him, you’ve always known who he was and what he did.

But you thought his need to feel worthy would wane with time, not get worse.

“You put Rhys’s needs over mine!” You’re shouting now, something you never do, and Azriel bites back, “he’s my high lord - and yours.”

“That doesn’t mean he gets to keep you at his beck and call!” Your hands were running through your hair, unable to have the same argument again and again.

“That’s exactly what it means.”

“Oh so was it Rhys’s beck and call to push our wedding back three separate times?”

He whirls around at you, pointing, “That’s not fair and you know it.”

“Three times is not fair! It’s like you don’t even want it!”

His silence to your accusation rings through your ears. A damning, deafening silence.

You count to ten in your head, and he hasn’t made a sound, only looking at the ground.

His lack of words echo through your mind, even as his hands reach out to you, his desperate pleadings of “I-” and “baby” falling on deaf ears.

“I’m glad to see where we stand.”

You begin to turn, but stop yourself.

“When I told Nesta our wedding was delayed again, she told me if you really wanted it, really wanted me, you’d suggest we just run off and get married like Rhys and Feyre did.”

You take a shaky breath, “but you never did.”

You step back from him, unable to look him in the eye, unable to do much of anything, except retreat from your shared bedroom, softly shutting the door behind you.

Azriel stands in the now empty room, your footsteps ceasing down the hall but continuing in his mind. Every second he stands there, the further you become. He starts to move, starts to pick up his feet, his shadows urging him to go, go, go.

You can fix this, they tell him. Go, now.

His thoughts are broken up by Rhys’s voice, a smooth sound at such odds with the chaotic edges of his thoughts.

Az, I need you.

Azriel doesn’t even ask if it can wait. You’ll understand. He’s sure of it. He can fix things when he comes home. Rhys just needs him right now, he can help him out, then he can talk to you.

He scrawls a quick note on the table for you to find before retreating into his shadows.

He returns home a few hours later, his assistance speeding up Rhys’s needs. He stops to grab you your favorite flowers, a book you’ve been eyeing, and a necklace he’s had his eye on in the shop for ages.

The necklace gives him pause, as he realizes he first saw it eight months ago, its shine reminding him of your eyes.

Had it really been eight months?

He kept telling himself he was going to buy you the necklace for a special occasion, but so many have slipped by without his acknowledgment this past year.

Gods, he thinks, did he even celebrate your birthday?

Surely he hadn’t gotten that caught up in his work.

Had he?

The streets are quiet as he makes his way back to your shared home. He thinks over the past year and how he hardly saw you, and when he did, he often left not soon after seeing you.

He opens the door, the house eerily silent following your fight earlier. He deserved your silence. He couldn’t tell you how scared he was to marry you, tethering your soul to his for the rest of your lives.

You, who was so kind and so loving, shackled to him for eternity. He knew the insecurities were ridiculous, that you loved him with every part of yourself.

But that didn’t stop the self-hatred from oozing out of him every moment.

He hadn’t been there for you this past year. He had let his own need for approval overshadow your needs.

He groans, needing to find you so he can fix things. He walks through the house, not even realizing the book he’s carrying is a duplicate to the one sitting on the coffee table.

He starts really thinking, trying to remember the last time he had touched you, kissed you, held you.

Too long, he realizes, as he’s made his way through the whole house without a sign of you. A shadow wraps around his wrist, pulling him into the kitchen. He finds the note he had left earlier still on the table, but you had scrawled a second message underneath. Five words that break his resolve, forcing him to his knees. Your handwriting so clear, save for the splotched ink, wet from tears.

I wouldn’t marry me either.

Part two

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #acotar writing

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claireswhisperings · 4 months ago

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baby, we don't need no towel • i'ma be the one who rub your body now

paige bueckers x fem!reader

synopsis: you can’t help but stare at paige when she comes over to build furniture for your dorm

warnings: suggestive, but no smut

wc: 1.5 k

masterlist

When Azzi enlisted you, Paige, and Jana to build her some shelves, who were any of you to say no to her? You all found your way onto yours and Azzi’s shared living room floor, each building a different part while Azzi sat there ‘encouraging,’ as she put it, all three of you. Two hours have passed with almost no progress being made due to you being constantly distracted by your blondie.

It’s sinful, really, the way Paige looks right now. Toned arms flexing with every move of the power drill, back arching when she leans back up to admire her and Jana’s hard work, her abs that tense when she lifts the shelf she is currently drilling. A thin layer of sweat covers her entire body, glistening when your girlfriend moves in the soft yellow lighting. Your eyes shamelessly rake over the upper half of her body, fully appreciating the fact that only a thin black sports bra is covering the top half of her body.

Azzi sits on the couch behind you, smiling silently when she notices the way you’re gawking at your half-naked girlfriend, not even noticing how quiet you’ve become, or how many pieces of the shelves you’ve dropped into your own lap.

“Hello?” her hand waves in front of your face, breaking your concentration on Paige’s abs. “Little distracted, are we?” she’s subtly teasing you, biting her hand slightly to keep from laughing out loud at you.

Paige, sporting a very cocky smile, ego growing by the tenfold at Azzi’s comments, taking a few steps closer as she turns her back to you to work on the part of the shelf Jana has been doing alone.

“Yeah, anything to share that’s interested you lately?” Paige’s smug voice rings out, slightly raspy. She fucking knows how good she looks to you right now, and you can see it in her eyes before she moves, choosing to turn back around so all you can see is her smooth back.

You roll your eyes, looking back at the building instructions while Azzi and Jana immerse in a conversation about a movie they had both recently seen. From her crouched position on the floor, Paige can feel your eyes subtly admiring her exposed body, choosing to arch her back slightly, leaning up to stretch her arms over her head, and offer you a side view of her body. Her face is painted with a huge smirk as your eyes catch hers, and you know she’s got you right in her trap.

You don’t notice Jana waving her arms and calling for you to get your attention, determined to finally finish one set of shelves. “Yeah?” you ask, slightly annoyed by all the distractions that prevent you from thinking about Paige for longer than you have been.

“Would you please help me, and hold this part of the shelf?” Jana’s voice is riddled with laughter at how long it takes you to respond and help her lift a section of the shelf frame so she can drill it in place.

Jana manages to drill in the last bit of the bar you’re holding, and you can take a small break, dropping your hands into your lap, and leaning back onto your heels. Paige slinks up beside you, nudging you with her shoulder to divert your attention away from Jana, who is muttering to herself about her next plan of action of building the shelf.

You and Paige exchange smirks, and you roll your eyes when her eyes drop to look at your tits, slightly visible in your own bra. “Come on now, eyes up here,” you point to your own eyes, hand dropping down to slightly caress and squeeze Paige’s bicep that she had moved by your head to entice you into feeling her up.

“Hey, no touching each other while I’m hard at work, please,” Jana’s voice rings out in front of you, and you and Paige roll your eyes playfully, squeezing her bicep one last time before you stand up move past Paige to sit next to Jana to help the girl. Paige pats your ass as you walk by, earning a quick swat to the head that she can’t dodge, but does get a laugh out of the girl, and she slumps down and looks at her phone.

Morgan props herself up behind Paige, showing her Azzi’s story, featuring her, Jana, and you. Flashing you a quick smile behind your back, she raises her voice, “Oh yeah, I get the appeal of this.” you turn around in curiosity, rolling your eyes to turn your back on Paige when she flashes you her screen, and you see Azzi’s story.

Paige turns back to her screen with a smile on her lips, seemingly done with teasing you for now. Her eyes zero in on you, sitting on your heels, looking at something way off the screen that shows off your side profile. Your tits and arms are on full display in your sports bra, and Paige’s eyes rake up and down the muscles you’re straining to lift up the shelf. Morgan notices this, laughing a little as she says, “Yeah and I bet you get the appeal of that.”

She gets up to go back to her place on the couch, passing by you to send you a small “Looking good champ.” You smile at Morgan, before turning your head back to Paige.

Azzi had shown you the photo before she posted it, and while you certainly weren’t denying Paige looked good in it, you did too. And you knew Paige liked how you looked in it, just as much as you liked how she did. She sends you a genuine smile, never one to not tell you how beautiful you are.

The shelves are more or less done, and everyone is unwinding for the night, all agreeing that finishing the shelves tomorrow is definitely a better idea. Will they be done tomorrow? Probably not. Does Paige care, when you’re in the kitchen, drinking some water after your work? Definitely not.

The girls are lounging on the couch and floor, moving the previously organised bolts and objects around. Paige finds her way to you, pressing a kiss to your temple when she passes by you to fish around for something in the fridge. You smile at her actions, busying yourself with playing with the rim of the glass with your finger, still eyeing your girlfriend in front of you, who still can’t seem to find one shirt to wear.

Paige’s head emerges from the fridge, face a little flushed from her knowing you’re still checking her out. 3 years together, and her heart still runs when you eye her the exact way you’re doing now. She leans into the counter beside you, eyes locked with yours while she eats something she found in the fridge.

Your own eyes drift down to her toned arms, one hand reaching out to caress her muscles. “You know, you should come by more often like this. I’ll break some things so you can repair them,” you mumble into her ear, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

Her face turns a deeper shade of red, finishing the last bite of her food. Your nails slightly scrape at the skin of her bicep, grazing up and down her arm as she tries, and fails, to keep her composure. Your eyes are drifting down to her lips, biting the inside of your cheek playfully up at her.

“Put a shirt on Bueckers, come on now,” you playfully push her away. “Should you be saying something like that to the hired help?,” she takes the cup out of your hand, and puts it on the counter to move closer to you,

“Kidding, you know I don’t mind, baby,” her tone is seductive in your ears, and you briefly glance at the girls lying in various positions among the shelf pieces, all too tired and on their phones to even pay attention to you and Paige.

You grab her hand, leading her swiftly down the hall, and into your room. Paige shuts the door behind her, and you’re quick to push her against the wall, and grab her face to finally feel her lips on yours. Her hands grab your waist, pulling you closer to her, and feeling the curve of your bare hips that she had been eyeing all night.

You’ve both worked yourselves up, both of you too eager to do anything other than jump the other’s bones. Her face slowly heats up as you continue keeping her body against the door, enjoying the feeling of your hands running across her abs and arms, feeling her up even more than you were before.

“Been needing you all night Paige,” you let out, pressing open-mouthed kisses on her jawline. “Fuck, me too baby. I need you so bad, please,” she pants out in your ear. Her voice has lost all calmness when her hands slip under your bra, fingers grazing over the slightly exposed skin. Her head leans down to suck marks onto your neck, hand landing back on your hips to guide you onto your bed.

You both fall down onto the bed, you landing on top of her, as she whispers promises into your neck of making all your time staring at her worth it by the end of the night. You let out a sigh in her ears when she tugs your bra off, fingers massaging your tits while she lowers her mouth down to your chest.

#claires works #claireswhisperings #uconn wcbb #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn #uconn huskies #paige bueckers smut #paige buckets #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers fic

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mavrintarou · 6 months ago

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[2:53 PM] Kozume Kenma

My version of Kenma

Warning: hurt to comfort & makeup smut

Kozume Kenma may look like a reserved and introverted man in public, but little did anyone know about the hidden facets of his personality that only you were aware of.

Kenma had a kink for cockwarming.

Any available opportunity, he wanted to be buried deep inside your pussy. Whether it would be while you guys slept, after sex or bathing, or when he was working (aka streaming).

However, the two of you engaged in a heated discussion, resulting in a temporary separation that lasted for three days.

You clarified that you would stay at your sister’s place for the week, giving your boyfriend space. Unfortunately, you returned to your shared condo with Kenma to grab more clothes and other necessities without letting him know.

As you noticed the closed door to his office, a clear indication that he was in a live session, you discreetly made your way to the shared bedroom to retrieve your belongings and depart as silently as possible.

You rummaged through the drawer of your swimming suit and stuffed it into your bag. After ensuring you got everything you needed, you walked out but froze when you got near Kenma’s office.

His door was wide open, and you couldn’t walk past without him seeing you.

Unless he wasn’t in his office.

Taking a deep breath, you moved your feet; even if he saw you or vice versa, you two were still on a break. Kenma was great at ignoring the problem, only wishing to brush it off or pretend as if it had never happened.

You looked straight, refusing to peek at the corner of your eyes to see if he was in his office.

“You’re really going to just walk by and not say a word?”

You barely reached the doorway when you halted, and your brow raised, surprised to hear him confront you. You tilt your head back to look at him; he sits in his chair, leaning back and watching you with tired eyes.

“I forgot something and just came to grab it, just pretend I wasn’t here.” Because you’re great at doing that.

“Come here.”

You looked away and let out a sharp breath. “I need to go; my sister is waiting for me downstairs.”

“Come. Here. Y/n.” He punctuated each word in a tone she recognized as his dominant and assertive voice.

You instinctively stepped back and positioned yourself between the doorway, standing your ground. “What?” you asked, making an effort to maintain your composure despite the circumstances.

“Come. Here.” He emphasized each word, his tone firm yet gentle.

You set your bag down before walking over to him, and when you got close enough, he moved like lightning, tugging you over and between his legs. His face was buried in your stomach, and his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs. “Don’t go….”

“I’ll be back in a couple of days – “ He shook his head, tightening his grip. “Ken, we should use this time to ourselves to –“

“I’m sorry; I don’t want to be away from you anymore,” he pleaded, his gaze locked with yours, filled with desperation. “Please, don’t leave me.”

Cupping his face in your hands, your eyes scanned his entire countenance, taking note of the dark circles beneath his eyes and the bloodshot redness in his gaze. Concerned, you softly inquired, “when did you last sleep?”

Being a popular streamer, Kenma often went for extended periods without sleep, sometimes exceeding 24 hours.

“I couldn’t sleep without you.”

You couldn’t accuse him of lying knowing full well he needed you to sleep. You are his drug yet his peace and when it came to sleep, he truly needed you to sleep.

“Ken –“

“Don’t go, please…” he pleaded in a whimpering tone she had never heard of.

Letting out a deep sigh, you tenderly wrapped an arm around his shoulder and ran your fingers through his hair. “Okay, let me make a call and inform my sister,” you suggested, awaiting his response. However, he clung to you, not letting you go. “Ken, let go so I can get my phone,” you gently urged, hoping he would release his grip.

Shaking his head, his hand began searching for his phone on the desk and handed it to you. “Just use mine,” he muttered, offering a solution without letting you go.

You found it difficult to fall asleep because Kenma’s weight felt like an anchor, making you hesitant to move for fear of disturbing him once he drifted off to sleep. You were familiar with Kenma’s affectionate hold in bed, but the way he clung to you at that moment felt different. It seemed as though he was afraid that you would slip away once he entered a deep slumber. His weight on top of you, his head resting on your shoulder with his breath tickling your cheek and neck. He had one arm pillowing your head with the other wrapped around your waist and your legs entangled together.

After assuring your sister you’re okay and will follow up with her, you force Kenma to turn off his computer and sleep.

He shook his head like an exhausted puppy, “only if you sleep with me.”

It’s been an hour, and you can still feel his grip on your shirt readjusting from time to time, letting you know he wasn’t in a deep slumber yet.

His fingers kept twitching and you finally exhaled and whispered, “just do it, it’s fine…”

You should have known when he stripped down to just his boxer briefs, that he was considerate enough to leave just that much of clothing on. Kenma always slept naked.

Kenma was sensitive, when he felt his privilege had been taken away from him, he needed reassurance upon receiving it again.

He doesn’t hesitate to turn you on his side and swiftly, any lower garments you had on are gone and Kenma is behind you.

“Lift your leg for me,” he whispers huskily.

When you lift your leg, he slips his semi-hard cock into your hot and ready pussy. Your body misses him just as much as he misses you. Relaxing your leg you let out a breath, “now, sleep.”

He let out a shaky breath that sounded much like a low groan. “Okay,” he whispered, voice clearly satisfied.

You don’t feel him truly relaxed and asleep until his hand slips inside your shirt, skims against your tummy until his palm is against one of your tits, giving it a gentle squeeze. His even breath calms you at last and lulls you to sleep.

You wake up two hours later in the same position, Kenma is behind you and still inside you.

He was deeply asleep and you gently pry his hand away from your chest before slowly easing his cock out of you. It was no shock to you when you felt a gush of sticky fluid release and you quickly squeezed your thighs close. Kenma had no problem ejaculating in his sleep. You have woken up to him, thinking he was awake due to his hips moving only to discover after he’s cummed, he was thrusting in his sleep.

“Don’t go…”

Looking over your shoulder, Kenma was barely awake, only enough to sense you moving.

“Keep sleeping,” you whisper, pulling the comforters over his shoulder.

He locked his arms around your waist, pressing his face against your back. “No, don’t leave me.”

Frustratedly you snapped, “I’m not leaving – Christ… just…” you exhale, “just sleep, I’m just going to be in the living room.”

Incredibly stubborn, he shook his head, tightening his hold on you.

“Let me go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” you assured, tapping his hand that’s locked around your waist. You felt a huff of breath against your back before his grip loosened and you were free.

You wiped the residue smeared between your thighs and cleaned yourself before walking out. You nearly swore under your breath when you swung open the door and Kenma was leaning against the doorway, still naked.

“Done?”

You blinked, “uh – yeah…”

Without a word, he reached for your wrist and tugged you along back to his bed. “Get in, please.”

You followed his command and crawled into his bed again. He followed and spooned you from behind.

“I’m sorry.” Kenma must have felt your tensed body. “I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting you, I am aware of my behavior and how it affects you and I will change. I’ll talk out our problems, stop ignoring them.” He turns you around so he can see your face and tilts your chin until you stare into his eyes. “Forgive me, please?”

You nodded, “I forgive you.” You lean to press a kiss to his lips. “There’s no next time.”

You’re pulled into his arms as he confirms, “yes, there’s no next time, I’ll make sure of it.” He leans back to smile at you before kissing you again.

You’re rolled onto your back and knew where it was going. Your legs widen to allow him in between your legs. His cock was already pressed and rubbing against your pussy. “Please,” you begged.

He slips inside you and Kenma keeps a steady pace. He leans over you, supporting his weight on his left elbow right, “I can’t live without you, Y/n. You are the air I breathe, my life…” His right hand pushes your shirt up to expose your tits and groped one mound, tweaking your perky nipple. “I don’t ever want to be without you again…”

Your hands are placed on his waist, urging him to thrust deeper into you. “Me too, Ken… I missed you… fuck – ah… more… harder, Ken…”

Slow yet deep thrusts have you seeing stars. “Need you… need you…”

His chest is pressed against yours as he grunts into your ear. “Me too… always…”

The room is filled with skin slapping skin and the creaking of his bed.

You moan his name, belly tightening and your pussy fluttering around his cock. Kenma’s cock jerks inside you before following with ejaculation. You feel each spurt leaving his cock, shooting at your womb.

Kenma shifts you, rolling you both around while still intimately connected. You lie above him and straddle his body. “This is great makeup sex.”

Running a hand through his hair, he smiles, “agree. Again?”

. . .

E/n: I watched the Garbage Dump movie a few weeks ago and loved it!

>>> @queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu kenma #haikyuu kozume #hq smut #kenma smut #kenma angst #kenma x reader #kozume kenma #kenma x y/n

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sectumsempraaa · 6 months ago

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Luck & Stardust

Pairing: they’re all in love with you 🤭 x fem!reader (not house-specific)

Featuring: Draco, Theo, Mattheo, Lorenzo

Word count: 2.4k

Based on this request! Thank you :)

TW: none lol welcome to fluff city

Summary: With February 14th quickly approaching, the Slytherin boys fight for your affection in pursuit of being crowned your valentine. Some attempts are better than others, but only one can be the best… and it’s one that you never saw coming.

“Don’t even think about it, Diggory.” Theo snaps, giving the Hufflepuff a look of utter doom.

With Valentine’s Day right around the corner, your favorite group of Slytherins have taken it upon themselves to act as your own personal Queen’s Guard.

Many of the Hogwarts boys are scrambling to make you their valentine, each attempt failing as miserably as the last, not unlike this one. The boys can’t fathom sharing you, and they won’t. It’s them, or no one. Cedric silently backs away with his hands raised in surrender.

Mattheo’s got his eyes buried in a book, keeping his stare down as the next suitor approaches you from behind. His voice is threatening enough, there’s no need for him to make eye contact.

“I wouldn’t, McLaggen, if you’d like to keep your neck straight.” Mattheo says, lethally monotone. Cormac scoffs and opens his mouth to retaliate, but not before Mattheo can interrupt him.

“Neck. Straight.” He spits, absent-mindedly making a fist with his right hand. It’s safe to say McLaggen got the message. Theo and Mattheo share a look, shaking their heads in annoyance.

“Oh for fucks sake.” Draco groans, standing from his position to size up one of the Weasley brothers headed your way. “Try and see how quick I’ll make Fred an only-twin.”

“I am Fred, you filthy snake.” He replies, an uncommon bitterness in his voice. His retort admittedly makes you laugh, no one is usually brave enough to fight back. Draco notices your reaction, a muscle flinching in his jaw.

“I care less about your identity than I do about the slugs you’ll be coughing up if you even entertain the idea of asking her.” Draco says, the tension reaching a high.

They stare at each other for a long moment, performing the standoff of a lifetime. You decide it’s time to interfere.

“Sorry, Fred. Maybe next year?” You say apologetically, giving the boy a sympathetic look.

“Over my dead body.” Draco mutters.

When Fred walks away, you glare at each of the boys, rolling your eyes in irritation. “You know, this is why we don’t get invited to things.”

“The missing out is worth knowing you won’t end up with a bloody Gryffindor.” Draco grunts, his eyebrows furrowed and mouth in a scowl. Theo chimes in, throwing an arm around your shoulder.

“Sorry, amore. This is what happens when you’re under our wing.” He laughs, placing a dramatic kiss on the top of your head. Lorenzo nearly spits out his tea, giving the boys a baffled expression.

“You lot are mental if you think we’re not the ones under her wing.” He exclaims, nudging your arm with his. Theo argues with him, listing off all the instances where they’ve protected you.

“I’m gonna stop you right there, mate. You’re literally wearing a bracelet, that you made because she asked you to, with her name on it.” Lorenzo gives Theo a smug smile and laughs to himself.

You shrug to Theo and stand up to leave, taking your bag with you. Mattheo grabs it from you, always being the one to carry your things. You don’t even think about it anymore, it’s just what he does.

Draco walks you to your next class, stopping you at the doorway and turning to you with a defeated look. You already know what’s bothering him.

“You’ll survive.”

“I can’t stop them when I’m in another room.” He grumbles, glaring at the handful of boys entering the classroom. You take his face in your hands, directing his gaze to yours.

“It will take a lot more than a couple of heart-eyes to be my valentine.” You assure him, pinching his cheek before pushing past him into the classroom.

“Oh, if you only knew what’s coming,” he starts, his words dragging on with satisfaction. You whip your head around in suspicion.

“What’d you say?” you ask.

“Oh nothing, love. Go on.” He sends you off with a small wave and a smirk that tells you trouble is coming.

—

The day has finally arrived and you have long since forgotten Draco’s little quip from that day before class.

You’re all dressed up, your hair styled your favorite way, a glow emitting from your face. You clasp a heart-shaped necklace around your neck, laying it gently on your chest.

Upon entering the Great Hall, you’re immediately swarmed with dozens of boys holding cards and candy, yelling and reaching out to you in desperation. Your eyes widen with panic, your feet staying frozen in place from shock, your books fall to the floor, mixing in with other lost belongings.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Mattheo shoving through the small crowd, pulling you into him when he finally gets to you. The rest of the boys go utterly silent at his intimidating presence.

“Go.” A single word, yet you’ve never heard him so threatening before, a look like hell in his stare. His arm snakes around your waist, your heart still coming down from the sudden attention.

Neville throws you a small smile and a subtle wave as he picks up his blue quill and his wand, before he disbands with the rest of the group.

Mattheo turns to you, the bitter glare melting into a nurturing gaze. “I’ll really do it.” he says, you have a feeling you know what he’s implying.

“I don’t doubt that.” You smile up at him, grabbing his hand and letting him lead you to the Slytherin table where Theo, Draco, and Lorenzo have taken place already. They give you your space, creating a seat for you between Draco and Theo.

You look down to the table to discover all your favorite breakfast foods laid out before you, a tiny gasp escaping your mouth. The surprise comes to you pleasantly after the overwhelming ambush. A blushing Theo presents you with a cup of steaming liquid.

“Your favorite meal, and your favorite drink.” He murmurs, carefully placing it in front of you.

“You’re kidding. The coffee we had in Rome?” You asked, your voice coated in disbelief, your eyes still running over every pastry and fruit before you.

“Had it delivered here just for you, bella. And maybe I bribed the house elves to make your breakfast extra special.” He brags. Before you take a bite of your danish, you plant a long, dramatic kiss on his cheek.

“Buon San Valentino, cara mia.” He whispers near your ear, taking in the grin of joy on your face. The other boys start scoffing, making disgusted faces and pretending to be sick as they dig into the treats.

“Let me get this straight- you’re asking our beloved and most precious Y/N to be your valentine by making her scrambled eggs?” Lorenzo jokes, shaking his head in disbelief. Draco’s laugh chimes in, earning a grimace from Theo in return.

“Grazie, love. You’re the best.” You hum, finishing your meal and getting up to leave, Mattheo once again carrying your belongings. You run a hand through Theo’s hair, bidding him a gracious goodbye.

—

“Who on Merlin’s sacred earth…” a student’s voice echoes behind you as you take in the spectacle.

“The only one who can afford it.” You respond, your voice full of knowing and awe. One minute you were in the hallway, sending Seamus Finnigan away with another valentine rejection.

The next, you were in your common room, every inch of which was adorned with white violets, yours and Draco’s mutual favorite flower.

You feel a presence behind you, a pair of arms wrap around your torso, pulling your back against him.

“Draco, how?” you turn your head up at him to ask, his grip on you tightening until you’re snug against his chest.

“I’d make anything happen for you. It doesn’t matter how. Happy Valentine’s, you perfect pretty thing.” He squeezes you extra hard, earning a bout of laughter from you. The satisfaction on his face is evident by a warm expression.

“I think they make me look rather ravishing,” Lorenzo appears, a handful of the white violets tucked into his hair. Draco sighs in frustration, the moment tarnished by his friend. “It’s too bad they’ll all be dead in two days.”

You release yourself from Draco’s hold, his eyes filled with anger and defeat. He takes an aggressive stride towards Lorenzo, teeth gritted.

“Good, I can bury them with you seeing as you’ll be sharing an expiration date.” Draco retorts.

“You think she’s gonna fall into your arms because of some bloody plants?” Lorenzo mocks.

You let the two boys fight it out, throwing empty threats and cheap insults at each other. In the meantime, you sit on the couch, braiding some flower crowns for you and your friends.

When you brought one to Professor Sprout after lunch, it made her entire day.

—

Later, your group is sitting in the courtyard enjoying a rare sunny winter day. The heat gives you chills, your skin basking in every second of sunlight.

The boys sit around you in a circle, facing you while sharing gossip on the day’s blossoming couples. Your ears pick up their conversation.

“Yeah, well not everyone wants a damn teddy bear, Theo. It’s not very original.” Mattheo snickers. You find it quite adorable, the sound of them arguing over what makes a sentimental gift.

“Original, hmm. You mean like this?” Lorenzo straightens up while handing you a gift-wrapped box. “Open it, baby.”

Lorenzo may be sweet, but he loves to cross the line, purely for the personal fulfillment of bothering the others. The nickname earns him an immediate smack on the back of his head from Draco, but he only laughs at the blow.

You open the gift wrap to reveal a moving picture frame, the first photo taken a couple summers ago when he was carrying you on his back into the lake by his family’s estate. The way your head is thrown back, and the way his cheeks are marked with sunburn takes you back to a happy time.

You hear an envious whisper come from behind you, no doubt belonging to Theo. “Fuck, that’s a good idea.”

Draco leans his head over your shoulder, giving him a better vantage point. Then, the photos begin to cycle through a gallery of… well, mostly just Lorenzo.

“How are you this thick, Enz? These are just pictures of your putrid face,” Draco jabs, causing Mattheo to grab hold of the frame. He literally falls over laughing, his hands covering his face.

You turn to Lorenzo, a slight embarrassment hinted in his eyes, but proud, nonetheless. “I will treasure this forever. It really screams… you.” You joke, brushing a thumb over his cheek and giving his arm a squeeze, appreciating the attempt.

He mumbles to himself, swatting at Mattheo. “Foul gits.”

The frame later finds a spot on your bookshelf. You meant what you said.

—

After dinner that evening, Mattheo leads the group out to the pitch bleachers and sits behind you, placing a leg on either side of you. He wraps his robe around you, keeping you warm in the February night, leaning your back on his chest.

A sudden gust of wind blows, knocking over your book bag. Draco scrambles for your stuff, stowing the items away.

A stray piece of crumpled parchment lands next to you, your hand grasping and smoothing it out before it can fly off.

Just as your eyes read the words, an eruption of light explodes in the sky, the colorful shards falling gracefully down. The next few are heart-shaped, reds and pinks illuminating the clouds.

“Are you a firework? Because you make my heart burst.” Mattheo says playfully, nudging his head into the crook of your neck. You scoff at the lame joke, shaking your head.

“You’re the worst and I love you for it.” You poke fun at him before planting a kiss on his temple. “This is really gorgeous, Mattheo. If only my valentine were here to see it.”

“Yeah. Wait, what?!” He exclaims, surprise etched on his every feature.

The others quickly look to you for direction as you beckon them closer. “Look,” you say.

You unfold the piece of paper you found before. “I think my books got mixed with someone else’s when I was flocked this morning.”

Lorenzo grabs the paper, then Draco. He stands up and reads it to himself, his face filled with jealousy and resentment. “It’s got her bloody initials on it.” He states before passing it around, each one reading the passage to themselves:

your heart is cosmic fire

wicked stardust

and I am but pieces of you

“It’s… poetry.” Theo remarks, earning a questioning look from the others, like they’ve never heard of it before. “Romantic poetry. From who?”

“Which one of you did this?!” Mattheo yells, giving each boy dagger eyes.

“It was me, Y/N.” Theo admits, followed by a brief and tense moment of silence.

“With no due respect Nott, you couldn’t even write your own name this nice.” Draco drags. “The handwriting is nearly better than my mum’s. Weird though, quill ink is usually black. This one is blue.”

And then it hits you. The Great Hall. The books on the floor. Everyone’s things getting mixed up from the crowd crush. Mattheo’s rescue, the blue quill, and that soft, endearing glance from…

“Longbottom.” You whisper. The name rolls off your lips, bringing you arguably the biggest smile you’ve worn today. The thing is, the boys know you’re right. Neville the sensitive, Neville the sweet.

“Well that’s just diabolical.” Lorenzo sneers, the group huffing and puffing in defeat.

You read the words again and again, every word imprinting in your memory. He probably didn’t mean for this to get in your hands. In fact, he’s probably off somewhere right now frantically worrying that you found it.

So you won’t tell him. Neville: the unwitting valentine.

You fold the paper up, storing it in your pocket. One by one, you pull each of the boy’s arms towards you, creating a huddle in the bitter cold. Their body heat keeps you warm, their heads all resting on your shoulders and lap.

“I love you guys.” You say, meaning each word as you all continue to watch the fireworks above you. Their collective bitterness was quickly replaced by the desire to be near you.

“And we are very lucky to be loved by you, Y/N.” Draco professes.

As you watch the colorful display, the best memories you have with the boys start to play like a film reel in your head.

All the brawls they’ve gotten in for you, all the times you rescued them from detention, all the pranks you’ve pulled on each other and the countless times they fought over who would marry you… and all the times they promised to keep you safe.

The glow of the fireworks reflects on their faces, unknowing of your loving gaze on each of them. You repeat the sentiment to yourself, the altered phrase hitting closer to home this time.

and I am but pieces of them.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

#slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #draco malfoy #draco x reader #slytherin #theodore nott #draco malfoy fanfic #draco malfoy fic #draco fluff #lorenzo berkshire #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo fic #theo fluff #theodore nott x reader #mattheo x reader #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fic #lorenzo x reader

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queers-gambit · 5 months ago

Text

Shadows of the Past

prompt: the High King recruits you personally for the expedition headed by your intended, Herald Elrond. your company encounters the darkness and Galadriel portrays an apology to her friend.

pairing: Elrond x betrothed!female!reader

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 5.1k+

note: wonky brain can think of nothing but this show right now i'm so sorry

warnings: cursing, spoilers, another reader insert for the haters, depiction of character injury, emotions are hard, small canon complicit angst, literal hurt and comfort, established relationship.

"Tell me again," your brother-in-law asked, "why you're not leading this company?"

You smirked, stepping over a fallen branch, "Because the High King has bestowed the honor to Herald Elrond, Daenor."

"Then why enlist you, too?"

"I am a mere emissary of the King. Besides, skills are required for this quest, Daenor, why would I not be employed?"

"Right, of course. I guess my question should be, what skills do you possess?" He teased, laughing when you shoved his shoulder playfully. "But truly," he asked, "why would the King send you both, so close to your wedding day? Why send you, too, if not to lead this company?" However, before you could answer, the air turned serious when the procession you followed came to a rather disturbing discovery upon the laid path.

You leaned on the intact stone while listening to Camnir discuss with Elrond possible paths forward after intending to cross a bridge over the gorge, only to find it in ruins and rubble. Elrond originally questioned the force that could've brought the ancient stone down in such a harsh and violent manner, thinking perhaps lightning, but another voice refuted this idea by claiming it was the Dark Lord, Sauron.

This familiar voice was that of Lady Galadriel - and while you've known her to be a fellow Commander, you were unsure of her title now. Yes, she was technically lieutenant of this company, and that was what she was addressed as, but you knew how stubborn the Elleth was and that she would not be so easily demoted.

You said nothing. You just listened as Camnir told Elrond they could take one of two paths: one so out of the way, it would add two weeks to their journey, and the other, down the same darkened path the Dark Lord laid.

Upon mentioning the path before them through the Hills of Tyrn Gorthad, Lady Galadriel twitched. She had been daintily ghosting her fingertips over the charred and mangled metal of the lanterns set on the imploded bridge, seemingly stuck in thought, then freezing. You couldn't see her face, only taking note of the brisk tension mounting in the Elleth's shoulders.

She spoke, "There is evil in those hills." The group shared silent looks, each with varying degrees of mistrust or caution. "Ancient, and full with malice," Galadriel glared at the landscape before her. "Sauron means for us to go that way. We must go another," She informed the group as if she were in a position to give orders.

From the crouch he took to observe the damage done to the stone, Elrond rose while speaking in a firm tone that overpowered the Lady's, "The Enemy is doubtless watching both roads." His eyes flickered over yours last as jetting over each of his soldiers, clocking the way you nodded in agreement. To you, it seemed common sense: of course, the bad guy was watching the paths that would lead the good guys to him! He was evil, not stupid! Elrond reminded his people, "This collapse makes it more critical than ever to reach Celebrimbor at speed."

"We won't reach anywhere with speed if we walk into a trap," Galadriel argued; the two friends (and distant cousins) held each other's even stare for several moments.

"What say you, Commander?" You asked, hoping to break the tension and little trance they were locked in. No, no, not out of jealousy, but out of protectiveness; wanting to break the ice for the sake of Elrond's authority.

"We go South," Elrond decided, turning from the fragmented bridge stump, ready to lead his company on, when Galadriel spoke again - from the same spot she had yet to move from.

"Commander, I must protest."

You did not move when the others did, you waited when Elrond paused and replied, "Your opinion on the matter has been heard."

He went to walk away again when Galadriel growled with a rolling tongue, "Elrond!"

You flinched to a halt in blinding irritation, upset by your peer's very audacity. Everyone halted around you, Camnir even shifting in his stance out of nervousness from the heat of your glare not on him. Your fiancé turned back to glare at his friend, ending with finality, "Opinion heard, lieutenant. We go South." He gave an encouraging command in Sindarin, leading only a few strides before pausing. When you automatically halted yourself at his side, he nodded and spoke softly while seemingly mindlessly grabbing your hand to give an affectionate and reassuring squeeze, "Lead them on, love, stay on the trail."

You glanced back at Galadriel, who was finally moving to keep up, and whispered for only his ears, "You sure?"

"I'm sure, go on," he confirmed, nodding again and offering a soft sort of half-smirk. His eyes, though, were squinted; indicating he was genuine in his displayed gentleness. With a squeeze to his hand, you offered one last stale look at Galadriel, who expertly avoided your eyes, then let go and walked forward to lead the way.

Behind you, Elrond snarled his scolding of Galadriel, insisting she shape up, forgo trust in the Ring of Power she wore, and if that wasn't possible, she needed to excuse herself. The Commander of the Northern Armies rebutdtaled that she did not desire to see any member of the company slain - a veiled response to her stubbornness to not abandon their quest and refusal to ignore her ring.

Forward, you marched.

Though you seldom showed it, you felt fearfully nervous when the night fell and your company crept further into what felt like infected wood. The ground turned spongey, a particular stench permeated the air, the darkness shadowed most all you saw. The trees loomed tall, the moon casted a bright silver light, and dead leaves crunched under booted, lithe steps. Elrond shared a nervous look with you, his hand only briefly brushing yours; a way to say he was there with you without being overly affectionate in front of his soldiers.

From the corner of his eye, Elrond saw your head tilt back in wonder before a fell voice hissed on the wind, "I am waiting for you." But in truth, nobody was sure about what they heard or did not hear. Perhaps they did not want to know, but still, the voice made the area further darken in suspicion, and once in a small clearing, all came to a halt to survey the surrounding area. There was a threat somewhere, but where exactly was yet to be determined.

Daenor questioned sharply, "What is this place?"

"Tyrn Gorthad," Camnir answered. "Known to men as the Barrow-downs."

You chimed in softly, "In ancient days, this was where they laid their lords and kings to rest."

"I feel no rest here," Daenor grumbled. "Even the trees seem ill at ease."

"Fear not," Vorohil chimed in, sounding amused while stepping up to (and through) your group's observation deck. "Dead men are no threat."

"Well, we've lived very different lives," you scoffed under your breath.

However, after Vorohil, Elrond followed; casting a look at the lot of you and reminding, "Keep moving."

You let the others pass ahead of you, trying to shake off your nerves and mentally prepare yourself for the hell you were walking into. Something anchored your feet, refusing to let go; every nerve in your body on fire and begging you not to wade into the dark. Your name was spoken gently, Galadriel's hand on your shoulder startling you.

"What is it?" She asked quietly.

"We shouldn't be here," you whispered, Elrond doubling back when he noted your delay. Not wanting a confrontation, Galadriel sighed and patted your shoulder before slipping away as your lover approached you.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly but urgently.

"There's something sinister here," you told him stiffly, stepping half a step closer, "watching us."

He took a breath, "If Galadriel's ring - "

"It's not that!" You insisted. "I feel it, Elrond, not the ring, not anything Galadriel said. I feel it."

Elrond's brows furrowed at the tips, like something hooked them to yank towards his nose. "Then stay close to me," he decided.

"We should move on, quickly," you snatched his hand to prevent him from parting; his gaze turning worried. "Please, listen to me."

"My love," he spoke softly, squeezing your hand, "it is a gravesite, nothing more. The dead cannot harm us."

"It is the living's influence I fear."

He sighed and nodded, "We will not linger." His forehead found yours to rest, "But do not stray from my side, it is of great comfort."

"To us both," you agreed, letting him pull back. Yet he did not relinquish hold of your hand, keeping it tight in his and leading you into the clearing the others were surveying.

"Commanders," Rían called, standing over the corpses of two horses... Attacked seemingly a time ago, and upon inspection, discovered the pairing bodily remains of an Elvish party.

Elrond questioned your name when you squatted, brushing aside debris. "Their barding is from Lindon," you told him, gently ghosting the leather with your touch. You looked up to meet his eyes, glancing over to see Galadriel, predicting, "The King sent a dispatch to warn Celebrimbor."

Galadriel nodded in confirmation as Rían discovered the encased message from the King in a decorative tube, asking, "This dispatch?"

Slowly, you stood from your position and held a silent hand out, being given the tube for inspection; all eyes on you, waiting for whatever your overly keen (even for an Elf) eyes would see. After confirming the contents, your eyes locked with Galadriel's, and she spoke what you both were thinking: "We must go from this place."

Elrond appeared ready to agree, tension mounting as your company seemingly felt the blanket of panic being thrown over them all. From the dark, a set of rotting chains shot out to coil around Daemor, yanking him into the toxic, spongey earth and across the clearing.

"Y/N!" He shouted in shock, and without thinking, your hands slapped into his as if in an effort to anchor him... But you were both yanked off your feet. "Commander!"

"Daenor! NO!"

"Help me! Y/N, Y/N, please!"

"Hold onto me!" You begged, being drug on your belly.

"Sister! Sister, please, help me! Help me!" He sobbed in fear, a vice grip on your wrists and hands surely to leave blemishes. "Don't let go! Pl-eeeeeaaaaaase!"

"Daenor!" You whimpered, struggling as the force that held you both hostage was too strong to maintain a safe, secure hold permanently - meaning, saving him was futile.

Your name was bellowed, being drug towards one of the opened tombs; but at the last moment, the tether that kept you and Daenor together was broken and he was pulled into the abyss of the grave. You whimpered in fear, slowly lifting from your belly and to your knees as Daenor's screams were silenced... In fact, the entire area turned eerily quiet.

Behind you, the others rushed to the scene and Elrond immediately dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around you. "Are you hurt? Hey, hey, look at me, are you hurt?" He demanded, fearful that the chains might shoot out again to finish the job to swallow you in the dark. He checked for any physical injury, but the tension was too great to ignore; the mouth of the tomb glaring at you, forcing Elrond to silence himself.

You flinched back into his hold when the gruesome sounds of crunching bone and squelching flesh was heard; indicating whatever was inside, whatever claimed Daenor, had disposed of his living body.

Elrond took advantage of your flinch to rock you back onto your feet, standing as a group as a voice hissed, "Cold old be hand and heart and bone, And cold be sleep under stone, Never more to wake on stony bed, Never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead." Galadriel brandished her sword as the wights first emerged, revealing their zombified forms. You encouraged the group to form together in a circle as the demons emerged. The Voice continued, "In the black wind, the stars shall die."

"Prepare yourselves," Galadriel warned, the group arming themselves.

"What are they?" Rían trembled.

From perfectly between Galadriel and Elrond, you answered, "They are those who laid in the tombs, the Lords and Kings of old... Lore calls them Barrow-wights."

The creatures surrounded your company, leering, growling, sizing you up. In Sindarin, Elrond commanded, "Attack!"

In tandem, the group lunged; weapons striking the ghoulish foes but they merely disintegrated in air... Then reformed. It seemed that fighting only served to irritate the enemies, their collective hissing and screeching making stomachs curl and skin to prickle in fear. Galadriel clocked this first, warning Rían, "Still your arrow!"

But the Elleth was already locked and loaded, the string slipping from her grip to fire at a distant wight. But it only soared through the zombie's face, not stopping, directing towards Camnir - but Elrond intercepted, swiping his sword to cut its path and save his soldier. The creature rejuvenated.

"They're impervious to our weapons," Camnir voiced, fear inking his tone.

Elrond's eyes found yours, seemingly connected by a string of similar thought; remembering the old wives tales you once read a lifetime ago, ancient lore about Barrow-wights dating back to the time of Melkor. So, he sheathed his sword and told his soldiers, "Hold fast." To Camnir, the closest to him, he demanded, "Come with me!"

"Where are you going?"

"Help me open it," Elrond told him, trying to pry open the sealed tomb as you swiped at another wight's skeletal hand reaching for you.

"What?"

"Hurry!" Elrond barked in Sandarin.

Back in your group, Rían muttered nervously, "Commander?"

"Ease yourself, remain calm..."

"What do we do?"

"Make no sudden movements. Stay together, fend them off but don't engage a fight," you advised, "hold strong - "

A gasp cut off your words when chains coiled around your ankle; securing in a tight zip that knocked you off balance and back into the toxic dirt. You scrambled for purchase on anything, finding only wet leaves; and suddenly, the chain turned taunt with tension before you were being sucked back into another tomb.

"Commander!" Vorohil shouted, trying to reach for you, but just missing as you were reeled back over the dirt.

"Y/N!" Rían cried, alerting Elrond and Camnir of your situation. You whimpered in fear, sobbing as you couldn't fight the force; couldn't save yourself; only able to helplessly submit to your approaching doom after clawing unsuccessfully for salvation.

"No! No!" You yelped, trying to remove the chains, but another tightened around the first chain in a horribly tight, vice grip that strangled breath from your lungs from the pure burning sting. With the last of your air, you screamed, "Elrond! Please!"

You heard Vorohil sprinting after you, freezing in your escape attempt when a grisly, decayed hand extended from the ebony shadow of the tomb towards you. There was a panicked finality to your blood, fear clogging rational thought; never seeing Elrond, only focused on the threat pulling you in. But the half-Elf you meant to marry in only a few weeks time came surging onto the scene, sliding on his knees at the mouth of the tomb and swinging a sword to sever both hand and chains.

"Y/N - "

"Fuck's sake!" You snarled, unintentionally cutting Elrond off; shoving the chains from your leg, scrambling to your feet.

You were just about to thank Elrond when he instead encouraged, "Here, take this." He held out one of the ancient weapons excavated from the tomb, nodding with increased vigor before turning away when it was in your grip. You hacked and stabbed the wight that came after you, Elrond and Camnir tossing the rest of the company weapons to cast down the surrounding enemies.

"How?" Rían asked in shock, seeing the wisps of the last wights waft into the wind.

"According to lore, only the blades with which they were buried with will return such creatures to rest," Elrond explained.

"But the men buried here have been entombed for over a thousand years," Camnir trembled, turning to his companion.

Vorohil seethed, "I think it is safe to say that something has awoken them."

"No," Galadriel argued, glaring down at the wight's decaying body. "Someone... Awakening evil. Across all Middle-earth."

You ignored the conversation and slowly took a seat; leaving your weapon in the dirt while focusing on hiking up your trouser leg after discarding your boot. With a clenched jaw, you revealed the wight's chains left sizzling lacerations; the metal seemingly enchanted to burn damn near to the bone, creating craters, indentations, dimples to your otherwise pure and unblemished flesh.

You winced when fabric stuck to the wound, bearing your teeth while hissing through them; breathing turning staggered as the pain became biting. "Commander?" You heard Camnir question softly with concern, others turning to set their attention on you.

"It's nothing," you insisted, observing the wound and deciding a tourniquet was required.

"You're hurt," Elrond growled, surging forward and unintentionally knocking Galadriel's shoulder - but the Elleth didn't take offense. The others wanted to close in around you, but Galadriel held them back after witnessing you before. As Commander of the Southern Armies, you had seen many battles with Galadriel, and sometimes, you sustained injury; she's witnessed how you turned akin to a panicked animal when accosted with attention - no matter how genuine the concern.

"It's nothing," you repeated, reaching for one of your belts, "I'm fine."

"You're not - "

"It's a burn, Elrond, nothing more," you sniffled, feeling how far up the chain had gone; deciding to tie the tourniquet above your knee.

"Let me," Elrond whispered, laying his hands over yours that shook and trembled without abandon.

"Elrond - "

"Just," he snipped, needing to pause and take a breath, "please, let me help you."

Behind him, Galadriel ushered the others away to a short distance; deciding to gather whatever belongings of Daenor they could to honor his lost life. You met Elrond's worried gaze and nodded, sniffling, "Okay. J-Just above the knee, here," you showed him.

"I know, love, I've got yah," he breathed, shuffling closer and kneeling beside you while taking the belt. You pulled the material of your trousers straight, grimacing when Elrond first wrapped the leather around your thigh. "All right?" He checked, seeing you nod rapidly; no words used because you were holding your breath to prevent yourself from crying out. When Elrond first tied the leather, you whimpered and his eyes turned teary. "It's gonna get worse, love, just hang on f'me - " He warned you before suddenly tightening the tourniquet, making you yelp painfully. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I know it hurts, I know, I know, I'm so sorry," he repeated, your hands latching onto his forearms out of subconscious need to feel him for comfort while he secured the leather belt. When done, he reached for your cheeks and pet hair that escaped your braids behind your ears, encouraging, "Breathe for me, just breathe, love. You're all right, there you go. Breathe. Good, good, I've got you, I'm so sorry, just breathe, just breathe... Oh, I, uh..."

"What's wrong?" You worried when he trailed off; eyes full of tears and his mouth half opening while retracting his hands that you held by his wrists still.

"I've blood on my hands..." He splayed them in display between you two.

"It's okay - "

"Got it on your face," he frowned.

"It's fine," you insisted, sniffling sadly, "it's my blood, anyway. We should be moving - "

"You're hurt."

"I know, but it's not life threatening, I don't need coddled."

"I'm not coddling you - "

"You are," you half smirked, "because you're worried."

"Of course, I am," he scoffed, using his sleeve to wipe your cheeks and temples free of blood. "How can I not be? You..." His voice quaked with emotion, "You are my starlight, my fairest friend, my sweetest love. Seeing you hurt..."

"I know," you whispered, bringing him close so your foreheads met, "but I'm okay."

"For now."

You sighed, pulling back to respond, "Don't say that, don't even think it. Optimism is our only friend in this situation, else, what is the point of going after Sauron?"

He needed to take a breath, sniffling his own emotion. "Fine. We should rest until morning... Regroup, give you time off this leg for now."

You nodded, "You sure?"

"I think we could all use the reprieve," he admitted.

"Does that include you?" You asked while caressing the coils of chestnut off his forehead.

"I'm fine - "

"As I am?"

Elrond paused, then scoffed a small laugh and nodded. "I'm managing..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

"Hey," you whispered, bringing him back to your forehead, "you're doing an excellent job of leading this company. But we all have limits and tonight was a lot, you deserve the time to breathe."

"Time is something we don't have."

"We have enough for now," you insisted, more or less forcing Elrond to relent.

As Daenor's belongings were pulled from the tomb and buried in the scorched earth his killers had rose from, the company each offered you hollowed words of condolences for your loss. Beside Elrond, it was known, you and your brother-in-law were great friends - being the reason he met and eventually married your sister. His sword was embedded in the ground as a marker, the company gathered to silently pay their respects while their commander stood at the riverbed's edge in deep, solemn contemplation.

You held one of his daggers, intending to keep it in reminder; pocketing a few pieces of jewelry, intending to give it to his wife. However, all was interrupted when from a distance, you heard the booming rumble of drums. Not just any drums, but the beating sounds of a marching procession; something ominous and daunting. You perked up, standing to your feet as something dark and familiar started in your chest before sinking to your gut. By looks of your company, they, too, heard the drums and shared your worried thoughts; sheathing Daenor's dagger to your belt and surging for where Elrond stood speaking to Galadriel.

"Forgive my intrusion," you bid the pair, Elrond turning instantly.

"Are you all right?" His hand reached for your hip instantly, trying to help stabilize you - if you had been off balance.

Your hand laid to his cheek, answering swiftly, "I'm fine," before dropping your hand to rest on his bicep, "but we've heard drums - in the deep. Sounds like there's a host on the march."

This sent the company into action, tracking the sound of the enemy over leagues of wooded area. By the end of the day, at dusk, you all gathered slowly on a darkened clifftop; watching in horror as legions of orcs marched down the beaten path to the sounds of their war drums. "Orc treachery," Rían cursed upon sight.

"That trail...?" Elrond questioned, letting go of his secure hold on you to lower in a squat, "I gather it leads to - "

"Eregion, my liege," Camnir confirmed.

"We came in search of Sauron," Vorohil narrated everyone's thought and question, "And instead, we find Adar?"

"Could they be in league with each other or... Perhaps at war," Elrond thought aloud, you shifting on your bad leg for a moment to readjust your stance among the trees.

"A legion of Orcs have marched into Elvish lands," Galadriel spat in anger, glaring at Elrond. "We are all of us at war."

Elrond agreed, "Word of this must reach the High King before our host sails for Mordor."

The silence was calm in a resolute sort of way, everyone just pausing to bask in their shock and awe. This was shattered when a distant Orc shouted, "There!" An arrow thunked into the trunk of the tree behind you, a horse neighing shrilly as it galloped through the forrest towards freedom and away from its pursuers. Just as the company turned to face the enemy, another arrow flew through the air almost inconspicuously, finding its mark in the soft part of your chest just beneath your sternum.

You grunted when the arrow landed, taking half a step back and wanting to cry out. Instead, you just held where the arrow embedded itself in your flesh. You felt dizzy suddenly, clothes and hand saturating with blood as the arrow had pierced through the aorta artery to cause major damage. Irreparable damage. Fatal damage...

In a whisper, Elrond told his soldiers in Sindarin, "Hold!"

In the distance, the Orcs were heard complaining about the horse escaping while a few random arrows were fired off again in a last ditch effort to wound the animal. If you did not move, the mangey creatures did not notice, smell, or sense you. But you couldn't form a full coherent thought, just understanding your injury, the looming grace of Death soon to kiss you, that breath was becoming increasingly harder to come by, and the pain - the pain was aching, soon spiking.

You did not mean to, but your fear was too great to ignore, and you stuttered in a whimpered gasp, "El-Elrond?"

His head snapped over, seeing the arrow protruding from your chest and feeling himself crumble inside. You were choking on blood, trying to remain silent - and they all saw that effort. How blood came splattering from your nose as you tried to subdue your noise, but that only made it harder to breathe; inadvertently choking, a groan strangled from your lungs just as Elrond reached you. He held you to him with his chest and single arm anchoring your waist, the other lifting to lay his hand over your mouth as Galadriel glued to your other side for added support.

The company moved back several yards, covering ground swiftly before laying you down behind a natural outcropping of protective rock. You were struggling, unable to fight it any longer; hacking a cough, blood spewing, splattering, streaking down your neck, the pain insurmountable. Elrond's one hand cushioned under your head, tears in his eyes as he could only hold you as the Orcs were heard closing in, other hand once more clasping over your mouth.

Still, Galadriel was sandwiching you, wincing when Elrond's hand stifled your groans of pain as he strained himself to peak over the top of the rocks. When he lowered himself, your lover leaned his forehead on your temple and hushed in your ear, "I'm so sorry." Upon lifting, he met Galadriel's eyes, who had been examining your wound, only to find her's full of sadness. Her head shook with muted words - telling him whatever she saw wasn't good.

You whimpered lightly. The Orcs could smell an Elf.

You wrangled Elrond's hand from your mouth, "Lis-Listen to me - "

"Hush, do not - "

"Shut up and listen!" You hissed, keeping hold of his hand, "'M not makin' it outta this, love, you've gotta go. L-Leave me - "

"No!"

"Elrond. Leave me," you insisted, "and they'll k-know 's m-me they smell. Y-You have t'warn the H-High King."

"I'm not leaving you," Elrond grit.

You smiled sadly, "And I love y-you for that. B-But you h-have t-t-to."

"Not in this lifetime," he begged, a few tears falling. "Just give me time to think, I'll figure something out."

"Time... Is something we don't have," you repeated his words from earlier. Suddenly, Galadriel just knew something without words; a feeling; a sort of understanding that she could help in this moment. She heard you whisper, "I'm so sorry, this wasn't supposed to happen. W-We should've had so much more time - "

"Please, don't say that," Elrond begged quietly.

Galadriel took a sobering breath and moved her hands to the base of the arrow; pressing enough to make you wince and breath in sharply. Elrond went to tell her to back off, but paused when The Ring of Power she wore twinkled in the dark night - seemingly pulling you out of that fatal twilight. Your breathing turned slow... Eyes clearing of hazy pain... Life breathing back into your flesh...

The arrow fell out, making all three of you gasp. Galadriel's hands fell away as your own shot to where your wound had been - finding it healed between the fabric the arrow tore. You looked at the Elleth in shock, breathing, "You healed me...?"

She just nodded, Vorohil speaking in astonished Sindarin, "Amazing."

"You're - You're, you are - ?" Elrond stuttered in shock.

"I'm okay," you confirmed, caressing his cheek as he beamed down at you in pure glee. "I'm okay, love, I'm okay; Galadriel, she healed me," you sniffled, looking to your friend. "Thank you, my friend."

"Of course," she breathed, the Orcs heard shouting in the distance to overturn every rock. With a look of shared understanding, Galadriel told Elrond over your body while you tried to mop up some blood, "Get to Lindon. I will occupy them as long as I am able. Get her up."

Elrond huffed through his nose, but did as bid - not like he needed to even be told in the first place. He gathered you into himself and stood, making sure you were stable before looking back at Galadriel; slowly squatting again as she wriggled the ring from her finger. "Take it," she breathed, presenting Elrond with the band of jewelry. When he made no move, she snatched his hand and folded the ring into his grasp, "Take it, Elrond!"

"What will you do?" He asked begrudgingly, storing the ring in a leather pouch for safety.

"Something foolish, probably," she smirked, nodding in meaning. "Now, go. Go!"

"Elrond, love," you whispered, holding your hand out for his and heaving him to his feet. "With me, c'mon, quickly," you advised the others, beginning the trek down a new path in the woods. As you moved, you realized that Galadriel's ring hadn't just healed the arrow wound, but the Barrow-wight's chain, as well, which helps remedy your limp.

A semi-safe distance away, there came a decently loud and abrupt boom behind you, and upon looking, saw the trees up in flames. It was where Galadriel must've been battling the Orcs alone.

In earnest impression, Camnir narrated, "She scarified herself to save us all."

Elrond came to a halt when he realized his company members were captivated by the sight of heroics in action. So he interrupted their dreamy thoughts by calling, "No, you are mistaken, Camnir." He stalked forward through his delegates, telling them in their native tongue, "She did not do it to save us."

Tension simmered over each member.

"What?" Camnir questioned.

Elrond turned away from the spectacle with Galadriel's fire, consulting the dark again, speaking with ramped distain in Sandarin, "She did it to save the ring." His hand reached for yours again, the two of you leading the company forward with him calling over his shoulder in the Common Tongue, "Hurry!"

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

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hyunebunx · 4 months ago

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Wow I’m stupid I pressed send way too fast 🩵 with Lee Know??

˖˙ ᰋ ── 🩵 - kissing in the rain with Minho

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: a teeny tiny amount of angst but it has a happy ending

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: thank you sm for requesting!!! <3 i had soo many ways of writing this in my head that i struggled lol. i really hope you like what i came up with. it's loosely (very) based on the rain scene in pride and prejudice so enjoy!! <33

Arguments were not a usual occurrence in your relationship. Most of the time you managed to settle any disagreement before it could escalate to such heights, the perfectly communicating couple all of your friends couldn’t help but feel a little envious of.

Now was not one of those times; your stress and emotions were getting the best of both you and Minho in the most unpleasant way. You hated arguing with him, getting angry and unable to see the other’s point of view, clouded by the desire to be right and make each other understand where you were coming from.

“You don’t get it.” Minho shakes his head with a sigh, forearms resting on the wheel as the rain poured outside your safe haven, hitting the windshield at an alarming pace and preventing you from seeing anything, even with the headlights on.

“Explain it to me, then!” You bite back, body facing his in the heated passenger seat that was keeping you warm and cozy despite the chill outside. Even when arguing you could admit Minho was the most considerate person alive – you didn’t ask him to turn on the heat, he must have done it when he noticed you trembling like a leaf after getting in.

He surprised you after work, dropping by and driving directly to one of your favorite restaurants just in time for dinner and a well deserved date night. Everything was perfect, the location, the food, and especially the company, laughing and having a great time with the love of your life.

Until things turned sour on your drive home, and what started as a silly disagreement turned into a full-on argument about something you didn’t find significant enough even to remember.

“That’s what I’ve been doing for the past ten minutes but it seems you don’t want to listen!”

You’ve been walking (or driving) in circles, with him getting frustrated and you following right on his tail until the car came to a stop right in front of your apartment building.

It’s not like you didn’t want to listen or care to hear him out, it’s just that Minho seemed to make something out of nothing, insisting and pushing forth the same idea like you were nothing more than a child who lacked basic comprehension. It was frustrating and exhausting, especially after the long day you’ve had.

“Min, I’ve been listening.” You try to smooth things over, warm hand landing on his thigh comfortingly. “Just because I’m not giving you the answers you want doesn’t mean I’m not hearing you.”

Minho remains silent, head turned the other way to stare out the window and not acknowledge your presence. When the silence stretches on, you give up with a sigh and retract your hand, reaching for your purse in the backseat and opening the car door in the same breath.

“What are you – “ You close it right before he can finish the sentence, set on getting inside with or without him to finally take the bubble bath you’ve been daydreaming about all day at work.

“Kitten!” His voice follows a moment later, the sound of the car door slamming louder than him amongst the deafening rain. “Y/n!”

Despite yourself and the insanity of spending even one more minute in this storm, you stop and allow him to catch up, not protesting as his warm hands land on your shoulders and turn you around almost desperately.

“Where are you going? We are not done talking.” He states, dark hair and clothes getting soaked at an alarming pace as the rain spares neither of you.

“But I am!” You exhale, the chill settling into your bones. “We won’t reach an agreement like this so let’s just stop!”

His eyes widen as he pulls you closer, chest to chest, figures illuminated by the bright headlights almost blinding. “Baby, wait – “

“I hate fighting with you, Min.” Without meaning to, you interrupt him once again, reaching up to cup his face and drag him closer. “I’m sorry, okay? We can talk this over calmly inside after we cool down. Just not like this, please, I can’t do it anymore.”

He nods instantly, agreeing without a doubt and most likely seeing his faults too, and not only yours. Then, when you expect him to let go and finally follow you in, Minho surprises you the second time tonight by leaning over and connecting your lips in a kiss full of passion and love, reminding you once again that the heart in his chest beats first and foremost for you. His upper limbs cling to your body just like your clothes, hugging you tightly while your hands squeeze his face affectionately, a smile sneaking past and pulling one from him as well, on the verge of beaming into the kiss.

The rain seems to disappear, the cold too, like you weren’t bothered by either in the first place. Minho has that effect on you, helping you see the good in every situation. Sure, the location was not ideal – nothing could be less romantic than a barely lit parking lot – but as always, the company mattered more. And the message he was trying to send. When words failed you, actions worked better, speaking louder and getting your point across without much effort.

Sure, the argument wasn’t resolved but you both managed to make the other understand what mattered the most. You might be disagreeing now, momentarily stuck in a small pothole along the way, but you still loved each other, you would get over it and be okay in the end.

Because that’s what true love meant. Getting through things together and continuing to walk down your joined paths, hand in hand, no matter how many potholes or rough patches you encounter. A small setback won’t ever erase your feelings for each other, or make you forget all the beautiful moments you’ve shared.

And maybe, just maybe, a kiss was all you needed to finally understand Minho’s point when you sat down and resolved things that night. He, on the other hand, needed a few more to be satisfied.

#stray kids #skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids angst #stray kids soft thoughts #stray kids soft hours #skz angst #skz fluff #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee know fluff #lee know angst #lee know x you

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angellic4l · 26 days ago

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la vita è bella - s.r

in which; sunshine!bau!reader and season2!spencer see a foreign film together after work.

content: fem!reader and season2!spencer, they’re so in loveee, fluffy fluff, mentions of drinking but no one actually does it, brief mention of spencer’s germaphobia, mention of the holocaust and ww2.

a/n: i wrote this all in one go bc my draft that i’m working on is so not ready, so i apologise if it’s bad. also, la vita é bella means life is beautiful, the Italian name of the film, which is why i called the fic that. WAIT I JUST READ IT AND I NEED TO SAY I DON’T THINK ELLE IS MEAN I LOVE ELLE! anyway, kisses!!

After a pretty rare, uneventful day at the BAU - just hours of paperwork, filing, reports, and a lot of team banter - the team of profilers begin to pack up. Coats are lifted from the backs of chairs, bags slung over shoulders, chairs put under desks, and a chorus of contented sighs coming from the agents.

The team, bar Hotch and Gideon, begin to make their way to the elevator together, walking in a huddle on their way out of work while making light conversation about their plans, considering everyone’s getting out early today.

“I say we all go the bar, a few drinks, maybe some darts, and lots of fine women,” Morgan suggests with a smirk, patting Spencer on the back when he says ‘fine women’.

Elle and JJ laugh, the thought of Spencer trying to talk to ‘fine women’, as Morgan called them, an amusing thought to the two of them.

Spencer, who’s walking in between you and Morgan, pushes his glasses up his nose with his index finger, his face sporting one of his infamous looks you’ve come to know, his brows furrowed as he silently questions Elle and JJ’s laughter.

“Actually, I was going to go and see a foreign film downtown, if any of you want to come. It’s an Italian film, but I can whisper translate, called ‘Life is Beautiful’, which is kind of ironic because it’s about a Jewish man and his son becoming victims of the holocaust, but-“ Spencer’s cut off by a comment from Elle about him being ‘dorky’, his face loses the small smile he’d had while talking about the film, and his once gesturing hands fall to his sides.

You think your heart might’ve actually shattered at the sight, Spencer’s dejected look never becoming easier to see, no matter how many times you do see it. The other three agents agree to go to the bar together while you and Spencer remain silent, walking in step with each other.

“You coming, sunshine?” Morgan asks, looking past Spencer to gaze at your face, Elle and JJ turning their heads slightly to look at you stood behind them, all of you coming to a stop at the elevator doors.

“No, I think I just want to have a quiet night in. I hope you guys have fun, though,” you reject them, a small smile on your face because only you know what you’re actually going to do.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

All of you step out of the FBI building, JJ, Morgan, and Elle splitting off to head to the bar, Spencer walking through the parking lot and starting his journey to the metro station, while you wait for the other 3 to be gone.

It’s not because you’re embarrassed of Spencer, no, you wouldn’t have cared about offering in front of the others, but you knew he’d probably be teased for it, and that’s the last thing you want. He’s so sweet to everyone, unbelievably kind to you, but everyone teases him regardless. It hurts your heart every time he goes quiet after being told to ‘shut up’ or someone comments on his rambling.

Once you’re sure Morgan, JJ, nor Elle are in earshot, you hurry over to Spencer’s slender figure that’s slowly dissipating, emerging with the dark night sky, becoming nothing but a shadow as he gets further.

“Spence! Wait, come back!” You call out, quickly realising his long limbs are no match for you and he was getting further by the second.

Spencer stops almost immediately, spinning on his heels when he hears your voice. He could recognise it anywhere, your sweet, melodic voice engrained into his brain; it’s one of his favourite things about you, how each word you speak seems to be infused with honey, ringing out sweet and soft.

Although, even if your voice is sweet and soft, despite the fact that you’re shouting, adrenaline spikes in his body - Why are you shouting him? Are you hurt? Are you okay? - the questions plague his mind, increasing his heart rate faster than anything ever has before. That’s saying something, considering he sees dead bodies, crime scenes, and confronts serial killers almost weekly.

Spencer’s legs have carried himself over to you before he’d even processed it, his own mind had distracted him, thoughts had clouded his head, and he only realises he’s stood in front of you and that you’re okay when he hears your melodic voice again.

“Spence? Spencer? Are you okay?” You ask, brows furrowed ever so slightly and pink lips pouted to express your concern for the brunette boy.

You didn’t ask him to ‘snap out of it’, make a joke about him being stuck in his big brain, or say ‘are you even listening?’. No, you just asked if he was okay. Spencer smiles softly at that, another gentle reminder that you really are an angel personified, despite his agnostic beliefs, regardless of whether he prays to a God or not, you are angelic to him.

“Yeah, yes, I’m okay,” Spencer reassures you, the soft smile on his face still there as he looks down at you. His brain catches up after he stops being dazed by your seemingly divine presence, in his opinion.

“You called me over, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s okay. Could I come and see that movie with you? I know some Italian and you said you’d whisper translate.”

Standing in the middle of Quantico’s parking lot, the pair of you clad in thick coats due to the recent spike in cold weather, your head tilted back so that you can look up at Spencer and his tilted down so that he can see you. You watch Spencer’s face go from a small smile to a full blown grin, his teeth peaking out from behind his pink lips making your heart warm in your chest, winter weather aside.

“Yeah? You’re serious?” Spencer asks, you nod.

“I’ll drive us there, no need for the metro. I’ll take you home, too,” you say, dangling your keys on your ring finger. The pair of you begin to walk to your car as Spencer explains what the movie is about, not being cut off this time.

In the car on the way there, he starts to talk about WW2, rattling off all of the details he knows about it, mainly ones he thinks will be relevant for context to the film. Smiles rest on both of your faces as he does so, his hands moving frenetically as he talks. When you know what he’s talking about, you’ll wait for him to finish before talking yourself, but mostly, you just listen to him.

Spencer stays true to his word and whisper translates the film to you, his voice in your ear something you like much more than you probably should, close proximity between the two of you because of it. His head is tilted towards you, lips by your ear but not so close that all you hear is his breath, Spencer’s very mindful of that.

At some point, you both reach for the popcorn between you without looking, his hand coming to rest on top of yours in the bucket. Suddenly, you’re very thankful for the dark room hiding the pink tint of your cheeks, completely unaware that he’s thinking the same thing.

Retracting his hand from the bucket quickly, he whispers a small “sorry,” secretly hating the loss of contact with your smooth, silky skin, warm fingers, no longer under his.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, eyes never leaving the screen in front of you for fear of him seeing the blush that’s painted your cheeks. You reach into your bag and hand him a hand sanitiser, knowing how he is with germs.

Spencer can’t help but wonder if you carry this just for him as he takes the clear bottle from his hands, reading the label as best as he can in the dim theatre and learning the hand sanitiser smells like vanilla. So do you, he notes, and he decides he doesn’t mind his hands smelling like you, in fact, he actually quite likes it.

An hour into the film, despite your best efforts not to, you succumb to sleep, the sound of Spencer’s voice in your ear every few seconds, the dim room, and how warm you are all lulling you into the unconscious state you currently find yourself in. Well, Spencer finds you in that state when your head drops to his shoulder, looking down at you through his glasses, and realising you’d fallen asleep.

He blushes at the sight of your head on his shoulder, the weight of it grounding him and sending him to some extreme height at the same time, your hair splayed over his shoulder making him smile to himself. In this moment, he decides that, despite all of the horrors he sees daily, the trauma he was subjected to growing up, and everything else in between, life is beautiful.

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