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222col · 3 months ago

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second best

★ patrick zweig x reader ★ you and patrick are both in relationships, but after meeting at an event, you can't quit each other. you both know it's wrong, but you just can't stop. you're addicted to each other, unable to go without your fix. ★ 10.2k ★ 18+ | cw: angst, cheating, smut: unprotected sex, choking, slapping, f oral ★ an: this one took me a while, hope u luv ! <3

it's not like you and patrick don't acknowledge you shouldn't be doing what you're doing, you do, often. but there's something about patrick zweig that just keeps drawing you back in. he feels the same, patrick may look like he has very few morals, but typically, cheating is something he'd never do. usually, when in a relationship, patrick's completely locked in. but there's something different about what you two share. yeah, it's sex, but it's more. it's primal, the attraction, the whole experience. there should be guilt, you should both feel so guilty that it doesn't continue, so sick to your stomachs that you can't fathom seeing each other again, but you don't. the relationship you share with patrick overshadows every other feeling you could endure. it's an automatic reaction, an addiction, something neither you or patrick could begin to live without anytime soon. it all started two months ago, you'd been with your boyfriend a year, patrick in his relationship nine months. you met at an adidas party a few years into patrick's career, during your second season in professional tennis. setting eyes on patrick across the dance floor, it was as though you could feel your body come alive.

red dress slick to your skin, hips swaying, hands in your hair as you locked eyes with patrick. signature smirk plastered on his face, beer in hand as he watched you dance. licking his lips as you excused yourself and headed his way. it was almost involuntary as your feet started moving, feeling yourself being physically drawn to him. "like what you see, huh?" hands on hips as you speak the first words to patrick. he chuckles slightly, eye contact unbroken. "something like that." patrick introduces himself as you do, flirty smiles across both of your faces. you didn't need to speak to understand each other, know exactly what the other was really thinking, it went unspoken. "do you want a drink?" patrick asks, free hand slipping into his pocket. nodding your head as patrick leads you to the bar, buying you your favourite and moving to occupy a couple empty seats away from the crowd. "just to let you know, i have a boyfriend." you start, met with a hum from patrick, leaning his elbows on his knees as you sit opposite him. "and i have a girlfriend, doesn't mean i can't talk to you, does it?" you both know this isn't going to end with talking, but for now, you'll ignore the tension in the air between you. telling yourselves that you're good people, and would never dream of cheating on your partners.

the two of you sit for a while, discussing your tennis careers, how you got into the sport. flirty smirks and heavy eye contact filling the empty gaps, noticing the time and lack of bodies at the party, you stand, ready to say your goodbyes, but stopped by patrick. "we're at the same hotel, right? come have a nightcap with me." he offers, standing up with you, closing some distance. "that sounds like playing with fire." you half laugh, acknowledging the tension for the first time out loud tonight, only adding more excitement to the air. patrick raises his eyebrow to you, the corner of his lips turning upwards. breathing out, knowing there was no saying no to that damn smirk, you accept. patrick's hand pressed lightly to your back, leading you away from the party. it was only a short walk back to your hotel, his hand staying put against the fabric of your dress. both of you so aware this nightcap was nothing short of an excuse for more time together, specifically, time alone away from onlookers eyes. patrick's hand only dropping to his side to fish his hotel key from his pocket, showing you into his room. opening the mini fridge he pours you both a drink, sitting next to each other on the couch underneath the hotel room windows, his hand draped across the back, beside your shoulder.

facing each other slightly, the electricity in the air only becoming more obvious by the lack of space between your bodies. shoes kicked off feet beside the couch, holding the glass between your hands as patrick's eyes swallow yours. "stop looking at me like that." you laugh, feeling small under his gaze. "like what?" patrick questions, knowing exactly where this about to lead. what should be guilt filling his body is replaced by pure lust. bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes float over your body, only now realising how small your dress is on your body. collarbones fully exposed, the fabric hitching up your thigh due to how you're sat on the couch. "like a meal. you look like you wanna eat me." his breath hitches, eyes moving back up your body to your eyes. holding your gaze, he places his glass down the coffee table next to him. following his movements, you do the same, leaning in towards him. "well, maybe i do want to taste you." patrick admits, his body moving towards you, eyes growing darker as the admission leaves his lips. the slow, gradual movements you're making towards each other feel like miles you have to travel. every second of inching closer feels like hours. every thought leaves your brain as patrick's hands grasp your cheeks and pull your lips onto his. mouths open, tongues sliding over each other, desperate to discover every part of each other's mouths.

patrick kisses feel like you're finally being kissed properly, as though no one before him had ever known how. his lips are soft, tongue hard against yours. his hands moving to your waist, pulling your body onto his lap. straddling his hips as your arms wrap around his neck, hopelessly trying to taste more of him. moving your lips down his jaw, licking and sucking at his skin down to his neck. "my god, you're so hot." patrick mumbles, head falling back, eyes fluttering closed as you nibble at the skin below his earlobe. pushing your head back to face him, eyes locked on each other, breathing heavy as his lips push against yours again. his hips bucking up against you, the harsh fabric of his jeans rubbing against the lace of your underwear. "we shouldn't.." you start, words falling into his mouth, lips barely leaving each others. patrick knows exactly what you mean, knows you want to help your ego, feel like you at least tried to not fuck him. "hmm, i don't care," patrick mumbles, his hands caressing every inch of your curves as yours move to bunch in his curls. trying desperately to pull yourself off of him but your body not allowing it, you're sucked in. he's like a drug, one taste and you're hooked. pushing yourself backwards from his lips, half-lidded eyes looking down to him, his hands holding you in place as you part your lips and whisper. "i want you."

his hands hook under your thighs, lifting you up as if you weigh nothing, legs instinctively wrapping around his body as patrick walks you both over to the bed. dropping you down, standing over you at the end of the bed. propping yourself onto your elbows, looking up patrick through your lashes, watching him pull his t-shirt over his head. "take it off." patrick instructs, unbuttoning his jeans, pulling down his zipper, his body overcome with desire. lifting your dress up your body from the hem, shimmying the fabric up over your chest, slipping it over your head as it's flung off the bed. laid before him as his jeans drop to the floor, matching red lace underwear adorn your skin. patrick's mouth slightly agape, still stood before you, taking in every inch of you. readjusting the tent in his boxers as he smirks down to you. "you gonna stand there staring all night, patrick? or are you gonna actually fuck me?" patrick groans at your words, hearing you verbally admit what you want from him. crawling over your body, your knees bent squeezing him into place, his hands at either side of your head. grinding himself down against you, legs spread waiting for him. leaning his head down to yours, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down as your eyes roll back.

moving one of his hands to your chest, holding himself up with one arm as the other gropes your boobs. pulling them out from your bra as you push the straps down your arms. grabbing your waist as patrick flips the two of you over, sitting you up on his lap as he undoes your bra, letting it fall down your arms before throwing it in the direction of your dress. knees either side of his hips, grinding against him, the friction causing quiet noises from the both of you. patrick's mouth moving down to wrap around your nipple, hands caressing both of your boobs. manhandling your chest as his teeth graze the skin of your nipple, hissing at the sensation. shoulders pushing back as your head falls with them, patrick's lips attacking your neck as he continues squeezing your breasts. surprising patrick as your hands wrap around his wrists, pushing him down against the bed, his arms above his head. grinding your hips down against him quicker, patrick struggling below you, attempting to escape from your grip but failing. bucking his hips up against you, desperate for some friction on his aching cock. "hmm, getting needy?" you fake pout, patrick sucking his teeth in response. his cock twitching against you, so unfamiliar with the competition for dominance. feeling you start to rearrange your grip around his wrists, he slips from your grasp, throwing you onto your back once more. pushing his boxers down his legs, hands snaking between your bodies to pull your panties down too. reaching down to slip his fingers into you, as his other hand pins both your wrists above your head. smirking down to you as his digits push in and out of your cunt, his thumb circling your clit. your back arched as moans escape you, moving your wrists in attempt to loosen his grip, but failing as he pushes your arms further into the mattress. "stop struggling."

the both of you had never been so desperate for something in your lives. both never felt so overcome with lust and desire, bodies in need of each other. the tension building becoming unbearable, the room filling with heavy breathing and moans. slipping his fingers out from you, wrapping his hand around his member. freeing you from his grip as he lifts your leg onto his shoulder, lining himself up with your entrance. eyes staring into each others, keeping you there for a minute, his cock teasing you as the suspense builds between you. "patrick, fuckin-" you start, words cut off as his thick cock pushes all the way inside you. lifting your other leg onto his shoulder now, fingers digging into your thighs as he wastes no time pounding in and out of you. screams of pleasure from you met with a smirk on patrick's mouth. "you were saying?" patrick teases, his lips kissing down your ankle. holding back your moans through gritted teeth, the sheets balled in your fists, patrick's dick hitting your g-spot with every thrust. your ass lifted from the mattress as patrick's speed increases. fucking you deeper than you've ever felt, seeing a bulge on your stomach every time he thrusts into you. he's hitting places inside your walls you've never experienced, eyes in the back of your head as your moans mix together as one. skin slaps echoing in the room, fingers moving to grasp patrick's thighs, nails digging into the skin. biting your lip through a smirk as you look up to the brunette. "hit me."

"god, you're dirty." patrick mumbles through moans, the request making his cock twitch inside you. dropping your legs down from his shoulders, pounding into you harder as his open hand smacks against the skin of your cheek. the sound that escapes you is sinful, patrick's hand wrapping around your throat. "agai-" you start, cut off by another slap across your face. his body falling onto yours, your legs wrapping around his waist. his hand still around your throat, the other gripping the skin on your hip. teeth nibbling on your earlobe, every sound he makes falling into your ear. fingers scratching down the skin of his spine, sharp nails drawing blood from his back, only to be met by groans from patrick. "jesus christ, where have you been all my life?" he mumbles, thrusts getting sloppy. moving his hand from your hip to reach between your sweaty bodies to circle your clit. feeling you become undone underneath his body, legs jolting as your ankles tighten around him. his hand gripping your throat tighter as he feels you cum over his cock. circling you through your high before slipping his fingers from your skin. hands either side of your shoulders, pushing himself up as his hips slap against yours. "i'm on the pill," you start, struggling to speak through the sensations. "cum inside me, patrick, please."

his cock slaps against your g-spot once more as he paints your walls white, cursing his way through his orgasm. collapsing against you as his dick slips out from inside of you. the sweat from your bodies sticking the two of you together as you both come back down to earth, calming your breathing and dropping your legs down from around his body. peppering the side of your face in kisses before moving to the side of you on the bed. staring at the ceiling in silence for a few minutes as you both recover. breaking the silence once your breathing as returned to a normal pace. "we can't do that again." patrick scoffs, brown curls sticking to his skin. "we're doing that again as soon as physically possible." his head turning to look at you, following suit and looking into his half-lidded eyes. "that was the best sex of my life. i'm not giving that up anytime soon." patrick half laughs, making you giggle and shake your head. "you're gonna get me in so much trouble, zweig." patrick moves to bite down on your earlobe. "i think you're already in trouble."

you and patrick are playing most of the same tournaments on tour, meaning even if you wanted to avoid him and let the guilt wash over you, you couldn't. wanting to avoid him very quickly turns into falling into his bed every night you can. any idea of guilt or remorse is lost the second that smirk appears on his lips and the number of his room is text to you during the first day of the tournament. patrick fucks you like no other, both of you obsessed with the others touch. the others ability to turn each other on with just a look, just a thought. all patrick has to do is let his mind wander and all he can hear is 'hit me' and he's hard during practise. and that's the other issue, the lines are getting thinner. you've started helping each other with your games' during off days, playing practise matches together and hitting up bars after. what two months ago was a mindless fuck one night, has turned into hours of conversations and time spent together. lucky for you both, there hasn't been any major tournament's on the tour yet, ones that family and friends would request to attend. so you haven't had to worry about anyone you know noticing the amount of time you spend in each others pockets. other athlete's have of course noticed, but most are none the wiser or simply don't care. you're both becoming more needy for each other, more desperate for touch when you should resist. patrick making excuses, criticising your backhand to be able to jog across the court and touch the skin of your body to help your game. the addiction to each other growing stronger, harder to ignore and act like you're not doing anything wrong. it's easier to rationalise if it's said to be just sex, lying to yourself that you're lonely and horny on tour, needing someone to scratch the itch while your partner is far, far away from you. that would be easy, if it was just sex.

laying together, bodies tangled together as some old tv show plays from the screen in the hotel you're currently in. clothes spread across the floor, both naked as you lay together, patrick drawing circles on your shoulder, cigarette in the corner of his mouth. "you've improved a lot since the start of tour." patrick compliments, flicking the ash into the empty can on the nightstand. you have, every free minute you have you spend either on the courts or in patrick's bed. it's hard to be distracted by loneliness on tour if you're not lonely. "thanks, maybe it's because you're helping me." you half laugh, stealing the cigarette from him, inhaling and placing it back between his lips. patrick laughs lightly at your answer, he's gotten better too. he knows if there's free time you'll be on the courts, so naturally goes too. the stillness in the room is interrupted by your phone ringing, a picture of your boyfriend lighting the screen. "fuck." you mumble, escaping from patrick's grasp. rushing around the room, picking up a t-shirt from the floor and brushing down your hair. sitting in the corner of the room on an armchair, you answer the facetime call. "hey baby." you can see patrick roll his eyes as he puts the cigarette out in the can, slipping his boxers back onto his body. "yeah, final tomorrow, feeling good. how's home?" patrick watches you from the edge of the bed, seeing you bring your knees up to your chest, brushing against the fabric of his t-shirt you've slipped on. his eyes darken as he notices your exposed cunt, clearly not having had time to put your panties back on. his eyes grow dark, a devilish idea taking over his brain.

he can barely concentrate on what you're saying, not that he cares what lies you're telling your boyfriend, just curious. "i know, i wish you were here too." okay, that one slipped through. a quiet scoff leaves his lips. leaning down from the bed, falling onto all fours as patrick starts crawling across the floor over to you. your eyes darting to him and that signature smirk across his face, hiding any reaction from slipping through facetime. "yeah, us open in a couple weeks so i'll be able to see you then." you smile, trying to ignore patrick on his route to you. kneeling before you, his hands spreading your ankles, your elbows resting on your knees as you hold your phone. muting the call quickly and whispering down to patrick. "don't you dare." what was meant to deter him only spurs him on. unmuting the call before your boyfriend noticing, him still explaining his excitement for the tournament. legs spread open before patrick's face, his tongue licking a line up through your folds. gritting your teeth as you desperately attempt to focus on the call, trying to push patrick's head away, with no success. covering your reaction to patrick's mouth wrapping around your clit with a cough, breathing deeply through your nose. "yeah, i've already got your tickets all worked out, don't worry." your words come out stuttered, you can feel the smile from patrick against your cunt. licking and lapping you up, one hand grasping the hairs at his scalp.

a slight moan escapes you, trying to cover with another cough, met with questions from your boyfriend. "yeah, sorry, i'm fine, just a tickle in my throat." you lie as two of patrick's fingers insert themselves into you, breath hitching at the sensation. "so yeah, the driver will pick you up from the airport and i'll meet you at the hotel when you arrive." you attempt to continue conversation, the feeling in your stomach growing stronger as patrick's tongue draws shapes over your clit, wetness dripping down his chin. feeling his hot breath on your cunt, faint sounds of his fingers thrusting into you. "baby, i gotta go, got practise in half an hour, i'll call you tomorrow." you rush out your words, not letting him say bye before hanging up and throwing your phone down. head flinging back as loud moans leave you, both hands moving to patrick's curls now. "jesus, patrick, you're gonna kill me." you hear him laugh against you, the vibrations flowing through you as he does. he sloppily makes out with your wetness, finally letting the moans fall into the room, making his fingers move faster. his curls tickling your thighs as they clench around his head, bucking your hips up, grinding your clit against his nose. eyes rolling into the back of your head as your orgasm sends shock waves through your body, holding his head in place as you ride it out. loosening him from your grip as you stop seeing stars.

"patrick-" you start, his chin dripping in drool and sticky from your wetness, about to tell him off. "you fucking love it." he cuts you off, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. shaking your head as patrick pushes onto the armchair you're sat on, moving your body onto his lap, his arm around your waist. "plus, it was very fucking hot." he mumbles as his lips crash onto yours, pulling you as close to his body as possible. "you're gonna get us caught one of these days." you regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth, you and patrick never discussed the idea of admitting what you were doing, not like he hadn't just gone down on you while on the phone to your boyfriend. but admitting you could get caught meant admitting one day it would have to stop, that you'd have to accept that it was wrong and immoral and totally against your values. that you were hurting people that you cared about for the sake of your own pleasure. "so fucking what?" patrick's response surprised you, his hand wrapping around your throat as he pulled your face back down onto his lips. you were scared of getting caught, petrified, you assumed patrick was too. you both cared deeply about your relationships despite the fact you were cheating, so patrick's answer threw you off guard slightly. pushing the thought to the back of your head as your body was lifted to the air and thrown against the bed, giggling as patrick pulled you to the edge of the bed, slipping off his boxers as he flips you onto your stomach. so fuck drunk from patrick's cock that you thought yeah, so what if you got caught, so fucking what?

things carry on the same way up to the us open, both you and patrick looking like strong contenders on your sides of the competition. both dreading the change in dynamic between you once partners arrive to support you during the two weeks of the tournament. sitting on the side of the courts, both breathless after the practise you'd done. "when does he arrive?" patrick asks, chugging down the most part of his water bottle. "three hours, you?" you return, sweat dropping from your skin. "four. we still have the hotel rooms we get assigned, you know?" patrick smirks to you, throwing a tennis ball back and forth in his hands. you were both planning on staying with your partners, in their hotels separate from the tournament. all players are put up in a hotel together during any stops on the tour, you and patrick had stayed there the night previous before both partners arrived today. "patrick, that really is playing with fire." packing away your things, standing up to collect stray tennis balls about the court as patrick begins to help. "we could just say we have commitments, press, practise, whatever." he shrugs, unwilling to accept he'll have to go two weeks without touching you. "we can still see each other, for lunch and things like that." you suggest, putting the balls into the crate, tidying it off to the side with your things. "not the same." he mumbles, sulking as he too puts his rackets back into their bag. "oh boohoo, we knew this would happen." slinging your bags onto shoulders, patrick grabbing the crate of balls and heading inside. "quickie before they arrive then?" you laugh as he follows you down the hall. "please?"

you'd become more open talking about partners, not experiences or what they were like, but in relation to your own relationship with patrick. you'd stopped pretending they didn't exist, more accepting of the fact you and patrick were sneaking around behind their backs. especially with knowing they'd be so close to each other, and to the two of you, aware of the fact you could cross paths with patrick's girlfriend or vice versa. after cleaning up in patrick's hotel room, patrick showering with you before you darted off to your partners hotel, meeting him in the lobby. swept up into affection and care by him, brushing off the idea of sex with an 'i'm tired'. the two of you catching up about your time apart while getting ready for the party held at the start of the tournament, being held at the players' hotel. introducing your partner to some of the female athletes you'd met and played against during the tour, sharing drinks and nibbling on the snacks brought around. his arm snaked around your waist as you mingled through the party, holding in the uncomfortable way his hands made you feel. standing around a table with him and a few other players and their families, spotting those familiar curls bouncing into the big hall. girl to his side, not touching her, her big eyes looking up to him as they entered. his eyes immediately finding yours as he can't hold back the smile forming on his lips.

walking towards you, drink in hand as the two of them slot into your group. stunned at his openness, swallowing down the frog in your throat as patrick says his hellos. "aren't you going to introduce me?" he taunts you, elbowing your side as he slots in next to you, his girlfriend to his left. extending his hand to your boyfriend, you calm yourself and introduce the two of them. "this is patrick zweig, he's been help-" you start to explain a reason for his need for introduction. "we've been helping each other, during the tour." you wish you could slap the smirk off of his face, your boyfriend none the wiser smiles and shakes his hand. "aren't you going to introduce me then, too?" you poke back, moving your head to look to his girlfriend, sweet smile disguising your true feelings. patrick introduces the two of you, further explaining your relationship, for reasons you wish he wouldn't. "yeah as i said, we've been helping each other a lot. she's made me a much better player." your fakeness dissipates, a true smile on your face at patrick's kindness. "me too." you return, the others in your group disbanding, leaving the four of you alone. "sounds like you've gotten close then." your oh so naive boyfriend smiles, arm still resting on the small of your back. "yeah, we definitely have." patrick smiles into his drink, throat bobbing as he finishes the drink. "if you'll excuse us, i owe this one a drink for thrashing me today." patrick smiles, leading you to the bar away from your partners', his hand replacing your boyfriends'.

"getting me alone already? you only saw me six hours ago." you laugh, met with a side eye from patrick as he leans onto the bar, ordering you both a drink. "i don't know how i'm gonna go two weeks like this." he admits. "did you have sex with him?" patrick leans down, whispering the question to you. you simply shake your head in response, receiving your drink from the bartender. "did you?" you find it harder to ask than you should. "nah, why would i when i have you?" patrick winks to you as he walks back over to your partners, guiding his girlfriend over to a table to sit. collecting yourself you walk back over to your boyfriend. "he seems nice." he starts. "did you give him that t-shirt?" he asks you, looking over to patrick, following his gaze you look to his outfit before turning back to your boyfriend, brows furrowed at the question. "you were wearing it on facetime the other week. you must shop at the same places!" he laughs, sipping his drink, turning away as the blush creeps up your cheeks, suddenly very grateful for your very naive boyfriend.

spending the night sharing secret glances at patrick, him doing the same every chance he gets. the night starting to draw to a close, witnessing patrick hug his girlfriend at the door. expecting them to leave, but only she does, patrick locking eyes with you from the exit. signalling his head upwards, towards the rooms upstairs in the hotel. shaking your head to him, lips upturned, patrick just nodding in response before darting off. hearing your phone ping from your purse, hiding the screen from your partner, who's too engaged in conversation to even notice.

patrick: come on, u know u want to ;)

that boy will be the death of you, you think. unable to go more than half a day without touching you, breathing deeply, thinking how you're going to go two weeks like this, hiding and risking getting caught for half an hour of each others time.

patrick: i need youuu

patrick's text chimes through again, rolling your eyes to the phone. interrupting your partner's conversation explaining you need to pack up the things you left in your room ready for press tomorrow, that you'll meet him back at his hotel later. "sure babe." his lips press against your cheek, a pinch of guilt under your skin, lying to his face like this. the remorse was a lot easier to ignore when he wasn't around. chewing the inside of your cheek as you enter the elevator up to patrick's floor, any idea of wrongdoing washing away as the tension builds up in your body. knocking lightly on his door, it opening within seconds of the sound. patrick's smile welcomes you in, pulling you into his arms the second the door is closed. "i missed you." he whispers into your skin, wet kisses placed all over your face. "you literally just saw me." you laugh into his frame, arms around his neck. "but i couldn't touch you." patrick pouts, wasting no time placing your lips against his. his big hands grabbing at your back, claiming the skin as his. walking your bodies to the edge of the bed, sitting together, lips not parting from each others for even a second. hands roaming each other, pulling and squeezing at fabric and skin. breathing each other in as your head feels light, getting your fix of your addiction.

"we don't have long, patrick." you mumble into his mouth, fiddling with the curls on his head. "that's okay, i just wanted to kiss you." you swear your heart stops beating for a second. he didn't even want sex, just a kiss from you. so needy for you that going half a day without a kiss would have been too much for him. you can feel the lines of the relationship thinning even more, trying to rationalise the cheating as just sex. it would be too wrong if you and patrick caught feelings for each other, it would cross the boundaries of culpability. you just liked spending time together, sleeping together, playing tennis together. there were no feelings involved, or at least admitted by either of you anyway. but hearing patrick tell you he orchestrated this current situation, sneaking away from your partners during a party, just to kiss you, made goosebumps form on your arms. melting into him further as his mouth swallowed yours. pulling away from his face, placing a kiss to the tip of his nose. "are you going soft on me, zweig?" you joke, arms still wrapped around each other. "oh sorry for wanting a kiss." he teases back, letting himself be slightly vulnerable with you. he would have been happy just sat holding your hand in this hotel room, anything to be close to you. patrick feels a specific calmness when in your company, a sensation that takes over him whenever you're close. he craves it, any time he's away from your skin.

patrick was more open with himself about his feelings in regards to your relationship, he knew that lines had already been crossed and there was no going back, for him anyway. he also knew you hadn't registered that idea yet, knew you were still refusing to accept that this was anything more than sex. you didn't act like that's all it was to you, but it's what helped you sleep at night. patrick often thought about breaking up with his girlfriend, he hadn't been with her too long before you anyway. patrick was more scared of the rejection he could face from you than breaking up with her. he knew if he were to leave her, it would be for you, and he couldn't handle the idea of you telling him no. telling him you wouldn't leave your boyfriend, for so now, he kept things the same, thinking he'd rather have you in some way than not at all. to you, ending your relationship wasn't an option, not yet anyway. you could handle being alone, waiting for patrick, but leaving your partner would make things messy. mean accepting the truth and having to admit to someone outside of you and patrick. it would mean accepting your wrongdoings and taking blame, making what you and patrick were doing wrong, and part of you could never view your relationship with patrick as wrong. he was like no other, made you feel like no other, and that feeling in your chest could never been told as wrong.

kissing patrick once more, near enough empty duffle bag hanging from your shoulder as you left the hotel with him, heading in separate directions to your partners hotels. your boyfriend in bed asleep by the time you enter, changing into an oversized t-shirt, patrick's of course, not that you noticed it was his. facing away from your partner, face buried into your phone, staying up late texting patrick all through the night.

patrick: can't sleep without u next to me anymore

your lip is constantly between your teeth, chewing at the softness, spinning your head around checking on your sleeping boyfriend periodically. you and patrick shared a bed most nights during tour, in either of your hotel rooms, falling asleep in each others arms, drifting off to the sound of calm breathing.

you: ur gonna have dark circles for press tomorrow, go to sleep!!

patrick holds back a chuckle, phone not leaving his head, his only way to feel close to you. knowing your on the other side of the screen, typing back to him as quick as he is you.

patrick: so are you, goodnight gorgeous

sending back your own goodnight message, finally locking your phone, tossing and turning your way to sleep.

getting dressed after breakfast with your boyfriend, white dress skort and matching tank slick to your skin, packing your bags before ubering to the venue. "i would have picked you up." you hear from patrick as you close the door to your uber, slinging your bags over your shoulders as he locks his car. "and that would have been really subtle, wouldn't it?" you laugh, leading you both into the venue. "that's why i made a point of telling our partners how well we get on, stupid." he teases you, jabbing his elbow into your side, met with an eye roll from you. "so we can still spend time together without any questions." you respond, realising patrick's reason for the introductions last night. "duh. i'll drive you back later." his words are more instructions than an offering, the two of you dropping off your things in the locker rooms. putting another layer of powder on your face, patrick leaving a soft kiss to your exposed shoulder. batting him away, grateful for the empty room. the two of you ready yourselves for press, walking over to the media rooms where multiple promotion screens are placed around the room. patrick is pulled into an interview, standing to the left of him as you await your turn. "you've definitely improved this season, patrick, why do you think that is? any new members to your team?" you hear patrick's interviewer ask him and you get mic'ed up by a member of the press. his gaze lands on you before quickly returning to the interviewer, camera blinking as he answers the question. "no new members no, i've been practising a lot with someone new though, it must be helping." patrick's arms folded on his chest, signature smirk down the camera as the interviewer pushes for more, hearing your name leave patrick's lips. "we've been playing in all the same tournaments, so we've been spending a lot of time together." this interviewers eyes move to you, hopeful to bring you into frame, getting a new scoop for his sports channel.

"come on," patrick states, pulling you over to his interview. cheeks slightly flushed as he does. "we had noticed your improvement too," the interviewer starts, stating your name before continuing. "is that also due to your time with patrick?" considering your answer carefully before responding. "yeah, patrick's been great, it's like having a second coach while we play." you laugh, a chuckle from patrick too. "i'm really grateful for sure." smiling over to patrick, holding his gaze for slightly too long before returning to the camera. "so i assume you're both rooting for each other during this tournament?" the interviewer continues, reshuffling his notes, the two of you nodding immediately. "definitely, i go to all of her matches that i can and she's always at mine." the interviewer asks a few more questions before thanking patrick and carrying on with your individual interview. wrapping up and returning the mic, you and patrick head for lunch in the players food hall. "i can't believe you." you laugh, stabbing your food onto your fork and bringing it to your mouth. patrick's ankle leaning against yours under the table. "what? he asked me a question so i told the truth, you are the reason i've improved." patrick mumbles through full mouth, shaking your head at him, his leg rubbing against yours. "you're making it so obvious though." you return, patrick shrugging as he sips on his gatorade. "can men and women not be friends?" he jokes. "so we're friends are we?"

patrick laughs as he cuts up his food. "you're my best friend, among other things." you so badly want to press, ask him for specifics, know how he views you and your relationship. but you don't, very aware of the amount of bodies around you, you drop the subject. finishing up your food, the two of you head back to the dressing room, readying yourselves to leave for the day. "i just wanna have a shower and get changed." you smile, pulling a towel and spare clothes from your bag, walking over to the private shower cubicle. placing your towel and clothes on the hook, undressing and slipping under the water. sighing as the warm water drips down your skin. washing the soap down the drain as you stand there still for a short while, before the handle of the cubicle moves and patrick closes the door behind you. "patrick, i swear." you laugh quietly, watching him remove his own clothes and place them on the hook. joining you under the water as his hands wrap around your waist. "what? i can leave if you really want." patrick mumbles into your neck as the water falls over you both. melting into his grip as you pull him down to your lips. reaching between you both to stroke his exposed cock, already hard at the sight of you. quiet groans fall into your mouth as you pump him between your bodies.

in one movement, patrick spins you round, your chest pushed against the cold tiles. hands up against the wall beside your head, ass pushed out towards him. patrick kicks your ankles open, hitting his dick against you before sliding in. his hand moving around you, wrapping around your mouth to hold in your moans. his free hand gripping your hip as he pounds into your cunt, your head falling back onto his shoulder. your bodies sliding together with ease from the warm water covering you both. "you're so fucking perfect, baby, my god." patrick mutters into your ear, not caring about the sound of his hips hitting against your ass as he slips in and out of you. peppering the side of your face and neck in wet kisses, lightly biting at the skin on your earlobe. the publicness and ability to get caught only spurring you both on, the band in your stomach being stretched further with every thrust of his cock inside your walls. "patrick, fuck- m'gonna cum." you mumble through his fingers. "show, don't tell." patrick instructs, hand slipping from your mouth to your throat. tightening his grip on the sides as he feels you clench around his cock. drawing blood from your bottom lip as you attempt to hold in the sounds forming in your throat. patrick's grip moving to your waist, holding you up as your body jolts around him. "good girl."

patrick pounds into you harder, pulling your ass backwards to meet him in the middle of every thrust. his short nails digging into the skin of your hips as he pushes into you once more, filling you up with his cum as his head falls onto your shoulder. holding himself inside of you as the two of you calm your breathing together. whining at the emptiness once he slips out of you, the water washing away any remaining proof of sex as patrick turns you around, holding you in his arms. "you've ruined sex for me forever, no one will ever compare." patrick laughs lightly to you, foreheads pressed against each other. "maybe you'll just have to keep having sex with me forever then." something you'd never say if you weren't coming down from your fuck high, a genuine smile forms on patrick's face at your words. "sounds good to me." turning off the shower as you both dry yourself on your towel, getting dressed and letting patrick leave the cubicle first, following after a few minutes later. the two of you grabbing your things and heading over to his car, starting the drive back to your hotel. "how's it going, with him?" patrick asks, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh. chewing the inside of your lip as you respond. "it's fine, he's clearly missed me as he's all over me," patrick sharply inhales at the idea of someone else touching your skin, kissing your lips, trying to downplay his reaction as he keeps driving. "but it's draining, very grateful for all the press and parties and practise to distract me." you continue, placing your hand over the top of his on your leg, wrapping your fingers around his. "what about you, with her?"

"luckily she knows a lot of people here, so she's got plans all the time that don't include me. but i just miss you most of the time." patrick squeezes your thigh. hiding your smile from him, hiding any form of admission of feelings slipping through. lifting his hand up to your lips, placing a soft kiss to his palm. leaning your face into his hand as he looks over to you during a red light. "i miss you too." your cheeks are flushed slightly, placing his hand back down on your thigh. "are we terrible people?" you laugh, readjusting to sit cross legged on the passenger seat, his hand still resting on your inner thigh. "maybe, but you know, you can't help how you feel." patrick states, looking to the road as he drives down the street. how you feel. the words linger in your mind, wanting to assume he means how he feels about sleeping with you, knowing neither of you can resist each other. but his words trigger something within you, you finally realise. sitting here in his car, caressing each others skin so carelessly, so naturally, you realise that have feelings for patrick. you like the way he smells after a tennis match, how he always has to be touching your skin, how he looks at you. your breathing increasing in pace, looking over to him as your mind keeps running. you love the way he says your name, how he always brings you a glass of water when you're thirsty, how he ties your shoelaces for you when they come undone. mouth slightly agape, wondering if he too feels the same.

the guilt washes over you when you leave patrick's car, arriving at your hotel. after two months of patrick and no remorse, it all hits you now. it was easier to ignore when it was just sex, but on one random car journey, it hits you like a ton of bricks. you've caught feelings for patrick zweig. heading to the hotel bar, ordering a drink and sitting alone on a table by the window, collecting your thoughts. fiddling with your lower lip, deep in thought, feeling the cut on your skin. shit. you drew blood holding in your noises in the shower, and now have to develop a lie to tell your boyfriend. shaking your head at yourself, truly now feeling like a terrible person. it's only now that you consider the fact that you'll of course have to break up with him. how could you possibly look at him the same knowing he'll never be patrick? he'll never make your heart skip a beat with just a smirk, never touch you like him, never make you feel like patrick does. the guilt almost consumes you, hoping the alcohol will numb some of the pain. snapping out of your obsessive thoughts to the sound of your phone pinging.

patrick: already can't wait to see u tomorrow

eyes fluttering closed, a sea of butterflies filling up your stomach at the words on your screen from patrick. how could you not see it? how could you not realise you were falling for him, knowing he was your first thought every morning and the last at every night.

you: me too baby <3

you text each other like lovers, as though if anyone could read your messages or see the way you are alone together, they'd assume you were deeply in love. finishing your drink, you start the dreaded walk up to your shared hotel room. unlocking the door, your boyfriend sat on the couch watching tv. seeing his teethy grin spread across his face as you walk into the room. more guilt. it's like your body is punishing you for all the days you didn't feel any remorse, you're feeling it all built up now. every inch of your body filled with the feeling. you're so angry at yourself, for one, letting it go this far with patrick without seeing the signs, but two, not accepting the fact that what you were doing was wrong. so wrong, so unforgivable, you were hurting someone so deeply and never even giving it a second thought. and the worst part about it was that you knew full well, you'd be all over patrick the second you got him alone tomorrow.

things stayed the same until the day before the quarter finals, both you and patrick advancing to that stage. seeing each other every chance you could before going home to your partners and acting like everything was fine. you had a day off before the quarter final, getting in some practise with your coach in the morning before spending the rest of the day off. entering your hotel room, showering and slipping into a hoodie and shorts. joining your boyfriend on the couch, turning off the tv and sitting to face him, him doing the same. "i need to talk to you about something." you knew it was time, your feelings had been eating you up. you'd barely been eating or sleeping, too focused on the guilt of the taste of patrick lingering on your mouth as you kissed your boyfriend goodnight. "okay." he smiles to you, still none the wiser. "i'm breaking up with you." you finally let out the words, fiddling with the hem of your hoodie, just about able to look him in the eyes. watching his body slump slowly, his eyes glossing over. "why?" he asks you, his words shaky but calm, not shouting or arguing, just wanting to know the reasons why. "i have feelings for someone else, it's nothing you did, it just happened. i'm so sorry." your bottom lip is between your teeth, so ashamed to be admitting the truth, but part of you grateful, the guilt finally dissipating. "who?" he returns, through gritted teeth. "are you sure you want to know?" you ask, hoping he wouldn't. he simply nods his head, feeling you owe him the answers to any of his questions, you tell him. he scoffs as he hears patrick's name fall from your lips. "god, i'm so naive. have you fucked him?" his sudden harshness takes you back, pulling your knees up to your chest, your eyes now glossing over, nodding your head. "wow." is all that comes back to you.

the two of you sit in silence for a short while, before he finally stands. "well, i'm sorry too, that i couldn't be what you wanted. does his girlfriend know?" he asks, pacing around the room. "i don't know, i don't think so." you respond, standing now too. "christ, how many people did you need to hurt?" his words cut you like a knife, immediately starting to pack up the things of yours in the room. "i'm gonna go, i'm so sorry, i never meant to hurt anyone." he half scoffs at your words, opening the door for you as you bunch your belongings under your arms, walking out the door. both of you saying final goodbyes and leaving each other for the last time. dragging all your bags into your uber, you rush to the hotel the players are assigned to. tears finally falling from your eyes once you enter the room. letting yourself feel every feeling you've held in for the past few weeks, losing yourself to emotion as they all come pouring out of you.

cleaning yourself up after a few hours, texting patrick and asking him to come to your hotel. he shows up half an hour later, knocking on your door. pulling him into the room, pulling his lips to yours as the two of you fall onto the bed. pulling himself from you as the two of you sit on the edge of the bed. "what's wrong? you look like you've been crying." he asks, placing a soft kiss to your temple. "i broke up with him." patrick's mouth falls open slightly in reaction. his mind running quicker than he can keep up with. not able to focus on one particular thought, he rushes out his words. "why did you do that?" he's harsher than he would have liked, not being able to focus hard enough to properly form sentences he would rather say. shocked you move slightly further away from his grip. "you, patrick. you're why." neither of you had ever admitted any feelings to each other, you'd barely admitted them to yourselves, let alone sharing them. but those words leaving your lips were all the admission patrick needed. he was very aware he felt the same, but he also knew that it would be too good to be true. patrick was prone to self-sabotage, he did it to protect himself from getting hurt in the long run. "i never asked you to do that." it's almost involuntary the harsh tone in which he's speaking, deep down he wants nothing more than to kiss you and run home to break off his own relationship to be with you. but his mind is singlehandedly running his ability to consider that an actual option in this scenario.

"i know you didn't." nearly matching his tone as you try to distract yourself from the tears welling up in your eyes. "i just thought.." trailing off as your words soften. "you thought what? that we'd dump our partners and run off into the sunset?" you can't believe the words coming from him, never has he been so harsh to you, so cold. "no i just, i thought you liked me." your eyes unable to look at him anymore, a single tear dropping onto the mattress from your eyes. "it's not that easy. this just complicates it even more. i never told you i'd break up with my girlfriend." patrick wishing he could stop himself, slap himself out of it and realise what he was doing. but he couldn't, couldn't pause and consider what he was pushing away. "why are you being like this?" you respond, words so quiet as you meet his gaze again. "we're just sleeping together, okay? was that not enough for you?" patrick standing up from the bed, his voice slightly raised. his words cutting through your skin like a knife, shaking your head slightly, unable to stop the tears now. "just leave patrick, please." your words shaky, lip quivering. "whatever." he leaves with a slam of the door. falling onto your back on the bed, crying out any remaining tears as your body curls up into a ball.

waking up to the sun rising the next morning, sadness turned to anger in the night spent alone. focusing all of your energy onto the match you were playing later today, jumping out of bed with a point to prove. soothing your puffy eyes and hiding your dark circles with light make-up. ubering to the venue and getting in a few hours with your hitting partner before readying yourself for your match. luckily avoiding patrick, who's match was happening at the same time as yours. sitting in your private dressing room, leg bouncing as you wait for the call to head to the court.

patrick: good luck champ

a text from patrick only spurs your anger more, ignoring the message and cracking your neck. the knock comes shortly after, slinging your racket bag over your shoulder as you walk down the hall. white dress with built in shorts standing opposite your opponent, bouncing side to side as the match starts. letting all of your anger out on the court, heavy grunts escaping you. your emotions fuelling your game as you win the first two sets, screaming out at your win. earning your place in the semi finals, asking your coach quickly about patrick's match. "third set is just starting, he won the first." rushing your way through your post match interview on the court, catching the end of patrick's match from the tunnel of the players entrance. arms folded, watching intently as you witness patrick fumble the final set. looking on as patrick's racket is smacked against the ground repeatedly, clearly frustrated with his loss. the racket is thrown across the court as he begrudgingly shakes the hand of his competitor. smirking from the sidelines as he picks up his bag, walking in your direction. slowing down slightly as he reaches you. he can tell you won just by the smug smile on your face as you stare him down. his big hands grabbing hold of your forearm as he drags you down the tunnel with him towards his dressing room.

struggling to free yourself from his grip as he slams the door behind you both. "what the fuck are you doing?" you shout, pushing him away from you once in the private space. the anger he felt on the court lifting as a devilish smirk spreads across his face. heavy hands cupping your face as his lips crash onto yours. hopelessly trying to push him off but not succeeding, your body desperate for your fix of him. your bodies fight against each other, pushing and pulling one another around the room, fighting for control. crashing into lockers and walls, tongues swirling around mouths. patrick pushing off all the items on the table in the corner, lifting you up to sit on the edge, pulling his tank over his head. grabbing the hem of your dress, attempting to pull it over your body but failing. "why can't i get this fucking thing off?" he struggles again, letting you slip it down yourself. "the shorts are built in." you half laugh at his frustration, fingers scratching down the skin of his arms. "stupid fucking thing." he laughs, lips attaching to yours again as he pushes his shorts and boxers down his legs. hooking his fingers around your underwear to pull them down, discarding them on the floor beneath you. pulling you further to the edge of the table as he pushes himself into you immediately, bottoming out. the table banging against the wall as he pounds into you, any anger left over working through his body to fuck you harder than he ever has.

bruising the skin on your hips as his hands dig in, slapping his crotch against yours. legs wrapping around his waist, ankles crossed behind his back. moans swallowed by each other in the sloppy kisses, foreheads pressed together as your nails scratch the length of his spine. "feel so fucking good baby." patrick mumbles into your neck, sucking on the skin. sweat dripping down your bodies, hair sticking to skin, his musk filling your nose. biting down on his shoulder as his hands slip underneath your ass, carrying you to the wall, your back pushed against it. your spine hitting against the cold wall with every thrust, his hands massaging the fat of your ass as he bucks his hips upwards into you at raw speed. his grasp on your skin pushing you up and down with his thrusts, bouncing on his cock as his tip hits your g-spot. the grip you have around his neck tightening as his thrusts grow sloppy, skin slapping echoing around the room as heavy groans fill the empty space. without warning his cum shoots into you, a drawn out groan leaving his lips as he pushes his weight onto you against the wall. slowly unwrapping your legs from his waist as he pulls out of you and places you on the floor. his body still weighing against you, his face nestled in your hair as you return to reality. throwing a towel down on the bench in the room, patrick sits and pulls you onto his lap. feeling his cock twitch as his hard on starts to calm, soft kisses placed on your face.

sitting there for a few minutes, before standing up to clean yourself up and get dressed. patrick following suit, cleaning up the table slightly. you're ready long before he is, waiting for him to slip his tank back onto his body. "don't you need to go find your girlfriend?" you tease, aiming to make him uncomfortable, seeking some revenge for his behaviour last night. you're expecting a laugh, a smirk, anything, but all he does is tense up. "don't talk about her." he whispers through gritted teeth. you're taken back, his words are harsh, protective, not like how he usually speaks. "i-i thought-" you start, rushing out words in attempt to understand. "i'm still with her." he spits out, the words hitting your chest as if he stabbed them into your skin. "i'm not breaking up with her, okay? you need to get that into your head." you've never heard patrick so harsh, so pointed. the thoughts are spinning around your mind, making you lightheaded. patrick was unable to stop himself, his self-sabotaging and attempts to protect himself from possible risk winning out. "if you want me, this is what you get. i'm not leaving her, not for you, not for anyone." your body is slumping, legs giving out on you as you fall onto the bench below you. all the words, all the affection, every glimpse of feeling patrick has ever showed you slowly slipping away as this unemotional version of him appears in his place. "it's second best, or nothing at all." his chest rising and falling as he looks to you.

patrick was different. he made you feel things no one ever had, made you feel electric. looking up to him through half-lidded eyes, breathing out sharply. both of you knowing you'd never be able to say no to him. you'd rather have him in some way than not at all. a single tear threatens to fall as you whisper.

"second best it is."

#challengers #challengers fic #challengers au #patrick zweig #patrick zweig fic #patrick zweig x you #patrick zweig smut #patrick zweig x reader #josh o'connor

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daycourtofficial · 8 months ago

Text

Deceptive Domestication

Pairing: Azriel x reader | WC: 7.7k | Warnings: sexism, misogyny

Summary: The two of you have to pretend to be a married couple for a mission. Can you live with this false reality? Or will your feelings for Azriel eat you alive when it’s over?

Author’s note: started making it, had a breakdown, bon apetit

“Angel, where are you?”

Azriel’s deep voice moves on the wind, finding you at the back of your cottage. You twist the new ring adorning your fourth finger, the skin beneath it showing no tan lines, “I’m back here, just one second!”

Azriel laughs, his voice sweet and full of honey, “the wife’s an avid gardener. When we were first considering moving here, she insisted we check the soil to make sure she would be able to have her prized blackberries.”

You appear from the side of the house, wiping your hands on the apron around your dress. Azriel’s arm reaches around you, clasping you on your shoulder as you get next to him.

“He’s right, I love my blackberries greatly,” you say, reaching out to shake hands with your new neighbors. They lived in the house closest to yours, a red thatched roof adorning the black building. Delicious smells came from it, and judging by the smoke from the chimney, they were likely preparing dinner when they saw you two.

“We just wanted to come by and meet the two of you, we saw you come in last night and wanted to introduce ourselves. I’m Arben,” the male points to himself, “and this is my wife, Alija.”

You nod to both of them - they looked to be a good bit older than you and Azriel, wrinkles adorning their tanned faces. “Thank you, this used to be my Uncle Sal’s home. Since he passed away recently, he left the home to us and we wanted to leave our home village.”

“I’m so sorry about Sal, sweetheart,” he says, a sympathetic look in his eye, “he was a nice male, talked about you all of the time. Alija has to finish dinner, but we’ll see the two of you around, yeah?”

You press your lips into a firm smile, nodding before pressing into Azriel’s side and turning back to the house. His arm on your back guides you to the door of your new home, his touch a familiar warmth amidst all of the new. Once you cross the threshold, shutting the door behind yourselves, Azriel’s hand falls from your back and he immediately puts distance between you two, walking towards the bedroom he was staying in. His smile drops, the air in the room frigid. Rhys’s words clang through you, a shock to your senses.

Go to this village as a married couple. I’m unsure how long it will take.

You jolted as Azriel slammed the door behind him. Sighing, you move to your own room, taking in the bags left to unpack. You had taken great care to pack enough to last you as the season changes. The two of you were here indefinitely, marooned in a quaint village of about forty-three people.

Move in, become friends with the neighbors, find out what you can.

There was a circle of villages in the western part of the Night Court where females kept disappearing - six had gone missing in the last month. The villagers were not speaking to outsiders, but Rhysand thought a long term mission might allow the spies to get close enough to get some questions answered.

So he decided on you and Azriel.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

It had been strange seeing Azriel play this version of a spy, even if it had only been a day. You were so used to him lurking in the shadows, it felt so strange to watch him play the part of a doting husband, and to do it well. Introducing you to the neighbors and random villagers, a hand kept on your skin at all times - on your lower back, your waist, your shoulders. It was so easy to get swept up in the illusion you two were selling - even you were convinced you were newlyweds, moving for a fresh start.

Until he slammed his door, reminding you it was all fake, a farse for information.

Things between you and Azriel have always been easy. You two were the best of friends, most of your free time being spent with him since joining the Inner Circle two years ago. The two of you spent countless nights sitting together when sleep wouldn’t find you, you two had even developed a code - open bedroom doors at night were a silent invitation for the other to come in, spending most nights in each other’s rooms, wrapped up in sheets that smelled of the two of you.

All of that ended very suddenly a few months ago. Suddenly his door was always closed to you, your own cracked every night. A call to him, begging him to acknowledge you.

You started keeping your door closed a month ago. It didn’t feel right, shutting him out, but clearly you had done something wrong. Your entrance into a room would cause him to leave immediately, changes in his training schedule to avoid you, abruptly turning around when he saw you.

It was all pissing you off.

The rest of the Inner Circle were just as clueless as you were as to what happened to cause Azriel’s sudden distance. Cassian tried to interfere - making plans with both of you for dinner at a restaurant and ditching, trying to force you two to spend time together.

Azriel just left once he caught sight of you.

That was your tipping point. You stopped going to training, you pulled back from family dinners. They were his family first, and you wanted to give him whatever space he needed. Everyone protested, telling you it was his problem, and in Cassian’s words “if he’s going to be a jackass, I don’t want him around anyway.”

Still, you retreated, hardly seeing much of the family you had forged over the past few years. No matter how much it hurts you to do so.

Once you began accepting this new Azriel-less reality, Rhys had called you into his office. The high lord looked almost conflicted, your entire family aware that something weird was happening between you and Azriel. None of them dared to ask Azriel, his darkened mood making it incredibly easy to anger him, and anytime they asked you they were met with a shrug and a soft, “I don’t know.”

All of them had been scratching their heads, desperate for an explanation for the sudden iciness between you two. It had been weeks of this, and everyone missed seeing the two of you exchanging whispers in the corner or watching Azriel’s shadows wind through your hair.

Which was why Rhysand decided to insert himself into the situation. He called you into his office, and after asking you to take a seat, he began asking after your week. Your eyebrows knitted, confused about the formality of it all, when you realized you haven’t actually seen Rhysand in almost a month.

You had taken up residence in the House of Wind - since you were a scholar it lended easy access to your work, and whenever you wanted to leave, you asked Azriel to ferry you around. You tried to remember the last time you saw anyone in the inner circle that wasn't Cassian or Nesta, and it was when Cassian offered to fly you into town to get lunch with Feyre three weeks ago.

You’re not certain how to tell Rhysand the past few weeks had been filled with silence, whatever happened between you and the shadowsinger led you to avoid Cassian and Nesta, avoid training, avoid anything that wasn’t being buried in your work in the library.

You look into violet eyes, and you check your mental shields because he’s looking at you as if he already knows how sad this whole situation has made you.

You take a deep breath, shrugging. “Time is passing, I suppose.”

Rhys’s face falls a bit at just how dejected you sounded. It wasn’t supposed to be like this - they all knew there was something between you and Azriel, they all saw how you two gravitated towards each other. Neither of you would open up about whatever it was that shifted things so quickly and easily and it was pissing all of them off.

“I need your help with something.”

It was the best plan they could come up with to try to salvage things.

You woke up early the next morning, determined to tend to the garden before the sun reached its peak in the sky. You had plans later in the afternoon to meet with a few of the women of the village, but you had to get to working on this garden. There was no time table on this mission, and the two of you only had food stores to last you a few months.

If you were to be stuck in this purgatory that long, you needed new food to replenish whatever you use.

Your story to tell the villagers was that the two of you were quite young from the other end of Illyria. The two of you were extraordinarily lucky that one of the older fae males in this village happened to pass away a few weeks ago, allowing the two of you an easy in. You merely reviewed some family records, and were posing as his beloved niece, here to lead a new life with her husband.

You tended to the garden behind the house - the weeds had grown wildly in the previous owner’s absence. Your ‘uncle's absence, that is.

You spent all morning pulling weeds, making quite an improvement to the garden before you decided to go in and make yourself lunch. You came in, rinsing the dirt from your fingers, the water feeling nice against some of the minor cuts you acquired outside. After drying off, you pulled out a loaf of bread, slicing the bread to prepare some sandwiches.

You hummed to yourself, trying to fill the silence of the house. It wasn’t large - a quaint two bedroom house with two bathrooms, a nice little kitchen, and a sitting room. You were a bit surprised at how well the interior of the house had been maintained by your ‘uncle’.

Azriel was headed with the rest of the males to the war camp, spending his day training as a lesser ranked Illyrian. He was glamoured to look enough not like himself to the other Illyrians that they wouldn’t think anything of him. You had also glamoured some of Azriel’s siphons, only allowing one on his chest to remain. He was not happy about it, not wanting to seem so much weaker than he truly was. He wouldn’t listen to any of your points about it, but Rhys eventually convinced him to allow your glamour to cover six of his siphons because “it’s quite obvious who you are”.

Azriel’s refusal to listen to even your opinions on the mission was grating. You wanted to get to know the local females, and Rhys agreed with you, but Azriel kept arguing that ‘it wasn’t safe’.

Stupid Illyrians and their stupid pigheadedness, you suppose. If you’re not supposed to speak with the other females, why were you even here?

You knew this mission would be difficult for Azriel - his hatred for his own people fueling centuries of anger and resentment. You thought being trapped here was an appropriate punishment for how he had iced you out of his life.

You had just finished making your sandwich when there was a knock at the door. You brushed your hands down your dress, glamouring wings back to life behind you, breathing deeply before you answered the door.

An Illyrian woman stood in your doorway, her dark curls slightly hiding her tanned face that was turned down. She was taller and broader than you, but still small for an Illyrian. Her demeanor told you they treated her that way as well. Her wings were tucked in tight behind her and her shoulders shook lightly before you.

Her voice was weak as she told you, “we go every day, bringing lunch to the males, if you wish to accompany us.”

Wish.

You knew the reality of coming here - you knew they would give a few days of grace to settle in, set up your garden, bereave your uncle before they assigned you to a chore rotation. In communities like this one, everyone had to pull their weight.

It was just astonishing how ‘pulling your own weight’ made the females seem two to three times heavier than the males.

You nod your head to the female, closing the door behind you as you meet her outside. You had no idea where the war camp was, knowing it mustn’t be too far from the village. You vaguely remember Azriel and Rhys discussing the three villages that filtered into the camp, how all three were short walks from the villages.

Dirt crunches beneath your boots as you walk alongside the female, her deep brown eyes downcast towards the ground, shoulders hunched to make herself as small as possible as you walk. “What’s your name?” You ask, your voice causing her to flinch. Her eyes were wide as they looked at you, shock at being addressed you presumed. It was astonishing how awfully they must treat her, because her face resembled a wounded dog’s.

“Kaltrina.” Her words are mumbled, and you have to strain your ears a little to hear her.

“Kaltrina - it’s nice to meet you. Um, are you married?”

Not your usual first question, but around these parts marriage was as good as social standing. Also any unwed women over the age of 24 were considered ‘unwanted’ or ‘untameable’. This village was harsh on women - even by Illyrian standards. The males of this village made Devlon look forward and free-thinking.

“No, not married. I live with my brother, Dardan.”

Her tone didn’t suggest anything about him, but you weren’t sure exactly what it meant. She offers you a smile and a soft nod, “is your husband nice?”

You offer the same soft nod before you hear her say, “he’s quite good looking, too.”

You pause, trying to remember everything Cassian and Rhysand had told you about Illyrians to prepare for this - they told you males were incredibly territorial, treating their wives more like trophies and laborers rather than spouses. A male would take this as a compliment - one mention of a good-looking wife would be something to boast about, mentioning it more than once would be an offense.

But how did the females treat their husbands, how did they speak to each other about them? It was the biggest gap in your knowledge, but you suppose you can explain away any discrepancies on how far away the two of you came from.

“Yes, he’s quite pretty.”

She giggles at your words, and you feel a swell of pride at getting it right. She walks next to you, standing a little straighter for the rest of the walk.

The two of you made it to the war camp, joining the other females to distribute food to the males. The males look at you like you’re not much more than a piece of meat or some dirt on their boots, but your eyes scanned the crowd for Azriel, not finding him the entire time you’re there.

You do get a chance to speak with a few of the females as you all head back to the village, carrying leftover food with you. Most of them seem to welcome you - suggesting what crops grow best in the area, telling you to reach out if you need any help with anything.

The other females head off at the fork in the road, telling you and Kaltrina they would see you the next day. You breathe deeply, looking to Kaltrina once more. She hardly spoke once the two of you had met up with the other females at the war camp, keeping her distance from them the entire time.

“How’s your brother?” You ask, the innocent question causing Kaltrina to flinch.

“He’s a fine male.”

Her answer feels so dry, so rehearsed. You don’t press the issue, changing topics instead. “How will you spend the rest of the afternoon?”

“Chores.”

You listen to the birds singing around the both of you, their song a beautiful melody across the skies. You eventually pass a house similar to your own, but a bit smaller, the roof not well cared for. Kaltrina gives you a small wave before turning down the path to her house, disappearing behind the door.

You kept walking towards your own house, but you did see her appear in the window briefly, watching you walk down the road. It made the hairs on your neck stand up, but you quickly looked forward again, making your way back to the house, determined to finish unpacking this afternoon.

You had finished unpacking by the time you heard the door open, Azriel traipsing through the house.

“Hello my loving husb-“

Your sarcastic words die as you turn to see his face, a cut on his lip and a black eye. He shakes his head, trying to tell you it’s nothing, and he starts moving to just head to his room, but you’re not having it.

“We have some bandages in the bathroom.” Your words don’t have a command in them, but he heads towards the bathroom. You pick up a bottle of alcohol, dabbing some on a rag. You motion for him to sit on the edge of the tub, and he goes.

You’re a few inches from his face, the closest you’ve been in months. His scent was so comforting, you just wanted to wrap yourself in it and stay for a while. He stays silent, his face a blank slate you could slap any emotion to.

His shadows have been having fun whizzing around the house. He had told them they had to stay completely hidden if they were to come to the war camp with him, otherwise they had to stay in the house or go off wherever they wanted. They didn’t like the options, but most of them stayed with him, tucked into his boots, his pants, the hilt of his sword. Now that he was back, they scattered across the house, energetic wisps of darkness moving through the house, through your hair, against your skin.

“What happened?”

He huffed, his fingers dancing on his thighs in irritation. “I’m a new male, they’re just seeing if I can take it.”

You nod, and from the irritation in his voice, you know he’s shutting you back out. You hold the alcohol covered rag up to his lip, cleaning the blood from his face. He had healed a good bit since he received the beating, and you notice his knuckles are bloody.

Hopefully he put up a good enough fight.

“I went with some of the women to the war camp to distribute food.”

His eyes snap to yours, his wings rustling behind him. His eyes were dark, a look to them you’ve never seen directed at you. He reaches his hand up to your wrist, his grip tight but not uncomfortable.

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

You’re taken aback by his tone - even if your relationship was tenuous, he never took such an aggressive tone with you. In all your years of friendship, the most strain in his voice you had heard directed at you was when you were free climbing up the cabinets of the kitchen to get to the top shelf for some cookies.

“Because Rhys thinks-”

“I don’t give a damn what Rhys thinks when it comes to you, I said it was a bad idea and to stay away from them.”

“They’re battered females, Azriel! The males treat them like dirt! And their friends and sisters and mothers have gone missing. I can help them, I know I can - that’s why we’re here!”

His hand tensed around you before he pulled his hand away from you. He looks away from you, his harsh breathing echoing through the small bathroom.

“You’ll only get yourself hurt by talking to them.”

He snatched the rag from your hand, pushing past you out the bathroom and into his room, slamming the door on your once again. You want to scream or stomp your feet at how ridiculous he was being.

“I’m not a kid you can boss around, Azriel.”

His silence didn’t make you so certain about that.

The next week goes by much like your first full day in the village - you wake up after Azriel’s gone, tend to the house (your ‘uncle’ left it in semi-decent shape, but it did need a few repairs), head with Kaltrina to the war camp to feed the males (where you were even able to meet Kaltrina’s brother and several of the female’s husbands), and spend your afternoon preparing dinner for the two of you.

You’re not on speaking terms with Azriel after his outburst while you cleaned him up - every day he’s returned with some minor cut and scrape, and all you do is point to the alcohol and provide him with fresh rags. You won’t clean him up yourself, you’re too pissed at him for that, but you still urge him to do it himself

You still care, despite it all.

Despite the ice between you and Azriel, the females of the village began opening up to you, accepting you as one of their own. You join them every day to serve lunches to the males, and several of them even invited you to their homes to help teach you how to cook with the regional vegetables.

“Your husband’s too skinny,” one said, “I’ll teach you how to cook.”

You weren’t sure if it was a compliment or an insult, but you took it for what it was - an offering. You spent the afternoon with her, learning how to smoke pig ‘the correct way’. She had told you her name was Bora, she and her husband have lived in this village for several centuries, and she has had many, many smoked pigs.

“None compare to my family recipe.”

She was quite intimidating, and you could tell she took shit from no one, not even her husband. You were touched that she would share her family recipe with you so readily, thinking perhaps she took a special interest in you until another female stopped by and, after telling her Bora was teaching you her family recipe, she told you, “it’s how she inaugurates new females to the village’.

You were less touched and your ego deflated a bit, but you were still grateful she would spend so much time with you. The afternoon flew by, time not registering as you helped Bora peel her vegetables while the pork cooked.

You looked up, noting the dark sky through the window, dropping the zucchini. “Oh no,” you mutter, running out of the house to the road, eyes wide to find Azriel running up the road, blades drawn. His siphon was glowing in the dark, it’s cobalt blue blazing with intensity.

He was frantic, and you could have sworn you saw his shadows frantically zipping around him, moving in and out of houses. His body visibly relaxes as he spots you, rushing towards you. His arms wrap around you, crushing you into an embrace. His breathing is ragged, “I thought- I thought- you-”

His words come out choppy, but he pulls back, his hands on your face. He’s breathing hard, trying to string words together. He swallows, his Adam's apple bobbing with the movement.

“Is everything alright?”

Bora’s voice startles Az, and one of his shadows whips into a defensive position before you shoo it away. He quickly collects himself, moving one of his hands to the back of your head, pulling you to his chest.

“Sorry, I got worried when I got home and my wife wasn’t there.”

He pats your hair, his hands combing through them softly. “Just need her to be safe, s’all.”

Bora nods, perhaps more understanding than she should be of Azriel’s concern. “Ah, to be newly married again. She was safe,” she turns away before adding, “she’s always safe here with Bora.”

The older female waddles back inside for a moment before coming back out to the two of you, the tray of pork and vegetables on it. “Here’s dinner tonight - Bora’s family recipe.” She winks at you, and the two of you politely thank her before heading back to your house. You carried the tray, but Azriel kept both of his hands on you the entire walk back.

The walk back is mostly quiet, Azriel’s heartbeat slowing as the adrenaline leaves his body. You swivel your head around, noticing no one out in the village at this hour.

“Why were you being so nice and touchy to me out there and anytime we see the neighbors?” Your words come out barely more than a whisper, but you knew he heard them. “The men in this village hardly view their wives as more than livestock, it might be more suspicious for you to be so nice to me.”

He turned, just enough for you to see the side of his face, to watch his mouth as he said, “I could never do that to you.”

You spent the rest of the walk in silence, spending the entire time dissecting the way he said “you”.

Your house with Azriel is still quiet, the two of you living separate lives behind the oak door. Sleeping apart, eating dinner in different rooms. You two only spoke when you were outside of the house.

A few days after cooking with Bora, you and Kaltrina were headed back to the village from the camps for lunch when she offered to help you make dinner.

“I want to say thanks, for being my friend.”

Her words make you feel terrible over how strange you had found her. Maybe she was just awkward. You weren’t sure, but you knew you’d be safe inside your own home, so you agreed to let her stay.

The two of you prepare dinner, Kaltrina seeming a bit nervous as she skitters about your kitchen. You make idle small talk, but the air in the room seems so off you can’t put your finger on it.

“What will your brother be doing for dinner tonight?”

She looks a bit downcast as she tells you, “he has plans tonight, he’s eating at his friend’s house.”

Her tone tells you not to ask anymore, and you don’t press the issue any further.

The two of you eat in silence, Kaltrina’s eyes moving around your house, taking in every detail. She excuses herself to the bathroom, and you show her where it is.

In Kaltrina’s absence, Azriel makes his way through the front door, his shadows beginning to spread throughout the house in contentment. You quickly shake your head at the tiny wisps that come to you, sending them back to Azriel. You point towards the bathroom, jerking your head at the noises from behind the door trying to tell him someone was here.

The water runs, and Azriel quickly moves across the room, his arms circling your waist. Your eyebrows pinch, but you quickly relax them as Kaltrina leaves the bathroom. Her steps halt at seeing Azriel, her eyes wide at his sudden appearance.

“Kaltrina, this is my husband. Valon, this is my friend, Kaltrina.”

He nods to her before squeezing your waist and giving a swift kiss to your temple. Kaltrina’s eyes linger on the display of affection, not breaking contact even moments later. Azriel rubs your back, eyes fond as he looks to you, “I’m going to head to bed, take your time with your friend, but don’t leave me waiting too long.”

Was that a signal? You two slept in separate rooms - what did his words mean? You lean up, kissing his cheek before rubbing at his jaw and nodding. He turns his attention towards Kaltrina, “it was nice meeting you Kaltrina, my wife is quite fond of you. Have a good night.”

Her mouth is slightly ajar, her cheeks a harsh shade of red as she squeaks, “good night.”

Azriel nods at her and he slips into your bedroom, a sight that doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You turn back to Kaltrina, her eyes lingering on the door to your bedroom, and you could almost feel the yearning radiating from her.

“Come on, we should clean up a bit.” The two of you head into the kitchen, cleaning and scraping the dirty dishes from earlier. You two work in silence, the only sounds in the room are the scrubbing of pots.

“Your husband seems quite nice.”

Her voice is full of want and yearning. You stop cleaning pots before you, Kaltrina’s eyes fixed on you until you look. She turns her eyes away, looking back to the pots.

“Yes, he is very kind.”

“He’s unlike any of the males around here.”

This conversation felt a bit dangerous. Azriel said it was fine, that he couldn’t treat you the way any of these males treat their wives - like servants, like cattle, like nothing. But you knew the females of the village would notice how he treated you, if they haven’t already. You start to wonder if they had noticed, discussing the odd outsiders, figuring the two of you out, getting you-

“He’s very good-looking.”

Kaltrina’s voice startles you, and you look to find her not even looking at you, gazing off to some point on the wall. Had she meant to say that out loud? The two of you finish up cleaning, although it is mostly you doing the work, Kaltrina’s gaze is lost somewhere on your kitchen wall. You quickly escort her out, wishing her a good night. You offer to walk her home, but she declines, saying she’ll be fine on her own.

You close the door behind her, taking a deep breath. Azriel was in your room - your room - the one with the unmade bed, clothes haphazard around the space. You two used to frequent each other’s private chambers, but now you can’t recall the last time he laid in your bed, perused the books on your shelves, or sat in the chair in the corner of your room at the House of Wind.

You push open the door to find him pacing in front of your bed, his shadows lounging lazily on your bed. You nod to him, picking at your fingernails.

“I think it’s Kaltrina. I think she’s the one doing this.”

“Kaltrina?” His voice is full of surprise and misunderstanding. “You think Kaltrina, that little thing is behind all of this?”

“Yes! I just.. Don’t know why.. The way she talks about you…”

“We can’t go off of silly little feelings when convicting someone of a crime, you know.” He stands in front of you, his wings blocking the light from the candles, casting shadows across his face.

“I’m well aware-”

“You have to think - where would she keep them? How could she overpower so many Illyrian women? And besides, why does it matter what she thinks of me?”

Your anger was bubbling to the surface, his condescending tone leading you to yell out, “what the fuck is your problem, Azriel?”

He looks at you, turning away quickly while muttering, “we are not doing this here.” His shadows are ever so slightly trying to push him back towards you, but he ignores their attempts, plowing through them to your kitchen.

“No, I think we are doing this right here, right now. I’ve let too much shit go by and I can’t keep acting like everything’s okay anymore.” You take in a shaky breath. “I’m tired of pretending. Just tell me whatever it was that I did that made you hate me and we can move on!”

“No.”

His curt reply annoys you even more, and you’re directly in front of him poking his chest.

“Just tell me what I did!”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“That’s clearly not the case.”

He groans in frustration, running a hand down his face, but you are unrelenting in your pursuit for the truth.

“We were friends, you used to like spending time with me. I don’t know what happened that made you hate me-”

“I don’t hate you.”

You laugh, “well you could have fooled me. For months everyone’s been asking me what happened between us, and I have no clue! It’s like you woke up one day and decided we couldn’t be friends anymore!”

“That’s not what happened-”

“Oh, it’s not? So you were pretending to be my friend while you secretly hated me before cutting me off one day?”

“I HAD TO.”

His eyes were wide with an almost feral-like look to them. He looked almost more beast than fae.

“I had to. Those fae that were trafficking females and males, they… “ His hand shakes as he curls and uncurls it, his scarred fingers twitching with the motion. “One of my spies found your name in one of their notebooks, reported it to me immediately.”

His ferocity is turned on you, hazel eyes looking into your own, as if he was searching through your soul. “Don’t you get it? They know you, they know who you are.” His voice raised an octave, squeaking, “because of me.”

“So, what? Because someone knew that I was important to you, you cut me off?”

“No it wasn’t-“

“Oh, no, was it that someone pointed out to you that I was important to you and you didn’t like that?” Your voice was raising, getting louder, but you couldn’t care.

“That’s not-“

“I’m a big girl, Az, I deserve to know everything before making decisions. I don’t deserve my decisions to be taken from me.”

“Will you let me speak?”

His shadows were covering the windows, the doors, the walls. His chest was heaving as he tried to get the words out, tried to make you see.

“I couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“So instead of explaining this to me, you cut me off like I meant nothing to you? Why couldn’t you just tell me that? Why couldn’t you tell me-”

“You would talk me out of it! Convince me it was in my head. I needed you to be safe, for cauldron’s sake!”

You sniffle, eyes catching on the door. “I have a lot to think about,” is all you say before storming out, closing the door behind you. You walk from the house, your boots sinking into the grass at your feet as you walk aimlessly around the village. Your thoughts whirled and swirled of Azriel’s words, your hands pulling at your hair in frustration.

“Hey, there.”

You whip around, fist raised, to find Dardan looking back at you. You quickly drop your fist - he could still tell the others you showed defiance towards him and you’d be in a lot of trouble.

“Oh, hey, Dardan, right? I must not have heard you. How are you tonight?”

You try to make your voice sound as pleasant as possible, as feminine as possible.

“Just taking an afternoon stroll,” he muses, “care to join me?”

You look around, noticing you’re much further from the village than you intended. Even though you were a married female to the rest of the village, it was still disrespectful towards your husband to be seen on the outskirts of town with an unmarried male.

“Um,” you start turning around, your gut trying to tell you this was wrong, wrong, wrong. “Actually, I should get back to my husband. I need to start working on dinner soon.”

You turned your head just in time for something hard and metal to make contact with it, the last thing in your vision was the ground before complete darkness.

Your head was killing you, your neck at an unnatural angle as you opened your eyes. The room was dark, but still too bright for the pounding of your head. You take a deep breath, trying to note your surroundings.

Your hands were bound behind you, some fabric you should be able to easily pull apart. You were on the ground, some dirt beneath your body as you laid on the cold ground. You began tugging on the fabric, trying to maneuver your hands to slip through the knot.

“Tug all you want, we got a talented witch in these parts.”

Your body goes cold at the voice.

Dardan.

Fuck.

You want to slam your head on something, but there’s nothing. Your breathing speeds up, your mind moving through all your interactions with Dardan.

You thought he was nice. He had been amicable to you at the war camp, you barely even thought of him during this mission. You thought it was Kaltrina. How could you have gotten things so wrong?

He smiles as he watches your brain try to figure things out. His smugness was a new look for Lee - one that made him look very unattractive. “We knew one of Rhysand’s dogs was bound to show up at some point, just didn’t think they’d bring a pretty bitch like you with ‘em. Color me surprised when my little sister brought you around.”

You snap at his words, “bitches bite.”

He goes by to sharpen whatever knife he was wielding before replying. “We got big plans.”

Dardan wouldn’t say more than that, continuing to sharpen his blade before inspecting it. Once it was to his satisfaction, he grabbed you by the hair, yanking you from the ground. You scramble, trying to get your feet on the ground, kicking at the dirt he was dragging you across to gain some footing. His pull on your hair was unrelenting, even as your arms flailed back trying to hit him.

Eventually you’re able to get your feet beneath you, trying to keep up with his steps. He opens the doors to the structure you were kept in, the light of dusk surprising you. There was no way to tell time in that barn.

“It’s almost sunset, girl.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, trying to take a big inhale so you can scream. The sound was piercing - a loud screech coming from you. Dardan just laughed. “Screech all you want, no one’s around for miles.”

Rhys’s words echo in your mind.

Stay close to Azriel.

A warning you had forgotten when you stormed off. Dardan’s tight grip brings you towards a clearing full of other Illyrians from the village you had been staying in and several of the nearby villages. You’re about to call, to beg them for help, when you notice six of the males are each dragging a female in some way towards the center of the clearing. You can’t see over the wings and heads in front of you, but the crowd parts for your eyes to land on a stone altar with ancient languages carved into it.

The crowd gave enough space for the six Illyrians to stand in a circle around the altar, each one cradling a woman by their neck with a blade pressed to it. You start fighting back against Dardan, trying to scratch him, hit him, but he throws you towards the altar where two winged males stand, catching you in their arms easily. You throw out your hand, making contact with one of their jaws, a soft “bitch” hissed at you.

You throw your bound hands into the other one’s gut, but the first one grabs your elbow, twisting harshly. You struggle in the hold, winding your head back to headbutt him, but the other one grabs your head, holding it in place. You start kicking your legs out, hoping for any kind of contact, but a male from the crowd comes up and catches your ankles.

The three males hold onto you, moving you on top of the altar. Your movements do nothing to stop them as they clamp down your feet, moving towards your hands, shackling them to the altar as well. Your pleas to be let go fell on deaf ears.

You turn your head to the left, two of the females coming into your view. Their wings twitched as their captors held them, not much fight in them. You yell to them, begging for them to fight back against the males at their backs. Tears stream down the side of your face, leaking into your ears as you watch their complacency, what they’ve been conditioned for.

Nausea rolled in your stomach at the idea of how long they’ve been aware of this fate. These girls have been missing for weeks and months of their lives, kept Mother knows where to beat them into compliance.

They stood at attention, knives to their throats, unmoving.

Your eyes water seeing Kaltrina amongst them, her eyes downcast.

It was sickening.

Dardan comes from the crowd, looking down at you over the crook of his nose. He raises a knife to your throat, your skin nicking on the blade as your breathing quickened.

“Any last words?”

You look up at Dardan, mustering every ounce of defiance onto your face as you pull back, spitting into his smug face. His face falls for a moment before wiping the saliva off. Dardan looks towards the sky, “just a moment until sundown. If only your pretty little shadowsinger could be here now, to watch you become the ultimate sacrifice.”

Breathing gets harder as the seconds tick by, knowing the sun will set at any second. You felt a cool breeze blow over you.

Not a breeze.

A shadow.

“Get your fucking hands off of my mate.”

Your heart stops in your chest, something sparking deep within you at Azriel’s growl of warning in a tone you’ve never heard from him before. Dardan’s knife is still pressed to your neck, but you’re able to move your eyes enough to see wisps of shadow pulling the knives away from the necks of the other females in the circle.

You tilt your head back, barely able to make out Azriel standing behind Dardan, his shadows angrily darting all around him. Several more of them make their way to you, almost cloaking you in the scent of their master.

Dardan’s arrogance doesn’t balk at the sight of Azriel, his grip on the knife tightening.

“You can drop the ‘mate’ act, freak,” Dardan spat out, his words causing the shadows to whirl in agitation. “We need her-”

In a flash the shadows coating you slithered up your torso, slithering around the wrist that held the blade. They pulled the wrist away, the knife narrowly avoiding slicing your throat. At the same time, Azriel moved for Dardan, his fist connecting with Dardan’s jaw causing a crack across the clearing. Dardan hit the ground, but Azriel dove after him, landing punch after punch.

In the chaos of the fight breaking out, the crowd was in hysterics, all of the males attempting to fly or flee, pools of shadows surfaced at their feet, tripping them up, their bodies slowly disappearing into the darkness. Some of them tried to crawl from the darkness, but to no avail. The crowd quickly went from about 30 males to just the six females left, all unharmed, huddling together for some form of protection.

Azriel was choking Dardan out, scarred fingers forcing the breath from Dardan’s lungs. “I will enjoy taking my time with you.” Azriel’s words hung in the air as Dardan slowly slipped into the shadows underneath him, but Azriel remained on the grass. He quickly got to this feet, most of his shadows gone, likely to keep the Illyrian prisoners in check.

He stumbles over to you, quickly undoing your binds before wrapping you in his arms, pulling you from the altar.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” are all he says, his words repeating as you feel tears fall onto your shirt. You gripped him just as tightly, finding it easier to breathe in his presence for the first time in ages.

“I can’t live in fear anymore.”

He lunged for you, capturing your lips in a kiss. It’s rushed, full of fear and trepidation.

But by the cauldron was it warm and full of life.

He pulled back, wiping spit from his mouth, his fingers covered in blood pushing the hair out of your face. “When I heard that your name was on one of those books, the bond snapped for me. I flew in a rage, killing all those traffickers. But I knew there were more like them out there.”

His eyes were full of regret, “I should have told you, but I thought you’d be safer not knowing. Then I figured this mission was my last time to actually have you, to play pretend.”

You laugh at the ridiculousness of it, pulling him in closer to you. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling that deep smell of cedar that you adored more than anything. It felt like coming home.

“I’m still pissed at you for not telling me.”

He chuckles, a deep, warm sound you haven’t truly heard in ages, “can I make it up to you? I won’t keep secrets from you ever again.”

He holds your face in his hands, his own eyes wet with tears. One of his hands pulls away, his tan skin radiant in the moonlight. You bring up your hand, interlocking your fingers with his. You keep your eyes on his, “no more secrets. From either of us.”

He nods, a bargain tattoo beginning to snake its way on your skin.

“No more running.”

The tattoo wove its way on your skin, dark tendrils solidifying where your forearms meet. When you pull your hand away, the tattoo is incomplete, missing the gaps where Azriel’s arm belongs.

Much like a one-sided duet, your tattoos look empty without the other there to complete the song that echoed in your chest, the song that hummed at the sight of him. The bond didn’t feel so much like a snap as a slow sinking, as if you had finally opened your eyes after so long.

Wrapped in his arms, the two of you had a lot to figure out - the females, what to do with the strange occult Illyrians, but the two of you could do it.

He promised - no more running.

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Thanks for reading 💕

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

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necstasy · 9 months ago

Text

candy-coated raindrops

& willy wonka

synopsis. willy wonka lets you play around in his chocolate kit. neither of you could have predicted that you would create an aphrodisiac chocolate.

includes. aphrodisiacs, smut 18+ MDNI, accidental drugging (due to aphrodisiacs), oral (f receiving), dry humping, cumming untouched, premature ejaculation, p n v intercourse, virgin coded willy, teaching/coaching, neighbors/friends to lovers, typical wonka shenanigans, fluff

word count. 6k

a/n. title from candy rain by soul for real. art is aftersleep by lewinale havette.

Willy should have never let you in his chocolatier kit. He was being sweet, charming, romantic, even. It seemed like a harmless idea at the time, letting you have full reign over the elaborate ingredients in his at home kit, allowing you to make whatever chocolate you wanted.

You’ve seen him make chocolate often enough to know the process. You stressed that you didn’t need his guidance. You wanted your creation to be a surprise, so you casted him off to his living room while you sat in the kitchen, working diligently to create your masterpiece.

When you finished and had two tiny and harmless-seeming chocolates in your hand, you and Willy quickly indulged yourselves, humming around the surprisingly pleasant taste. But then the effects began to kick in.

They were slightly unnoticeable at first, and your immediate instinct was to attribute the sudden warmth to a shift in the temperature, the sweat gathering along your hairline to the stress of making chocolate, the adrenaline in your limbs to the sugar making its way through your body, the stirring low in your abdomen to the presence of someone you feel something for standing just across from you.

But the growth of your symptoms were confusing. Willy displaying similar symptoms was alarming.

Standing in the center of his apartment, you’re trying to ignore the way your heart is trying to jump out of your chest and into his while you focus on the way Willy’s green eyes are a little lidded and heavy and—dare you say—lustful as he stares at you, all while you’re trying to get to the bottom of the incident.

“Willy,” you call his name once, and when he doesn’t answer, you call it twice. It’s not until you introduce a firm tone that he blinks himself out of whatever stupor he was in. When he looks at you again, his eyes seem a little clearer.

(He was intensely trained on the way your blouse, newly tailored by your own hands, fit over your bosom with just enough strain to create emphasis. In fact, you were filling out all of your clothes quite well today, but he hadn’t noticed until now. Until the chocolate has taken effect, he reminds himself.)

“I’m sorry, have you been talking?”

You nod. “Yes!”

Willy clearly hasn’t been listening at all. Now, he stands straight with his hands tucked into his front pockets. You don’t fail to notice the tension in his shoulders and his face, especially since he attempts to relax both areas, only to end up in the same predicament as before.

“Did I do something wrong with the chocolates?” You ask him.

Willy takes a second. He clicks his tongue, turns to face the wall to your left, and hums.

“That depends. Did you do something wrong with the chocolates?” His attempt at a joke falls flat, especially when your response is the same expression. He presses his lips into a thin line, dips his head. “Sorry.”

He runs down the list of the standard ingredients, asking if you’d included each and every one to the T. Then he gets to the additives, the ingredients that make Wonka’s chocolate unique. The array that you previously had free reign to, left with one singular instruction to not mix them together.

“You didn’t mix them, right?” His eyebrows lift, his eyes widen as if mixing the ingredients could cause something as disastrous as the end of the world. When you shake your head with the absolute truth, worries melt from Willy’s face for just a second, before his eyebrows push together and he takes a step closer to you.

“Oh, God, don’t tell me you used the pink bottle? The small one tucked in the corner?” He says it with caution, and this tone alerts you more than the previous. This tone is careful, as if he’s attempting to not scare you as well as himself.

This tone makes you hesitate to answer truthfully. You choose avoidance as a replacement strategy.

“What would happen if I did use the pink bottle? Nothing bad, right?”

Willy steps back, turns, and begins to pace the apartment, your eyes following him to and fro.

“Nothing bad, I guess. Just … unfavorable. Awkward. Debauched.” With each adjective he stops, faces you, and then continues pacing.

Debauched? Is that why you feel like this? Is that why you’ve been watching Willy’s mouth and hands move rapidly? Why you’ve been noticing how pink and smooth his lips are, and how slim and long his fingers are, and why you suddenly can’t stop thinking about exactly what he could do with both.

It takes loads of strength to snap yourself out of your daze.

“Um … debauched? What d’you mean, Willy? What was in the pink bottle?”

He finally stops his pacing to face you. His green eyes seem a little remorseful, maybe regretful. He looks like he’s going to deliver unfavorable news, things that could change the trajectory of your slightly comfortable life.

“It’s an aphrodisiac.”

An aphrodisiac. Willy Wonka has an aphrodisiac in his chocolatier kit. It shouldn’t be as much of a surprise as it is, the man has Yeti tears and Hoverflies and other things you can’t even begin to comprehend. But Willy Wonka making sex chocolates is the thing you’re struggling to wrap your head around.

You don’t bother asking why he has an aphrodisiac, and you know what it would do—what it will do to you both—but you still find yourself asking for assurance.

“What would an aphrodisiac chocolate do?”

Willy clicks his teeth. “Well, I suppose it would … do what aphrodisiacs do.”

Currently, it’s certainly doing what aphrodisiacs do. Willy really shouldn’t have let you make chocolates.

You turn away from him.

When you’d been sitting in front of all of Willy’s ingredients, they were all a little overwhelming. You had endless options for what you wanted to create. Endless possibilities for effects. And when you’d decided to keep it simple with a pretty pink unlabeled bottle, you assumed the chocolate would be strawberry flavored at most. Not this. You can’t help but ruminate, letting your thoughts lead you down twisted corridor after twisted corridor, all lined with possibilities of how you and Willy’s cherished friendship could be destroyed by this one mistake. Your mistake.

You hear his footsteps first. Soft thuds of his worn in boots against the creaky floor. You feel the warmth of his body next, getting closer and closer until he’s right behind you.

When his hand touches your elbow, you flinch at first. When he doesn’t remove his touch, you quickly become used to it.

“Hey, you aren’t panicking, are you? Because I’m sure I could whip up an anecdote or something. It might take a while because I don’t know the exact ratio, but I’m sure I could do it.”

There’s a second where you don’t say anything, even though you have a worried reply already brewing on your tongue, the words along the lines of Willy either making the situation worse or taking too long to create an anecdote. Ultimately, you decide to hold your tongue, not willingly, instead because you’re acutely aware of the way Willy’s trying to soothe you. You’re focused on the way his voice reverberates in his throat, the volume and tone so soft that you can’t help but create an entirely different scenario for when the words could be said in your imagination. He sounds so beautiful, a voice you want to hear for as long as the universe would allow it.

And if that’s the chocolate or your long term crush talking, you don’t know. What you do know is that you and Willy should stay away from each other just in case either of you thought about giving in and ruined whatever good thing you had going thus far.

Willy doesn’t take kindly to your suggestion.

He steps in front of you, bending down enough to force you to look at him, his hopeful eyes searching for your downcast ones.

“Stay away from each other? I think we should do the opposite, just for our own safety. We don’t know how strong this batch is, you know. What if you walk out of this flat and jump onto the first guy you see?”

He talks fast, bordering on rambling, and his words hold an edge stronger than plain worry. Jealousy, even, but you refuse to believe it.

(Willy certainly is jealous at the thought of someone taking care of you in this state, especially since that would leave him alone with only his hand and the memory of you once more.)

When you agree to stay, your decision is based on wishful thinking. You both sit back on Willy’s new couch, a display of how well his chocolate shop was doing. There’s a little too much space between you both, but the energy radiating from your bodies occupies the gap.

Willy asks you about your symptoms first.

You list them off, the same as before save for the addition of the arousal gathering in your panties. Willy nods, you notice his ears turning a very light pink as he divulges into his symptoms.

“The same as you and I uh …” he hesitates. His hips shift along the couch and he wipes his hands along the knees of his trousers. “I have an erection,” he eventually admits, his voice just a tad bit too low.

It is plain curiosity that drives you to look over at his crotch where you take notice of the evidence.

You want to stare longer, you really do, and your gaze does linger for a moment. Until you feel Willy watching you and you lift your eyes to his, taking in the way they’re just wide enough to display curiosity, a look he wears often and well.

He licks his lips and your ever inquisitive eyes pick it up.

“How long do you think the symptoms will last?” You ask him.

Willy shrugs. “It can’t be more than a few hours, right?”

You nod, sit back, and wait.

Two hours pass by before you give in.

You make it through the first hour with much difficulty and nothing but board games, books, and stories about your childhoods to keep you tethered. You go to the bathroom an hour and a half in and seriously consider forcing your fingers between your thighs for just a bit of relief, but Willy calls out for your turn in a rousing game of chess from the otherside of the door and you’re flushing the toilet and waddling back out to face him.

It’s a slight brush against the other that changes the course.

You’re both in Willy’s kitchen attempting to make tea. The space is like yours, just inverted, which means it is entirely too small for the price you pay. You’re moving around well enough at first, asking Willy where things are before you grab them yourself as he works in tandem.

And then it’s a slight brush, just the smallest bit of friction from his crotch running against your bottom, that makes your breaths hitch.

For the past two hours, you both had been avoiding the issues at hand, dancing around the elephant in the room like hormonal teenagers going through their first near-sex encounter. Willy kept a pillow over his lap to shroud his prominent boner. You tried your best to keep your blouse from rubbing against your erect nipples, or the seam of your trousers from rubbing against your cunt. And all things considered, you were doing pretty well.

All it took was one little brush and suddenly your pelvis is pressed against the counter, the cabinet above you is closed with its desired contents forgotten, and Willy has you caged in your spot with his hands on either side of you.

His head rests against your shoulder as he frantically rocks his hips into yours. One of his hands leaves the material of the counter to grip your hip, keeping you still as he continues to hump you. Your own stimulation from the act is minimal, but the aphrodisiac has apparently also made you grateful because you take what you can get.

Plus, the little sounds Willy makes are enough to get you off alone. You wished you could bottle them up and take them back with you, in fear that this would only be a one time thing.

He is all but whimpering against your back with each shaky thrust into your ass. He glides the length of his cock along the seam of your cheeks, working in strokes as long as the situation allows for.

There’s not much coordination to it, but apparently it gets the job done because it is alarming how soon his hips stutter and he rocks into you one final time before he stops and pants against your back.

His turnaround time is even quicker.

“Oh God,” he steps back from you, but the kitchen doesn’t allow for much space. When you turn around to face him, he’s still within arms reach. “I’m sorry. I … I don’t know what came over me. Maybe you were right, we should’ve gone our separate ways. Allow me to show you out…”

You put an end to his rambling by pulling him close with one hand on his face and the other on his shoulder.

You’re bold for a moment, bold enough to bring your mouths almost together. The tips of your noses touch, you can feel his breath mingling with yours, but then you give him space. You give him the option to back out, positively damning you to your own devices and memories once more.

But if it means you and Willy could remain friends, then you’ll take it.

The doubt begins to creep into your mind. It starts to make a home in your frontal lobe, distorting the image in front of you into something shameful. Self deprecating, even. He had just humped himself to completion against your back, yet you question how he feels about you.

Your touch on Willy’s body lessens into a gentle press for just a second in preparation to separate from him completely, but then Willy takes the initiative to move a hair closer and presses his lips to yours.

It’s swift at first, nothing but a hesitant press of lips against lips. It’s not halfhearted, though. On both ends is a certain amount of exercised restraint, and when you sigh and press your chest to Willy’s, he gets rid of his first.

Like before, Willy displays an unruly side to him that you had barely seen before. He delivers onto you a passion you have only seen him have for his business thus far.

His hands eagerly cup your cheeks as he sears his mouth against yours. Your lips move in uncoordinated tandem, lacking any cleanliness within it. You allow yourself to be coaxed into opening up until you have your hips against Willy’s and your hands in his hair.

When you bump your crotch into his, Willy makes a noise into your mouth that sounds like he’s been wounded. It’s then that you notice that he’s hard again. Or, maybe he was never soft to begin with, despite the dampness you know to exist within his trousers.

An idea forms into your mind.

You continue to allow Willy to kiss you, opening your mouth just enough to tease your tongue into his, before placing the muscle back into its home. Meanwhile, your hand travels down, over Willy’s chest, along his waist and pelvis, and then right to his croctch where you brush the palm of your hand over his boner with just enough pressure to elicit a reaction.

He sighs, pulling back from your lips to rest his forehead against yours. You take the positive reaction in stride and continue your work.

Your lips part in grateful shock whenever Willy rests one of his hands on your bottom, gripping the flesh through your skirt in his hand. His eyelashes flutter to open, revealing his big green eyes, windows into his soul that display the desire swarming through his body like a colony of active bees.

You only palm Willy’s cock twice more before he rests his hand on your wrist.

Your eyebrows lift, but you don’t have to voice your curiosity.

Willy smiles at you sheepishly as he delicately peels your touch away. “I don’t wanna …” He shakes his head. “Not too soon. Again. I want you to feel good, too.”

You don’t have to be told twice.

You dig your fingertips into the stiff waistband of Willy’s trousers and use your grip to pull him to the den behind you. Truthfully, even if you hadn’t tethered him you knew he would have followed.

As soon as the couch is within sight, you direct Willy to it and push him to sit. He falls back unceremoniously with a light “oh!”, looking up at you expectantly, eagerly. His lithe hands resting on his knees, his eyes as wide and curious as ever

As soon as you straddle him, he weakly thrusts up into you, as if the reaction was unintentional and instinctive. When your hands begin undoing the buttons of your blouse, Willy’s eyes drift down to watch, and it’s comical how they widen even more whenever your blouse is open and he gets the first look at your chest.

You pull the remainder of the shirt off of your body, and slip the straps of your bra off of your shoulders, but you stop there.

“Do you wanna take it off?” The previous haste hangs suspended over you both for just long enough for Willy to answer. As soon as he nods you’re directing his nimble fingers to the back of your bra, dropping your touch to allow him to fumble for the clasp. You expect it to take longer than it does, but only a few seconds and two attempts are needed before Willy has your tits exposed.

He stares. And stares. His lips quirk into a small smile, he compliments you with so much sincerity that you think you flush a little bit.

His hands still rest at your back, fingers lightly pressed into where the band of your bra had been digging into your skin all night. You don’t say anything when you latch your fingers onto his forearms and pull his hands around to the front.

Willy looks up at you with raised eyebrows, nonverbally asking for the permission you’ve already given him. Still, you nod once, and then he has two large hands covering your tits. You let him gather his bearings there, directing him every so often in ways to massage and pinch and rub against your nipple. Just when he starts to pull direct pleasure from you, he inhales as if he was going to say something.

“Can you—uh …” he hesitates and then starts again. “Can you teach me how to make you feel good? What can I do?”

You’re busy knocking your hips in a search for more pleasure, so it takes you a second to respond. “You can use your fingers. Or your mouth.”

Willy’s reply comes incredibly fast. “My mouth. If that’s okay with you.”

You stop moving and just smile down at Willy, brushing a stray curl off of his face only to watch it fall right back into place. “More than okay with me.”

Which is how you end up sitting on Willy Wonka’s new couch entirely bare, your legs spread before Willy who is on his knees in front of the couch. He has only taken his shirt off, and despite the disparity in nudity, you don’t feel uncomfortable. Even though you’re spread open before him.

From above, you’re able to see the way your cunt glistens, enticing even you to do something about it. It’s all the more confusing on why Willy is just sitting there, staring. You know he’s inexperienced from the way he requested guidance, but does he not know what to do at all?

Your lips part. “You can start by–” Willy doesn’t let you finish before he speaks over you.

“Just one second.” He drags it out.

It’s there where you realize he’s not completely lost. He’s just admiring.

You don’t rush Willy, even when your emptiness starts to become unbearable and you can feel frustration growing. You don’t have to wait for long, though, because Willy is soon extending a long middle finger and gently pushing it against your folds, applying just enough pressure to separate your lips and dip into your arousal.

He swipes through the fluid, gathering it on the tip of his finger before lifting the digit to the light, ignoring the way you shiver. You watch him inspect the way his finger glistens. You watch him bring it to his mouth and wrap his lips around it. You watch his cheeks hollow as he sucks his finger clean, his eyes fluttering shut much like they do whenever he’s tasting one of his particularly well made chocolates.

He releases his finger with an audible pop, his eyes opening and focusing right back on their target. When he speaks, it’s likely to himself.

“Wonder if I could harness this flavor.” He leans in as he says it, his lips getting closer and closer to the place you’ve wanted him for a while now. His last few words are spoken in almost a whisper, but you catch it anyway. “Maybe put it in one of my chocolates …” and then he’s letting his tongue exit his mouth and placing it on the path he’d opened.

He takes tiny and tentative licks for a few moments, focused on not one particular spot. He’s in between your entrance and your clit, occasionally catching a cluster of nerves that provide a teaser of what he could be doing with just a bit of guidance. Guidance that you’re willing to provide.

“Go up a bit,” you tell him, your hands digging into the velvet fabric of the couch cushions under you. He moves up, his eyes watching you and his eyebrows raised curiously. “Just a little further. There should be a–” He finds it just then and your head throws back.

You think he speaks a “there?” into your clit, but you can’t be sure. You nod either way, letting praises slip past your lips while Willy focuses his tongue there.

He’s not half bad now that he knows what to look for. His hands hold you open, one palm on each thigh, five fingers pressing into your skin with a firm focus. The tip of his tongue flicks your clit, sometimes slipping a little too far under or above but it works. The aphrodisiac knocking through your system makes sure that it all works.

Your hand eventually gravitates towards Wonka’s curls, fingers slotting through the tousled brown until you have the hair along his crown pushed back. He responds positively to this, pushing himself further into your cunt until his nose is buried in your mound. His enthusiasm peaks, he has a burst of energy, and he starts to lap at you. He pushes your legs up and back, opening all of you up to him, and he devours.

He’s messy and audible with it, switching between sliding around your entrance to going back to your clit. Every so often, he misses his target, but his recovery is quick, strong, and impressive.

You want to tell him to slip a finger in you, but the words refuse to find your tongue. They float aimlessly and uselessly around in your head, evading the hand that attempts to grab them. Instead, you grip his hair, push him down while you push your hips up, and Willy takes the direction as a hint to force his tongue in you. It’s unexpected, but it feels so good. You’re nodding and moaning far too loud.

“Yes, yes, right there, Willy. Don’t stop, please.”

It’s a little counterproductive and ironic when he briefly stops to assure you that he won’t stop, but the sentiment is still there. His nose nudges at your clit as his head bobs with the movement of his tongue working in and out of you. The combination has you close, and closer, and closer, until …

Your legs close around Willy’s head and your hips cant up towards his mouth while one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever had takes over you. It surely has to be a combination of your recent celibacy, your feelings for the chocolatier between your legs, and the sweet candy still taking over your system. And you’re so thankful for each aspect as your thighs continue to tremble and you struggle to catch your breath.

Willy doesn’t seem to notice your struggle. He continues his work in the same place and with the same amount of determination, undeterred by your thighs pressed against his ears. He has accepted the position, resting his hands on the outside of your thighs and rubbing his palms up and down your skin. It’s almost too much, and you’re just about to tell him as such whenever you feel the beginnings of another orgasm creeping up your spine.

You debate your options: letting this orgasm taper off or letting it exist, and you can’t come to a conclusion before your body is making it for you.

Willy has switched back to your clit for this one, pink lips puckered around the bud as he sucks and licks and even nips every so often. Finally, he pushes a finger into you, just one but the rough pad of the digit massaging the top of your walls is enough for your head to throw back and your mouth to open in a silent shout as your toes point and your back curls. And soon after you’ve gone through this orgasm, you go limp and simply exist, shockingly thankful when he takes his mouth away from you.

“You taste good,” is the first thing he tells you. His lips and the surrounding area glisten. His overindulgence is obvious on both of your bodies.

You hum, trying to come back to.

“Do you want a taste?” He’s already rising to your lips when he asks it, and you wouldn’t have said no anyway. You kiss him gratefully, but lazily, letting his tongue slip into your mouth without much reciprocation on your end as you’re not wanting the flavor as much as you’re just wanting him. Thankfully, Willy doesn’t seem to mind.

Remaining lazy on top, you use your hands below Willy’s waistband to lightly palm his cock. When you find what you’re looking for, another boner stuffed in his trousers, you start to undo his pants.

When you pull his cock out of his boxers, you momentarily forget about his moment of weakness earlier. The mix of dry and wet cum around him doesn’t bother you, and you momentarily have the thought to clean him up with your mouth. You don’t get to act on it before Willy speaks.

“I should get protection.”

Your eyebrows lift. “Do you have any?”

When Willy nods enthusiastically, as if he’s proud to own condoms, your heart thuds painfully behind your throat. It makes sense that Willy would have slept with someone who wasn’t you, but that doesn't make it sting any less.

You watch him, anticipating him to stand and walk away to grab a condom. Instead, he reaches under the couch cushion, searching for a second, and pulls out a metal tin. You go to ask him about the location, your lips already forming the question whenever he answers it for you.

“Just in case.” His lips pull into a thin smile.

Is Willy really that desired that he keeps condoms stashed around his apartment? You wonder where else they are, and how often he gets to use them.

(Unbeknownst to you, it’s not very often at all. The locations are picked simply as a trait of overplanning and born from his hopefulness.)

In no time, Willy has the condom slipped over his dick and his tip nudges at your entrance. You’ve laid on the floor beside the couch, your back pressing into the rug you’d helped him buy not too long ago. When his tip is kissing your entrance, he stops there, eyes raising to meet yours for a second. You don’t know exactly what he’s waiting for, but you give him a curt nod anyway and that seems to do the trick. He pushes forward slowly and you don’t know if it’s for your benefit or his, for he shudders as soon as his tip breaches your entrance and you hiss and he continues to introduce more and more of his length.

You didn’t get a good look at him before allowing him to enter you, so you go on feeling alone. He’s thicker than you would have imagined, with more veins than you would have thought, too. The condom shields more than you would have liked, but safety is the most important thing here, even though your amplified brain tells you that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to have a kid with Willy. You’ve seen him interact with children before, and the thought would sometimes find you late at night, or during moments like now. But before you can dwell on it any longer, you push it away as Willy sinks more length into you.

You try to be patient and breathe through it all. When Willy finally stops, you think you’ve reached the end. But then he moves a little more and apologizes when you groan exasperatedly.

“Almost there. I promise.” Just a few more seconds, and some impossible inches later, and Willy is finally nestled completely within you, deeper than you anticipated.

You’re unresponsive under him, your eyes blinking at the ceiling and your lips parted. From an outside perspective, it looks like you don’t have a single thought behind your eyes. When really, it’s the complete opposite. Your thoughts are taking over every bit of your being, echoing the same phrase in an exclamation: It’s finally happening!

He’s not moving yet, but even this feels heavenly. You’re so full, fuller than you’ve been in a while. Willy’s combination of length and girth is something you’ve never had before and you worry that after this dream completes, you might never have it again. You’ll forever be an addict chasing a high you won’t ever achieve again.

But that’s for you to worry about afterwards.

Willy has his head hung low above you, his hands pressed into the rug beside your head. His hips are flush with yours, still unmoving, but he’s breathing heavily above you. Labored, almost.

In an attempt to be soothing, you rake your hands through his hair. He shakes against you and lets out a sound that is a combination between a gasp and a moan. It’s so pretty that you want him to do it again, so you repeat your motion. It doesn’t get your intended reaction until you pull on the thinner hairs at the back of his head, and then he makes the sound again and gives you your first thrust.

After that, he doesn’t stop. You don’t think he can.

His thrusts are clearly unpracticed, which qualms your worry about Willy sleeping with someone other than you (not that it matters or anything). You don’t know if he gets the hang of it, or if it’s just pure luck, because after a short while he improves.

He starts rolling his hips instead of just moving them back and forth. He angles them a little, likely something accidental but it works, and you push your legs into his side to keep him there. He’s finally lifted his head, but his eyes are closed while he feels it. He’s deep in you still, his thrusts are a little shallow as they reach for your cervix and this alone makes you shudder. It’s a slightly unusual feeling for you, which makes it all the more alluring. You encourage him to keep going through unfinished sentences, and he praises you for how good you feel in between your words. You both are speaking at the same time, not exactly listening to the other and creating a concoction of words.

“You feel so good. I can’t believe this is happening. Thank you, thank you, thank you …”

“Right there, Willy. Right there. Yes! Keep going, please. Don’t stop …”

It’s no surprise to you when he cums first. He warns you before it happens, his words are a little shameful when he admits it. “I’m close. I’m not gonna last.”

You tell him to let go anyway and when he does, it’s such a pretty sight. Earlier today, he was behind you when he did this, and you weren’t graced with his face. But now that you are, you kick yourself for missing it before.

He’s so pretty.

His pink lips swollen and open. His dark eyebrows pushed together. His eyes closed. His curls hang over his forehead. But the small features in his face is what makes the picture so pretty. All of the tiny muscles working together, minute in nature, but joining to create a painted canvas that you want to either save or see as many times as possible.

This orgasm lasts long enough for him to pull you in it with him. He’s still cumming into the condom, providing a warmth that’s so close but so far inside of you. His thrusts are strong and constant, even though the rhythm of them is off and unpredictable. But each time his crotch presses into yours, nudging against your clit, and after enough times you’re letting go too, allowing whatever your orgasm wants to bring work its way through your body.

Here, like this, it’s a beautiful, harmonious scene. You exist together like this, and not just together. It’s a bliss and a level of intimacy you’ve always dreamed of, and you want to sit in it for as long as you can. Apparently, you both do.

Willy doesn’t move even whenever both of your bodies are limp. He holds his weight off of you on his forearms, but his head is resting between your breasts and along your stomach. He sits like that for a minute before rising, shakily pulling out of you, and then laying beside you.

You speak first.

“D’you think we should try to sell those chocolates?”

Willy laughs weakly. “Valentine’s day special?”

You hum, your eyes glancing down to where Willy has rested a hand on your stomach. The appendage sits there, unmoving, for a second, and when you don’t protest, he begins to draw indistinguishable shapes along your skin.

Answering your question without humor, he says, “No. I think we would keep it between us. If that’s okay.”

The way he says us has undertones attached to it, creating more weight than the two-letter word would usually have. You like the way he says it.

You turn your head to look at him, already finding him looking at you. For the first time, your skin flushes at the thought and you feel giddy. A little embarrassed, too. The aphrodisiacs must be wearing off and the confidence with it.

“Yeah. That sounds good.” A moment passes. Then, “But I don’t remember the recipe so don’t hold it to me.”

Willy laughs with a little more enthusiasm this time and you return it.

“Should we get cleaned up? Maybe have some dinner?”

You nod, leaning in towards his lips. When you kiss him, he tastes like strawberry flavored chocolate. Well, underneath the distinct bitterness of your arousal he does.

#&. WRITING #&. willy wonka #willy wonka smut #willy wonka x you #willy wonka x reader

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wh0rrorb4by · 1 month ago

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I feel like Oikawa is the likeee the perfect step daddy LOLL bc he’s so hot AND DAWGGGG

PLSSS bestie i've been waiting to talk about him. gonna give u a big smooch for letting me indulge 🫶🎀

tw: stepcest, daddy kink

18+

step daddy oikawa is the sweetest, kindest, most caring daddy ever. he showers you in expensive gifts, gives you long hugs and forehead kisses and spends all his free time with you. he really makes an effort — gets involved in your interests, introduces you to other pro-athletes you look up to, lets you ramble about your day and any drama in your friend group while he listens intently. he gives you all the love and affection and attention you crave, and then some.

oikawa's such a good step daddy. makes you all sweet and pliant and dependent on him. makes you want to please him. you get good grades to make him proud, learn to cook all his favorite meals, wear all the cute skirts and sweaters he buys you on your days out with him. you even let him kiss you on the mouth when he's feeling extra affectionate, giggling and blushing when he says he only does it because you're so sweet. and when he comes into your room in the late hours of the night or early hours of the morning, when everything is still and quiet and it feels like you two have the world to yourselves, you let him take you nice and slow. he's gentle. caresses you with those big hands that feel like they could shatter you if he used any pressure at all. he kisses you everywhere, lets you cling to him and whine into his chest at his size — you'll never get used to the stretch. he hushes you and pets your hair and whispers praises into your ear as he drives his cock into you, ramblings of how good you are for him, how you're taking it all, that you're his sweet girl.

your daddy always lets you cum all over his cock before he fills you up with his cum, committing the look on your flushed face to memory as he gives you everything he has. he tells you he loves you while he's cumming, makes you say it back with his big hand pressed down on your throat and his cock still pumping into you because he likes the overstimulation and the way it makes you cry. and when he knows you've had enough, he slows to a stop, keeping his cock stuffed inside you as he scoops you into his arms and holds you until you drift off to sleep again. he's always tempted to stay inside you til he’s rock hard again, maybe push your head down and fuck you as hard as he wants, just to really test his little girl’s limits. but that might spoil your perfect vision of him. he’ll just have to wait until you step out of line, get a little too comfortable and start acting like a real brat, then he’ll show you how good daddies deal out punishments.

#wh0rrorb4by #dark content #haikyuu smut #haikyuu stepcest #oikawa smut #oikawa stepcest #haikyuu dubcon #hq smut #hq stepcest

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bleuispring · 8 months ago

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tall and big ᯓ mingi x camgirl reader

genre: smut

warnings: shy mingi uwu, mingi has a grandfather clock dick i jus know it

ever since he started masturbating to your live streams and videos, mingi got a lot more horny than he thought. he really tried to control himself but he just can't resist you. he started to give you more and more gifts every time you went live and you were happy to receive those.

as time goes on, you started to wait for him to enter your live and accept his gifts, but tonight he was missing. you were a bit disappointed but you kept going on your live until it eventually ended. suddenly, there was a ding and you saw that someone messaged you. you open the chat box and was startled to see his user, the infamous @fixonmydick.

fixonmydick: hi umm

fixonmydick: im sorry if i didn't watch your live, i know you went live just now but i have some errands to run

fixonmydick: i know you don't know me personally but umm

fixonmydick: i saw your post that you'll have a one premium show for one only and umm im interested

ah, so he saw her post last night. maybe she should give him a chance.

you (lustfulpuss): no worries ! it's fine if you had to run some errands

lustfulpuss: besides, i ain't forcing anyone to watch me live

lustfulpuss: anywy, I'll think about your offer.

mingi smiles shyly when he sees your reply, mentally preparing himself once he wins and gets the chance to fuck you stupid. he's confident with his cock, but he's nervous about the feeling once her enters inside you.

[a few days later]

you announce the winner of who won the free fuck, and of course, mingi won. it was kinda biased, but you were curious to see him irl too. when mingi saw your post, he was smiling like an idiot, kicking his feet in excitement.

lustfulpuss: hi

lustfulpuss: you won the contest! the roulette picked you ><

hell, even your messages are cute. you had to make a lie, to cover the real intention you have: wanting to be fucked by him.

fixonmydick: thank you vv much for the opportunity !

fixonmydick: i hope i don't scare you or something lmao

lustfulpuss: why, r u gonna scare me with your cock?

fixonmydick: im very embarrassed and shy to say this but i think so, yeah

as time goes by, you two continued to chat to at least get to know each other. you both introduced yourselves with your real names and where you from. you two exchanged numbers because it's kinda a little awkward to chat at a camgirl website.

when he revealed his face by sending a picture, you were surprised on how good looking he was. you have never ever wanted someone to fuck this instant. he was also pretty tall. you know what they say, if a guy's tall, so is his dick.

#ateez #ateez angst #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez fluff #mingi #mingi smut #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez drabbles #ateez imagines #mingi x reader #song mingi #ateez mingi #cromernet

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angelzarchive · 4 months ago

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spencer bf hcs? I've read all the spencer tumblr fics too :,)

request: spencer bf hcs? i’ve read all the spencer tumblr fics too :,) / from the lovely @earspop! thank you for giving me the opportunity to write some spencer content, i love his sm so i had a lot of fun with this request. i think i got far too into and it turned out to be a little longer than i was expecting but i hope you enjoy it <33

pairing: spencer agnew x fem! insinuated reader — i’m sorry not all works i do will be gender specific, i’m just a sucker for spencer saying ‘pretty girl’

a/n: yayyy! this is finally my first ever work on tumblr and it’s also my first time doing hcs / x reader so bare with me if it’s not so good lol. i’m so nervous yet excited to share this. i just hope you all enjoy. and by all means, if you see any errors or mistakes, please feel free to point them out. it’s not edited yet because i wanted to get it out quickly, so a little note if you see any would be greatly appreciated! if you have any requests you’d like to see, please leave them <3

for spencer, meeting you was what he could only describe as love at first sight.

from the moment you had first walked through the smosh doors and introduced yourself as their newest addition, he was smitten.

not only did he think you were the most beautiful person he’d ever laid his eyes on, but he was completely infatuated by your personality and how well you immediately got along with everyone.

you quickly found out you both had very similar humour and could riff off of each other effortlessly.

so, it didn’t take long for the two of you to become friends. best friends, in fact. spencer had made it his own little secret mission to ensure it.

and before you knew it, you were attached at the hip. between spending your lunch breaks and most weekends together, your friends found it almost impossible to catch either of you alone.

he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was always trying to impress you. especially by making you laugh with his silly jokes. he had loved the sound of your laugh since the first time he’d made you fling your head back, mouth open wide and hands clutching your stomach. he was in awe of your bright smile and he vowed to never stop trying to make it happen.

falling for you was inevitable, he was a goner from the beginning. and the feeling wasn’t much different on your part, your crush on the man only grew stronger each day.

getting together wasn’t an easy process though, it took far too long for either of you to admit your feelings to yourselves — never mind one another.

you were both too worried about about the consequences of it going wrong, not wanting to ruin the cherished friendship you’d established.

much to the dismay of your friends, of course, who were all progressively getting more and more annoyed at the both of you for being so clueless. it was like everyone but you two could see how in love you were with each other.

it was spencer who built up the courage to admit his feelings first, although he hadn’t actually intended to.

it happened during your weekly movie night. you noticed there was something off about him immediately, sensed it as soon as he had walked through the door and plonked himself on the furthest end of your sofa — quite a distance away from where he’d usually sit, right by your side.

he was fidgeting the entire time and seemed like his mind was else where. you’d barely gotten an hour into the movie when you’d had enough and pressed pause.

you urged him to tell you what was wrong and without a second thought, all in one breath, he admitted his feelings for you.

you were beyond shocked but it didn’t take you long to return the favour.

that night you’d finished the movie in each others arms, whispering sweet nothings.

to this day, spencer regrets how he told you. he wishes it was more romantic and better thought out, but you wouldn’t change it for the world.

and you’d been together ever since then.

spencer is the sweetest boyfriend ever and you loved being able to witness this new side of him.

turns out, he’s the biggest hopeless romantic.

from day one, his silly nicknames for you had taken a romantic turn. he started calling you “my love”, “baby” and even “pretty girl” — which you were obsessed with (if you don’t like nicknames, just discard this part!).

the guy literally praises the ground you walk on. he can never seem to shut up about you, always finding some way to bring you up in conversation. usually, he’s bragging about you.

he always says he‘s not entirely sure why you like him or how he managed to bag you, but he’s grateful it paid off. sometimes he’ll make a joke that he knows is really nerdy and he’ll follow it up with a “i don’t know why they like me either” or a “they’ll never want to touch me again”.

he will randomly use the cheesiest pick up lines on you. you could both just be chilling and out of no where he’ll hit you with a “baby, if you were words on a page, you’d be fine print” just because he “felt like it”.

at work, he loves to bring you lunch and leave you a cute little note.

at home, he will sit you down on his lap and teach you how to play his favourite games so that he can play them with you. though once you get the hang of it, he does get very competitive. god forbid you get more kills than him in fortnite, even though he is super impressed — “that’s my girl.”

he also likes to play his games with you laying your head in his lap. there’s something about you being interested in what he’s playing that makes him want to take his shirt off really happy. even if you end up falling asleep during, at which point he’ll make great effort not to wake you up until he’s done. which usually doesn’t take too long because watching you sleep so peacefully in his lap has him eager to cuddle up with you in bed.

speaking of, when cuddling, he usually really likes to lay his head on your chest with your arms wrapped around him or have your whole body weight on top of him. he’s happy to be either big or little spoon.

although he may not be the biggest fan of over the top PDA, he does like to be touching you in some way or other. he’ll usually have his hand placed on you, either on the bottom your back or on your waist. he enjoys playing with your fingers and the hem of your clothes. when sitting, he’ll definitely have his arm wrapped around the back of your chair.

he really loves to show you off and as a result, his insta feed is full of your pictures. it may as well be his personal fan account for you. furthermore, he comments on every single one of your posts. he’s always your biggest hype man.

big fan of sending you memes on any and every social media platform you both have. if you don’t react to them, he will send you either an angry or sad face emoji.

he has made custom memes for you and your relationship, with a number of them featuring in who memed it videos. very easy points for the cast members.

he likes to save videos he’s seen that remind him of you or the stuff he thinks would make you laugh, immediately showing you when you’re next together.

spencer is a very good, active listener. he’s always willing to hear you talk, whether it be about your interests or something that’s bothering you and he will always have a question to ask or solution to provide. he even remembers the smallest things you tell him, which he’ll bring up to you months later and you’ll be pleasantly surprised.

he definitely writes down every important date between you both.

he’s a very thoughtful gift giver and likes to spend time just planning what he wants to get you. he believes you deserve nothing less and likes every last detail to be perfect.

you’ll usually get each other a funny card with the presents though. it’s become a tradition for you both to draw a little silly something inside (like a character from a show you’re both watching together)— even if it turns out very poor. the messages inside are pretty romantic and heartfelt, no matter the occasion.

spencer is very quick to notice when you’re upset and when he does, he’ll do everything in his power to cheer you up. playing one of his characters usually works pretty fast, especially the chosen and fred darts. they’re so ridiculous, they end up distracting you.

he definitely makes you playlists of songs that remind him of you or that he recommends and he absolutely listens to all the songs you recommend him, without skipping a second. if he likes them, he’ll let you know it.

whenever he has a new idea for a video or a character to play, you’re the first person he will run it by. he really values your input.

you guys definitely have cat babies and he absolutely will send you pictures of them if you’re away. they’ll have a caption that says something like “we miss you” or “look how cute our son/ daughter is, they definitely take after you”.

a/n: and this is all the hcs i have for now, however i will definitely be updating this list.

#spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew nation #smosh #smosh cast #smosh games #smosh x reader #fan fiction

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russellsppttemplates · 1 year ago

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It's like we won't even be there (Lewis Hamilton)

Mercedes has three power couples

Note: english is not my first language. After a long time, I'm finally posting this request.

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: mentions gender inequality, misogynistic ideals

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Everyone on social media has an inkling that you're bringing someone to the race. Is it your belle, Mr. Hamilton?", you teased your boyfriend as he got ready for bed.

You had arrived in Abu Dhabi a few hours earlier, caught a cab to the hotel where your boyfriend had been resting before media day.

"Is that so?", he wondered, "I haven't told anyone outside the team. And even them, I told them you would be joining as my guest, only a few people actually know about us", he assured.

"I don't mind it, we'll have to be public at some time. Three years dating outside of the public eye, plus another year of what the kids call soft launching, whatever happens this weekend, happens", you tranquilized him.

This had been an ongoing conversation for you for as long as you've dated. His lifestyle came with many implications, particularly not always being home and public eye. You also spent a lot of time focused on your job, building the company now associated to your name to the people in the finance business, so the latter question was the biggest one. While you were successful, it hardly impacted your life when it came to the public eye or social media. You had your accounts, sure, but they were private and they never got in the way of your job.

"I just don't want people to lash out on you", he replied, sitting next to you on the bed, his fingers tracing shapes in your hand, "I've seen how brutal they can be, I've felt how brutal they can be, and I don't want that for you. They'll gossip because that's how things work, but I don't want them breaking the respect line.", Lewis stated.

"Lew, I understand and appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine. I have you, our families, our friends, I'm going to be just fine. I don't know how they'll react, so I'll work with whatever happens", you smiled, snuggling into him as he caressed your face.

"Good morning, Y/N! How have you been? I haven't seen you in so long!", Carmen said as she hugged you once you arrived in the hospitality, Lewis kissing your cheek briefly before he headed for his meeting.

"Hello, gorgeous girl! I've been good, and you?", you greeted her with a kiss on each cheek after saying goodbye to Lewis.

"Same old, busy but managed to come and support G this weekend. You, however, seem to finally let it out", she smirked, walking with you to the coffee station and serving yourselves, sitting in the balcony as you overlooked the track.

"There's no point in keeping it a secret, I guess. We did it for a while, and this past year we both realised that we want to be able to go out and not be worried someone will see us and whatever consequences it could bring. We're adults who hope other adults will behave like such", you smiled.

"A hard thing to do sometimes, for them at least", you heard a female voice coming closer to you, "I don't believe we've met before, but Toto said you were hanging out here", the blonde woman said.

Suzie Wolff had been someone you looked up to since you were little, so this was a proper fangirl moment, "sit, sit! This is Y/N!", Carmen introduced after giving her a brief introduction.

"I keep missing you whenever you join us for the races!", she said, "the pandemic didn't help, and lately I've been so busy with the F1 Academy that I've hardly been to races myself", she reasoned, beginning the start of a conversation that was only interrupted for lunchtime.

"Press usually have a field day with powerful women related to this sport. You should be able to get away with it because you don't work for racing, but they love going on and on about how we got to where we are because of who we date", Suzie shook her head.

"Absolutely, because George is very interested in Family Offices and he got me my job", Carmen rolled her eyes, "you try and give that guy math stuff and you see how it turns out! Besides, not many people actually knew who he was, they're not very into motorsport, only a couple of them!", she teased.

"Agreed! The only way I was able to have my own company was because I name dropped Lewis, who I didn't know at the time. He doesn't know his numbers all that well. It's so easy for them to point fingers, but it's really just because they hate to see a powerful woman get the job done", you offered, seeing your partners arrive to the table along Laura.

"Social media is going crazy about you, Y/N!", Laura, one of the team's social media managers said while you had lunch, "there's people who spent the whole morning trying to find out who you were and they were faling to find your accounts. Apparently, they were looking in model agencies and such until someone pointed out you studied at the same university as them, and it's pointed them in the right direction I'd say?", she shrugged her shoulders, showing you her phone as she scrolled through media, "they're still trying to find out more, but they only have a few articles from your company and a picture of you when you graduated that is on the university's Wall of Fame!", she made you giggle, fondly looking at the wall of pictures you saw everyday on your way to lectures.

"Are you on the Wall of Fame and didn't tell us, Y/N?", Carmen exclaimed at the new information, "it's barely anything, I'm still there probably because someone forgot to remove the picture", you blushed, suddenly feeling like the table's attention was on you.

"Why would they take out the picture of the most beautiful woman with the most achievements?", Lewis charmed, holding your hand in his as he smiled.

"Are you guys ready for the race? If all goes well, we can get back to the points!", Suzie cheered as she handed you and Carmen your bottles of water.

"Lew has been beating himself up a lot lately, hopefully everything works in their favour", you held your hands together after setting the water bottle on the counter.

It was very touch and go, but the boys ended up with good results given the position they started in.

"Congrats, my love!", you said in Lewis' ear as he squeezed your torso over the barrier, delighting the sight of everyone who was watching and seeing the happy couple, "couldn't have done it without you, gorgeous girl", he yelled back, stealing a kiss before running to the mechanics.

"I'm just going to check where Suzie is and then we can go for dinner, guys", Toto stated, squeezing George's and Lewis' shoulders before checking is phone to see if his wife had seen the text he sent about said dinner.

"The F1 Academy paddock is closed, you can see it from here that nobody is there", George pointed out as his boss frowned.

"I would help you, but I have to go and look for Carmen, too", George scratched his cheek as they walked along the corridor, seeing Lewis open his driver's room door and slumping his shoulders slightly, "Y/N is not here either".

"Where have the Mercedes missus gone...?", Toto muttered.

It didn't take then long to hear the mix of your three giggles coming from the lounging area, the three of you sat in the smaller sofas around a coffee table, hot drinks in your hands as you discussed something avidly but in a relaxing way still.

"Are the three of you willing to have dinner with the three of us? We'll still let you speak between yourselves, okay? It's like we won't even be there!", Toto joked.

#lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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munsonsmixtapes · 7 months ago

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Truth or Drink

actor!Eddie x actress!reader

summary: you and Eddie play a game of truth or drink for an interview

cw: mention of alcohol

You and Eddie had been hesitant to do an interview as a couple but as soon as you were offered an opportunity to play truth or drink, you knew you had to take it. Answering questions with alcohol would have definitely made it easier. Especially because you were unsure of what was going to be asked.

You sat across from each other at a table on the set where the segment was filmed and you both got comfortable while everything was being set up. You and Eddie had watched a couple of episodes the night before so you knew exactly what to expect. All you had to do was answer the questions truthfully and if you couldn’t, you had to take a shot.

The camera was all set and there was a countdown before the camera started rolling. You and Eddie put on your smiles that you had perfected over the years and turned to face the camera to introduce yourselves. The guy behind it counted down from three then pointed, signaling that it was your time to shine.

“I’m Eddie Munson.”

“And I’m y/n l/n and this is truth or drink.”

The camera cut and they brought in the cards that held the questions. For once, you weren’t nervous. And that was usual for you because you always were when it came to interviews. Eddie looked at you and reached across the table for your hand and you gave it to him to which he gave it a squeeze.

Eddie wasn’t nervous in the slightest. In fact, he was excited. Doing an interview with his girl and getting free booze? It was a win-win in his mind. And he was interested to see what kind of questions were going to be asked. He was an open book. Nothing was off limits.

“Do you want to start or should I?” You asked as you looked down at the card in front of you.

“Ladies first,” he gave your hand another squeeze before letting it go.

“Okay,” you nodded then cleared your throat. “This one’s starting off strong. Out of all of your exes, who’s your favorite?”

“Easy,” he shrugged and you panicked. “None. You’re my favorite, babe.”

“I don’t think that counts,” you shook your head. “I think you’re gonna have to drink.” You looked at the crew behind the camera and they all nodded in agreement. “Drink up, Eds.”

Eddie downed the shot and felt it burn all the way down. He slammed down the glass then picked up his own cards, letting out a laugh at the question he had just read.

“Oh, this one is good,” he laughed. “Fuck, marry, kill my most popular characters: Cal Burns, Mason Brooks, and Theodore Lee.”

“God, that is a good one,” you nodded. “Fuck Cal, obviously.”

“That was quick,” Eddie scoffed, but he did want you to say Cal. He really liked playing that character and the depth that he had to him.

“I like cowboys, sue me.” He didn’t blame you at all. He totally saw the appeal.

“Marry Mason because he was in the movie where we fell in love.” That warmed Eddie’s heart and made him feel like he never had before.

“You’re such a sap,” he teased, but he loved that about you. It was one of his favorite qualities about you.

“And you love it,” you winked, making him go weak in the knees and he was so glad he was sitting.

“I do,” he nodded with a smile.

“And I guess kill Theo. He’s an ass.”

“True,” he shrugged.

“My turn again. Name someone who you didn’t like working with.” Oh, he couldn’t answer that. He was thinking of someone, but even he knew it wasn’t right to say.

“Got me again, angel.” Eddie downed yet another shot and nodded in approval at the question on his card. This one was so good and definitely going to make you drink.

“What’s so funny, Edward?”

“Name someone who has slid into your DMs.” You thought about it, but didn’t think it was a good idea to say. You didn’t think it was right to make something so personal public. So, with that, you downed the shot, making a face as it burned your throat.

The game went on and on until Eddie finished all of his shots and you only had two empty glasses. Even though it wasn’t a competition, Eddie had crowned you the winner. Normally, you were the one who was closed off, but this time, you were an open book and he admired that you had answered almost every single question. There was so much growth from you since you had gotten together and he couldn’t have been more proud of you.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #actor!eddie #actress!reader #actor!eddie x actress!reader

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whenanafallsinlove · 4 months ago

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i quite literally screamed when i saw ur 150 post. i’d say i wanna be the james to ur betty but betty is too good for the world, let alone any guy 😞

ANYWAY, congrats on 150 🤍 you deserve that and so much more 🪽 SAD PROSE 🖋️ touya tdrk + “with my calamitous love and insurmountable grief”

- mady 🤍🪽💿💭🐚

ahhh sorry it took this long! this was a challenge! i really hope you like this. I guess, be the betty to my betty? anyway, love u mady!

✒️"SAD PROSE" - send a character + your favorite folklore lyric, and I'll write a short blurb

"MY CALAMITOUS LOVE AND INSURMOUNTABLE GRIEF" - TOUYA TODOROKI x reader

Touya and you were childhood friends. You had known him since you were a toddler, because you were neighbours.

The first time you met Touya, was when you were around three years old. Your had just moved in to the neighbourhood, so your mother decided that you should greet and introduce yourselves to the family next door.

You didn't remember that moment with a lot of detail, but you recalled your mother knocking on the door, a beautiful white haired woman opening, and a little Touya peeking from behind.

From that moment on, Touya became part of your life, and you his. You practically ate, slept and breathed together. It was so common for you to be at his house, that you weren't even amazed anymore by the fact that his father was one of the biggest heroes.

To you, he was just the man who usually made your best friend cry.

Touya was homeschooled, so he always asked you what it was like to study with other people. His reality was very different to yours; he was taught by private tutors, and as he grew up, most of his free time was spent on quirk trainning with his father.

Still, you did everything that was possible so you could see him everyday. Of course, you started to spend time with his sibblings as well. Fuyumi was just a few months younger than you, whereas Natsuo and Shoto were still very little.

As the years passed, you started to comprehend better a lot of things, you started to see things that you hadn't seen before.

You saw how Touya's father had a lot of expectations on him, you saw how your best friend was getting injured because of this, you saw the way Rei was as preoccupied as you were, and you understood how impotent you were in this situation.

The only thing you could do for Touya, was hold him while he cried, help him clean his wounds, and hear him vent about his father.

Throughout the decade you had known Touya, you had seen him change. He seemed to have lost his happineess, and replaced it with a motivation to please his father's wishes.

But you always remained as his constant.

Since you met, Touya told you that he would keep you by his side forever, that when you grew up, you'd be together for the rest of your lives.

But destiny played its cards, and on a windy day in winter something happened...

"Y/N, today is the day! I'm going to show my father how a great hero I can become!" Touya said, seemingly excited.

"Are you sure Tou? I'm sure you'll be a great hero, but I'm still worried about you..." You said to your best friend. Touya scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"You sound like my mother, Y/N. I have told you not to worry, I'm stronger than my father, he has to see that!"

"I really hope he does. Just be careful, Tou!" You knew better than to push Touya. He needed to feel supported, so you gave him that.

"Yeah, whatever..." Touya shrugged, and you both stayed silent for a few seconds, before he spoke again.

"You know, Y/N? I want you to be by my side forever. I'll marry you when we're older."

"Huh!? Don't talk nonesense Tou, you're too young to decide that!" You felt your cheecks burn.

"That's why I said when we're older. I'll be the greatest hero, and I'll have the greatest best friend as my partner" Touya gave you a small smirk, so you shoved his shoulder.

"Shut up, idiot!" You said, but couldn't help the smile you had.

You both started laughing and shoving each other. In that moment, your heart burnt with intensity, but the incident that happened later that evening made it burst into a thousand ashes.

That was the last time you had seen Touya; he had made you a promise he wasn't able to fulfill. Your forever dissapeared hand in hand with him.

The years that followed didn't make it any easier, you kept telling yourself "It takes time", but deep down you knew that it was only making you ache more and more.

So, when you watched the news and saw your childhood best friend confessing to be part of the League of Villains, you entered a state of shock. You felt a mix of happiness, nostalgia, hope and depression.

You weren't sure whether he remembered you, if you could contact him or if you should just let everything stay buried. But a few days after the transmission, you found a letter in your doorstep.

It was inside of an envelope, that had "Touya" written in it. You sat down on your couch and opened it, with a hole in your stomach.

"Dear Y/N, It's been a long time, so I'm not sure if you will read this. I haven't had classes in a long of time, so don't get petty with my spelling, okay dumbass? I'm sure you're confused with all the mediatic stunts I pulled, and you may have a lot of questions, so I'll try to answer some of them. That day, after we talked, I went to the place where I had asked my father to meet me. He never showed up. I can't remember much after that; I was surrounded by fire and the next thing I knew, was that I woke up in a hospital three years after. The next years, I worked on developing my quirk. I couldn't go back home, and I couldn't go back to you. I may sound like a stalker, but I've been keeping an eye on you though. Just checking from time to time that you were okay... You know? I sometimes wonder if you would feel dissapointed for the way I turned out. I hope that deep inside you, you understand that this was my only way to get my revenge at the old bastard. You're collateral damage. I'm sorry I didn't keep my promise, our field of dreams ended up engulfed in fire. Anyway, you may have been right back then. We were just kids, what we thought was for all time, was momentary. I don't have much more to say. This might be the last goodbye, please use this as closure Y/N, and don't try to contact me. I loved you, you were the loss of my life. - Touya "

With your watery eyes, you were forced to let go of Touya for the second time. Your heart filled with an emotion that you could only describe as calamitous love and insurmountable grief.

a/n: so... I know this was supposed to be only inspired by folklore, but i had to add a little ttpd for the suffering! btw this is not proof read, again! so sorry if there are any mistakes

#🎧 ana's 150 celebration!#touya x reader #touya todoroki #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #touya x y/n #touya x you #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #touya todoroki angst #dabi todoroki #todoroki x reader #todoroki touya #dabi angst

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idontexist65 · 20 days ago

Text

Ghosts and Pals

O.Dazai X GN!Reader

Chapter; 1/??

wordcount; 4,006

warnings; none aside from past character death.

a teaser for a fanfic I've written under the same name :D

You could see things others could not.

Shadowy figures lurked in back alleys, strange whispers followed you like a cloak, and most damning of all…

The inexplicable force that drew the recently dead to you.

It happened very rarely– usually, you found the recently deceased before they found you– but then again, there usually weren’t so many ghosts appearing all at once.

They all arrived very quickly, one after another. The first to arrive had yelled as they sunk to the floor, clutching their stomach. That woke you up very quickly from your nap, shooting upright in your bed.

You had just turned sixteen. You could hear your parents bustling around in the kitchen, preparing dinner. There was a translucent man curled up on your bedroom floor.

He couldn't have been older than twenty five.

Before you could really process what was going on, you watched in muted confusion and fear as another man seemingly stumbled into existence and crashed down against your writing desk.

This continued for another few minutes– by the time you had fully woken up, there were five strange, possibly dead men in your room.

You… weren’t quite sure how to proceed here. Typically, you’d offer condolences and explain that they were dead, but again, normally there weren’t multiple spirits, and normally, they didn’t fucking appear in your room while you napped.

Hesitantly, you cleared your throat.

They weren’t making a lot of noise beforehand, but to see five heads snap towards you so suddenly definitely creeped you out.

Speaking slowly, as to not alert your parents, you introduce yourself and attempt to explain. “So, you’re all… dead. I guess, and- uh, I might be the only person who can see you?” Silence. “...Care to introduce yourselves?”

You receive no response for another few long, agonising moments. You shift in place, beginning to feel awkward about all this. Usually, the ghosts you encounter had been dead long enough to accept that they’re dead, or they died peacefully.

Eventually one of them clears their throat and straightens out, pushing his short blonde hair out of his eyes. He smiles at you, charismatic in a way that feels both practiced and genuine. He'd make a good model, you think.

“Ah, how rude of me! You may call me Lippmann. Now, would you mind elaborating on the whole ‘being dead’ part?” This is the hard part. It's so… difficult, explaining this strange new existence to people. Part of you feels bad, but you've gone through this song and dance so many times that you've become numb to the empathy ones supposed to feel discussing the dead.

“It's pretty simple, lippmann-san,” you start, turning and throwing your legs over the side of your bed to sit up properly. You fold your hands in your lap as you try to explain in simple turns that they are all, in fact, dead. “Something bad happened to you all– presumably all at once, considering you're here together.”

“I'm assuming from your reactions, you weren’t expecting to die, which leads me to believe it was an attack of sorts. Either way, you have passed away.” Tilting your head, you rest your chin in your hands as you explain, politely ignoring the looks of sudden realisation that spread amongst the group. “You don't have to stay here- most spirits are free to roam, most simply choose to attach themselves to a specific place.”

Lippmann sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose as another one of the men steps forward, a small frown on his face. His hair was short as well, mostly white except for a few black stripes near his face. “I'm not sure we’d have any place to go.” he says, setting a hand on Lippman’s shoulder.

You consider prying– surely, they have someplace, someone, to hang around– but you don't. Instead, you look at the group, and once again ask for their names.

That night started the strangest years of your life. The young men– your friends, as Lippmann insisted a few months later– were mafiosos, members of a mafia youth group called the flags, and were assassinated. It was a lot to take in that night, but over the next two years, you grew to accept it.

Like Piano man (what a name) had said, they didn't really have anywhere to go. That's not to say they stuck around you 24/7, though. You were offered plenty of privacy, and every now and then one or two of the flags had departed to visit some mysterious friend. According to them, you’d like him. You think they’re exaggerating. (they're not, but you don't know that yet.)

All is well for the next two years.

Until you return home to children crying.

Sobbing would probably be the correct word. You had just gotten home from your new job– some creepy occult store, you loved it – when the sound of multiple kids crying reached you.

For a few, blissful moments, you thought that it was one of your neighbours, or something on TV. But Albatross’ panicked face greeting you as he rushed out of your room the second you closed the door confirmed your fears.

This was not the first time you had to explain to a child that they had, unfortunately passed away. But from the mere sound of these kids crying, something tells you this wasn't a peaceful death.

Opening the door to your room revealed five kids– four boys, one girl– all huddled together. Your heart ached so fiercely you worried it was actually breaking.

Despite your best efforts, you weren't able to get any useful information out of them. They did stop crying, and had moved onto your bed, but none of them talked to you.

You didn't find out what happened until nearly two days later.

It was pretty late. The sun was setting, you were sneaking snacks into your room. The flags were up on the roof of the building with the kids in an attempt to help them open up. All was well.

Except for the man on your floor.

If this didn't happen so often you'd be concerned. Instead, you set your food down and gently kick the man. Your foot just goes through him, but the intent is there. “Hey, wake up!”

With a groan,the strange man with red hair sits up, staring at you with unfiltered confusion. A reasonable reaction, one you don't have time for. “Hi! Welcome to the afterlife, I’ll be your guide for as long as you decide to stay here. We've got mafia members and crying children, please don't scream.”

Nailed it.

Fortunately, your speech seems to get his attention. Before he can speak, you hear the sounds of rowdy children and rowdier adults stampeding through your parents apartment. “Speak of the devil. Hope you're mentally prepared, I'm not.”

Phasing through the door, the children emerge, actually smiling for once. Unfortunately, the smiles don't last long. Tears quickly begin to fall once they catch sight of the man beside you. For a long moment, you wonder if this man was responsible for the children’s unfortunate demise. Thankfully, that fear is quickly put to rest by the little girl wailing and throwing herself at the man– who is still on the floor.

“Tou-san!!” Like a trigger, the other children quickly follow. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, you step out to let that little “family reunion” play out in peace.

Later, you learn that man is Sakunosuke Oda, and to “Just call him Odasaku, please.” You learn that he is also a member of the mafia, and, after introducing him to the other ghosts that plague your existence, he apparently knew some kid the flags only referred to as “The Demon Prodigy”.

(You still don't know his name. It's become a game of keep away. The only thing you know about this infamous man is that he’s your age.)

Eventually, you move out of your parents apartment and into your own space. You continue working at the occult store, and eventually you begin to visit Odasaku’s grave on the weekend to relax and make sure it looks nice. You'd do the same for the Flags, but they're not sure where they’d be buried. (You're still not sure how Odasaku knew where his grave was…)

Despite all the weirdness in your life, you spend the next few years in relative peace!

You still see ghosts, and sometimes you come home to freshly dead spectres in your living room, but otherwise you live a completely normal life, with five terrible friends, five kids who you’ve come to think of as your siblings, and a man who exudes fater;y affection, even though he probably doesn't mean to.

Despite all that, this story doesn't officially begin until four years after you meet Odasaku.

It was a quiet night (morning?) , you were staying up far too late watching some old movies.

Considering your life, you weren't particularly surprised at the young woman who suddenly appeared in front of you. She had long brown hair, kind eyes, and a lovely blue cardigan. She stared down at you– sprawled across your couch, still in your work clothes– and immediately apologised.

You explained her new situation and after hearing her story, set out to find her body and report it to the police. Flanked by your usual entourage– minus Odasaku and his children, it was late– you listened to Yamagiwa-san describe what had happened to her as you walked along the river.

It took you a few hours– it was nearly seven AM now, you left at five– but eventually you found her corpse floating in the river. Sighing, you dug into your pockets and pulled out your phone. Dialing the police, you muster up the concern as much as you can while talking to the operator. According to her, the police will be here within the next thirty minutes.

It takes forty minutes for the police to arrive, section off the crime scene, and retrieve the body from the river. In that time, you’ve found the killer. Yamagiwa had pointed him out shakily the second he arrived, and you tried not to appear to disturbed as another officer led you away for questioning.

You’ve barely answered three of his questions when you hear a commotion. Stepping away, you watch with amusement as the lead investigator tells a young man with dark hair that they’re not needed. Considering the spirits that haunt you, you can confidently say that's not true.

You didn't get a good look at the body, but what you did see seemed like a setup. It almost matched the port mafia’s M.O., but considering the glaring lack of a broken jaw alongside the bullet wounds… they'd definitely need the detective's help.

You watch in confusion as they reveal the body again– seriously, why show the detectives the body if they weren't going to help? You step closer to the body, standing beside the killer. “Sugimoto”, if his nametag was correct.

“Woah woah woah!” The lead Detective, Minoura as he introduced himself, called out once he saw you. “Can't you see this is a crime scene?”

You stared down at him before speaking very bluntly, crossing your arms over your chest. “...I know, I reported the body.” the fact that he didn't know you were a “witness” was a little disheartening. Some cop, hah?

“Y-You reported the body?” You turn your steely gaze over to a young boy with white hair. He fidgets anxiously under your gaze, and you soften slightly, nodding your head. You can’t verbally answer him before some cops start yelling about having “Caught something in the net!”

You trail behind the group as they rush over to a metal crane pulling something out of the water. You hear whispers of another possible victim, but you know that's not the truth. The feeling of rot that comes with the newly deceased has faded, and no spirit flies from the water with the man caught in the net.

He has Brown hair, bandages over his forearms and neck, and from the exasperated posture of the white haired detective, you assume he’s also a detective.

“Hello, Atsushi-kun!” He waves to the boy– Atsushi, supposedly– completely fine with being dragged out of the river like a corpse. “What a strange coincidence!” You can hear hushed whispers, both from the very alive cops and from your very dead friends, but you're more focused on the scene before you.

‘Atsushi’ doesn’t seem to pleased to see the man, slouching down further and tiredly muttering; “Another suicide attempt?” Another? This is a common occurrence? How odd, what a strange group of detectives…

Behind you, you hear Doc snicker and whisper to Lippmann “Somethings never change, hah?” which is odd, because they shouldn't know this detective? They were literally in the mafia?? unless this detective has a history stained ‘port-mafia black’ ...

How intriguing.

“What, committing suicide alone?” The brunette laughs, “That’s so passe, Atsushi-kun. I’ve come to realize–” He spins around, jostling the net that keeps him suspended. “–that if I am to die, I will die with a beautiful person!” While the man harps on and on about the wonders of a double suicide, you realize how… suspicious this entire scene is. If you didn’t know who the murderer was, the bandaged man would be suspect number one.

The man spins around once more, placing his hands on his hips as he proudly proclaims; “So, I'm currently on the lookout for a beautiful person who will die with me!” subconsciously, you step behind Detective Minoura. While you’re not sure you could be considered beautiful, you'd rather not be put in that awkward situation, especially during a crime scene.

(Behind you, you hear Iceman greet Odasaku. You also hear hushed conversations about the man in the net.)

Apparently, while you were dissociating, the man in bandages had gotten out of the net and was now kneeled before the body, once again whining on about double suicide. Jeez, this guy’s a walking cry for help, isn't he…?

“Who the hell is he?” questions Detective Minoura, unknowingly voicing your questions. You can't keep referring to the bandaged man as… ‘ the bandaged man ’ in your mind, after all.

“Our colleague at the Agency, Dazai-san, ” The dark haired detective– damnit, you need to learn his name too– answers, not batting an eye at “Dazai’s” antics. Is this a common occurrence? “That's just how he is.” Oh.

“But rest in peace milady, an extraordinarily great detective will avenge you! Right, Ranpo-san?” Dazai turns to look at the five of you, expression bright and a little cocky. You can pinpoint the exact moment he spots you, but “ Ranpo ” speaks up before he says anything.

“I have yet to get the job yet.” Ranpo replies, tilting his head. Dazai seems confused, dropping his arms and raising an eyebrow. “What? Why?”

Ranpo points to Detective Minoura with bland disinterest– as if the very idea of the man bores him to death. You step away from him, turning to keep a better eye on Sergeant Sugimoto. Knowing what you know makes you uneasy and hesitant to turn your back on the man, a fact you're sure is picked up by the actually competent detectives.

“We have no need for Private Investigators,” The gruff man practically snarls, huffing and closing his eyes as he proudly proclaims; “In fact, all of my subordinates are far superior to any private detective.” Despite your best efforts, you can’t help but chuckle.

All eyes turn to you immediately. Detective Minoura glares at you while you quickly stifle your amusement. “Eh? What's so funny, kid?” He sets a hand on his hip as he waits for your answer, leaving you in a difficult situation. How do you answer this without seeming incredibly suspicious?

…do you really care about seeming suspicious? If Ranpo-san is as great of a detective as he says he is, won't he know that you’re not the killer?

…

“It's quite simple, you see!” You start, bringing your hands up in front of you as you gesture to the body. “Looking at the body, what do you assume happened?” You ask, pointing in Atsushi and Sergeant Sugimoto’s direction.

Atsushi flounders while Sergeant Sugimoto thinks before confidently explaining away his crime. “Yamigawa-san was pursuing a political corruption case, and investigating the port mafia.” He starts, resting one hand on his chin as he spins his web of lies. “I believe the murderers M.O. is similar to the port mafia’s method of retribution-”

You cut him off with a raised hand, a smile spreading across your face. “Ah, but doesnt the mafia have a habit of breaking people’s jaw?” You tilt your head, looking to the detectives for “confirmation” . Barely waiting for a nod, you step closer to the body and properly examine it. One two the heart, two to the chest. “It seems to me like the murderer shot two more times in an attempt to cover their tracks… but of course, I'm just the only witness .”

You practically hiss that last bit at Detective Minoura, eyes narrowing as you step away.

Detective Minoura is glaring at you, Atsushi and Sergeant Sugimoto are both staring at you with wide eyes, Dazai is watching you with intrigue, and Ranpo is–

…pulling out a pair of glasses?

Detective Minoura steps closer, eyebrows furrowed as he shoos you away from the body. “You better show some respect, I could–”

“...You know.”

“Huh?” Five heads turn towards Ranpo, who is looking at you . Slowly, he smiles, turning with a flair and beginning to pace.

“You know who the murder is, don’t you?” Your eyes widen as he speaks. With the way he's talking, it seems like you’re the killer! Is he trying to get you arrested?

Instead of panicking, you hesitantly nod. Your eyes flick towards Sergeant Sugimoto once more. Ranpo smiles and stops pacing, holding his glasses up. “Either way, My ability will reveal the killer easily!”

Thankfully, the attention is mostly off you now. Detective Minoura grunts, crossing his arms. “Since you speak so highly of it, let's see this ability of yours.”

Ranpo and Detective Minoura go back and forth for a bit, but you are not focused on their blabbering. You're focused on the ghost hanging over your shoulder, whispering the most shocking piece of information imaginable.

“That man,” Doc whispers, stretching his arm out towards Dazai. “Is The Demon Prodigy. Watch yourself…”

…Really? You were right?

What the hell, why not–

With that out of the way, you try to both observe Dazai and ignore him staring. You’re brought out of your daze by the wind picking up and both Ranpo and Detective Minoura shutting up.

“Watch closely, Atsushi-kun,” Dazai starts, placing his hands in his pockets as he carefully watches the scene before you play out. “ This is the ability that keeps the agency going.” oh? How intriguing…

Dazai continues to monologue about Ranpo’s “ultra deduction”, but you’re too busy watching as Ranpo opens his eyes and scans the space quickly, wind flinging loose clothing and hair everywhere. Just as soon as it starts, it ends, with Ranpo smiling and calmly stating; “I see.”

“”I see” my ass,” Detective Minoura scoffs, and you're starting to get really pissed off by his attitude… “You’re trying to imply you know who the killer is?” …it's not that difficult to figure out…

“Of course.”

You watch with bated breath as Ranpo raises his hand, eyes obscured by shadow. You realize belatedly that you are standing next to Sergeant Sugimoto, and your heart drops as he points between the two of you. “The killer is you…”

“Sergeant Sugimoto.”

You quietly exhale, stepping away from the man as quickly as you can. Thank fuck, your heart was pounding– that could have gone so wrong–

You wind up standing next to Atsushi as Detective Minoura laughs in Ranpo’s face. “Sergeant Sugimoto is my subordinate, “Detective”, did you mean to say–”

“Sergeant Sugimoto is the one who killed her.” Ranpo repeats, as if he hadn’t heard the detective. Detective Minoura snaps, “Don't be stupid! It's impossible that the killer would be this close by in the first place!”

The smile falls from Ranpo’s face as he repeats for the third time; “It’s exactly because he’s the killer that he wants to stay close to the investigation,” Detective Minoura’s face falls and he glares at the other Detective. “Besides, didn’t I tell you?”

Ranpo turns to face the other man, expression bored. “I also know where the evidence lies!” He turns towards Sergeant Sugimoto, holding his hand out. “Lend me your gun, will you?”

There’s sweat dripping down Sergeant Sugimoto’s face as he flounders for excuses. Y-You’ve got to be kidding. The penalty for handing a government-issue firearm to a civilian is far worse than a pay cut.” It’s funny that’s the only concern he’s voicing.

“And here I was hoping you’d have a point,” Detective Minoura scoffs, shaking his head minutely. “Are you private investigators all talk?”

“If we examine that gun and come up empty, then sure, I'm just an idiot running my mouth.” Ranpo states plainly. Detective Minoura, eager to be proven right, cockily scoffs. “I've had enough of listening to you!”

He turns to Sergeant Sugimoto and glares at him. “Show him, Sugimoto!” Sergeant Sugimoto hesitates, for obvious reasons, and offers weak protests that Detective Minoura ignores. “He’s barked up this tree as far as he can go. If we prove him wrong, he’ll shut up and go home.”

“We can’t waste anymore time.” You roll your eyes. You can hear Yamagiwa sigh behind you. Perhaps Detective Minoura was always this stubborn? “Show him your gun.”

You keep a close eye trained on Sergeant Sugimoto. Something tells you this won’t end well…

“Hey, what's the matter, Sugimoto?” It’s not like he’s being accused of murder or anything… Ranpo speaks up. “Even in this city, it isn't easy for an amateur to acquire spare ammo…” Sergeant Sugimoto tenses up further. “Even harder if the firearm is a government issue.”

“Why aren’t you saying anything Sugimoto?!” Probably attempting to think his way out of this… You stop paying attention to what they say, focusing on Sergeant Sugimoto’s hand– the hand that is slowly reaching for his gun. This can't end well…

You watch in mute amusement as Sugimoto pulls his gun on the five of you– Just like you expected. What a surprise! Oh, wait, human instinct, right. You step back, just a few seconds later than the average person.

Dazai slides behind Atsushi and, with a dramatic stage-whisper, shoves poor Atsushi towards Sugimoto. Somehow, Atsushi manages to pin the ex-sergeant and knock the gun from his hands. How lucky.

A group of police officers step forward to surround Sugimoto. He begs to be let go, Ranpo explains what happens in detail, the day is saved! And you have been awake since eight AM yesterday, you are exhausted and you want to go home.

In fact, you’re about to make that trek home when a bandaged hand catches your wrist. You’re about to protest– you’ve already been questioned– but that doesn’t seem to be why Dazai stopped you.

He stares at you with steely determination. You hear someone stifle a chuckle. You raise an eyebrow. “...Yes? Can I help you?”

“Such a beautiful voice… Would you do me the honour… of committing a double suicide with me?” His entire face lights up as he asks the strange question. Honestly, you can see why someone would do such a thing.

But…

“If you had asked me earlier today, I may have said yes. As it is… I have to decline.” you pull your hand away gently, beginning to walk off again. You wave over your shoulder, ignoring the heartbroken look on the suicidal man’s face as you walk off. “Perhaps another time, hah?”

You don't bother looking back. You've got a year's worth of sleep to catch up on. Thank god you have today off…

tada!!! like this snippet? read the first chapter on AO3

Dividers by @sister-lucifer !!!

#bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bsd x reader #fanfic #artwork #digital art #my art #my first fic #woah :0 #first fic on here anyway #bungou stray dogs #bsd

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meguemii · 1 year ago

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ˋ°•*⁀➷S. Gojo

Head canons.

Annoying! Gojo x Reader who is not a fan (enemies to lovers)

Now you could NOT stand Gojo Satoru, but being so close with Shoko and Suguru it was unfortunately inevitable that you and Gojo would often cross paths.

You could not understand why they loved him so much because he was always just always insufferably cocky. So what he was strong. You were too but you didn’t boast about it constantly. Chosen one your ass.

Constant “Y/NNN! why can’t we hangout one on one? you always do with Shoko and Suguru!!”. “Because I don’t like you Gojo.” -_- . But he never gets the hint, not even hint. YOU ARE SAYING IT TO HIS FACE.

He’ll start clinging to you in group settings, arm always around your shoulders in a teasing way. Because he thinks it’s all in good fun when in reality you just cannot stand him.

He called you a nickname/ pet name once and you lost your shit. “My name is Y/N. You don’t get to call me that. Infact you need to call me by my last name. L/N. Do you understand me Gojo?” THE PUPPY DOG EYES GE GIVES YOU IN RESPONSE AS HE MAKES HIS LIL QUIVER LOL. “but Shoko, Geto, Nanami, Haibara and even Utahime get to call you that” making this face🥺.

Ever since then he only calls you by a nickname or pet name . “N/N wait for me!” which you don’t do. “good morning gorgeous” stuff like that.

As time goes on everything becomes more natural, you don’t scream at him as much or get violent. No more duels to the death or even death glares. Just annoyed faces. Then those annoyed faces turn to soft smiles. Which turn to secret laughs on private.

You and Gojo finally start getting along, or at least you start getting along with Gojo. Going to get food by yourselves, shopping trips, long late night talks about the jujutsu society. Really getting to know each other.

He’ll start bringing you snacks and drinks at random times, the teasing becomes more flirty. Random gifts, souvenirs from missions. Lot’s of compliments.

Then he invites you to a family get together where he introduces you as his girlfriend? eeeeerm? did we miss a few chapters?!!?!? Fake smile, introduce yourself, have a good time. “WHAT THE FUCK GOJO???” he is so lost about why you’re mad. “What?🧍” “Since when are we dating?!” “since forever ago” big face palm

That’s the story of how you and Gojo Satoru started dating🤗

Gojo Playlist

Master list

Okay first real Gojo head canon done, the only acceptable trope for Gojo x Reader is ennemies to lovers change my mind (that’s a joke i love all of the gojo x reader tropes ^_^) I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS ONE AS MUCH AS YOU ENJOYED MY AWKWARD MEGUMI HEAD CANONS.

Not proof read :’3

reblogs and hearts are appreciated❣️I also love hearing from everyone so feel free to comment x

I’m working on Hardly Friends chapter 4 as well as some mood boards + scenarios for you guys since you all really loved that one!!

Love, Emi

#gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen x yn #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo x yn #gojo satoru x yn #gojo satoru headcanons

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ariundercovers · 9 months ago

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The Bridge (When Paths Cross Pt. IX, Javier Peña x Reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Afab!Reader (No use of y/n!)

Length: ~3.6k words

Series Summary: Chucho's been like a father figure to you since he helped you out of a sticky situation on your second day in Laredo. What happens when you finally meet his son, the former-DEA agent, who just happens to ignite you in a way that you haven't felt before?

Chapter Summary: The next morning. A surprise meeting and a long-anticipated conversation.

Chapter Warnings: no porn only plot, angsty fluff, spanish nicknames, idiots in love, references to suicide, death/references to death (external character).

A/N: If you're so inclined, please drop a like and a reply/reblog! I live for your feedback, and it keeps me going and keeps me writing. Did you like it? love it? hate it? I want to hear all of your thoughts! And of course, just lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist, too!

PREVIOUS PART (VIII) HERE

It’s a very sleepy, stress free morning that starts perfectly - with you waking up in Javi’s arms. You don’t think either of you moved, hardly an inch, over the course of the evening. Chucho is up early to take care of the cattle, which leaves you two with an empty house and… well, virtually nothing to do to fill the time. You can only hope that he’ll be willing to talk to you, to have a real conversation about all of this mess you’ve been stewing in over the course of the week.

You’re in the kitchen with Javier, moving around him as you set out to make a pot of coffee. It’s a well-rehearsed dance at this point - you make the coffee, Javi makes the pancakes, one of few actual meals he knows how to put together. You move wordlessly around one another for a long while, and its Javi is the one who breaks the silence partway through the morning meal you’ve been preparing together.

“Care to go for a ride with me?”

“A ride?” You question.

“Yeah. Take the horses, go for the day. There’s somewhere I want to take you.”

You look over at him eagerly and you agree, of course. How could you ever say no? You’re still not sure where the two of you stand in all of this, and a conversation still hasn’t happened yet, but you figure this might be the best opportunity you have available to get him talking.

After you have your pancakes and coffee, you set out to gather up what supplies you’ll need for the day. You haven’t been on a ride this long before, so you pester Javi about what it is exactly that you need to bring. You pack yourselves a couple of sandwiches and a few drinks, stash them in a bag on Javi’s horse’s saddle, and head out to your destination which is… you’re not even sure where it is. The ranch is too big to be able to easily navigate on your own, so you just trust Javi and trot along behind him.

It’s peaceful, silent even, as you ride along one of the cow paths that laces through the massive property. When you come to a large clearing, one you’re not quite sure you’ve seen before, he slows, coming up next to you as your horses continue along.

He turns to you with an easy smile and announces, “I wanna take you to visit my mama.”

You’re shocked, to say the least. Shocked, confused, surprised, and, admittedly, a little bit concerned. Javi has never once spoken about his mother. You never asked, never pushed, because you figured it would’ve come up by now if he wanted to talk about it. You also figured he’d tell you the story of why she wasn’t around eventually, so you didn’t want to push or overstep. There were plenty of other things to talk about in the meantime.

But now, staring back at his timid but eager expression, you’re lost thinking about it. Who is she? What is she like? Will she even like you? You can feel a pit of nervousness boiling in your stomach, starting to worry already about how this might go.

But more importantly, you’re stuck on the why. Why now, of all moments, would he introduce you to his mother? After the biggest fight you’ve ever had, after literally walking out on him the other night, after Javi virtually admitted to you that you didn’t have a future together.

”Your mother?”

It’s all you can manage to say in response, taken aback so sharply by the suggestion. He nods back at you and his smile turns somber as he looks back into the seemingly empty distance in front of you.

“Not too much longer, cariño. We’ll be there soon.” He takes off on a trot again, back into the lead between the two of you. Following diligently, you watch as different gated pastures and trees and orchards pass by - some in better repair than others. You’ve only been out this far once, when Chucho gave you the official tour so long ago, now. You realize it must be a lot for Chucho to have been managing all of this on his own for so long, impossible to keep up with even the daily maintenance it would’ve required. You’re glad Javi is home to help. Chucho needs it.

You continue for some time, past the boundaries of what felt to have at least a modicum of familiarity to you. You didn’t realize how far the property went, sprawling in either direction along the river’s edge. Eventually, Javi slows once again, and you pull up next to him, watching as he dismounts with a graceful ease that you know you can’t replicate. You jump off as well, and he leads the horses over to a tree where they can graze freely while you’re here.

Looking around, you’re confused. There’s no house, or building anywhere around you. You can’t imagine where someone would live all the way out here, so you wonder if perhaps you’re making a pitstop somewhere else first. Javi breaks you out of your reverie when he reaches over, hesitantly, and laces his fingers between yours, ending with a heavy squeeze of your palm. Javi’s fingers tap lightly against the back of your hand as he leads you into the field just up ahead, and that’s when you finally see it. A few hundred yards in front of you, a large billowing tree filled with beautiful full green leaves overshadows a few small stones - they’re headstones, you realize.

Suddenly everything clicks into place. Why you’ve never been out here before, why there was no building around, why this seemed like such an odd place to meet Javi’s mother.

Javi’s brought you to his family cemetery.

Your chest tightens immediately and a lump gets stuck in your throat as you piece it all together. The only thing you can think to do is squeeze his hand with your own, pulling it into your chest so that you can hold it with both of yours for a moment. He turns, glancing over at you with a look of gentle concern, and he can see the tears welling in your eyes that threaten to spill over.

“I’m sorry if I’ve never talked about her before. It’s… hard to talk about.” You nod back at him and offer him another light squeeze before releasing his hand back into the grasp of only one of yours.

“Don’t apologize for that. You don’t need to.” He nods back at you and you fall into an easy silence as you walk the remaining distance to the headstones, just three of them placed around the tree. Two, toward the back, look older - you figure they must be a set of grandparents or similar - and another one, newer, but still well worn, sits in front. He leads you to it and stares down at the stone. You read it once, then twice, and another five or six times until it finally sinks in. She was 43, and Javi was only 19 when he lost her. You can’t begin to imagine how traumatic that must have been.

He releases your hand, then, and takes a moment to smooth out his pants first, then his shirt, pushing his hands into the pockets, like he’s trying to make sure he looks presentable enough. The tears that were brimming at your water lines slip past the barrier and roll down your cheeks when he finally speaks up.

“Hey, mami. I know it’s been a while.” Your gaze flicks from the headstone to the side of Javi’s face, another few stray tears falling from your lashes. “Just wanted you to meet this one over here.” He reaches for your hand again, clasping it tightly with his own, bringing it up to his lips to kiss for a moment before he tells her your name, and introduces you as ‘his girl.’

You smile at that. There wasn’t another word for it that worked better. Girlfriend didn’t feel right. Too juvenile, not serious enough. But you weren’t anything more than that either, not yet. It warms your heart to know that he still thinks of you that way, even after everything. Especially after the way that you walked out on him the last time you were here.

Javi starts to speak, then, like he’s talking to someone right in front of him. “I miss you. Bad. All the time. I’m sorry I don’t visit like I used to. It’s been too painful. Easier to just run away, I think. But I wanted you to meet her. Needed you to, I think.” You blink back some more tears and just let him speak, watching as he gets down onto his knees and sits back on his heels. “I hope you’re proud of me. I know I’m not so proud of me most days anymore, but I hope you are. I only ever wanted to make you happy. I miss you.”

Raising his fingers to his mouth, Javi presses a kiss to them before placing his hand gently on the earth in front of him. “I love you, mami,” he adds before standing. He pulls you in front of him, then, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as he buries his face into the side of your neck. You can feel his heavy breathing and the way his breath breaks, like he’s holding back his own tears. There’s nothing you can do but hold tightly to him and let him ride it out however he needs to, so you do exactly that.

You don’t know how long you’ve been standing there, staring, with Javi’s strong arms wrapped tightly around you, when he finally releases his crushing grip and stands at your side once more. Reaching for your hand again, he turns and leads you back toward the horses in silence before you take a seat together beneath the tree he had them lashed to. It’s a long ways away now, but your eyes keep darting to the headstones at the base of that tree as you sit in silence. You can’t help but wonder so many things about it, how it happened, why, why here, why now.

Javi scoots in close to you and leans his head against yours, turning to press a kiss to your forehead briefly before he finally speaks up.

“I’m sorry to surprise you with this.” You sigh softly and turn so that you can look him properly in the eyes.

“No, Javi… don’t. Don’t apologize. Not for this.” He nods back at you and closes his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose with his index finger and thumb for a moment.

“I just… this is really hard for me. Trying to force myself to open up about it. But I want you to know. I need you to, I think.” You try to offer him the easiest smile you can manage, eyes softening as you reach out to place a palm gently on the side of his cheek. You can't help it but to use your thumb to smooth out a few stray mustache hairs, while you’re at it.

“Okay. Then I’m listening,” you finally respond. Javi takes a long, slow breath, looking up at the sky as he exhales before looking back down to you. He starts, slowly, like he’s thinking about each and every word as he speaks.

“My mom was the love of my life. She was… everything. My whole world. But she, um…” He clears his throat, shaking his head as he looks over toward you. “Sorry. Didn’t think this would be as hard to talk about after all these years.” He pauses for a moment longer as he blinks a few times, shaking his head softly. “My parents loved each other more than I’ve ever seen anyone love another person. Ever. It was so clear to everyone who came around them. And when she…”

His eyes flutter closed and he drops his head, taking another deep breath, almost like it pains him to do so. You can see the agony on his face, in his body posture. It’s everywhere. “When she left us, everything shattered. And I… well, I promised myself I’d do anything in my power not to feel that kind of pain again. Even if it meant pushing people away, running away. All of these things you’ve seen me do now… that Pops has had to watch me do time and time again. Everything that happened in Colombia. I thought it would be easier.”

Inching closer to him, you reach out timidly for his hand, lacing your fingers together as you offer him whatever gentle affections you can without breaking his train of thought.

“But then you showed up, and you rocked my entire world. Everything I had demanded, decided for myself, suddenly felt wrong, and I was afraid. I was afraid and so I pushed you away, trying not to let myself fall into it. But I did, anyway. You made it impossible not to.” You just smile back at him, thumb rubbing along the back of his palm.

“I’m scared, muñeca. Absolutely fucking terrified of feeling all of this all over again. Whether it's now, or ten years from now, I know it’s coming. And I don’t know if I can take it.” He shakes his head more viscerally this time, looking at you then, pleading silently. “No. I know I can’t.

“Baby…” You can’t help but answer him, try to offer him some amount of reassurance. “You’re putting on the brakes for something that you can’t even see. Something that might not even happen.” His eyes close again and he drops his head, squeezing your hand softly once.

“I know. Logically, I know that. But I can’t make that fear go away. It’s just always… there.” You sigh and cock your head to the side, hoping to get a look at his face, but you can’t manage it.

“Can you look at me, Javi?” His head lifts, eyes watery as he looks at you with the softest, most somber expression you’ve ever seen on this so often so cocky and sure of himself kind of man. You have a million things to say, but you want him to have the chance to talk through things first, before you start. So you try to open with an easy question, or so you think. “Can I… Can I ask what happened to her?”

He stares at you for a long moment before he lets out a deep breath and his lips part like he’s going to speak. There’s a tense silence between you before he begins. “She… took her own life. She never left a note, or anything. Just… did it. Left me and Pops alone to fend for ourselves.” Your eyes widen and your heart absolutely shatters for him, reaching for his other hand so you have both in your own, now.

“Javi… oh God, I’m so sorry. I can’t… I can’t even imagine.” He nods and offers you an uneasy smile as a tear slips down his cheek.

“I know. It's okay.” He reaches out with a gentle hand to wipe away the tears from your face, and you do the same for him, both of you smiling sadly at each other for the moment. “I don’t mean to be such a sap,” he adds.

“That kind of hurt doesn’t just go away, Javi. It’s okay to be a sap about it, to still feel it so viscerally.” He takes a second to think about it before he answers.

“I know. That’s kind of my point. I feel it every single day. Every time I think about her, I feel it over and over again. It’s less than it used to be, that pain has faded a little bit, but it's still there. And I can’t… I just can’t imagine going through it again. So I thought if I made these rules for myself, if I didn’t let myself get into the kind of situation where I’d have to feel that kind of pain again, that things would be easier. No strings, no attachments, just me and my own sanity, you know?” You nod, starting to understand why he’s built these walls around himself so thickly, with such tough and seemingly unbreakable materials. It’s all starting to finally make sense to you.

“Yeah, I get it. It’s a coping mechanism. Just… a really long-term one, right?” He nods affirmatively and gives your hands a little squeeze.

“Yeah. Exactly that.”

“And you’re telling me this to… explain why you won’t think about the things I asked you? Or- are you…” You can’t manage to get yourself to speak the words. Luckily, Javi swoops in and speaks them for you.

“Yes and no. Yes, because that’s why I said the things that I did. That’s the reason. No, because I… well… fuck. You, uh… you managed to burrow yourself in there pretty deep already. And the thought of losing you right now is killing me. It’s killing me. It feels almost as bad as when I lost my mom, it’s just different. And I can’t do it. I can’t lose you, not now.” His eyes are still watery as he speaks, and all you want to do is lean in and kiss the tears away, but you know better than to do that. You have to have this conversation, first.

“I understand. At least I think I do. And I’m sorry, Javi, for storming out like I did. That wasn’t right of me.” You know he’s not the only one at fault here, your reaction not being the best, either, however warranted it may have felt at the time.

“No, no… I wasn’t treating you right. You had every right to walk out on me, cariño. I shouldn’t have been acting like that.” You nod and sigh, one hand reaching out to card softly through his hair, behind his ear, before it comes to rest in your lap once again.

“You can’t just dictate things at me like that again, though. It’s not okay. This is a partnership, right? Between the two of us? We need to talk about things, talk about our wants and desires and make choices that let us both compromise a little. Make each other happy, you know?” He nods, face falling slightly.

“I know, I know. I do. I didn’t do a good job of that. I shouldn’t have ever just blurted that all out at you and then not been willing to talk about it. That was fucked up.” You smile, sitting up a little taller before you continue.

“I was wrong, too, though. Storming out when things get tough doesn’t work, either. We’ll never get anywhere if that’s my response. It was a bad reaction on my part.” He chuckles lightly and offers you a half-smile.

“Kind of warranted though, wasn’t it?” You laugh nervously for a moment and then shake your head vigorously.

“No, not to that degree. I totally lost it.” He nods, understanding what you mean, luckily.

“Alright. How about we start this over? Can I ask that of you?”

“Of course, you can. We can do this - we can figure this out. I know it.” Your face is hopeful as you look at him, wishing for him to be willing to level with you, for you both to be able to move on and keep growing from this.

“Yeah. I like that plan.” A heavy breath releases that you weren’t aware you were holding back, and it feels like the world has left your shoulders. You’re not sure how you expected this conversation to go. Likely, badly, if you’re just being honest with yourself. And the truth of the matter is that it’s gone a lot better than you expected it to. You feel lucky. Not everyone would be willing to open up to you in the way Javi just has. And you feel honored - honored to know, honored to be a part of his and of Chucho’s lives. You didn’t realize before just how much you want that.

“I’m sorry, cariño. I’m so sorry,” Javi adds.

“I’m sorry, too,” you counter.

There’s an easy silence between the two of you as you sit and just look at each other for a long while. His fingertips roam the backs of your palms and your thumbs brush softly across the backs of his. You let yourselves just bather in the long moment of silence before you continue. There’s one more hint on your mind that you have to know, have to get off of your chest.

“So can we… can we talk about that stuff? It doesn’t need to be now. Just… sometime.” He nods, reaching for the sides of your face to pull you in for a kiss. It’s the lightest, most gentle kiss you think you’ve ever had - lips barely grazing over one another’s, just enough to know that you’re both there, together.

“Yes. Te prometo, muñeca. Juntos. We’ll make those decisions as a couple, I swear it.” You smile back at him and sit up slightly, your hands overlapping his on your face. “Together, this time. No unilateral decisions from either of us, okay? I promise.”

“Okay, Javi. I promise, too. Together.”

~~~

A/N: So I know this was an intense one. I took a LOT of inspiration from some of the things Pedro has talked about regarding his own mother in this, so I'm curious if anyone picked up on that. This is the last fluff/angst chapter for now - back to our regularly scheduled smutting and fluffing soon, I promise!

xoxoxo

Taglist: @amyispxnk @picketniffler @kirsteng42 @vee-bees-blog @samiamproductions @grippysockedtoebeans

(lmk if you'd like to be added!)

NEXT PART HERE

#javi peña smut #javi peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javier peña #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #fanfic #javier peña smut #narcos fanfiction #narcos smut #javier peña fanfiction #javier pena fanfiction #no beta we die like men #writing #pedro pascal fanfiction

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enhashoutout · 1 year ago

Text

Home to You (Cobra x reader)

Fic based on this post

Part 2 here

Genre: Mostly fluff and tiny bit of angst

___ used in place of y/n

Italics are a character's thoughts

I usually write with fem pronouns and descriptions because that is what is easiest for me. If those do not fit you, please feel free to change whatever needs to be changed to fit you while you read!

The one where Cobra has a crush on the new Itokan worker.

If you care at all, Ceilings by Lizzie McAlpine is a good song to listen to while reading this

In my dreams I come home to you and you come home to me, and for a split second every hardship I ever endured has meaning.

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It was an early morning in S.W.O.R.D, everyone was on their way to work and school. The Itokan diner door opened, and a girl walked in. She took a glance at the sleeping boy in the corner.

That must be Cobra. Naomi said that he's asleep in here often. She isn't here yet, I'll just go to the back and get some stuff started.

___ walks to the back kitchen and begins to take inventory of what is left and what needs to be bought in a bit when Naomi arrives. When she's done, she walks back out to the front and begins to put the chairs down.

___ is trying to quietly put the chairs down and not wake up the boy sleeping in the corner but is unsuccessful when a chair she was putting down knocked the side of the table.

"Naomi, if you want me to get out you can just say so. There's no need to bang on the tables," he grumbles.

"I'm so sorry, I was trying to be quiet but accidentally hit the table. You can go back to sleep," she quietly replied back.

That voice wasn't Naomi's, Cobra raised his head up to look at the person in front of him finding a girl he didn't know standing in front of him.

"Who are you? Where is Naomi?"

___ bowed and introduced herself. "___. I'm a new worker. Naomi isn't here yet she should be here soon."

"New worker? Naomi hasn't said anything about a new worker."

"She must've forgot. She's a busy woman."

"How do you know her?"

"Naomi was my senior when we were in school. She helped me a lot. I moved away for a bit but now I'm back and need a job while I go to college so here we are."

Cobra nodded. ___ continued to put down the remaining chairs when Naomi walked in.

"Good morning ___! Cobra don't scare away my employee I need her."

"Good morning Naomi!"

"I didn't even do anything."

"Go home, don't you have a gas station to watch over?"

Cobra walked out and headed home.

"___ I'm so sorry if he was bothering you."

"Oh no, not at all. I think I was bothering him actually. I tried to put the chairs down but hit the side of the table and woke him up. He realized I wasn't you and we just started talking."

"That's good he wasn't bothering you. The Sannoh members are here at the time so they might bother you, is that okay?"

"Of course. I'm excited to meet everyone they sound fun."

"Girl you will get tired of those guys so fast."

The two girls laughed and continued working to make sure everything was in place for when they opened Itokan.

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The Sannoh members filed into Itokan as they do after a fight. Some gang in a city over came to Sannoh to fight with them but they had won. The boys sat around in their usual spots being loud. Yamato called out to Naomi.

"Oi Naomi! We're back!"

___ shouted from the back. "Naomi is out grabbing some stuff we're out of!"

"Huh? Who's that?"

"That's the new employee." (Cobra)

"NEW EMPLOYEE?!" all the boys shouted.

"Yeah, I met her this morning."

"It's a girl?!" (Chiharu)

"I CALL DIBS!" Shouted Dan and Tettsu.

"NO YOU DON'T!" They shouted at each other again. The two started bickering with the others pulling them apart when ___ walked out from the back.

"Oh. Hi! You guys must be the Sannoh members Naomi keeps telling me about. I'm ___." Everyone looked at you stunned. "Are you guys gonna introduce yourselves back?"

The boys straightened up and introduced themselves to you. Dan and Tettsu moved to the bar area to talk flirt with to you. You answered their questions calmly as you put some of the dishes away.

Then Naomi walked in. "Dan and Tettsu I would appreciate it if you don't flirt with my new employee and scare her away. I need her help here at the diner."

"We're not doing anything!" they shouted at her. Naomi smacked both boys upside the head and moved to the back.

"Naomi I need help taking care of my wounds!" (Yamato)

"DO I RUN A DINER OR A CLINIC?!"

"YOU CAN HELP ME OUT UGLY THAT'S WHAT FRIENDS ARE FOR!"

"I SWEAR ONE DAY I'M GONNA BAN ALL OF YOU FROM COMING HERE!"

___ laughed at the way the two talked to each other. Cobra caught himself watching her before looking away. Naomi came from the back with a big first aid kit. She turned and looked at ___.

"I forgot to tell you this but part of the job description is patching up these idiots after they get into a fight, do you think you could help me do that?"

"Of course! I had a lot of practice when we were younger remember?"

"Yeah and then we became friends and it stopped so it's been a while."

"It can't be that hard. I got it."

___ grabbed some of the supplies and began helping patch up the Sannoh members. Once she was done with Dan and Tettsu, ___ moved over to Cobra.

"Can I patch up your lip and the split on your cheek?"

"They can heal on their own but go for it."

___ sat down next to him and started the cleaning process. As she moved closer, Cobra felt like his heart speed up without knowing why.

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From then on, Cobra saw you at night when you came to your weekday shifts after class and throughout the day on the weekend. The only day he didn't see you was Sunday when you had the day off.

Most nights when he would drink and fall asleep in the corner of Itokan, he would wake up the next day with a blanket draped over him, a glass of water, and a note from you next to him. It kind of became your unspoken routine. He was grateful that you were kind enough to take care of him even after a long day of work.

One night business was a bit slow. Naomi was gone for personal matters so you were in charge of watching over Itokan. Cobra sat in the corner as usual, but instead of having his drinks he was deep in thought. ___ walked over to him and sat down in front of him.

"Are you okay? You haven't had your drinks like usual. You've been sitting here staring off into space."

"There's too much to think about today."

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"You know all the Sannoh members, but we have a friend you haven't met. His name is Noboru. He's been in jail for a bit after beating some people who hurt his girlfriend at the time nearly to death. We didn't know when he had gotten out, but today he confronted all of us. Saying how he now works for the Iemura family and that if the gangs in S.W.O.R.D don't work under them then we die. I can't pinpoint why he would be working under them. When we were younger he wanted to become a lawyer to help people who couldn't help themselves. Now he's doing the exact opposite working with a bunch of money hungry rich snobs."

"Maybe he met someone while he was locked up who offered him a job. Kuryu aren't a good group of people but they are powerful. If they offered a job with the deal of picking his life back up after prison he must have taken it."

"I don't know what to do. We will never follow Kuryu, but I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Can I give you some advice?"

"I'll take anything at this point."

"The next time Noboru comes, maybe try talking to him. Not just talk to him, ask him what's going on. I don't think any amount of money or power is enough for him to not care about you guys if you grew up together and had a strong friendship. Maybe he just needs some help getting back on the right path, people can lose their way sometimes."

Cobra nodded at ___'s words. "Thank you ___. I'll do that."

"Don't mention it. You know where to find me if you need to talk about anything," she said as she got up to get back to work.

That night Cobra caught himself thinking about her more than usual. He thought about her words and how to get through to Noboru. He thought about her smile and the way she intently listened to him as he spoke of what was troubling him. He thought about how it was nice that someone was helping him instead of the other way around and how when ___ was around it felt like a warmth he had never felt before enveloped his life.

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It had been about two weeks now since you guys last talked at night. Cobra was sitting in the corner thinking again. The issue with Noboru hadn't been solved yet. They were a step closer thanks to your advice, but a fight with Kuryu of all people wouldn't end easy. As Cobra sat in the corner of Itokan lost in thought, he was brought out of his thoughts when a pink cupcake with a candle in it was set in front of him. He looked up at ___ who sat in front of him.

"What is this for?"

"Happy Birthday Cobra. I wanted to give this to you earlier but it was busy all day today and I couldn't give you this until we closed. It's 11:50 so you have 10 minutes left to make a wish."

"You didn't have to."

"I know, but I figured it would be nice to do so in the midst of everything going on. I know you're stressed about Noboru and S.W.O.R.D, so I thought I would do something nice so you could take your mind off those things even if it's only for a few minutes. It's now 11:52, 8 minutes left to make that wish."

"Anything?"

"Anything. Wishes, goals, hopes, dreams, ask for anything. As many as you want."

Cobra closed his eyes and made his wish.

I wish that Noboru would come back. I wish we could just go back to the way things were. I wish nothing bad happens to Sannoh. It's a bit selfish but one day I wish that I come home to you, and you come home to me. You've been the best thing that's happened in my life since the day we met and you don't even know it.

Once he was done making his wish, Cobra opened his eyes and blew out the candle.

"11:57, 3 minutes left to spare. I hope your wish comes true Cobra."

"I hope so too."

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You've made it to the end! Thank you so much for sticking around and reading this story <3 The post is not proofread so sorry if there are any mistakes.

I saw that post linked above and felt the strongest urge to write something for it. I do plan on a part 2 for this story so look out for that.

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yutafrita · 10 months ago

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An Angel, my Angel, and Me — PT. 3

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Navigation…. Preview // One // Two // Three

[Feat. Soyeon, Yangyang, Eunseok, and Yuqi]

Chapter Warnings: Religious imagery and lore (primary Catholic), potentially occult imagery, court room drama, mentions of angelic police force/criminal system, small allusions to depression/ suicidal ideation (it’s a very small blink and you miss it moment)

Genre: Fake married, court room drama, romcom

Word Count: 4.5k

CHAPTER THREE- 12 ANGRY ANGELS

Your local public library allowed people to rent out rooms. Some used these free spaces for book clubs, others used it for work or school projects, and as it turns out, Shotaro used them for nephilim meet and greets.

You paced in circles outside of the library, Sungchan having his arms crossed as you did so.

“You don't have to go,” he repeated this for the third time in ten minutes.

“I know, but I want to.”

“Then why have you been out here pacing for the past ten minutes?”

You groaned in frustration, stopping in your tracks. You wished you could drag Sungchan into the meeting room with you, but Shotaro made it extremely clear that you were to come alone and ready to speak to others. You couldn’t help it- Sungchan made you feel safe. He didn’t have to do anything but be around you and you could feel perfectly at ease.

“Hey,” Sungchan put both of his hands on your shoulders, “it’s going to be just fine. Plus, I’ll be out here the whole time if you need anything.”

“Thanks… I appreciate it,” you forced a nod. Your relationship with the angel at this point was a tangled ball of yarn that gave you a headache whenever you attempted to pull at the threads. You found yourselves holding hands when no one was looking, being around each other all the time despite Sungchan not needing to be around you at all hours, and have even stolen a few more touches than just the occasional kiss.

“Good luck, now go!” Sungchan lightly shoved your shoulders and pushed you towards the front door.

You stumbled as you entered, earning a surprised look from the librarian. Standing up tall, you approached her desk.

“Hi, where is the meeting room for,” you stopped your whisper to look at the club name Shotaro had texted to you only to then say it through gritted teeth, “the Catholic Geologist club?”

“Second floor game room,” she nodded before extending her hand, “here is a pamphlet with all of the clubs offered here.”

“Thank you,” you politely took it before you followed her directions. Considering how painfully underfunded the library was, you wondered how Shotaro could even justify the space he had the group taking up. That was until you entered the room.

The space was the size of your living room and was broken up into thirds. The left hand side contained a few rectangular tables all covered with board games and card games. The right hand side was wall to wall filled with arcade machines all buzzing with life and ready for use. The center third is what surprised you. It was filled with fold out chairs and every seat was taken and facing the door.

“There she is!” Shotaro had popped out from the side of the door, slinging an arm over your shoulder in his excitement. “Welcome the newest member of the Nephilim meetup group!”

The 15 people gathering all smiled and cheered, the warm buzz in the room helping set you at ease. Shotaro pointed to the singular empty chair in the front and you scooted into the spot.

“Welcome, I’m Yuqi,” the girl to your right introduced herself to you as hushed discussions fell amongst the group.

“Hi, nice to meet you!”

“Don’t get too close to Yuqi, she inherited her angel grandma’s ability to change memories,” the guy to your left cut in. You were nervous about being caught in a spat before you saw the smirk forming on his and Yuqi’s lips. “I’m Eunseok, I’m half angel.”

You introduced yourself and timidly added, “my… father is the angel.”

You hadn’t really admitted it to yourself. Your Mom had told you that she met your Dad in a whirlwind romance she had on a study abroad trip in Japan, and by the time she got back, she was pregnant without any way of contacting him. Your Mom, your grandparents, and the rest of her large family all leant a hand, and you never sought out more information since you didn’t think there was any. So, learning that he was an angel… it needed time to sink in.

But, saying it out loud was still a good first step.

“All right everyone!” Shotaro called everyone's attention, a clipboard waving in his hands. “You guys know the deal- first two minutes is roll call, next ten minutes are whatever y’all want to discuss, and then it’s game time,” he then met your eyes, “and our rules state that any new members have to be a part of the first fight.”

By first fight, they meant playing the first three rounds of Dance Dance revolution.

“I can’t believe the library just has these games,” you muttered as Shotaro set up the first game. He had taken it upon himself to be your first challenger.

“Oh yeah. We’ve been coming here for years so we did a fundraiser last year and were able to fully upgrade the room,” he explained before clapping his hands, “all right, let’s go.”

You typically viewed yourself as being pretty good at rhythm games, but wow, Shotaro really made you question that notion. He wasn’t just pretty good- it was like he was a completely different person when the music came on. You completely lost the game to him but you almost couldn’t even count it because he was a complete monster in the game.

“I’ll go!” Yuqi nearly yanked Shotaro off the console after the first song.

“Are you all as good as him?” you asked, still breathing embarrassingly heavy.

“Oh god no- he’s a professional dancer. He was just trying to flex,” she exposed, causing you to look back and glare at Shotaro who could only laugh at being exposed.

You were able to keep up a bit more with Yuqi, both of you smiling and laughing the whole time. You came out on top by only ten points, and considering your miserable defeat beforehand, you considered it a true victory.

“I’ll take this last one!” Eunseok popped forward, and that was when you noticed it. On his back was a set of small, uneven wings. A few others in the room had their own, all different sizes and different variants of shapes and colors- Eunseok’s wings were fully gray.

“You can pick this last song,” you smiled, leaning back on the machine’s bar.

“Oh? Hell yeah,” he chirped. After Eunseok beat you by a few points, you stepped off the machine, finally released from your hazing.

“Wanna play cards?” Yuqi phrased it as a question, but was already grabbing your hand and guiding you to the other end of the room.

The night was wonderful. You were able to laugh and smile with other nephilim, and while you were certainly annoyed by Shotaro’s ominous approach to showing you everything, you were happy to finally have an understanding.

After exchanging phone numbers with Yuqi and Eunseok, you left the club room with a few minutes remaining on the clock. Outside, you felt the soft kiss of fall approaching and you tightened your cardigan as you looked around for Sungchan.

“Meow,” you looked down, seeing the black cat you haven’t seen in ages. You knelt down, confused until his tail angled itself to gesture to something. Following the eyeline, you noticed a set of two angels across the street, both looking down on a tablet before glancing back at the library.

“Troops,” you whispered, earning a nod from Sungchan’s cat form. Scoping him up in your arms, you pressed him close to your chest and started making your way to your apartment. With your shielding abilities and the charm that allows Sungchan to turn into a cat, you were able to breeze by the troops and make the brisk three blocks back to your apartment in one piece.

“I can’t believe they got that close,” you announced once you made it back inside and released the cat. So quickly it occurred within the blink of an eye, Sungchan returned to his normal angelic state, a layer of sweat having formed on his forehead. “I wish you had told me, I would have left sooner-.”

“You have a life,” he was kurt in his response. “I’ll be out of your hair after this trial… I’ll turn myself in as soon as Soyeon gives me the go ahead.”

“I- I’m not bothered by you being around,” you defended, moving towards him, “do… you plan to leave after your trial, though?”

“You can just tell everyone that your husband left you, you’ll gain sympathy points,” he laughed, a hint of bitterness in his tone. You went to grip his arm only for him to turn on his heel and go to the kitchen. “I’m going to make a snack, do you want anything?”

“Sungchan,” you were confused and frustrated, and approached the kitchen with a furrowed brow. “Sungchan, listen to me.”

“Hm?”

“Sungchan, I love you,” the words spilled out like a waterfall. He froze, dropping the jar of peanut butter spread onto the floor as you continued. “You are free to do whatever you want, and I’ll make sure Soyeon still helps but… I can’t pretend anymore. I want you in my life.”

His bottom lip quivered before all you heard was, “no.”

Your blood ran cold, “what?”

“You shouldn’t love me. It’s not good for humans if they do. It’s okay if I love you but-.”

“You love me?” you cut him off, inching closer and closer to him. Sungchan closed the space between the two of you, and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“You idiot, I love you so much it hurts. But… if something were to ever happen to you because of me-.”

“I love you,” you pressed your hands on both sides of his face, “I love you so much. I would do anything for you. But, that’s my choice, not yours.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead before pressing his forehead against yours, “I love you. I want to always be with you, if you’ll have me.”

Eagerly you met his lips in a soft kiss, “I love you too.”

He tucked your hair behind your ear, his fingers trailing down along your neck and leaving goosebumps before he stood up tall and swiftly picked you up.

“What are you doing?” you laughed, now folded over his shoulder as he carried you easily from the kitchen to your room.

“We’re home alone, and we’re in love. We’re going to finally fuck.”

“Oh wow, finally.”

Be that as it was, the jar of peanut butter stayed on the floor the rest of the night.

*********

“The trial is in a week,” Soyeon repeated this sentiment to you as you laid on the couch, pouting. It had been two weeks since you and Sungchan officially began dating, and for one of the weeks he was in Angel jail awaiting trial. “Stop moping.”

“I know your defense is kick ass but what if the jury doesn’t care?” you aired your true worries then. Soyeon was viciously intelligent. On earth her degree was in Public relations, but apparently when she was training to be a guardian she went to the equivalent of angel law school. You knew she was the best defense Sungchan could get, you were terrified by the other angels not being open-minded.

Soyeon shoved your feet off the couch and sat down, sighing as she met your eyes.

“You know, this is why I begged to be your guardian angel.”

You blinked, “what?”

“Your guardian angel had like, four different people he was responsible for. I was implanted as your neighbor just to give a helping hand to any other proper guardians in the area. Anyways, he was never there to help you and you… you were so kind and you cared so much about everyone…”

“I can take care of myself,” you sat up then, before playfully punching her arm, “but thanks, for being there for me.”

“I know you can take care of yourself, but everyone needs a helping hand. Whether they’re a human or an angel.”

“I just hope the jury agrees too,” you folded your hands on your lap, nervous as you continued to spiral.

“They will, because… you’re going to do us both a favor.”

******

“These sunglasses are ridiculous,” you were irritated, but you weren’t going to do much beyond that unless you wanted to have your eyeballs melt out from their sockets and speak in tongues. The sunglasses nephilim needed to wear to be able to walk around heaven were bulky, dark, and would typically not allow any natural light enter.

Heaven did not contain any natural light.

Soyeon was holding you firmly in her hands, her wings emitting golden flecks as she maneuvered around the busy courthouse to guide you to where you would have to wait before taking the stand.

“Well, sorry they didn’t have any designer sunglasses. Next time you have to be a character witness for your boyfriend I’ll bear that in mind,” she sassed before stopping in front of a tall oak door. “This is the room you’ll be sequestered in until the court officer comes to get you. I think it’s going to be a troop member… unless they want to scare you.”

“Isn’t a troop member scary enough?” you asked, arms crossed as you looked around the hall. While most people had bright white wings, you did see the occasional pair of black wings or other people like you with a thick pair of sunglasses.

“I would say a Saint would be scarier… you’re going to be fine,” she squeezed your shoulder with one hand, realizing the absolute fear your face wore. “The judge presiding over the case on behalf of the Lord is nice, I think we have a chance.”

Soyeon breathed deeply before looking at her wrist watch, “look, just read your book or doodle or stare at the wall. I’m going to make sure your boyfriend can get out so he can pay us back by getting us dinner,” she opened the door for you before maneuvering towards the courtroom entrance and away from you.

The room was relatively bare- a small bookcase, a table with a few wooden chairs, and a floor to ceiling window that was still freakishly bright even with the special sunglasses.

It was bold of Soyeon to assume you’d be able to do anything besides nervously pace for several hours. The trial wasn’t meant to go beyond a week, and according to Soyeon had been going a little better than she anticipated- as in the jury was paying attention and not immediately calling Sungchan a blasphemous heathen.

Thinking back to your time with Sungchan in the last few weeks, you sighed. Sungchan had been wildly nervous, and had taken up your habit of picking at his own cuticles to a point that you started carrying around bandaids in case he accidentally plucked off his skin.

Looking at your own bag that carried your untouched book, you frowned upon seeing the Kero Kero Keroppi bandaids. All you could do was hope that he had stopped picking at them, and if not, hopefully he’d be able to heal quickly. According to Sugchan, Guardian angels were the ones that had relatively indestructible flesh and insane healing abilities. For Fallen Angels, unless they were members of the troop, their healing abilities may be a little faster than humans, but that was it.

“So, can you guys die?” you remember asking.

“Not really, we’ll just have our souls sent to hell,” Sungchan had answered this question with a shrug as if it was no big deal.

Drowning in your thoughts, the door opened. “It’s your time to take the stand.”

Time moved in a blur until you were seated in the witness stand.

“Objection.”

“On what grounds?”

“The witness is in a relationship with the accused and is being guarded by the defendant’s lawyer,” the prosecutor countered. You gulped, trying to keep a straight face as you sat frozen at the front of the courtroom.

“Seeing as there are no rules against either of those factors… you may continue with your testimony,” the judge’s voice was oddly soothing, cutting through the bright gold and white emitted throughout the courtroom. The jurors all but two had bright white wings with gaudy gold flecks, and it refracted the already searing light in the room.

Soyeon cleared her throat and started her line of questioning. You and Soyeon had such a natural way of behaving with one another that you were both visibly struggling to not crack jokes at the other or laugh. Her line of questioning felt like eons, but after looking at the clock above the jury you widened your eyes slightly to see only two hours had passed.

“The prosecution may now approach the witness with any questions,” the judge announced. Your throat ran dry, and you took a short sip of the glass of water in front of you.

The prosecutor sent a short wink to another person on his team before standing tall. He had an arrogant air to him. It surprised you considering that his wings indicated that he too was a guardian angel.

“Thank you, your honor. This will be quick,” he stood between you and the jury before directly meeting your eyes, “ma’am, so to confirm, Sungchan was a vagrant whom tricked you into taking him in by disguising himself as a cat?”

“Objection- leading question,” Soyeon nearly shot out from her seat.

“Please strike that from the record and rephrase your line of questioning,” the judge sighed. You frowned, balling your hand into a fist to try and keep yourself together. You had been avoiding looking at Sungchan, terrified that seeing him would bring you to tears, but you more than anything hoped that he didn’t take what the prosecutor said to heart.

“Sungchan, the accused, disguised himself as what animal?” the prosecutor started.

“In order to keep himself safe he took on the disguise of a cat. His intentions-,” you were cut off by the prosecutor.

“I didn’t ask about his intentions, ma’am,” you watched as he sent a glance of irritation to the jury as if wanting them to judge you, “in the two years he was there, did Sungchan reveal himself to you?”

You shook your head, “no.”

“So, he simply mooched off of you for that time?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek before you spoke up again, “no, he didn’t. He may not have contributed to the rent, but he did contribute to where we lived, even as a cat.”

The prosecutor seemed irritated by this and cleared his throat before pressing on, “how did he contribute?”

“Well, for starters, my roommate and I aren’t the cleanest people in the world, but we’re the only people on our floor of our apartment complex to not get a roach infestation. Sungchan- or rather Eerie, what I named his cat, was the one that basically guarded us from it all.”

“Was that it?”

“No,” you bit your bottom lip before you continued, “those last two years of my academic career were some of the most emotionally taxing in my life. Having Eerie there to rely on me, be near me, and be a non-judgemental ear was frankly life saving. Sure, Sungchan needed me around to stay safe but,” that was when you finally met Sungchan’s gaze. You choked up a bit seeing a ghost of a tear run down his cheek, and you passed the back of your hand under your glasses to stop a tear from falling before you finished speaking. “He needed me around to stay safe, but I really needed him around to stay alive. He cares deeply for humans… isn’t that what you’re all supposed to do?”

Grumblings and mutters broke-out all throughout the court-room, several of the jurors discussing amongst themselves and angels in the back of the room standing up as if to have a talk with the court officers. The judge hit his gavel loudly, the noises all trickling to a silence after he hit it a second time.

“Do you have any other questions for the witness?” the judge asked, his voice much softer now after hearing you speak.

The prosecution's face was red with anger before he answered, “no, sir.”

******

Soyeon taped up her last box, and you both looked away from each other to wipe away your tears.

It had been five months since Sungchan received his verdicts and sentencing, and in that time you and your best friend/ guardian angel had a lot of conversations. One of which was her deciding to take a job promotion that required her to move to another part of the world.

“Sungchan, you better take good care of her,” Soyeon shoved the taller mans shoulder, his white wings glistening despite the light in your apartment’s kitchen needing to be replaced. You didn’t quite realize that Soyeon provided most of your kitchenware, so you added to your mental to do list that you and Sungchan needed to grab a new skillet.

“Soyeon,” you turned back around after wiping away your tears, “you don’t need to worry about me. I want you to focus on yourself.”

“You better call me… you’re still my best friend,” she was visibly fighting back her tears as she went to grip your shoulders.

“Yes, and now she’s only your best friend,” Sungchan emphasized, placing a hand on Soyeon’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe part of your sentencing was you needing to be a guardian again,” she seethed, a small glint of pride showing itself. She should be proud of herself- Sungchan may have gotten one guilty verdict, but he did get a not guilty verdict on the most hefty charge. She was a miracle worker, no pun intended.

“It just so happens to work out that my old guardian angel was taking on a new job,” you taunted, a laugh escaping you. “What kind of amazing luck is that?”

“Oh please, like I wouldn’t make sure he ended up around you somehow.”

“Soyeon, is this box ready?” Eunseok interjected, gesturing to the box she just closed. Sniffling, she nodded before walking off to instruct another mover in her room.

“I’m gonna miss her,” you confessed, leaning your head on Sungchan’s shoulder.

“I know, I’ll miss her too,” he wrapped an arm around you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head.

“Hey, you’ve known her forever, I just started being her friend,” Yuqi popped back out from Soyeon’s now empty room, a thin layer of sweat across her forehead. “It’s so not fair that now is when she’s moving.”

“I’ll visit all the time,” Soyeon defended, quickly rushing and obnoxiously pinching Yuqi’s cheeks. “It’s not like I’ll need to pay for airfare or anything.”

“Another perk of having a full set of wings,” Eunseok frowned.

“I’m telling you, Yangyang said he could help out with that,” you reiterated. The weird, eclectic group you had formed over the past few months was shifting again with Soyeon leaving, but you knew it would be okay.

“He’s gonna charge me my life savings- no thanks,” Eunseok pointed, to which Sungchan nodded in affirmation.

Sungchan’s verdicts at the time were shocking enough for news to spread rapidly from guardians, to fallen angels, down to the nephilims.

You dreaded a guilty verdict- but remember the shock of hearing the jury’s decision. Guilty from robbery from the Library of Alexandria, and not guilty for returning the items to the human community.

“The defendant did have to break sacred glass to retrieve the book, therefore we the jury find him guilty of robbery. However, seeing as the items belonged to the human community, regardless of the idolatry harbored in them, it is not considered stolen goods to us, the jury. Therefore, we find Jung Sungchan not guilty on the charge of giving or selling stolen sacred goods.”

“All right,” Soyeon looked down at her watch, “I have to go ahead and deliver my items to get shipped over before I fly out.”

“Wow,” you huffed. You were going to miss seeing her everyday, but you knew that she deserved this promotion more than any other being. You were proud of her, and excited to see where her new guardian job would take her now.

“Please stop crying,” she begged, wiping away tears from her own face. After everyone walked Soyeon off to her car and several hugs and tears were shed (and more tears from you two), your best friend drove off.

“You know you’ll see her in a week, right?” Eunseok poked, earning an arm punch from you, Yuqi, and Sungchan. “Ouch! Sorry!”

You and Sungchan cautiously entered Soyeon’s now empty room, expecting to be stunned by the sudden echo. Instead, you raised your eyebrow at the small crate in the corner with a note on top.

“We figured you’d want an actual cat. Plus, this apartment always does better with 3 inhabitants,” you read the note aloud, looking back at Sungchan who was smiling wildly. “No way.”

“Please let her out of her crate,” he was bouncing on his toes now, eager for you to see what he and Soyeon had presumably been planning for a while. Cautiously, you knelt down, eyes widening as you saw the small black kitten nestled on a bed in the back corner of her crate. Her eyes were shut until she heard your nervous fingers undo the clasp of the crate, her yellow eyes landing on you.

“Oh, hi,” you cooed, opening the door and moving back a few steps to give her space. Sungchan knelt down next to you, your eyes meeting.

“I already scheduled a vet visit for her next week. Soyeon and I both scoured all of the local rescues and agreed that she was the one for you,” he explained before he placed a small kiss on your forehead, “are you happy?”

You nodded eagerly before leaping forward and wrapping the angel in a hug. Sungchan, even when he was the cat, was watching out for you and your roommate. As your boyfriend, he’s gone along with the lie of pretending to be your husband. Now, as being both your boyfriend and guardian angel, he was more perfect than you could even imagine and just so thoughtful.

“I love you, Sungchan,” you squeezed him tightly as he hugged you back.

“I love you, too,” his face was buried in your neck until you felt a small body press itself against your leg. Breaking apart, you looked down to see the cat rubbing its body against you in both a bid to show that it felt comfortable and also to get your attention.

“Oh, she is so cute,” you could cry, gently petting the cat.

“She is, both of my girls are very cute,” he reached forward and scratched behind the cat’s ears, its eyes closing in comfort.

“Now, the big question is, what are we going to name her?” you asked aloud. Figuring out the name of the cat was simply another step in your relationship with Sungchan, and another one you were happy to encounter.

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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