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lovemomhatepolice · 2 months ago

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what brought back that smile? - lando norris

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pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

warnings: kinda established relationship, fresh relationship, curious muppets!, English is my second language!

type: fluff, pure fluff

word count: 3,5k

summary: 5 times when someone asked the reason for Lando's sudden surge of happiness, but he preferred to keep his sweet secrets to himself

more content: f1 masterlist, lando norris masterlist, birthday one-shot

Since Lando Norris broke up with his then-girlfriend Luishina in 2022, no one has seen him this happy since. Of course, there have been moments where Lando walked around smiling - for example, when he won his first race in Miami or partying with friends in Ibiza. On more than one occasion, fans saw him joking and laughing until his stomach hurt with other drivers, but further down the line, everyone knew that the old Lando was gone. The one who laughed through love. The one foolishly in love, who proved it at every turn. Since his former relationship, Lando hasn't bonded with anyone - there were only rumors of fleeting romances or PR relationships. Until recently. In fact, no one knows when it took place. And since when Lando felt like a foolishly infatuated boy again.

THE FIRST TIME: Oscar Piastri When Oscar noticed changes in Lando's behavior, it was not much before the Japanese race. Or at least it wasn't so visible before. Norris was walking around smiling from ear to ear, constantly forgetting what he should do or who he should talk to about the changes in the car. No one paid much attention to it, and Oscar initially tried to ignore it as well, and winning in Miami a month later further eclipsed the spy's thoughts. After all, Lando had won his first race after so long in Formula One and so many times standing on the podium. The Mclaren drivers weren't the best of friends on the grid, but Oscar knew it wasn't because of winning the race. Or at least not just because of that.

Oscar was curious, even if he said very little about his life, the Lando case drilled him from the bottom up. And it started off small.

One morning 2 weeks after the Miami race, Lando showed up for a meeting with a goofy smile on his face. His attention was focused on everything during the strategy discussion, his mind was clearly elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” asked Oscar, poking his teammate under the table. As if awakened from his trance, Lando stopped tapping his fingers against his thigh and turned his head toward the Australian, smiling that silly grin again. “Yeah, all good, mate. “ he asked, tilting his head to the side. Oh, how foolishly charmed he was. “Why do you ask?”

Oscar shrugged. “I dunno. You just seem... happier these days. What brought back that smile?”

The question hung in the air for a long moment. Lando hung his head and laughed quietly under his breath, as if he was thinking whether he wanted to say it or rather not. And that was the option he chose, keeping his new infatuation to himself.

“Well, you know, buddy, I won a race recently. A chance to celebrate, huh?”

Oscar laughed, but couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else behind that smile, and that Lando was lying right in his eyes. Something - or someone - had brought back that trademark Lando smile. But Oscar decided to let it go for now.

Meanwhile, Lando was smiling to himself. Was it really that noticeable? Could everyone now know his sweet secret?

Such questions were cluttering his mind, but he tried not to worry about them. They were quickly superseded by thoughts of [Y.N]. It was wild how fast she had slipped into his life. What had started as a chance meeting turned into hours of effortless conversation, late-night phone calls, and a connection that had somehow brought him back to life. He hadn't felt this way since…. well, he couldn't remember the last time. And that was the point of it all.

MUPPETS: Carlos Sainz Jr Carlos had known Lando since 2019, so this year was their 5th anniversary of knowing each other. From the very beginning, the men, despite the age difference, got along great. And they soon became friends, too, supporting each other in worse and better moments. You could say they knew each other like the back of their hand, so while Lando was drifting away more and more each possible time during their conversations, the Spaniard had no more questions or thoughts. He was well aware that his younger friend's head was occupied by not something, but someone.

The sun beat down on the lush green of the golf course, the Spanish heat was unrelenting even in the early hours of the day. Carlos set up for his shot, squinting against the blinding glare, while Lando stood to the side, waiting his turn. It was a rare moment of calm before the chaos of the Spanish Grand Prix weekend, and Carlos was glad to be spending it with his best friend.

Until he saw Lando miss every time, which hadn't happened all that often before. Well, okay, Lando was worse than Carlos at golf, but to that extent?

And those constant glances at the phone, which he was so reluctant to leave in the golf cart.

“Ay, muppet. What the hell is wrong with you?” rang out Carlos' voice as he hit the ball.

Of course it flew cleanly where it was supposed to fly. But what's the pleasure of playing as your friend drills a hole in the grass with his club, his other hand constantly checking his phone screen?

"Huh?" Lando snapped out of his trance. This had been happening to him more and more often lately, nay, it had been happening to him for more than three months now.

“You’ve been smiling like an idiot all day,” Carlos teased, though his tone was softer, more curious than mocking. “Actually, you’ve been like this for weeks like not months now. So, tell me—who is she?”

Lando’s cheeks flushed pink, and he quickly turned his attention to the golf ball at his feet, fiddling with his club. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, but there was a grin he couldn’t quite suppress. And in fact, I don't think he wanted to get rid of it.

Carlos laughed, poking Lando playfully on the shoulder. “Come on, cabrón. I know you too well and it's been a long time since you've been this happy. So who's the lucky girl? Who brought back that smile?”

Lando sighed under his breath - he knew he could trust Carlos, he was his best friend. He just liked the fact that he and [Y.N] were in a closed bubble of happiness that they had made for themselves in three months. Of course it was still fresh and nothing was certain yet, but Lando gave in. To whom as to whom, but to Carlos he already had to tell. It was drilling him from the inside.

“It's … nothing serious,” Lando finally said, shrugging his shoulders as if it was no big deal. “It's just… I'm meeting someone. I'm trying to keep it discreet.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Dude, I've known you long enough to know when you're serious about someone,” he said, and his voice became softer. “And if she makes you smile like that, I'd say it's more than a casual.”

Lando bit his lip, trying to hide the smile that threatened to break through. The truth was that [Y.N] had quickly become the best part of his days.

“Maybe,” he admitted, finally meeting Carlos' gaze. “But for now it's just … between us, sure?

Carlos clapped Lando on the back, a broad grin on his face. “I’m happy for you, hermano. And don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone. But I have to say, it’s good to see you like this again.”

They both laughed and Lando already knew he was lost. Together, with Carlos, were like the biggest gossips, so he quickly unlocked his phone, even jumping up and down with happiness, wanting to show Carlos some pictures of them together. What luck befell him when he found out that [Y.N] also loves to take pictures.

Carlos leaned closer, curious. Lando pulled out a photo from a few weeks ago - from his once-in-a-lifetime date with [Y.N]. They were sitting on a blanket in a meadow somewhere by the water, the golden sunset casting a warm glow over them. The girl's head was tilted toward him and resting on his shoulder, her eyes were crinkling with laughter, and Lando looked happier than Carlos had seen him in a long time. His hand was on the girl's shoulders, visibly embracing her closer to him.

“I want her to be the one, you know?” muttered Lando, smiling even wider when he saw the notification from her.

LUCKY CHARM: Lando's parents Lando was able to hide his fresh relationship from his friends, from his fans and from the rest of the world. But he definitely couldn't hide it from his parents and siblings. Not even a month of knowing [Y.N] had passed when he vividly talked about how much he had fallen in love and how he hoped she was the one and last woman in his life. His loved ones were damn happy to finally see the most sincere smile of his entire life on the face of this little Lando Norris.

The air around Silverstone was charged with electricity, and the energy of the home crowd gave Lando joy like no other race on the calendar. Walking through the bustling paddock, he felt lighter than he had in years. It wasn't just the thrill of racing on his own track - it was the realization that somewhere among the sea of faces there was [Y.N], watching him.

Fortunately, he managed to smuggle her into a private hospitality suite, away from prying cameras, journalists and fans. They had been seeing each other for almost four months, in truth they were not a couple, but everything was going for it. Lando wasn't the only one who was foolishly infatuated with the relationship; the girl, like him, walked around with her head in the clouds, as her university colleagues or friends seemed to notice more than once. But in her case it was easier to hide, after all, she didn't have a million eyes on her like Lando did.

When Lando entered his private area in the Mclaren garage, he immediately noticed his parents, sisters and brother, who were smiling at him from ear to ear. The entire Norris family had a close relationship with each other, so of course everyone knew about Lando's new sweetheart, whom he had been dating with for four months.

“And there's our smiling boy!” laughed Lando's mother, hugging her son tightly. The driver laughed under his breath, hugging his family one by one, fortunately in a place where the eyes of others did not reach and they could have a moment of peace. “I'm glad you're all here,” Lando said, stroking his younger sister Flo's hair.

“How could we not be here?” asked Oliver, Lando's brother, laughing under his breath.

The atmosphere was great, however, everyone knew this question would come sooner than perhaps it should?

“Well, you know what, tell us where she is,” said Lando's dad, poking him lightly on the shoulder. “You're laughing so hard, I won't believe she's not here.”

“Yes! Show us finally what brought back that smile,” said his mom, echoing her husband.

Lando felt his face heat up, but he couldn’t keep the grin from spreading. “You two don’t miss a thing, do you?” he said, shaking his head.

“We just want to meet her,” his mum said softly, eyes twinkling with warmth. “We’ve heard so much about her, and if she’s the reason our son’s been so happy lately, we’d love to say hello.”

After a moment's thought, Lando nodded. “All right. I'll bring her - but behave,” he said with nervous but excited energy.

Lando slipped stealthily out of the garage and headed for his room, which only he and a few Mclaren people had access to. Although it was a rather hidden place, [Y.N] did not complain. She could wait out the time until the race in peace, just as she could go out to Mclaren's garage and watch it there. Lando made her as comfortable as possible.

When the girl saw him, she raised her eyes and smiled warmly in his direction. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes, everything is fine,” he assured her, taking her hand in his. At the same time, he forced her to get up from the soft couch. “But… there is someone who wants to meet you. My family is even dying to meet the woman of my heart.”

The girl took a deep breath and smiled. “I'd love to meet them.”

Holding hands, they returned to the hospitality. When they went inside, Lando's mother sighed quietly and immediately crossed the room to hug [Y.N]. “Oh, how nice to finally meet you,” she said, and her voice was filled with sincere warmth.

“She's beautiful,” Cisca whispered, looking at Lando. The boy only whispered a quiet “I know” and laughed under his breath.

Immediately the whole family greeted the girl, hugging her tightly and bestowing kind words on her, including telling her how happy they were that she was making Lando so happy again. And everything was somehow better. His parents and siblings were talking to the girl he'd had in his heart for several months, and everything was going smoothly. Lando was just standing off to the side, keeping his hand on her back and giving her a little kiss to make her feel better. But he was probably the most stressed one there.

Lando checked his watch, feeling the familiar pre-start jitters begin to overwhelm him. But today he felt a little better than usual.

“I have to go now,” he said reluctantly, turning to face the girl. His parents moved away to give them a moment of privacy.

“You can do it, you're amazing on the track,” she purred, placing her hands on his shoulders and gently correcting his suit.

Lando merely smiled in her direction and without hesitation placed his hand on her cheek and leaned in, pressing their lips together in a quick but tender kiss. This was not how they had imagined their first kiss, but in that moment it was their best memory and the time this kiss could have happened. Lando pulled away from [Y.N], their eyes met and they both smiled at each other, giggling under their breath.

Lando checked his watch, feeling the familiar pre-race jitters starting to creep in.

“I’ve got to go,” he said reluctantly, turning to her. His parents stepped back to give them a moment of privacy.

“Good luck out there,” she whispered, her eyes shining with pride. “You’re going to do amazing.”

Lando smiled, but there was a flicker of nerves in his eyes. “I hope so. This one’s important,” he said softly.

[Y.N] reached up, cupping his cheek with her hand. “You’ve got this, Lando. I believe in you.”

Without thinking, Lando leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a swift, impulsive kiss. It wasn’t planned, but in that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He pulled back, their eyes locking, and they both smiled.

“For good luck,” he whispered, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

And even if he came in third place after the race, it didn't bother him much. He won something better and it was an amazing woman.

HI IBIZA: Max Fewtrell stream Max knew Lando since they were kids. Both could not imagine life without the other person, they were inseparable. Even if it didn't work out for them to be Formula One drivers by their side, it didn't change anything. They were always side by side, and as soon as Max heard about Lando's new crush, he knew this was the one. Norris had never talked so seriously and eagerly about any girl before. And Max liked to tease him about it. But at the same time, he was damn happy.

The warm glow of sunset in Ibiza paints everything with a golden sheen. Lando Norris, Max Fewtrell and their group of friends held a casual live stream at their bungalow, which they rented for the whole group of friends. This stream was definitely different from their typical ones, where they played games on two different sides of the screen, but that was good too.

Everyone was more muted than at times when they were playing and shouting at each other. However, the biggest difference could be felt in Lando. He was more subdued, gently but sincerely smiling, and his eyes shone with such happiness that you could envy him.

The stream had been going on for about an hour, and the fans didn't run out of questions. They were inundated with the same questions as always, but today they had more opportunity to answer them because they weren't stressed by the background game. Lando kept getting questions about the Championship, the races, the competition and some side silliness. Until Max caught one significant comment among thousands of others. And of course he had to ask them.

Fan comment: "Lando, what brought back that smile? It's been a long time since we've seen you so happy, and of course that's great, but what's your secret?"

Max looks at Lando with a smile and winks. "Good question," he says, leaning back in his chair. "So, man, what's been making you so happy lately?"

"Oh, you know. Life has been better lately. Beautiful weather, sunshine, we have a beach house. The break from racing is good for me too, my head isn't as busy," Lando replied, playing with his hair and smiling under his breath.

Oh how he lied, how he lied to keep his bubble of happiness calm even longer.

"Really? Gee, I guess I agree with that comment, you're somehow happier lately," said Max, glancing at Lando with a teasing look. He remembered well how Lando had talked down his relationship on the stream, but he wasn't going to do the same to him. "Or maybe you've found a hobby other than Formula One?"

"Maybe," he laughed lightly under his breath, feeling the warmth inside his body. "I guess I just got old and I'm not that rebellious 20-year-old anymore "

"Oh, it's definitely old age, you name it" Max laughed and went back to looking for interesting comments, leaving the matter of Lando's happiness. He wanted his friend to still have peace from prying eyes.

After the stream was over, everyone went their separate ways. Some decided to have a bonfire, but Lando felt he needed the solitude. He walked out to the beach, which they had right outside the gate of their cottage, and felt the cooler evening wind brush his face. He smiled under his breath when he saw [Y.N] by the shore. It wasn't a smile that the cameras could see; he reserved this one for her alone.

The girl was wearing a white loose dress that swayed gently in the wind, and her hair was tousled by the wind. It wasn't a moment before she heard him and gently turned toward him, giving him a beautiful smile. "Have you finished the stream yet?"

"It's been a while now," Lando stepped closer, feeling the sand under his feet surround him pleasantly. "I had to get away from the chaos. And the fans are getting curious, they asked what secret I have"

Girl raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Secret? What secret?"

Lando smiles mischievously and walks closer. "That I'm the happiest I've been in years." - he says in a quiet but sincere voice.

[Y.N] smiles, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Without another word, she steps into his arms, and Lando doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close. They stand there for a moment, just the two of them, the sound of the waves crashing in the background. Lando takes a deep breath and places a kiss on her hair, pulling her even closer to him. It was the peace he had needed for a long time

FIRST CHRISMTAS: [Y.N] Lando and [Y.N] had been together for almost half a year. Their lives were filled with happiness that neither of them had ever experienced before. From the first day, they understood each other like two peas in a pod, and that's how it stayed. That's why she was surprised by how happy Lando was.

The couple in love are together in the kitchen, with the countertop in front of them strewn with flour and other ingredients for making gingerbread cookies. [Y.N] is wearing one of Lando's voluminous sweaters and humming a Christmas carol, pacing next to the countertop. Lando, on the other hand, dressed in his loose Mclaren T-shirt and Christmas pajama pants, is trying to roll out the dough, but it's not going well. His hands are covered in flour and the dough keeps sticking to the rolling pin. Well, it's easier to say that his whole body is covered in flour.

"Do you need help, chef?" - asks [Y.N], leaning against the countertop and looking at him with an amused smile.

Lando raises his gaze, feigning impatience. "It's harder than it looks, sure?" - He laughs, combing his flour-dusted hair with his hand. "I thought baking was supposed to be easy."

"It's easy, you just have some manual problems," the girl laughs and moves to his side, gently taking the rolling pin from his hands. "Here, let me," she says, guiding him to the side. Their fingers brush as she takes over, a soft, tender moment.

"Sure, my baking queen," the boy laughs, looking at her with adoration.

"You could do the icing." the girl says, pointing to the already made gingerbread cookies.

Lando's eyes brighten, his smile widening. "Icing, huh? That's sounds better." He grabs a piping bag and starts filling it, but as he attempts to pipe a simple design, it all goes horribly wrong.

“Lando!” she laughs, her eyes crinkling with amusement. The icing has spilled everywhere.

He looks down at his hands, dripping with icing. “Well, that’s not what I had in mind…” He shrugs sheepishly.

“You’re adorable when you try, you know that?” She leans in and wipes a bit of icing from his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin.

“And you’re just adorable,” he says, moving closer to her.

Lando’s hands quickly find their place on her waist, and his face is twisted into a genuine big smile. They both giggle, putting the matter of the cookies aside.

“What brought that smile again, huh?” the girl asks, touching his lips, which is also dirty with icing.

“You,” he says simply, and his voice carries a quiet sincerity that makes her heart skip a beat. "It was always you"

For a moment, they both stand in silence, the hum of the Christmas music in the background, the quiet crackling of the small fire in the corner of the livingroom adding to the coziness of the apartment. It’s a peaceful stillness, the kind that only exists between two people who’ve found something real.

A/N: i know it's no nut november and this should be smut but i swear when i had a vision i had to write this. i hope you like it because i won't lie, i fucking love it!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

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200markies · 1 month ago

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　　　　jeno ♡ is the type of boyfriend to ... ⁺

jeno soft hours & headcanons. all are fictional.

pairing: lee jeno x fem!reader

genre: romance, fluff

result from the poll i gave (it's now deleted haha sorry)

author's notes: i made a poll on my main blog like around 3 weeks ago (i deleted it bc im transforming my main blog into something) and i saw that you guys chose jeno over renjun for a boyfriend soft hours headcanon. and well lo and behold, i will bring it to you as requested! i know you guys definitely liked my chenle and jisung headcanons (let's face it, i literally still get bombarded with a bunch of notifs saying you guys r still reblogging and liking my posts AND I WON'T COMPLAIN!) sooo i'll continue this entire thing since this is now probably a 7dream series. i hope this filled up your delusions AND. i hope y'all like this as much as you guys liked my jisung and chenle headcanons :>>

p.s i hope this is an accurate depiction of how i think jeno would be as a boyfriend.........

i am always open 4 requests, and my ask inbox is open so go ahead and request or ask me anything ! i'm always happy to answer each and every message <3

jeno is the type of boyfriend to act all whiny and pouty when you don't give him full attention for at least a second. he wants you to give him attention without any breaks. the moment you let go of him or the moment he finds himself no longer in your arms when he wakes up, he'll start whining and pouting for you to come back.

"wait, let me get something─" as you were about to get up to get something from your cabinet, jeno cuts you off by whining and gripping you tightly to keep you from getting up. you turn around to him, his pout becoming visible already as a sign that he doesn't want to let go of your arms just yet. "but.. baby... can't you stay here first with me? am i not deserving of your attention?"

jeno is the type of boyfriend to follow you almost everywhere you go. not in like a stalking way though, but in a way where he truly wants to go with you on anything you plan to travel or drive to. whether it's a gala with your friends, or something personal yourself. he just doesn't want to be alone and wants to join you almost everytime.

"baby, i'll attend a birthday party on saturday with my friends." you say softly to jeno in front of you, writing down the event on your calendar. you could feel his little stare at you when you said that, with a little nod which you knew that it meant he'll ask you again if he could come. you sigh playfully, rolling your eyes at him as you knew that he'll ask you any minute. "you know the drill.... can i come?"

jeno is the type of boyfriend to sulk and playfully fight you when you say something that doesn't fit the conversation. if, for example, you don't answer his question, he'll immediately sulk and fight you as if he hates you, literally! but, you know all the time he's joking by how cute he is when he fights you. and, even if he fights you playfully a million times, he'll always accept your apologies.

"baby, do you like my suit?" jeno asks, coming out of the fitting room in a tailor shop to see if his suit looks good for his occasion tomorrow. you were still talking about your anniversary plans together, which immediately made jeno sulk as you ignored his question. "heeey, you ignored my question!" he starts whining, sulking while putting up a cute angry expression. he goes to you and smacks you playfully, fighting you just because you ignored his question. "i'm sorry─ i'm sorry!" you start apologising while jeno kept smacking you, still sulking. "you didn't answer my question! do you like my suit?" he asks again, in which you nodded and gave him a little kiss on the lips for him to stop.

jeno is the type of boyfriend to send you something before he goes to work. it's either he sends you an adorable selfie, or something sweet, or maybe some funny jokes to enlighten up your mood if you feel down. he tries his best to at least make you happy in the most minimal way possible─ and it works!

"good morning, baby! hope you slept well. gonna head to work nowww, see you later my love! i love you pretty girl :>" jeno sends the message to you, hoping that you can read it now that you're probably awake. you were on your bed, looking at the notification on your lockscreen. you type out a response, saying, "hi cutie ! i did sleep well, good morning <3 i'll see you later! ilym" and pressed send with a giggle.

©️ 200markies / jyanihaes, 2024

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gh0stsp1d3r · 1 month ago

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I’m your god

cw: religious imagery, questioning of God, sex in church bathroom, p in v, you call church bullshit, a lot of cussing…

a/n: my kickstart to angel!reader !

You didn’t believe in God.

Not really, anyway. It was merely a facade you crafted for your parents, a delicate mask worn to maintain their “precious reputation.” This was the belief system was instilled and drilled into your head from a young age, a doctrine you were taught to never question. At the age of eight, a flicker of doubt ignited within you, yet you chose to play the part of your parents’ “darling little girl”, continuing the charade.

Inside your twisted little head, Rafe was your God. And you were his little angel. His servant. His devotee. His. Only his.

As you stepped into the church, the scent of polished wood and old hymnals enveloped you. You plastered on a wide, false smile while you held the oak door open with an exaggerated flourish for the congregation streaming in.

The warm chatter of familiar faces filled the air. The pastor, had asked you personally, recognizing your family's long-standing bond with the church, to do this job. Hold open the doors and greet the people coming in, hand them flyers, it was easy enough.

Your parents, with their insistent nudges and pointed looks, had driven you to take on this role, leaving you feeling like a puppet on a string. So, you resigned yourself to the expectation, reminding yourself to embody the good girl everyone admired—even if the smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Your smile faltered when you caught notice of him. The last person you expected Rafe Cameron was in a church. He smiled at you, you smiling back.

“Hey, sweetie!” Ward greeted you, stepping aside to wrap his arms around you. Rafe also stepped aside, his hands in his pockets as he watched you hug his father.

��Hey, Mr. Cameron!” You spoke, offering a smile to your boyfriend who was behind Ward. He pulled away, you giving Rafe a hug next, before giving him a small, seemingly innocent and cute kiss on his cheek.

You and Rafe locked eyes for a moment, before Ward interrupted.

“Why don’t you go on ahead, Rafe?” Ward spoke, waving his hand. Rafe’s smile fell, nodding along, before walking away to the rest of his family.

“You know, I really feel the need to express my gratitude to you,” he said. “I think you’re truly making a difference in his life. He actually asked to join us for church this morning,” he chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “I mean, can you believe it? That hasn’t happened in years!” A broad smile spread across his face as he glanced at you, you nodding in agreement.

“God will do that to you.” You replied, and god, You were too good at this. He so fucking believed that. “I’m so glad, Mr. Cameron.” You smiled at him sweetly, him patting your shoulder before walking to the rest of his family.

As the service started, the air felt heavy with incense and the rhythmic cadence of the pastor’s voice drifted over the congregation.

Your gaze flickered to the side, where Rafe loomed in your vision. He stood in the shadows, his eyes locked onto you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

It was as if you were a fragile deer caught in the predatory gaze of a wolf. A small, knowing smirk tugged at the corners of his lips, while the rest of his family sat beside him, oblivious to the charged tension that crackled between the both of you.

Your gaze kept drifting back to him, that undeniable pull drawing your attention. Suddenly, a vibration from your phone in your lap broke your attention. You quickly shifted the device to your side, careful to shield it from your parents, and stole a glance at the screen. You looked at the message, excitement flowing through you at the words.

rafe ! 🫶

bathroom.

You cast one final glance at him, feeling a flutter of anticipation in your chest. As you rose from your chair, you gently smoothed the fabric of your dress, ensuring every wrinkle was gone before you stepped away. Leaning toward your parents, you whispered you were going to the bathroom. They merely waved you off, their expressions full of indifference.

You swung open the doors that led into the narrow hallway where the bathroom door was slightly ajar. You leaned against the cool wall, your heart racing as you waited for him. When you heard the door open, your eyes went to him, noting the way he darted his gaze around, taking in his surroundings and making sure no one else was around. Finally, he made his way toward you, hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans.

You got on the tips of your toes to plant a kiss on his lips, his mouth moving against yours. He let out a quiet groan when you put your tongue into his mouth, his hands traveling your body. He put his hands on yours ass, gently patting it. You jumped up, him holding you as he walked backwards intro the bathroom, locking it behind him.

“Oh, fuck.” You breathed out, your back hitting the cold tile wall. His hands fiddled with his belt buckle, pulling it down and his pants pooled to the floor. He bunched your little white dress up, pulling your panties to the side.

“We gotta be quick, baby. My parents-“ you started, before he cut you off with a kiss.

“Your parents can suck my dick.” He retorted, “I don’t give a fuck.” He panted out, his lips ghosting yours as he pulled his hard cock out, putting it to your entrance. The both of you panted, your breath mingling together

“Oh shit,” you cried out when he slowly slid in, his mouth moving to your neck, letting out a low chuckle, his hot breath on your neck. He left open mouth kisses on your neck, gliding his tongue and his teeth over your soft skin.

“Rafe.” You cried out when he continued to slide into your warm, velvety walls. He was so deep, yet half of him wasn’t even inside of you.

“I’m barely even in, angel.” He spoke mockingly, you could feel the grin he had on his face. He looked up, moving away from your neck.

“And you know you have to be quiet. Wouldn’t want your precious little parents to find you here, watching you get fucked by your ‘sweet, cute, little boyfriend.’”

You nodded, hiding your own face in his shoulder, wrapping your arms tighter around him. You looked almost like a koala hugging a tree branch.

He breathed out as he pulled out of you, before his hips bucked back into your warmth. You let out a cry, your hands bunching up the shirt he had on, tears falling onto it.

You could already hear your pastors voice ringing in your head. Don’t fall a victim to lust, but you couldn’t find yourself to care when Rafes hands were sliding down your thighs and his slender fingers moved to your clit, rubbing it in circles.

“Oh god, oh my god.” you cried out.

“I’m your god, baby. Say it. Say I’m your god.” He spoke breathily.

“You’re-“ you were cut off by a particularly hard thrust.

“Say it.” He repeated.

“You’re my god!” You spoke while you came, hiding your face into his neck.

He grinned once again, his hips slowing for a moment, before he shot his seed into you, painting your walls. He groaned out, the both of you relishing in the after. You moved your legs from his waist, and stood up on wobbly legs.

He smoothed out your dress, pulling your panties to the side for you, collecting the mixes of both of you on his finger, before shoving his finger into your mouth.

You grabbed his wrist, letting out a moan on his digit as you swirled your tongue around it. He removed his finger from your mouth with a ‘pop’, and a sick smirk made its way onto his face.

“How’d you even keep me up for that long?” You asked with a giggle, wiping the remnants of the liquid from your lips.

He flexed his muscles with a smirk, you rolling your eyes and giggling at him. “It’s what I work out for.”

Your smile fell when you looked down at the Apple Watch on your wrist, grimacing now.

“What?”

“We’ve been gone for like 10 minutes, ray!”

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Who cares? Just say you got your period or some shit.”

“What about you?” You asked him with a pout, leaning closer into the mirror, fixing your makeup and hair, looking at him through the reflection.

“I’ll say I couldn’t help myself and was having sex with my super sexy girlfriend.” He replied, leaning against the wall, staring at you from the mirror.

“Rafe!” Your cheeks warmed up at his dirty words, him smiling.

He laughed, “Nah, nah, I’ll just say I ran into some old lady and helped her or something. I don’t know.”

You let out a soft sigh, amusement dancing across your features as you turned to face him. Your lips formed a small, sad pout as you gazed up into his eyes.

“I don’t wanna go back,” you admitted, your voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. As if sensing your reluctance, his hands found their way to your waist, drawing you in closer, enveloping you in his warmth. “Everything they say is bullshit, anyways,” you continued.

“Then don’t.” He replied, as if it was that easy.

“I have to.” You let out a weary sigh. You leaned in closer to the boy, pressing your lips softly against his in a gentle kiss that. As you pulled away, your fingers brushed the warmth of his skin before dropping to the cool metal of the doorknob.

“Well, I’m gonna go Toppers' party later, if you want to come.” he said casually. You turned to look at him, your expression curious as you met his gaze over your shoulder. "How about I swing by and pick you up?”

“Sounds good.” You beamed, him moving to your side to kiss you one more time.

“Love you, sweetheart.” He told you, patting your ass once more when you opened the door. You giggling and rolling your eyes at him.

“Love you too, ray. See you.” You blew him a kiss over your shoulder as you left, him smirking to himself, running a hand through his now messy hair, and looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“Damn.” He mumbled, pulling his collar down to look at the marks your lipstick had left from when you kissed his neck, smiling and shaking his head to himself as he pulled it up higher.

With every sinful act you committed, you dug a hole deeper and deeper into hell. You couldn’t find yourself to care, because Rafe was there right next to you, shovel in hand.

#angel!reader #season one rafe #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x y/n #obx rafe cameron #obx #rafe cameron smut #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe obx #rafe fic #outerbanks rafe #rafe imagine #rafe cameron blurb

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punkshort · 5 months ago

Text

In Another Life | Part II

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader (time travel au)

Chapter Summary: Danny unexpectedly drops Marcus off at your office, but it works to your advantage when you decide to use him as the subject for your next article, and your research brings the two of you much closer together.

Chapter Warnings: language, typical brother embarrassing his sister, threats of physical violence, a little fist fight, some blood from said fist fight, mention of drugs, jealousy, food consumption, fluff, flirting, sexual tension, smut (18+ MDNI), unprotected piv sex, fingering

WC: 8.4K

Series Masterlist

Your apartment had devolved into utter chaos the last two days. It seemed like every time you rounded a corner, you had to dodge some person or scrap of metal or power tool, and it was getting on your last nerve. New York wasn't exactly known for spacious living arrangements as it was, so to have what little space you did covet overrun with your brother's shit really sent you into overdrive.

"Lizard's mom has a house in Queens, why the hell is all this shit here and not in her basement?" you snapped at Danny early one morning after you stubbed your toe on a drill.

"He's worried about her finding out what we're up to," Danny explained, and you immediately scoffed into your coffee.

"She's deaf in one ear and hasn't stepped foot in her basement since his dad died."

Danny agreed to move his time traveling project to Queens later that day.

The scowl on your face smoothed out the moment Marcus entered your kitchen, rubbing sleep from his eyes and looking absolutely devastating in the pajama pants you had bought for him just a few days prior. It took all your willpower not to let your eyes drop below his waist, having already made that mistake the day before. The noticeable bulge hidden amongst the thin sleepwear had you spacing out the entire train ride to work and you couldn't afford any distractions that day. You had a big meeting at eleven where you had to present the next topic for your column and you were scrambling. The source you had for your long-distance relationship idea fell through last minute, so now you were tasked with brainstorming a spectacular backup plan in the next four hours.

"Morning, General. How did you sleep?" Danny asked as he scooped cereal into his mouth.

"Quite well, thank you," he replied, then his eyes met yours and he smiled. "Good morning, my lady."

You grinned like a school girl, your heart fluttering excitedly in your chest when you stammered, "G-good morning." Danny rolled his eyes but chose wisely to keep his mouth shut.

Marcus was able to find his way around by that point, however he still seemed hesitant to just start opening your drawers and cupboards when he needed something. Tired of reminding him to just help himself, you set down your coffee and picked up your loaf of bread from the corner of the counter.

"Same as yesterday?" you asked him as you popped two slices of bread in the toaster, anticipating his answer.

"Please," he said with a grateful nod, then dutifully clasped his hands at his waist.

When Danny watched you crack some eggs into a frying pan along with a few sausage links, his jaw dropped.

"You're making breakfast for him but not for me?" he whined.

You swiveled around and pointed your spatula in his face. "He is our guest, thanks to you," you reminded him, and Danny quickly shut up.

"I do not wish to be a burden," Marcus said. He hadn't moved but his broad frame felt like it took up the entire room.

"You're not a burden, Marcus," you told him softly, then gave him a small, reassuring smile.

"Yeah, no worries, man," Danny said, clapping him firmly on the shoulder before dumping his dirty dishes in the sink. "I'm just giving my sister a hard time because it's obvious she wants to jump your bones."

"Danny!" you shrieked while throwing an oven mitt at his head. He dodged it and ducked out of the kitchen, his laughter fading down the hall towards his bedroom.

Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you turned your focus back to the frying pan. When Marcus cleared his throat, you closed your eyes in dread because you knew what was coming.

"What did that mean, jump your bones?"

"Nothing, just ignore him," you said, sliding the eggs and sausage onto a plate. A few seconds passed when Danny's voice shouted down the hall, "It's a euphemism for sex!"

"Goddamnit," you muttered through clenched teeth. You began to storm out of the kitchen, prepared to kick Danny's ass, but Marcus shot an arm out to stop you.

"You look lovely today."

You gazed up at him, mouth agape, while you tried to find your voice.

Say something. Anything.

"Thanks. Uh, thank you," you mumbled, smoothing down the pink and white floral dress you picked out. On days where you had your big monthly meeting, you tried to make an effort to look like you belonged at a fashion magazine.

"Do you have plans today?" he asked, his eyes swooping down your frame appreciatively, and for once it didn't make your stomach turn when a man looked at you that way. "Daniel tells me there is a beautiful park in the city. I desire to see it and would very much enjoy your company."

You knew you were reading too much into it, but you couldn't help but feel like he was asking you on a date.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Marcus," you said, "I have to work today. But I promise we will see it before you go home."

Home.

His face fell at the word and he quickly dropped his gaze to the floor, trying to hide his disappointment.

"Of course, I understand. Thank you for breakfast," he said, sliding past you so he could pick up the plate you made for him. You chewed your lip and glanced at the time. If it were any other day, you would just call in sick, but today was too important to miss.

"I promise, okay?" you told him as you gathered your bags. "We will see Central Park before you leave. And whatever else you want."

He nodded and took a bite of his food. Although he appeared to be unbothered, you still felt an enormous amount of guilt.

"Danny!" you called from the front door, "this shit better be gone by the time I get home!"

"Yes, Mom!" he shouted back sarcastically from the bathroom. You rolled your eyes and gave Marcus a quick wave before hurrying out the door.

You were fucked.

You had one hour until your meeting and you had absolutely nothing.

Already, you had done your usual brainstorming techniques five times over. You scrolled through social media, hoping to find some trend or topic that might be popular and garner attention, but you were coming up dry, so you kept circling back to your long distance relationship idea. You had sent out every feeler you could think of, asking any of your usual contacts if they had anyone you could use for a story about your chosen topic, but so far you weren't having any luck.

Suddenly, your phone rang and you lunged for it, hoping it was a lead, then groaned when you saw Danny's contact picture pop up on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Hey..." he began, and you could tell by the tone in his voice that you should brace yourself.

"What did you do?"

He laughed on the other end. "I didn't do anything. Actually, I did do something - I am getting all this stuff out of your place, but there's just one thing."

"Spit it out," you said, your eyes flickering to the time. 45 minutes to go.

"I can't take Marcus with us to Queens. There's no room in Lizard's car."

"So let him stay in the apartment."

"I'm not leaving him all alone in New York City!" he protested. You heard some familiar sounds in the background of the call and you frowned.

"Where are you?"

Danny paused and you instantly began to put your defenses up.

"I'm... in your lobby. With Marcus and Lizard."

"You're what?!" you exclaimed in a loud whisper, glancing around to make sure nobody overheard you in your cubical.

"I told to him to just stay in the lobby and read your crappy magazines and if anyone asks, to tell them he's here for meeting."

"Danny! You can't do this, I can't babysit a fucking Roman General right now!"

You heard Danny walk a few paces away, presumably to get some privacy so Marcus wouldn't overhear, before he answered.

"He'll stay downstairs, I promise. I told him what floor you're on in case of an emergency but maybe you can pop down and take him for lunch. You've been making heart eyes at this Roman General for the past three days, don't try and lie."

Anger coursed through your veins but you were running out of precious time, so you gave up.

"Fine," you seethed.

"Great!" Danny said cheerily. "But I might not be back til late. We're burning tons of time moving all this stuff, we got work to do."

"So I have to bring him home?"

"Yes, you'll have to bring him home. You're going there anyway, aren't you? What's the big deal?"

"The big deal is he's going to be bored and lonely all day down there!" you snapped.

"He's not going to be bored. He's in New York City. The elevators alone are blowing his mind right now."

Despite yourself, you smiled when you remembered how in awe he was the first time he rode in an elevator.

"Tell him I'll be down to take him to lunch in like, a little over an hour. I have a meeting at eleven."

"You're the best!" Danny said, then before you could respond, the line went dead.

You grumbled obscenities under your breath when you heard a familiar voice say your name from the opening of your cube.

"Hey, ready for the meeting?" Matt asked. You practically dropped your phone from his sudden appearance and he chuckled. "Did I scare you?"

"Yes," you hissed as you began to gather your things, trying to hide your annoyance. You looked over the top of your cubical wall, hoping and praying you would see someone - anyone - else to walk with to the conference room, but you were shit out of luck.

"Doing anything fun tonight?" he inevitably asked, like he always did, and you sighed. You made the mistake of hooking up with him after one particularly rowdy work happy hour and ever since then, Matt's been waiting for his next opportunity. "I know a guy who works at that new French restaurant, I can get us a reservation and then, who knows..."

"I have a friend in from out of town," was all you said. No matter how many times you turned him down, he remained persistent.

"That's cool. Girls night, then?"

"My friend's a guy," you quickly corrected him.

Matt stumbled over his feet as you reached the conference room. It was the biggest one on your floor, directly across from the elevator banks. The entire wall was made of glass, floor to ceiling, so you could see through the room to the opposite wall, where there was a fantastic view of the city.

"Oh, like a cousin, or..."

"Nope," you replied, voice clipped so he knew the topic was closed. With a frustrated huff, Matt plopped down next to you and flipped open his portfolio. You gave him a sideways glance, momentarily feeling bad for him. He was by all accounts a good looking guy. He wrote a column for the men's health section and based on his physique, you assumed he practiced what he preached, but sadly his looks is where his good qualities came to an end.

Charlotte, your editor, breezed into the room, her presence enough to make everyone sitting at the long table quiet right down. She ghosted her palm over her perfectly coiffed grey hair and sat her portfolio down in front of her chair at the head of the table. As you got yourself organized, your mind scrambling to come up with a lie about a long distance relationship source, Charlotte placed her phone down delicately next to her leather portfolio, then slowly uncapped the expensive looking pen someone once told you was gifted to her by Marc Jacobs. Everybody watched and waited until she was ready, which was signified by a dainty clearing of her throat and a quick, sweeping glance over the table followed by a curt nod. At that point, the usual routine began.

Without having to be asked, one by one everybody took their turn presenting their idea for the month. Each person's name was listed on the agenda in the order Charlotte wished, and mercifully yours was dead last.

Your anxiety began to spike when Sara, the girl who was before you in nutrition started to wrap up her brief speech about some gluten free lifestyle benefit bullshit.

Keep it short. Keep it vague, and you'll figure it out later. Everyone wants to leave, it's almost lunch.

Then some movement by the elevators caught your eye. Your breathing ceased and you broke out into a cold sweat when you saw Marcus had stepped out of the elevator and was fucking talking to the receptionist. Then you locked eyes when they both turned to look towards the conference room.

"Shit," you whispered.

Matt nudged your ribs and you startled, glancing around the room to see Sara had sat down and half the table was staring at you, waiting for you to begin. You shakily stood up and swallowed the lump in your throat when Marcus began to weave his way towards you through the maze of cubicles.

Call it a stroke of genius or divine inspiration, but an incredible idea hit you right as you opened your mouth to speak. You had about half a second to decide if you should wing it and trust your gut or talk out of your ass about your first idea.

Fuck it.

"This month, I have a very interesting idea that I'm super excited about exploring," you began, watching when Marcus came to a stop outside the glass door. He looked back and forth, his fingers twitching at his sides. "My topic will be Romance without Technology," you announced with a confident smile. "I'll be researching how adults navigate their love lives without the help of dating apps, social media, or even texting," you said, listing each item on your finger as you spoke.

"Who's that guy?" Sara asked, pointing towards the door. It was at that point you realized most of the table was gawking at the tall, broad, handsome looking Roman General waiting to get your attention.

You smiled and walked toward the door with your arm outstretched.

"This is Marcus," you said, holding the door open and ushering him inside. He murmured your name but you cut him off. "He's the subject I'll be interviewing for this month's article. He doesn't use technology of any kind. In fact, he doesn't even own a cell phone."

The entire room gasped and Marcus looked around, confused, but understood what you needed him to do. He raised one arm up to greet the room and said, "Good morning."

Most of the women began to whisper excitedly to one another, shooting him looks and giggling behind their hands until Charlotte cleared her throat and once again, the room fell into silence.

You chewed your lower lip anxiously as you waited for Charlotte to silently appraise you both. Finally, you saw the corner of her mouth twitch and she gave you a barely perceptible nod.

"I look forward to reading it."

She stood abruptly and collected her things, signifying the end of the meeting, and relief flooded your veins.

"Are you okay?" you asked Marcus, pulling him to the side while the room stood and slowly filtered out. He nodded.

"Yes. There were many vehicles that passed by with bright lights and loud sirens. When I asked what it was for, I was told there was an emergency."

You giggled and shook your head. "So the fearsome General was scared?"

His brows knitted together for a moment before he answered.

"No. I grew concerned for your well being."

Your heart could have melted on the spot.

"Oh," you said softly, and just like that, the annoying little flutter in your chest was back. "I-I'm fine, but thank you. That was... that's really sweet, actually."

He grinned as his eyes swooped down your frame, causing butterflies to awaken in your stomach.

"Did you wanna get something to eat?" you asked as you stared up at him, his large frame making you feel so tiny in comparison. "It'll be on the company's dime since I kinda just signed you up to be the subject of my next article."

He cocked an eyebrow at you and shoved his hands into the pockets of his khakis, the action bringing up the memory of you measuring his inseam and you felt your face begin to heat up. God, you must have looked ridiculous, standing there in front of Marcus in the middle of your office, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

"Of course," he replied, "but what do you intend to write about me?"

You grinned and hurried back to your abandoned chair, scooping up your things before pointing to the door.

"Let me drop this stuff off at my desk and I'll explain everything."

"My marriage was arranged," he reminded you from across the table draped in white linen. You decided to take him to a nicer steakhouse not too far from your office, one that didn't enforce a dress code but still had good food that you rarely sprung for out of your own pocket.

"I know, but I'm sure you can still give me an idea of what romance was like," you replied. "For example, did you get her any gifts? Give flowers? Take her to places that were meaningful to you? Or to her?"

Marcus dropped his gaze to the table and shrugged. "We knew each other for such a short period of time, there was unfortunately not much in the way of romance."

You clocked the forlorn look in his eye and began to feel guilty for bringing it up. "I'm sorry. I'll just make something up, don't worry about it. No one'll know."

"No, no, I wish to help," he said quickly, his hand stretching across the table to loop two of his fingers around yours. "Just because I do not have many personal stories to share does not mean I cannot help with your research."

"I don't want to reopen any old wounds," you explained, your eyes fixed on the way his hand linked with yours so naturally on the tabletop.

He chuckled softly, his smile causing his deep brown eyes to sparkle and a dimple to appear on his cheek.

"It was a very long time ago."

When your salads arrived at your table, Marcus released your hand to pick up his fork, frowning down at the bowl before asking, "This is the salad named after Julius Caesar?"

You giggled and shook your head, the sound causing him to lift his chin with a warm smile.

"No," you said once you collected yourself, "No, it's named after another Caesar. The guy who created it, I think."

Marcus didn't seem to mind he was wrong or that you found his error so funny. In fact, he enjoyed it.

"You have a beautiful laugh."

Instantly, your cheeks flushed and you shyly looked down to focus on your salad. "Thank you," you said softly.

He watched you silently for another minute more, admiring the way your eyes fluttered shut when you tasted something good or tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, then took a hesitant bite of his salad.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise and you grinned from behind your napkin.

"Delicious."

You giggled again and nodded. "Yes, it is."

Once your salads were taken away and before your main course arrived, you pulled out a notebook and flipped to a blank page.

"Let's start from the beginning. You don't have to go into excruciating detail. Maybe just some things you know of that others did to... court women? Is that even the right word?" you mumbled the last part to yourself as you scribbled something at the top of your paper.

"It was seen as a sign of weakness for a man to become infatuated with a woman," he said, and you looked up at him in surprise.

"Why's that?"

"Marriages rarely were based on affection. They were viewed as a way to improve your social standing, but it was mutually beneficial," he explained, his finger tracing the design engrained in his fork. "Women were taken care of, looked after and tended to while the men were able to claim a high ranking senator or nobleman as their family. And, of course..." he trailed off, his cheeks staining pink when he dropped his gaze to the table and said, "received the traditional benefits of having a wife."

You smirked to yourself as you wrote notes on your pad of paper.

"Thought you were used to talking about sex openly," you teased. He cleared his throat and your pen paused over your paper to meet his eye.

"I admit, at times I feel nervous around you."

"Me?" you balked, but he just nodded and your brain scrambled for something to say that wouldn't entirely embarrass you. You landed on deflection.

"I thought it was a sign of weakness to grow infatuated?"

He grinned and leaned back in his chair. "I never said I agreed with that line of thought."

"No, I suppose you didn't," you said, shyly dropping your eyes to your paper. His gaze was too intense. Every time you looked at him it felt like he could see right through you. "So, tell me. Hypothetically. If we lived in Rome and I caught your eye, what would you do? How would you win me over?"

Marcus took a deep breath, his broad shoulders relaxing as he thought about your question for a moment, staring at your pen hovering over your paper.

"I would write you letters every day," he said softly, forcing your eyes back onto him. His voice was low and deep, smooth yet firm as he spoke. "I would write of your beauty. I would compare the color of your eyes to the flowers and fauna that grew in my garden, delicate and all encompassing. I would tell you how food tastes better on my tongue when you are around, and how I ache for you when you are not near. I would try to explain how difficult it is to breathe without you, and how I would gladly die a thousand deaths just to feel the softness of your lips against mine."

You stared at him, hand frozen where you left it resting on your notebook. He waited patiently until you finally blinked yourself out of your stupor and inhaled a shaky breath.

"Uh, s-so love letters, then," you stammered, shakily scribbling down something incoherent on your paper. Jesus fucking Christ, get it together.

"Yes. Love letters," he repeated. He sounded so cool and collected. How was he so relaxed? A moment ago, he was admitting you made him nervous. Maybe he was just better at hiding it than you.

Your server arrived and placed your food down in front of you, the heavenly scent wafting up and making your mouth water. Placing your pen down in favor of picking up your fork and knife, you asked, "Have you ever had steak?"

"I am not sure. What animal is it?" he asked, picking up his fork and testing the tenderness of his steak by giving it a little poke.

"It's cow. Try it, it's good."

"Cows were used for farming," he said before slicing a piece off and examining it closely. "We could not afford to slaughter them."

You watched as he popped a bite into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully before giving you a smile and nod.

"Good?" you asked, your heart skipping a beat at finding another food he liked.

"Very," he replied once he swallowed. "You are quite perceptive and have good taste."

"Thank you," you answered, taking another bite and trying not to preen too much from the praise.

"So tell me," he said after he finished up his filet and moved on to his potato, which he eyed wearily. "Do you not receive love letters as a form of courtship?"

"Uh, no," you replied with a laugh. "Closest thing to that nowadays would be a text and even those are... sub par."

"So what is it that you do?"

"What do you mean?"

He pointed to your notepad with his fork. "For romance. What activities do you take part in?"

"Oh," you said, wiping your mouth and pushing your empty plate to the side. "You mean dates. Uh, this actually. Get dinner together. Sometimes see a movie," you paused and rethought your word choice when you saw his face. "A show, or a play. Um, sometimes go to a bar. Stuff like that."

He nodded and let your answer roll around in his head for a moment before asking, "So, is this a date?"

Marcus smiled when he saw you become flustered. You thanked the server for clearing your plates and leaving the bill before responding.

"Uh, I don't know," you finally said shyly, making his smile grow even wider. "Do you want - I mean, well... I'm technically working, but, you know, if - if that was something you were interested in, then, I guess w-we could classify this, or, you know, it could be construed-"

"Yes or no," he said, interrupting your insane ramblings with a soft look and an outstretched hand. Your face was hot with embarrassment but you reached out for his hand, anyway.

"Yes."

"Yes," he repeated, squeezing your fingers. You grinned and nodded, your stomach doing cartwheels as you tried to steady your breath.

Once you paid with your corporate credit card, you walked back out to the street, Marcus holding the doors open for you before offering you his hand. You sheepishly accepted it and walked a few paces in the direction of your office before he stopped you.

"Must you return to work?"

You gave him a sad smile and took a step closer. "Yeah, I'm sorry. But maybe I can play hooky tomorrow."

Marcus raised a curious eyebrow at you while playing with the material of your dress with his free hand, gently pinching and feeling the fabric between his fingers. "What does-"

"It means I'll call in sick without actually being sick so I can have the day off," you explained without him needing to finish asking.

He grinned and dropped your dress in favor of cupping your cheek. "I would like that very much."

"Me, too," you said, gazing up at him while leaning into his touch. His strong, calloused hand felt rough against your skin, but you liked it. As if reading your mind, he stroked his thumb over your cheekbone and murmured, "You are so soft."

You hummed, not trusting yourself to speak when you watched him slowly lean down to your level, your eyes fluttering shut as you waited to feel his mouth against yours. But just when his shadow got close enough to block the sun behind your eyelids, you heard someone shout your name.

You swiveled around angrily, your hand still laced together with Marcus's as you looked for the person who interrupted one of the more romantic moments of your life.

And then you saw Matt stalking up to you from the direction of the restaurant.

"Is this why you've been ghosting me?"

You frowned and tilted your head. "What?"

Matt came to a stop in front of you both and jutted his chin towards Marcus. "Too busy sleeping with your profiles to hang out?"

"W-what?" you stammered again, too shocked to fight back with your usual vigor. You felt Marcus stiffen next to you. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he immediately sensed your discomfort. "I'm not - this isn't-"

"Oh, sure," he sneered, crossing his arms, his biceps bulging out of his thin dress shirt. "I saw you two in there. You were three seconds away from crawling into his lap."

Your mouth hung open in shock and humiliation. "Were you following me?"

Before Matt could answer, Marcus took a step forward.

"I am going to have to insist you stop yelling," he seethed, and even though Matt followed his own advice in his articles and worked out plenty, Marcus still towered over him.

Matt's eyes went wide for just a moment before his bravado returned. "C'mon, man. She's just using you, don't you see that?" Matt prodded, then he scoffed. "Unless you're good with it. Then by all means, have fun. She's a good fuck but I don't think she's got much else."

It all happened so fast, you couldn't remember Marcus dropping your hand and cocking his fist. You couldn't remember the first sickening crunch of his knuckles against Matt's nose, but you did remember hearing his pained howl.

Marcus only landed a few more blows before you came to your senses and tugged him by the shoulder. It was laughable to think you would be strong enough to move him, but you must have also said something because Marcus immediately stopped and turned back to you.

"Jesus Christ!" you cried shakily, hands trembling as they hovered in the air. You weren't sure what to do and people were staring as they walked by, driving up your anxiety. Marcus was fine except for his skinned knuckles, but Matt was much worse. He had a busted lip and already a bright blue shiner forming on his cheekbone, and when he stood to face you both, you noticed another cut on the other cheek.

"The fuck is wrong with you!" he spat, blood dripping down his chin.

"Mind how you speak to women and perhaps they will wish to spare you their time," Marcus snarled. Matt turned his attention to you, the pad of his thumb swiping against his lower lip.

"Who is this guy? What the fuck is his deal?"

You took a deep breath, your mind settling and your fortitude returning.

"If you had just backed off when I said no the first dozen times, maybe you didn't have to find out!"

"Oh, come off it. You like the chase. You get off on guys trailing after you-"

"You're the only fucking one, Matt!" you yelled, no longer caring who was looking. "We hooked up once, years ago, and you just can't take the hint! I'm not interested!"

His eyes clouded with disbelief as he propped his hands on his hips and shifted his weight to one foot, standing there as if he were somehow new to being shot down.

"I'm telling Charlotte about this. About your little..." he trailed off and gestured vaguely over your shoulder, "guard dog. I'm sure she will love to hear about one of your profiles assaulting an employee."

You crossed your arms defiantly and made a face. "Oh, yeah? Do that and I'll recommend to HR they give you a drug test."

His face paled for a moment but he tried to hide it. "Drugs? I'm not on drugs."

"Oh, so you're telling me your balls are just naturally that shriveled up and small? Because, shit," you laughed, "if it's not steroids, you might want to see a doctor about that. That's not normal."

Matt swallowed tightly and clamped his mouth shut. You smiled and turned around to Marcus, who had been listening to your entire argument and probably understanding less than half of it.

"Let's go."

You tugged on his arm and he obediently followed, leaving Matt to lick his wounds.

"Your work - the building is the other way."

"I know," you said, raising your arm to hail a cab. "I'll figure something out. We're going home."

Marcus watched as you paced around your kitchen, phone pressed against your ear as you spoke to your boss and faked a sudden illness that included the word cramps. When you finished up, you looked over at him from across the room.

He looked so normal now. Sure, he spoke a little strangely but without his tunic, clad in khakis and a polo shirt, he looked like he fit right in. Like he always belonged right there.

"I don't think I even thanked you," you said. Marcus smiled and shrugged.

"No need."

He was so damn adorable, it was killing you. "I've never met anyone like you before," you confessed, leaning a hip against the edge of your counter.

"In a good way, I hope?" he asked, raising his eyebrows. You giggled and nodded, the sound making his heart soar.

"Yes, in a good way."

He brought his hand up to smooth over his mouth nervously and your stomach dropped.

"Oh, my god! Your hands!" you exclaimed, crossing the room to snatch one of his massive hands within both of yours.

"It is alright, there is no-"

"Come on, let me clean up your knuckles at least," you said, pulling him towards your tiny bathroom, which somehow felt even smaller when you were both crowding the space. "Sit here," you told him, pointing towards the closed toilet seat, "I have some stuff somewhere," you muttered under your breath as you rifled through the medicine cabinet behind your mirror, then tugged open the drawer in the vanity that always stuck. Marcus did as he was told and watched you with amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Ah ha!" you announced victoriously when you held up a bottle of clear liquid and a box of bandages. He smiled as you washed your hands before meticulously laying everything out you would need. Picking up a cotton ball, you doused it with the liquid and turned to him, having little choice but to stand between his knees and lifting one of his hands to look at it closer.

He splayed his hand out flat, palm pressing against your palm while you carefully dabbed at the dried blood.

"You have laid with that man before?" he asked out of the blue. Your cheeks felt warm when you nodded and avoided his eye.

"A long time ago. It was a mistake."

He didn't say anything else for a few minutes, just watched as you tenderly cared for his broken skin, your proximity and touch overwhelming his senses.

"Did he mistreat you?"

Quickly, you shook your head. "Oh god, no, nothing like that," you told him. "It just... wasn't a good fit."

Marcus couldn't stop staring at the soft slopes of your face and the bright sparkle in your irises, growing infatuated with the way your brow scrunched together in concentration while you worked.

"Did he not worship you?" he asked softly, watching as your breath hitched and you swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Uh, no," you finally said, setting down the cotton ball in favor of a tube with some salve. You squeezed a small dot onto your finger and began to apply it carefully to his knuckles. "Can't say there's been a lot of worshipping happening in my life," you added with a dry chuckle.

"No?"

You shook your head and wiped your finger with a tissue and tried not to let his injured hand that had fallen to your hip distract you.

"No," you whispered, your shaky voice betraying you.

He tsked and brought his other hand up to your hip, slowly splaying his fingers wide and crumpling the fabric of your dress. "Shameful. You deserve to be worshipped."

All of the air rushed from your lungs, your body thrumming with desire. Marcus noticed the fine hairs on your arms raise when goosebumps flashed across your skin and he delicately picked up your hand, flipping it over so he could press a kiss against the inside of your wrist.

His deep brown eyes met yours and with his lips still brushing against your skin, whispered, "Will you allow me to worship you?"

You found yourself nodding before your voice had a chance to catch up with you, then his hands gently cupped your face and pulled you down to his level. The moment your lips finally met, you forgot how to breathe, how to move, how to think. His lips were so unexpectedly soft and tender as they slowly massaged against your own that it sent you into a tailspin.

You pressed your mouth against his with a little more force, the fear that he may just stop at one kiss gripping your throat and driving you forward. He made a soft, surprised noise in the back of his throat when you began to kiss him with more intensity, but he didn't skip a beat. He tightened his hold on your face, fingers dimpling your cheeks and his nose bumping lightly against yours.

Your hands pressed against his chest, then your fingers curled to grip his shirt, wanting to tug him closer, wanting to feel him everywhere but you were still in your stupid fucking tiny bathroom and it was difficult to maneuver. Seemingly anticipating your next move, you felt Marcus stand. Your head tipped back, neck craned upwards at an impossible angle, refusing to break the kiss even for a moment so he began to carefully walk you backwards towards the door. Every step towards your bedroom felt like you were walking deeper and deeper into the sea, drowning in his overwhelming presence and touch.

Marcus's palm slid over your shoulder, down your arm and only stopping when he found your ribs. He wound his arm around you as you both stumbled through your doorway with as little grace as you would expect from two people growing more and more intertwined by the moment.

Once you felt your mattress pressing into the backs of your knees, you released your death grip on his shirt so you could reach behind you and unzip your dress. The cool air washed over your bare skin when it pooled around your feet and suddenly, you felt extremely exposed. What kinds of women was he used to being with? It felt like every day when you went into work you learned something new that men found desirable in women. How could you possibly be expected to keep up in the modern world, let alone with what Marcus might find appealing?

But when his palm reconnected with your middle and he felt your smooth skin under his hand, he grew desperate for more to the point where you could sense it, pushing your insecurities to the back of your mind. His injured hand left your cheek so he could glide both massive hands over the soft swell of your curves, his fingers twitching as he sought out more of your skin but when he came in contact with your bra, his hands stopped.

You could feel his hesitation by the way his lips stalled against yours so you took his hands and wrapped them around your back, wordlessly guiding him to the clasp as your tongue slid inside his mouth.

He figured out the hooks on your bra after only one or two fumbles and it dropped to the floor to join your dress.

"Fuck," he whispered when he finally managed to pull away to admire your nearly naked body. Your eyes widened with surprise.

"I don't think I've heard you curse before."

He inhaled a ragged breath, his eyes still drinking you in when he murmured, "I did not have a reason to before now."

He gently grazed over your breast, barely even touching you while he watched with fascination as your nipple tightened from the brief contact. "You have stirred something within me," he said softly, his eyes and hands continuing to roam. "Something I believed did not exist for a long time."

You leaned into his touch when he cupped your breast, enraptured with how soft you felt under his hand. Your fingers curled around the waistband of his khakis, sliding your nails across his lower stomach, across the coarse hair you very much wished to see while his mouth descended on your throat. His beard tickled the spot below your ear and it sent a shudder down your spine. His lips curved into a smile against your skin at the involuntary movement and he asked, "What else do you like?"

It was becoming difficult to breathe. The way he was so slow and careful yet sure of himself was unlike anything you had ever experienced before with a man. It was making your knees weak and your head swim.

When it took too long for you to answer his question, he lightly pinched your skin between your teeth, causing warmth to bloom just underneath the mark.

"T-touch me," you stammered, your eyes sliding closed and your head tipping back, surrendering yourself completely to his prowess.

His hand slipped down your body, over your stomach and underneath your panties. You gasped sharply when you felt one thick finger part your folds, sliding over your clit and dipping into your entrance, drenching him with your arousal.

"Lay down for me," he whispered in your ear while wrapping his free arm around your back, holding you steady so you didn't collapse from the torture of his singular finger working in and out.

He laid you down carefully in your bed, his hand never losing its rhythm and his mouth still ghosting over your neck and chest.

You whined and bucked your hips under him, fingers getting tangled in his thick curls while he whispered words of adoration into your skin, imprinting himself on you forever.

He could feel you growing rigid, your muscles tense and your exhale coming in short bursts. He brushed his lips over yours at the same time his thumb grazed over your clit, making your jaw drop and a sob erupt from your throat.

"Relax," he murmured, increasing the speed of his wrist while slowly sliding his tongue alongside yours. "Relax and let go for me, cor mea," he said against your mouth.

Your body convulsed beneath him when he brought you to your climax with just one finger. His mouth locked over yours, swallowing down your cries and allowing them to feed his ever growing desire. When you whimpered and lightly pushed his hand away, he withdrew from between your legs but continued to deepen the kiss. It was so sweet and loving that it sent you reeling, wondering how you would ever find satisfaction from another man again after Marcus.

"Take these off," you breathed, tugging on his belt loops. He reared back to sit on his heels while deftly undoing the button and zipper of his khakis, leaving them gaping open at his waist before yanking his polo shirt over his head and tossing it onto the floor. You bit your lip, admiring his bare chest for the first time while he pushed his pants down and kicked them off.

"Christ," you muttered, eyes trailing over his tanned and scarred skin. You reached out and traced a particularly jagged one on his shoulder but he was more focused on ridding you of your underwear. If you ever questioned the validity of his time traveling story, any doubt was erased from your mind when you saw his body.

"Did these hurt?"

He paused and followed your gaze to his marked up torso.

"Some, at the time, yes."

Your expression softened to one of pity as you continued to scan his body, losing count of the shiny, pale scars.

"W-what... how did these..." you trailed off, unable to keep the emotion from your voice. Marcus cupped your cheek and pressed a kiss against your lips.

"It is alright. I have been in many battles. It is my job, and just like yours, I must do it."

You laughed but you didn't really find it funny. "You risk your life every day while I write about best places to take a first date or what to do if you're faking orgasms with your boyfriend. You can't compare the two."

Marcus cocked an eyebrow as he hovered above you. "And do you have much experience faking orgasms?"

You felt your face flush. You knew he was just trying to distract you, but it was working. "Some."

He leaned down and kissed the tip of your nose, then each one of your eyelids before asking, "But not a moment ago?"

You shook your head and raked your fingers through his hair, making him growl at the sensation of your nails across his scalp. While he focused on positioning himself at your opening, you dragged your mouth over his shoulder, tongue dipping to trace over his scar. You couldn't do anything about them now except show them love, something you were realizing Marcus was desperately lacking in his life back home.

Home. The thought entered your brain right when he first pushed inside you, stealing the air from your lungs and bringing tears to your eyes. You did your best to brush it aside and focus on the present, like the way he stretched you open or the soft noise he made when he fully sheathed his heavy length deep within you.

"Fuck," you gasped, clawing at his shoulders while you tried to get your bearings.

He released a groan so guttural and deep it had you squeezing around him. Your mouth found a home on his neck as he slowly began to rock his hips, your lips and teeth leaving temporary marks over his skin to join the scars. Every kiss was slow, every touch was attentive and it was hard to stop yourself from giving into him.

"You - oh," he moaned, eyes sliding shut as he lost himself in the moment. It might have been the first time you'd seen him ever falter, and the thought sent a fresh wave of arousal through you. "You are so soft and beautiful," he mumbled before finding your mouth once again and plunging his tongue past your teeth. "I fear it is almost too much for me to bear," he confessed between kisses.

Marcus was unlike any man you had ever met in so many ways. His vulnerability staggered you. Most men you had known would consider it weak or embarrassing to speak the way he spoke, but Marcus managed to do it without sacrificing an ounce of his raw masculinity.

His broad shoulders and thick arms caged you in, giving you a feeling of safety and security you never felt before with another person. It was always you who had to be strong, who had to figure everything out and be responsible. And for once, with Marcus, it felt like you could let go and not have to worry.

Your body relaxed beneath him, legs spreading even wider to accommodate his powerful thrusts. He pulled an arm out from underneath you to press down on your thigh, pushing it into the mattress next to you in order to open your hips up even more. Then he leaned up just a fraction so he could grind his hips against you with his new found space, drawing a shaky moan from your throat when he came in contact with your clit.

Marcus paid attention. He took note of what you liked, what made you writhe and gasp and he teased you with it until you were begging him for more. He couldn't deny you, so he gave you what you asked. When you whined for him to go faster, he did. When you begged him to touch you, he did. He gave you everything you asked for until your legs trembled and your breath quickened and you were tossing your head back into your pillow, his name on your lips as you fell apart for him.

Then you gazed up at him, eyes smoldering, your lips swollen and parted and looking more beautiful and satisfied than he ever could imagine. Pulling him down to you by the back of his neck, you whispered his name in his ear and he shuddered, his hips faltering for a moment all because of one simple word from your lips.

"Marcus," you whispered again, mouth sucking a bruise into his neck. "Are you going to come for me?"

"Yes," he groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he neared his peak. A lazy smile spread across your face, body still flooding with pleasure as he fucked you a little harder seeking his own.

His hand fell to your side, pulling you closer, rolling your hips in rhythm with his, and with his teeth bared and eyes flashing with hunger, he came with a broken groan that sent a shiver down your spine. You gasped at the feeling of him emptying himself inside you, eyes squeezing shut in ecstasy. His mouth crashed over yours with your eyes still closed. Your tongues danced together, first with lust, then once your heart rates slowed and your skin stopped tingling, with something more. Something like longing and desperation to hold onto the moment as long as you possibly could.

You both spent a little too long sharing tender kisses and gentle touches. For once, the world around you ceased to make noise and the only thing that mattered was what to order for dinner so you didn't have to leave your bed the rest of the night. You picked Mediterranean food and spent the hour after it was delivered discussing how it compared to the food he was used to, neither of you daring to mention the elephant in the room.

You curled up into his side, his arm draped around you, his back leaning against your headboard as you watched a romantic comedy together. Just as you were explaining the plot and how you had used the movie as inspiration for an article the year prior, a breakthrough was happening in Queens.

The volume on your phone was off and neither of you were paying attention to it lighting up on your nightstand, too busy ignoring the movie in favor of fusing your lips together again with your limbs slowly tangling together under the covers to notice the text come through.

Danny: staying in Queens for the night, we're on a roll. The mighty General shall be out of your hair b4 you know it.

#marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius fic #marcus acacius #gladiator 2 fic #gladiator 2 #gladiator 2 fanfiction #in another life fic #marcus acacias smut

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rinhaler · 1 year ago

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MORE UNCLE NANAMI PLEASIEEEE PLEASE 🥺🥺🥺🥺👉🏽👈🏽

++ 𝐡𝐢𝐢, 𝐈'𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲/𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 🙈 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐤𝐬𝐣

It's been a while since I did any nanamin stuff hehe (combining two reqs bc u both don't have anything specific heheheee)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, incest, fem!reader, uncle!nanamin, fingering, exhibitionism, public sex ig, squirting, pet names (sweetheart, princess, angel, baby).

words: 1.1k

“W-Wow…” you muse, taking in the decadent atmosphere of the restaurant.

You’ve seldom been to places like this, like when your favourite uncle decides to treat you and your mother to a nice meal when he’s in town. But even then, there is a stark difference from the restaurants back home in the village you live in. It’s magnificent. You may have experienced a similar setting before, but never on a date.

A date with that very same uncle, nonetheless.

“You like it, sweetheart? I’m glad.” he tells you, taking your hand as you're guided by the maître d' to your table. He looks over the top of his menu as he studies your face. You’re so precious, that’s what he thinks as you look over the options and realise you don’t understand what any of them are. “I’ll order for you.” he assures you, taking the menu from your hand and setting it down.

You feel yourself get warmer, a little embarrassed that he picked up on your cluelessness so easily. But you smile, regardless, thanking him.

You’ve been so excited for this little trip since you first heard about it.

“Uncle Nanami wants to know if you’d like to spend the weekend with him?” your mother asked/told you. And, bless her, she had no idea what that would entail.

It’s been months since you’ve seen him. You were hardly surprised when your ankles were practically behind your ears as he drilled his cock in and out of your puffy, slicked up folds, the minute he got you to his house.

You’d been drenched the entire train ride.

“You look so pretty tonight, princess.” he tells you, cupping your face so sweetly with a rough, masculine hand. His singular hand is almost the size of your entire face. He coos at you as your eyelids become heavier, leaning in to place a delicate kiss on your cheek. “I’m so happy you’re here with me. Hopefully your mother won’t object to this being a regular thing.” he smiles.

You’ve been squirming in your seat since before your main course arrived. The way he looks at you, the way he talks to you, you forget how naughty your uncle Nanamin can be. Your panties are once again entirely soaked through. He’d mentally noted how much you were wriggling around, though he chose not to comment on it. Not until—

“Can’t sit still for five minutes, hm? What’s wrong?” he asks.

“N-Need you…” you whisper, putting your head down to avert his intense stare. Though you’re soon looking at him again as he tilts your head up by your chin, forcing you to hold his gaze.

“What was that, angel? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Need you… uncle Nanamin, need you real bad.” you pout. And at that, he smirks. You’re a little taken aback as his hand lowers beneath the table. Here? Right here? Your heart pounds as you look around at the other clueless restaurant patrons. This is so unlike him. He’s always so upstanding and discreet. But—

“My my, sweet little girl. You are soaked.” he comments as his fingers breach the hemline of your cotton panties. You bite your lip as his fingers drag up and down the length of your slit. He shushes you as your eyes well with tears, shame and pleasure wrack through you as he finds your slippery clit. And he targets it, skilfully. “Be good for me, be so good for me. If you make a single sound, I won’t touch you for the remainder of the weekend. Do you understand?”

You take his words literally, only nodding as he awaits your answer. It’s near impossible, though, when he makes you feel so good like this. Even with just a few pathetic rubs on your clit, your eyes begin to roll back.

“Na— Nanamin,” you do your best to whisper, his name leaving your lips as a ghoulish gasp. He shushes you, quietly, but it’s loud enough to make a statement. His eyebrows furrow, and you can’t tell if it’s anger or disappointment. You think you’ll die if he stops, though his ministrations haven’t ceased yet. Maybe you were quiet enough to test the boundaries of what he actually meant.

He doesn’t want you to cause a scene.

“Kiss me, please.” you whisper again. And that softens his features. He pities you, you think, although that assumption proves wrong as he indulges you. He closes the distance between you without letting up his gentle yet purposeful touches on your pretty pearl. You’re a little surprised when you feel his tongue enter your mouth, something you’ve never known him to do in public before. “I— I love you.”

“Yeah?” he smiles into your kiss before he breaks it completely. “You’re so close, you’re shaking. Let me see how much you love me. Cum for your favourite uncle, sweetheart, go on.” he instructs you.

He holds one of your hands with his free one while your other one curls into your seat. Your knuckles turn white as you finish, legs trembling and clamping around his hand as you douse his fingers. You can’t believe he’s made you squirt in public. Embarrassment rises through you once more, and you’ve never felt such a scorching temperature in your life.

You look around to see if anyone has noticed, while Nanami withdraws his hand and crosses his ankle over his knee. You watch him as he sucks his fingers clean of the mess, your mess, with a look of contentment on his face. You, however, are panting heavily while you rest your head in one hand on the table. You’re slumped over, and you couldn’t feel more self-conscious.

You don’t exactly look like you belong here.

“Would you be interested in some dessert?” a waiter asks as he approaches, though his question almost evaporates as he looks at you. Your sweat coated skin and your mussed up hair catches him off guard. Your irregular breathing makes him worry for your well-being. “Are you alright, Miss? You look…” he finds himself at a loss of what to even say. He knows he needs to be polite, but you almost look ill.

“She’s fine, just a little warm and worked up.” your dear uncle intervenes, smiling at the waiter graciously as he interlocks his fingers and rests his chin atop them. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart? I’m sure you’ll cool down after some ice cream.”

You nod, doing what you can to pull yourself together. You’d hate to embarrass your favourite uncle, after all. What if he doesn’t invite you back to do this again?

“Wonderful, sir.” the waiter smiles as he holds up a pad of paper with a pen to take your dessert orders. “You make a lovely couple, by the way.” you aren’t sure if he’s being polite out of obligation to his job, or if he genuinely feels that way. But you and your uncle share a knowing smile with each other, and yours only grows wider as he brushes a fallen section of hair out of your face.

“We aren’t a couple.” he starts. “I’m her uncle.”

#💌 — luxe mail #📨 — requests #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento smut #kento nanami smut #nanami kento #kento nanami #uncle nanamin #tw:incest #tw exhibitionism

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sky-high-standards · 1 year ago

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Yandere Emperor x fem reader

set in medieval times. usual warnings y'all should know the drill by now☺

Your kingdom was being invaded and everyone did what they could to save it but the invaders were too strong you watched so many innocent people being slaughtered by the invaders and the survivors were taken hostage including you.

These invaders were sent by the emperor who was a cold and merciless man until he met you~

You were taken into the magnificent palace where you were forced to work for the emperor's wife Imelda, she was an extremely insufferable woman and treated all of her servants like crap. It wasn't the best life, but it could be far worse but unfortunately Imelda and the Emperor were having a rough patch and rumors said he was having multiple affairs with other women, so she was worse than usual.

You were on your way to bring Imelda her breakfast when someone bumped into to you and that person just happened to be the emperor you looked up at him wide eyed and covered in Imelda's breakfast and apologized profusely while he just stared at you he didn't look angry all he did was stare at you as you quickly collected everything and bowed before you ran off but little did you the moment he saw you that nervous look on you face got him excited in a way that no woman including Imelda had ever done something about you just caught his attention.

You walked into Imelda's room to see her crying on the floor you asked her what happened an she totally lost it.

Imelda: That's none of your concern you pathetic slave your lucky to be here but remember your place and stay out it!!!

You then left not wanting to deal with her again. It turns out that the king had just gotten tired of her and sent her off which was great news for everyone since they didn't have to deal with her anymore. Naturally the Emperor had to remarry so he had many beautiful women come to the palace where he would choose his new bride due to you being a servant you had to assist the women being sent but the strange thing was that each time a woman was being presented, he glanced at you for every single one it was as confusing to the emperor as it was to you he was just drawn to you every time he saw you a wave of excitement and...love? came over him that he wasn't used to.

Eventually he chose a wife she was very beautiful and seemed like a very suitable wife, but he never got that feeling when he was around her. The emperor's wife whose name was Miranda was very kind and caring and even befriended you she was great in every possible way, but everyone could feel the emperor didn't love her so poor Miranda made it her mission to win his affection yet nothing worked so she slowly began to give up on his affection while u didn't have to try you started to see the emperor a lot more often and you noticed his cold crystal blue eyes following you as you cleaned and unbeknownst to you it took a great deal of strength to restrain himself from pouncing of you and making you his he would go feral on the inside when you bend down to clean in his bedroom it was embarrassing how you didn't even have to do much to make him hard.

Slowly the emperor tried to have you around more to ease his hunger like "accidentally" brushing his hand against yours or having you bend down to get his pen that he "accidentally" dropped. All he wanted to do was make you his to own every inch of you, but he restrained himself, but it got harder to each time almost as if you were teasing him.

Tell me if I should make a part 2 I'm tired rn

Stay hydrated and safe love Y'all

#yandere x reader #yandere #x reader #yandere oc #yandere imagine #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere x you #name my yandere #yandere boy #medieval #yandere emperor

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tsukiflwr · 6 months ago

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𐙚 . CUTE PANTS…

𝓅airing ∿ ran takahashi x f!reader ᰔ 𝑜ne shot ; fluff, meet cutes, 𐙚 𝓌c 1599 ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓇oro's note. i’m so happy you sent a req for my boyfie ran, i have been wanting to write something for him for a while >.< . . based on this ask ﹒꒰ 𝓁ibrary ꒱

𝒮. you unexpectedly meet a new neighbor in . . . cute? pants during a fire drill

You had heard the alarms before you had even seen the apartment building you have been residing in for the past few years. Your thighs subtly ached as you rushed up the stone inclined path that led to the building.

A heavy breath of relief left your lips when you made it to the top and saw your fellow residents talking amongst themselves outside the apartment. No fire or fire fighters in sight, it was just a drill. You smiled politely at your neighbors as you passed them, walking closer towards the apartment building, the annoying alarm didn't bother you since you were used to the sound.

Your eyes traveled across the small sea of residents, some stood together most likely gossiping or complaining about the drill while others chose to stand alone. Your eyes did a double take when you noticed a tall and unfamiliar figure standing on his lonesome near the small water fountain that was to the side of the building.

He had his back to you as he looked up at the building, so it wasn't his face that caught your attention, no it was his pants. It was his black joggers with little volleyballs. On them. What an interesting choice of pants, you thought to yourself with a small hum. You could easily tell by his body language that he was anxious about something.

“No need to look so worried, they do this every other month” You spoke as you walked up behind him, your tone reassuring and soft, not wanting to startle him with your sudden presence. Your eyes widened at how fast he turned to look at you, despite your soft tone your sudden presence did seem to startle him.

Ran flinched and quickly turned around to face you when he heard your voice, his breath hitching once he made eye contact with you. He was not expecting someone so pretty to be standing behind him, hell even talking to him. His mind wasn't even comprehending your words, instead his eyes were taking in every detail of you that he could.

He suddenly felt very ridiculous, standing there with his lips parted as he looked down at you. He was internally yelling at himself to say something, but he couldn't form the words. Your lips parted in shock as you locked eyes with his sparkling brown eyes, your thoughts blanked for a moment as you took in his beauty. You started to become worried that you said something wrong when he didn't say anything back…just stared at you.

Your fingers nervously fidgeted with the strap of your tote bag, you clear your throat and continue to speak, your tone a lot less confident as it was before “Safety measures and all that”

Ran finally broke out of his trance, blinking a few times before giving you a small nod “Ahh right, that's nice to know” ran internally cringed at his poor excuse of a response, but he was thankful that you didn't seem to mind his awkwardness as you gave him a smile and listened to his words. He brought his hand up to awkwardly rub at his nape, he was totally blowing it and making a fool of himself.

“Cute pants” you mused with a teasing smile as your eyes trailed down his body, stopping longer at his pants before tilting your head back to look up at him. Your teasing smile and tone made his heart start to race, and his hands start to shake at his sides.

Ran’s eyes widened in panic, and he nervously rubbed his hands on the side of his pants, cursing himself for even stepping out of his apartment wearing them. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment as he chuckled nervously at the expense of himself “it's my laundry day”

Before you could respond, Ran took charge of the conversation, wanting to move past his embarrassing pants. He held out his hand for you to shake as he introduced himself with a shy smile “I’m ran, i just moved into 242”

His heart fluttered at the feeling of your soft hand holding onto his as you politely shook it. A choked-out gasp left his lips when you held his hand tighter as you got on your tiptoes to place a featherily light kiss on both of his cheeks before pulling away far too quickly for his taste.

You smiled at his cute reaction, judging by his slight accent he wasn't from here and in turn, wasn't used to the cultural embrace. You let go of his hand before introducing yourself “242, hmm seems like you're right above me, do you have an explanation for the shuffling noises at 6am?”

Ran didn't seem to pick up on your teasing tone and he's quick to apologize, trying to explain that it's because he has to be up early to stretch, but you found yourself getting lost in the way his eyes sparkled, his words completely going over your head. You giggled and shook your head, cutting him off from his small rant of apologies with your sweet tone “I'm just teasing ran, I'm already up by 6 so it doesn't bother me”

“Oh” he mumbled to himself before nervously joining you in laughter, instantly relaxing a little at your reassurance. He cleared his throat and looked around at the two of your guy's surroundings, avoiding eye contact with you, before mumbling shyly “Sorry I'm not usually this awkward”

You were quick to reassure him with a smile “It's alright, I'm sorry for –”

“No no no it's not your fault . . . well it is but –” ran was internally panicking as he quickly cut you off, the last thing he wants is his pretty neighbor blaming herself for something that wasn't her fault, well not entirely her fault. His heart was starting to race as you looked up at him in confusion with a slight tilt of your head “It is?”

Ran let out a heavy breath before confessing softly as he stuffed his shaking hands in his pockets “You're just really pretty and i'm standing here making a fool out of myself the more i talk”

He was worried that he came on too strong by calling you pretty when you physically froze and looked up at him with wide eyes. But he let out a small breath of relief when you let out a small giggle and took a step closer to him, he picked up on the small ‘cute’ you mumbled under your breath before saying “Thank you ran, and don't worry i don't think you are making a fool of yourself at all”

“That's a relief, because I would really like to get to know you better . . . if that's alright with you of course, I'm in need of a good tour guide,” Ran smiled, shocking himself and you at the confidence and flintiness in his tone.

Before you could answer you heard the manager of the apartment building calling out that it was alright for everyone to return to their apartments. You watched as your fellow residents made their way back into the building. You look back to ran to see that he hasn't looked away from you, his sparkling brown eyes begging for an answer, specifically a yes.

You bit your lip before reaching into your tote bag and pulling out your pen and small notebook where you always wrote down your grocery lists. Ran’s eyes followed your every movement as you flipped it open and started to jolt down a number. His eyes went back up to your face as you ripped the page out and held it out for him.

“Call me and we can schedule that tour, specifically not at 6am” You teased with a sparkling smile, slipping your pen and notebook back into your bag once he took the small paper. Ran smiled and let out a chuckle at your teasing, carefully holding the paper in his hands.

“I’ll make sure to wear a different pair of pants” ran quickly joined in your teasing, looking down at his pants with a smile before looking back at you. You giggled and looked down at his pants with a small smile before locking eyes with him, your sweet smile turning into a flirty smirk as you looked at him up and down before confidently saying

“Hmm i don't mind what you wear, i have a feeling you would look cute in anything”

Ran went still at your words, the flush on his cheeks were quick to come back at your openly flirting, he opened his mouth to try to come up with anything to say but nothing came out. You laughed and the sound sounded like heaven to his ears, you softly patted his shoulder as you walked away from him and towards the building lobby.

Ran quickly turned around to face you and watched as you walked away from him, his eyes following you dutifully. Before stepping into the lobby, you turn to face him one more time, giving him a smile and shy wave before leaving his sight. He returned the smile and wave before looking down at the light pink paper in his hands. His smile turned into a grin as his mind tried to memorize the numbers.

Living in Italy was a big change for Ran. The cultural differences, the greetings, the way people dined . . . the random fire drills in his new apartment, it would all take some time for him to get used to it all.

. . . but seeing his pretty neighbor was one change he could happily get used to.

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓇oro's note. pls pls the way I screamed when I saw a ran req in my inbox . . . and it being my first ask for the acc 🤭 I had soso much fun writing this , i absolutely love ran sm . I’ve had a crush on him for years ( og ran girly mhm ) so finally getting to write for him is great ! I hope you guys liked this , please let me know what you guys think I would love to your your guys opinions (∩˃o˂∩)♡ ꒰ nav ꒱

please like, comment and reblog .ᐟ

#[ 📁 ] ∿ ໒꒰ྀི ´͈ ᵕ `͈ ꒱ྀི১ ∿ 𝓇𝑜𝓇𝑜 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓈 .ᐟ #[ 🏐 ] ∿ 𝓿olleyball players ᰔ . . .ᐟᅟ #ran takahashi #ran takahashi x reader #ran takahashi x you #ran takahashi imagine #vnl 2024 #vnl x reader #ryujin nippon #olympics #japan volleyball team #yuki ishikawa #paris 2024 #olympics lb

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wroetominter · 2 months ago

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Platform Roulette - George Clarke

In which George and Y/n are good friends, and she tags along for a platform roulette video.

Pairing: George x Fem Reader

Warnings: none, fluff.

"And today, we have a special guest appearance, Y/n!" Arthur Hill introduced me to his video.

"Am I not also a special guest?" George questioned Arthur.

"Get out of my spotlight Clarkey" I snapped back, pushing him to the side and striking a pose in front of the camera. This earned a laugh from the two boys.

"As always, Arthur is running late, but as soon as he is here we will let him choose a number between one and ten to find out where we are going today.

As if on cue, Arthur strolled up to the group. "Hello everyone!" He said excitedly.

"About time mate," George said. Arthur rolled his eyes at him, looking over to Hill for his question.

"You know the drill, choose a number between one and ten Arthur"

After all too much deliberation, Arthur chose 6.

"Manchester!" I exclaimed, looking at the board.

"Bloody hell, this is going to be a long trip." George commented, looking up train times.

We all shrugged, with nothing better to do and knowing that it would be fun regardless.

Making our way to the shop, we picked our beverages and some snacks for the trip, I choose a canned cocktail, a cranberry vodka and some various beers that George recommend. I had never been one for beers much, but I didn't want to just drink cocktails and get drunk before we'd even left the station.

Situating ourselves on the train, I sat on the window side next to George, across from the Arthur's. We opened our first drinks, bantering back and forth trying to make some good content for the video.

By the time we had arrived in Manchester, we were all two drinks in and I was definitely feeling some of the alcohol. Cursing the fact I was a lightweight. "George," I looked around to him, catching his attention he turned to look at me. "Please don't let me get too drunk and die" he laughed. "I'm serious. I get weird when I get drunk and I will try and run off." He nodded, saluting causing me to laugh.

"I'll make sure you don't die, but I think being weird would make Arthur happy to have good content." I shrugged, it was fair enough.

We bounced around from a few different pubs, taking a few shots and attempting to split the G, which I failed miserably at. "How the fuck do you drink this?" I questioned, pushing the drink towards George who happily accepted it from me. He grabbed the glass, downing it in just a few drinks. I stared in amazement.

"You've had what," I counted on my hands "six or seven drinks now? How are you not drunk?" I asked.

He shrugged in response. "That's what I'm saying!" ArthurTV chimed in.

"Guess I'm just better than everyone?" George smirked. I slapped his arm lightly, knowing I was well on my way to being pissed in a matter of another drop of alcohol.

Arthur Hill decided it was time to take it to the streets, wanting to find something else to do as it was nearing 7pm. We passed a few shops, nothing really catching our eyes until we found a vintage shop that Arthur Hill and I got way too excited about. With all of us walking side by side, Arthur and I decided in our nearly drunken states to race to the shop.

"Last inside pays for dinner!" I said before running off, leaving George and ArthurTV behind as Arthur Hill and I ran off.

We found a bunch of cool knickknacks, and some vintage clothes that we ended up purchasing before heading to a restaurant not far away for dinner.

Once again, Arthur began to feed us drink after drink - playing a few drinking games - mainly rock paper scissors because we had lost all creativity with the amount of alcohol we had consumed.

Deciding to call it quits, we tallied up our drinks. George had won by a landslide of course, leaving the three of us in the dust. I was just happy I had at least beat Arthur Hill.

On the way back to the train, I had noticed George was quieter than usual, not making his normal jokes and conversation with me or the boys.

"Everything alright?" I asked him, nudging him slightly as we walked next to each other.

"Yeah yeah, fine." He gave me a half smile. I felt something was off but I couldn't pin something specific that could have been upsetting.

We got onto the train, our banter dying down as we all realized how late it was, and how much we had to drink. The boys dozed off, and our cameraman for the day sat across the walkway from us, starting to filter through the footage while I mindlessly scrolled through my phone.

"Y/n," he gestured to the laptop showing me some of the footage from the day. I squinted, trying to place this exact part of the day. It was as we were walking to the vintage shop.

I watched the scene I had lived a few short hours ago, and a realization washed over me as I watched the video.

A few moments before Arthur and I were going to sprint towards the shop, George had reached down for my hand, narrowly missing it before I began to sprint off. The camera caught the accidental airing of his hand holding, and his reaction. He signed and looked towards ArthurTV. "This has to be the universe telling me to stop trying" George said.

My jaw was basically on the floor of the train car after that statement. I had to be the most oblivious person on earth.

Snapped out of my thoughts, which apparently had been happening for awhile as we were now back at kings cross. "Coming?" George asked.

I stood up, grabbing my bag and following the boys off the train.

Their flat wasn't far from mine, so we all shared an uber to theirs and I decided to walk back to mine. "Walk me home?" I asked George as we got out of the car. He nodded, following me as we started the short walk.

I looked up to him as we walked together, taking in his features. He looked handsome as always, his hair now growing out more with little curls sticking out at the back. Almost instinctively I reached down and grabbed his hand. He tensed instantly, his head snapping down to our hands now intertwined.

"I didn't mean to run away from you" I said softly. He smirked, turning his head slightly to hide the blush on his face.

“I could have just told you I wanted to hold your hand instead of being a weirdo about it, to be fair.” I laughed. We had now made it into my building.

“Or I could have told you I had a crush on you” I admitted. It felt so weird to be admitting this to one of my closest friends.

“You have a crush on me?” He gave me that signature George smirk that makes your heart flutter. We stopped at the door of my flat, and I leaned my back onto it.

“And what if I do Clarkey?” I retorted, playing into his flirtatious nature.

He didn’t say anything, putting his hands on either side of me on my door. He leaned down, pressing his lips to mine in a sweet kiss. I tangled my hands in his hair, deepening the kiss, tasting the alcohol he had consumed tonight.

Pulling back for air, I smiled at him, giving him a few more small kisses. “Come inside?” I asked, knowing where this would lead.

“Absolutely.” He followed me inside.

#george clarke #george clarkey #imagine #george clarke fluff #george clarke fics #george clarkeey #George clarkeey imagine #George clarkeey fics #arthur hill #arthurtv

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theonottsbxtch · 21 days ago

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PREACHER’S DAUGHTER FINAL PART | MV1

an: i bet you guys thought i forgot about this, i didn't. i just didn't want to say goodbye to them just yet because this is officially the end of our favourite couple. i'm defo going to miss them a lot and i hope you enjoyed them as much as i did.

wc: 3.6k

previous part

THE HOUSE WAS QUIETER than it used to be. It wasn’t silent—there was no such thing in a house with three kids, even if they were teenagers now—but the chaos had mellowed into a rhythm.

Theo, now eighteen, had shot up like a weed and was nearly as tall as Max. He spent most of his time tinkering in the garage with his dad, learning the ins and outs of engines and dreaming about rebuilding the motorbike Max had never fully let go of.

Mary-Ann, sixteen and the spitting image of her mother, had inherited her sass and determination. She was perched at the kitchen table, headphones on, doing homework—or pretending to, judging by the way she was doodling flowers in the margins of her notebook.

And Daniel, their youngest, now twelve, was sprawled on the living room floor with a pile of Legos, determined to construct the "coolest car ever" and occasionally asking Max for design advice.

Max leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee. The years had been kind to him, though there was a little more grey in his beard and a few more lines around his eyes. He wore them well, a testament to a life lived fully.

His gaze drifted to his wife, who was standing at the stove flipping pancakes. She hummed under her breath, her hair tied up in a loose bun, a familiar warmth radiating from her. The sight of her, even after all these years, still made his heart skip a beat.

“Need a hand, angel?” he asked, setting his mug down.

She glanced over her shoulder with a smile. “I’ve got it. You just make sure Daniel doesn’t eat the syrup straight out of the bottle again.”

Max chuckled, ruffling Daniel’s hair as he walked past. “You hear that, buddy? No syrup until the pancakes are on the plate.”

Daniel groaned but nodded, his focus back on his Legos.

Once the pancakes were ready, the family gathered around the table, the smell of maple syrup and butter filling the room. Theo and Mary-Ann bickered over who got the last pancake until their mum intervened, splitting it in half with a raised brow that said don’t push your luck.

Max leaned back in his chair, watching his family with quiet contentment. They weren’t perfect—there were still squabbles, slammed doors, and the occasional teenage attitude—but they were his. They were hers. And they’d built this life together, brick by brick, from nothing.

Later that day, Max and Theo were in the garage, going over the specs of a carburetor Theo had salvaged from the junkyard.

“Think we can make it work?” Theo asked, his voice filled with the kind of excitement only an eighteen year old with a dream to take over his dad’s garage could muster.

Max grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. “We can make anything work if we put in the effort.”

Mary-Ann wandered in, rolling her eyes, hands glued to her phone - something Max realised she was doing more often. “Mum said you two need to stop talking about car parts long enough to eat lunch. Also, Daniel wants to know if he can use the drill.”

But Max chose peace and never mentioned it as he snorted “Absolutely not.”

Mary-Ann smirked. “I told him you’d say that.”

When dinner rolled around, Max watched as her phone lit up and she smiled. All of this had started innocently enough. Mary-Ann had come home from school, cheeks pink and a slight bounce in her step, and casually mentioned during dinner that a boy had asked her out on a date.

She might as well have set off a grenade.

Theo, who had been lazily poking at his mashed potatoes, froze mid-bite. His eyes snapped up to his sister with the kind of intensity usually reserved for critical engine failures. “I’m sorry, what?”

Daniel, sitting next to him, dropped his fork entirely. At twelve, he wasn’t entirely sure what “dating” entailed, but he knew enough to side with his older brother. “Nope. Not happening.”

Even Max, who had been chewing a piece of chicken, paused. He set down his knife and fork, leaned back in his chair, and folded his arms. “Who’s this kid?”

Mary-Ann groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Oh my gosh, this is why I didn’t want to say anything!”

Her mum, sitting at the head of the table, was trying—and failing—not to laugh. She sipped her water to hide her grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Let the poor girl live, you three.”

But the boys were relentless.

Theo, the self-appointed enforcer, turned to Mary-Ann with a raised brow. “What’s his name? Is he in your grade? What’s his deal?”

Daniel piped up, his brows furrowed in a stern expression that would have been intimidating if he weren’t still twelve. “Does he know we’ve got a garage full of tools? And Dad has a hammer?”

Max nodded sagely, playing along. “Big hammer.”

Mary-Ann threw up her hands. “You guys are ridiculous! It’s just one date!”

Theo leaned forward, fixing her with a deadpan stare. “And that’s how it starts. First it’s one date, and then he’s calling you all the time, and then—”

“—he’s asking you to marry him!” Daniel chimed in, clearly pleased with his contribution.

Max smirked, glancing at his wife. “We’re just looking out for her, angel. Can’t have some punk kid messing with our Mary-Ann.”

She shook her head, laughing softly. “She’s sixteen, Max. Let her figure it out.”

Mary-Ann crossed her arms, glaring at her family. “You’re all the worst. Mum, do something!”

But her mum just shrugged, biting back another laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. You’re on your own. This is way too entertaining.”

Mary-Ann groaned, pushing back from the table. “I can’t believe you guys! I’m going to my room.”

As she stomped off, Theo called after her. “You’re not leaving this house until we meet him!”

Daniel added, “And I’m bringing the hammer!”

Max, unable to resist, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “BIG hammer!”

Her mum finally burst out laughing, shaking her head as she looked at her husband and sons. “You three are unbelievable.”

Max grinned, leaning back in his chair. “What can I say? We’re a protective bunch.”

Daniel puffed out his chest. “Yeah, Mum! We’re protecting her honour.”

She rolled her eyes, still smiling. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it one day. Maybe.”

Max winked at her. “Just doing our duty, angel.”

And that day did roll around.

The atmosphere in the head teacher’s office was tense—at least, it was supposed to be. Theo sat in the chair next to his parents, arms crossed, chin jutting out defiantly like a boxer after a victory. His knuckles were still a little red, and there was a faint smudge of what could only be described as "evidence" on his school blazer.

The head teacher, a middle-aged man with a thin mustache and a receding hairline, sighed heavily as he glanced over the disciplinary report in front of him. “Mr. and Mrs. Verstappen, I’ve called you here because your son, Theo, punched another student today. Quite hard, I might add.”

Mary-Ann, sitting to the side with her own chair, looked both embarrassed and secretly pleased as she avoided her brother's gaze.

Max sat back, trying—really trying—not to crack a smile. He’d been biting the inside of his cheek since they arrived, but the mental image of Theo landing the punch was too much. His lips twitched dangerously, and he coughed to cover the beginnings of a chuckle.

His wife shot him a sharp look. “Max.” Her voice was low, a warning in one word.

Theo, sensing the opportunity for backup, jumped in. “It wasn’t my fault! He called Mary-Ann a...a...” He hesitated, glancing nervously at his mother.

The head teacher cleared his throat uncomfortably. “A ‘church freak,’ I believe, was the term used. Followed by...other comments.”

Max’s lips pressed together tightly, his shoulders shaking as he fought the laugh bubbling up. He turned his head away, trying to disguise it as clearing his throat.

Theo, emboldened by his dad’s silent support, added, “Yeah, so I punched him! Right in the mouth.” He demonstrated with his fist, making a swooping motion like a dramatic action movie. “I didn’t even miss!”

Max lost it. A short laugh burst out before he could stop it, and he quickly turned it into a cough. His wife’s head snapped toward him. “Max Emilian!”

Her tone was scolding, but there was a flicker of amusement she couldn’t quite hide.

Max held up his hands in mock surrender. “What? The kid’s got good aim!”

The head teacher looked horrified. “Mr. Verstappen, this is hardly something to celebrate. Violence is unacceptable under any circumstances—”

“He started it!” Theo interrupted, glaring at the head teacher.

Max leaned forward, his voice mock-serious. “Way to go, buddy.” He reached out and fist-bumped Theo before his wife could stop him.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Max, you’re not helping.”

Mary-Ann finally spoke up, her voice small. “He only did it because he was sticking up for me. It’s...kind of sweet.”

Her mum sighed, turning her attention back to Theo. “Theo, you can’t just go around punching people, no matter what they say.”

Theo blinked at her, his face scrunching up in confusion. “But Dad did. He punched your dad, and no one told him off.”

Max froze, wide-eyed. “Whoa, whoa, let’s not drag me into this.”

But his wife turned to him, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. “Oh no, you’re definitely getting dragged into this. Theo wouldn’t be punching anyone if you hadn’t decked my dad in front of him.”

Max rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “I mean...to be fair, your dad deserved it.”

“And that’s exactly what Theo thinks about this kid!” She gestured at their son, who looked increasingly smug.

The head teacher cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the conversation. “Mr. and Mrs. Verstappen, while I understand the context, the school has a zero-tolerance policy for violence. Theo will need to serve a two-day suspension.”

Max shrugged. “Two days? That’s not bad. Maybe we can—”

His wife slapped his arm lightly. “Stop encouraging him!”

Theo grinned, clearly unrepentant, and looked up at his dad. “Can we go home now?”

Max ruffled his hair. “Sure thing, champ. You earned a break.”

His wife threw her hands in the air, muttering something about boys and her fate of living with three of them. Despite her frustration, though, there was a small smile on her face as they walked out of the office.

As Max and Theo bolted out of the school building, laughter echoing in the hallway as they raced each other to the parking lot, she shook her head with a small, amused smile. Mary-Ann stayed by her side, clutching her school bag as they walked together at a slower pace.

Her daughter’s quietness didn’t go unnoticed. She looked down, noticing how Mary-Ann stared at the floor, her brows furrowed in thought. Gently, she placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

“You okay, baby?” she asked softly.

Mary-Ann shrugged, hesitating for a moment. “I guess. Just...what that kid said about me at school.”

Her heart sank. She crouched down a little to meet Mary-Ann’s eyes, pausing in the hallway. “It’s okay if it upset you, you know. What he said was mean, and he was wrong.”

Mary-Ann chewed her lip, looking conflicted. “He called me a ‘church freak.’ I guess I don’t really know if I am one. Is it...bad?”

She felt her chest tighten at the vulnerability in her daughter’s voice. She took Mary-Ann’s hand and gave it a squeeze, guiding her to sit on a nearby bench where they could talk.

“I know how you feel,” she admitted after a moment. “When I was your age, I got called things like that too. Kids made fun of me for going to church, for praying, for all the little things I believed in. And it hurt.”

Mary-Ann blinked, her curiosity piqued. “Really? You got made fun of too?”

She nodded. “I did. A lot. But you know what? It doesn’t matter what they think. You don’t have to go to church just because I do. If you don’t like it, or if it makes you feel weird, you don’t have to keep going.”

Mary-Ann looked up at her in surprise. “You mean that?”

Her heart twisted as she nodded. Christianity was such a core part of her own life, something that had anchored her during her darkest moments. Letting go of the idea of her children growing up in the church wasn’t easy, but she also knew she couldn’t force it. Faith had to be their choice.

“I do, baby. What’s most important is that you feel comfortable. It’s not about what Dad or I want for you—it’s about what you want for yourself. Okay?”

For a moment, Mary-Ann said nothing, her little face thoughtful. Then she smiled, small but genuine. “I like going to church. I like Sunday school, and singing the songs. And I don’t care if kids at school think it’s weird.”

She felt a wave of relief and pride as she pulled her daughter into a hug. “That’s my girl. You’re so brave, you know that?”

Mary-Ann grinned against her shoulder. “Thanks, Mum.”

The sound of Max and Theo shouting in the distance broke the tender moment, and she shook her head as she helped Mary-Ann up.

“Come on. Let’s see if those two actually waited for us at the car or if they’re already halfway through that oil change.”

Mary-Ann giggled. “Dad’s definitely winning. Theo’s fast, but Dad’s faster.”

“Let’s go find out.” She smiled, holding Mary-Ann’s hand as they walked toward the parking lot.

Later that day, when the sun set and all of them had packed up the dinner table, Max found himself curled up on the sofa with his wife. His arm was draped around her shoulders, her head resting on his chest, their legs tangled as they relished a rare quiet moment. The kids had been unusually calm after dinner, and they’d taken full advantage of the lull.

But the calm didn’t last.

Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps broke through the peace, and all three kids came bounding into the room. Theo was leading the charge, with Mary-Ann and little Daniel trailing close behind, their faces lit up with excitement and mischief.

Max groaned, shifting slightly but keeping her close. “There goes the quiet.”

She smiled, sitting up just as Theo hopped onto the armrest of the couch. Mary-Ann plopped herself between her parents, while Daniel crawled up onto Max’s lap, nestling in without hesitation. At his age of 12, he just got away with it.

“What’s up, guys?” his wife asked, amused by their sudden energy.

Theo spoke first, his voice laced with curiosity. “How did you guys meet?”

She exchanged a look with Max, one eyebrow raised. “Where’s this coming from?”

Mary-Ann piped up, clearly eager to share. “We were looking in Dad’s office—”

Max’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Wait, wait. You were snooping in my garage? What were you doing in there?”

Daniel, ever the bold one, looked up at his dad with an innocent expression. “Pictures! We saw pictures!”

Theo nodded, practically bouncing now. “Yeah, pictures of you two when you were younger! You looked so different, Mum. And Dad didn’t have any grey hairs!”

Max snorted. “Gee, thanks, bud. Remind me who gave me these grey hairs.” He shot a mock glare at Theo, who grinned unrepentantly.

Their mother, who was laughing now, shook her head as she ruffled Mary-Ann’s hair. “You guys found the old photos, huh?”

Mary-Ann nodded, her eyes wide with wonder. “Mum, you looked so pretty in your dress, and Dad looked cool with his jacket and helmet.”

Max smirked, leaning back into the couch. “Cool, huh? You hear that, Angel? They think I’m cool.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile. “You’re inflating his ego, guys. So, why do you want to know how we met?”

Daniel, still snuggled in Max’s lap, whispered conspiratorially, “Was it like a movie?”

Max chuckled, wrapping an arm around Daniel. “Sort of. It started with a Church and a bit of my chivalry. And maybe a little bad timing.”

She laughed softly, her eyes sparkling with fond memories. “He was as stubborn as he is today, kept offering to carry some boxes for me.”

“It worked, didn’t it?” Max teased, brushing a kiss against her temple.

Theo leaned forward, his curiosity insatiable. “So, you just saw Mum and were like, ‘She’s the one’?”

Max pretended to think for a moment. “Pretty much. Your mum was gorgeous. Still is. But it wasn’t just that. She had this thing about her—strong, determined, kind. She made me feel like maybe I could be a better man.”

She rolled her eyes but was clearly touched. “Oh, stop. You’re making me blush.”

Mary-Ann sighed dreamily. “That’s so cute. I want a love story like that one day.”

Max groaned dramatically, covering his face with a hand. “No. Absolutely not. You’re staying single forever.”

Mary-Ann smacked his arm lightly, laughing. “Dad!”

Daniel, trying to stay on topic, asked, “Then what happened? After the parking lot?”

She smiled, pulling her kids’ attention to her. “A lot happened. We fell in love. We got married. And then we had you guys. And that’s the best part of the whole story.”

As the laughter faded and the kids began settling down, she found herself staring at the curious, innocent faces of her children. Their questions had slowed, but the warmth of the moment lingered, leaving her with a quiet space to think.

The memories came rushing back—the hurried whispers in the dark, the rumble of Max’s motorbike as they fled the life she’d desperately wanted to escape. The fear, the uncertainty, and the overwhelming relief when she finally felt free.

They deserve to know, she thought, her gaze drifting to Theo, who was fiddling with the hem of his shirt, and Mary-Ann, who was resting her head against her shoulder. Even Daniel, with his sleepy eyes and little fingers clutching Max’s sleeve.

But how could she tell them? How could she explain the life she’d left behind without tainting their view of the world? Of family?

Her chest tightened at the thought. What if knowing changed how they saw her? Or worse, how they saw Max?

She bit her lip, glancing at him. He was leaning back on the couch, his arm resting along the backrest, his other hand absently ruffling Daniel’s hair. His eyes caught hers, and his brow quirked slightly, a silent question: You okay?

She nodded subtly, offering him a small smile.

No, she decided. Not now. Not yet.

They were still so young, their world so pure. If she told them the truth, it wouldn’t be to satisfy curiosity or ease her own conscience—it would have to be necessary, something they were ready to hear. And she would know when that moment came.

For now, she tucked the thoughts away, sealing them behind the same mental door she’d locked so many years ago.

And that’s how life was for the Verstappens.

Years passed, but the heart of their family never wavered. She and Max, once two young souls bound by circumstance and love, had built a life that was both imperfect and extraordinary.

The children grew, each carving their own paths in the world. Theo, ever protective and headstrong, went on to study engineering, inspired by the hours spent in the garage with his dad. He eventually took over the family’s repair shop, rebranding it with a sleek new sign that read “Verstappen & Son’s Auto.” He still teased Mary-Ann mercilessly but remained her fiercest defender.

Mary-Ann, with her gentle strength and quiet faith, became a teacher. She carried her mother’s warmth into the classroom, where she guided and inspired children from all walks of life. Her love for the church endured, but she carried it as her own, unpressured by anyone. She often joked with her parents that her students were easier to handle than her brothers.

And Daniel—sweet, clever Daniel—emerged as the family dreamer. With a heart as big as his father’s and a mind as sharp as his mother’s, he pursued a career in writing, crafting stories that captured the chaos and beauty of family life. His parents swore they recognised pieces of themselves in his characters, though he always denied it with a smirk.

She and Max grew older, their once fiery love mellowing into something deeper and even more unshakable. The garage was still Max’s domain, though he worked less and spent more time tinkering for fun. She often joined him, still the same girl who’d fallen for him in that tiny trailer all those years ago.

The white picket fence eventually aged, its paint chipping in places, but it stood strong—just like them. Sunday dinners became a cherished tradition, with laughter filling the house as their children and, later, their grandchildren gathered around the same worn dining table.

In the end, their lives weren’t perfect. They had their disagreements, their challenges, their moments of doubt. But they always had each other, and that made all the difference.

And as they sat together on the porch in their twilight years, Max’s hand in hers, the memories of their wild, beautiful journey were enough to fill a lifetime.

Because that’s how life was for the Verstappens—a story of love, resilience, and the kind of family you fight for, cherish, and hold onto forever.

the end.

taglist: @sinofwriting @le-le-lea @vanicogh @iamred-iamyellow @rayaskoalaland @spookyanamurdock @iimplicitt @hellowgoodbye @maximuminfluencerstarlight @lottalove4evelyn @piceous21 @ladscarlett @leclerc13 @linnygirl09 @labelledejourr @cmleitora @fortunapre @felicityforyou @isagrace22 @bookishnerd1132 @formulaal @mastermindbaby @daddyslittlevillain @inmynotes63 @litllefox @hollstopia @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow

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yearning-for-autumn · 7 months ago

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Psycho Coach - Cassian Headcanon

Summary - Cassian trains the kids, but forgets he can't yell at children like he does the Illyrian armies.

Warnings - None

A/N - This is based on my own headcanons for a next generation of the inner circle. It's just a little scenario I had to get out of my head, so, enjoy!

It was Milo who struggled most during basic training. The eldest of Azriel’s twin boys had always been more bookish than physical, a mystery to Azriel who had always naturally excelled in training.

It was clear to Cassian that Milo tried 10 times harder than the others just to keep up, especially to his eldest daughter Zelda who could hold her own with the Valkyries already.

“Milo! I’ve told you 10 times to straighten that back leg. Run the drill again”

Cassian was used to yelling at the Illyrian warriors he trained every day and he didn’t hold back on his kids.

A hundred different scenarios raced around his mind, of Milo unprepared and injured, or killed in battle.

He watched as Milo ran the drill again, still weak in his back leg. He kicked upwards at Bryony, Cassian’s middle child, who easily blocked him and sent him toppling backwards.

Cassian ran his hands over his face in frustration.

“I have told you enough times to straighten your leg, I should not have to repeat myself for you to apply my corrections!” He yelled, “What are you going to do when you’re in a real battle, huh? Rely on one of them?” He gestured to one of the kids who were all standing with grim faces.

Every one of them had been on the receiving end of one of Cassian’s tyrades, but they all knew Milo wasn’t one to be able to sit and take it.

Milo’s face crumpled, and tears spilled down his cheeks before Cassian had even finished chewing him out.

Cassian was on his knees before the kid as soon as he noticed his shaking shoulders, gathering him against his chest.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t still frustrated, but even he knew when he had gone too far, and Milo was a soft kid. Cassian was horrified at making his nephew cry.

“Shh, shh don’t cry, I’m sorry, I was being psycho coach again, wasn’t I?” He asked, trying to turn Milo’s tears to laughter. Milo sniffed and nodded, laying his head on Cassian’s shoulder like he was trying to kill him with guilt.

Of course Azriel chose this moment to come and check on everyone’s progress. He looked at Nyx, the eldest, for an explanation.

“Uncle Cass was being an arsehole to Milo.”

Cassian shot his eldest nephew a disparaging look.

Azriel scooped Milo up out of Cassian’s arms and held him, even though the kid was definitely too old to be carried around anymore, shooting Cassian a disapproving stare. Cassian held his hands up in surrender.

“I didn’t mean to make him cry, I was just trying to correct his form.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, but didn’t look too angry, even he knew that Milo could be a bit…sensitive sometimes. He busied himself instead with kissing Milo’s forehead, pampering him far too much in Cassian’s humble opinion, but then he was the one that threw his own children off the balcony to teach them how to fly.

I have no idea how to end this little headcanon scenario so…yeah. I just really wanted to write out this scene that I have had in my head for aaages. I know not everyone will care about my own personal next gen headcanons, but I am personally very attached to them.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #writing #fanfic #night court #cassian acotar #acotar next gen #acotar azriel #azriel x you #acotar x reader #autumn writes #cassian x reader #azriel x reader #cassian #cassian x nesta #azriel x elain #azriel x gwyn

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dreamwritesimagines · 7 months ago

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The Eye of the Hurricane [26] - Breaking the Rules

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Fighting for the crown comes with decisions.

Word Count: 2600

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

Growing up as your father’s heir, you had to memorize certain rules.

Honoring the alliances was one of them. No family could survive on its own in this line of work against all the others, and it was a matter of honor not to cross or go behind your allies.

Not putting civilians in danger was another. The business and its deals or disagreements could only affect the people who chose to be in it, civilians were always off limits.

But the most important rule that was drilled into your and every heir’s head?

Never, ever do anything to break the truce.

“Y/N?”

Your head shot up and you tried to smile at Becca. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

No.

No you really weren’t.

What you and Bucky were planning was way too dangerous, which meant that you couldn’t say that to anyone, Becca included.

“Sure!” you said as Leila came back to the table, carrying coffees.

“Thanks babe,” Becca pecked her on the lips and she smiled at her.

“Not a problem!” she said. “So, is there any reason why you look so gloomy, Y/N?”

Shit.

“Gloomy?” you asked with a small laugh. “I don’t look gloomy.”

“Is Ethan being his tortured lover self again?”

“He’s not—” you stopped yourself. “I haven’t talked to him in a while actually.”

“Bucky then?”

“Oh is this about that girl you told me about?” Becca asked. “Anna?”

You blinked a couple of times. “Uh…”

“Anna?” Leila asked and Becca waved a hand in the air.

“This incredibly hot woman Bucky is doing business with.”

“Did I say she was incredibly hot?”

“You said hot and I stalked her,” Becca said helpfully, “She is incredibly hot.”

“Thanks a lot Bec,” you muttered and Leila tilted her head.

“Let me see!”

“I’m not gloomy because of Anna,” you said and paused for a moment. “Although, Bucky does have a meeting with her today.”

“Here,” Becca said, handing her the phone and Leila raised her brows, staring at the screen before licking her lips.

“Maybe she just has a terrible personality.”

“You guys are the best,” you muttered and Becca let out a laugh.

“We’re joking, obviously you’re hotter.”

“For some reason I highly doubt that,” you pointed out and Leila rolled her eyes at you.

“You are,” she said. “But jealousy is less about looks and more about the vibes.”

“I’m not jealous!” you said, your voice going a pitch higher before you cleared your throat. “I wasn’t even thinking about her until you brought her up.”

“Then what—” Becca started but your phone started vibrating on the table, making you grimace when your eyes fell on the caller ID.

“Excuse me for a moment,” you said and grabbed your phone, then walked out of the café to answer it. “Auntie?”

“Y/N hi honey!” her cheerful voice reached you. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Nah, I’m just with my friends,” you said and she hummed.

“Well then, clear out your schedule for the afternoon because we’re having an aunt-niece lunch,” she said, making your eyes widen.

“Oh I actually—I had this thing—”

“I already made the reservation, I’ll send you the details,” she cut off your stammering. “See you in two hours!”

With that, she hung up and you threw your head back, letting out a groan.

“Great,” you muttered to yourself. “Just what I needed today.”

Of course your aunt had picked a restaurant in your father’s territory and of course it was already swarming with your father’s people. Unlike you, she had no problem with being followed by bodyguards even if the restaurant seemed to be closed to any other people but you two and the bodyguards, so you tried not to roll your eyes as you sat down, the waitress bringing your food almost immediately. You pulled your brows together and your aunt sat up straighter.

“I ordered for the both of us already,” she said, making you hum.

“Wonderful,” you said. “Thanks.”

“So,” she smiled at you. “I figured today is as good of a day as any to catch up!”

No, today was supposed to be about you having an existential crisis at home, and yet here you were.

“How’s marriage going?”

Jesus Christ.

“It’s going well,” you said curtly before digging into the salad in front of you. “And you? How are you after the break up?”

“Oh,” she waved a dismissive hand. “Let’s not talk about that. Bucky seems like he grew into such a gentleman!”

“Mm hm.”

“And George is happy being retired?”

You thought for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Bucky is doing a great job,” you said, unaware of the proud tone in your voice. “So yes. He probably does miss being more involved in the business but it’s Bucky’s time now. George knows it.”

“Promising heir turns into successful king, not much of a surprise there,” she commented and you sipped your wine.

“Exactly.”

“And speaking of heirs…” your aunt said, making your eyes shoot up to hers.

Fucking—

Yeah, you had walked right into that.

You knew that everything you said and did, even the smallest reaction would be reported back to either Ian or your father, so you had to keep your calm. Even though anger had started to boil deep inside you, you lowered your wine glass, tilting your head at her.

“Hm?”

“Your father may have mentioned that things between you and him are rather tense lately,” she said. “Especially after him naming Ian as his heir.”

You frowned, feigning confusion before taking your fork into your mouth again.

“I didn’t think they were tense,” you said after swallowing your bite. “Is that what he thinks?”

She paused only for a moment.

“It is,” she said. “And you know how important family is. We don’t always have to see eye to eye, but we do have to support each other.”

“Does father think I won’t support Ian?” you asked silkily and she licked her lips, deep in thought.

“Ian worked really hard to be where he is right now, Y/N,” she said, making you pull your brows together. “I am aware that you might feel some resentment but that position belongs to Ian now. And we as his family must make sure to make his job easier.”

You wanted to laugh at the audacity but managed to keep your expression under control. Of course she supported him, that much wasn’t surprising but—

Ian working for where he was?

He hadn’t even bothered to go through half of the training you had.

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” you told her. “It’s father’s job to make Ian’s job easier, he was the one who named him heir. What I think about his decision doesn’t hold any power in this, I’m not in the business—”

“Yes you are.”

You scoffed. “Well, that’s news to me then. Do you know something I don’t?”

She shot you a look.

“You and I both know that some bosses in the city support you to become the heir, not Ian.”

You bit back a smirk and took another sip of your wine.

“Which is normal, outsiders can have different ideas, it’s the family that decides on the heir,” she said. “But Bucky…Bucky is family now.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t control Bucky.”

“Yes you do,” she insisted. “And Bucky doesn’t necessarily like Ian, does he?”

The realization dawned on you in a second; your father hadn’t put your aunt up to this.

Ian had, because he felt threatened by Bucky.

Which in all honesty was a bit insulting, because even with other bosses supporting you to become the heir, he still didn’t think you yourself were a viable threat to him.

You pushed at your salad with your fork, pretending to be nonchalant.

“Strange as it may sound, me and Bucky don’t really spend our time talking about Ian,” you said and your aunt heaved a sigh, then reached out to clasp her hand over yours.

“Honey,” she said. “You know what will happen if a war breaks out.”

“Tell that to Ian, not me,” you said. “He seemed to be very interested in a war the last time we spoke. I know what happens if a war breaks out, does he?”

“He’s still very excited to prove himself,” she said, making you clench your jaw. “So he may come across a bit… wild but he will not start a war.”

“Funny how everyone around him seems to have to make excuses for him.”

“So many people died before the truce,” she insisted. “So many families. I know that your father promised you that position, but you cannot set the whole city on fire just because he changed his mind. Ian is the heir now, you and everyone else need to make your peace with it.”

Anger was pulsing through your veins and you dug your fingernails into your palm, then pushed at your plate and stood up.

“I have this thing, so…”

“Y/N—”

“And for the record, I’m not setting the whole city on fire,” you told her. “Make sure to hear the same thing from Ian, will you? Because from the looks of it, people aren’t that thrilled to do business with him when he’s been foaming at the mouth to start a war.”

With that, you walked out of the restaurant with your bodyguards following you.

As much as you hated to admit, your aunt’s words did manage to make you even more restless. You had tried to take a nap but it was no use, and by the time Bucky got home, you had been pacing in the apartment for almost an hour now. He had some blood on him so he had gone straight to the bathroom to take a long shower, and when he came back, he found you by the window, your gaze fixed on the skyline.

“Hey beautiful.”

You looked over your shoulder and tried to smile at him.

“Hey,” you said. “Whose blood was it?”

“Some idiot,” he said. “Not important. Are you okay?”

“How was the meeting with Anna?”

“It was good, everything is going pretty smoothly. Are you okay?”

You turned around to see him better, then nodded your head.

“Sure!” you said. “There’s uh…there’s dinner in the—”

“What’s going on?” he cut you off, stepping closer to you and you heaved a sigh, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Nothing, it’s just…it’s been a long day.”

“I thought you were meeting Becca today.”

“I did,” you said. “Then my aunt asked to have lunch together so that totally ruined my day.”

He raised his brows. “What did she say?”

“Usual bullshit,” you said. “She wants me to support Ian.”

Bucky snorted. “Yeah, that’s gonna happen.”

“And Ian is intimidated by you.”

“Good,” Bucky said. “Does he also know the only reason he’s alive is because of the truce he’s been so excited to break? Someone should let him know.”

“He thinks he’s untouchable, you know that,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “He doesn’t even carry a gun, he’s that sure of himself. Ryan carries his gun for him.”

Bucky threw his head back. “Does he—” he started but was cut off when his phone vibrated on the table. Your heart skipped a beat as he read the text message, then held up the phone.

“So…” he said. “Are we doing this tonight?”

You swallowed thickly, your heartbeat getting faster before you ran a hand over your face.

“Bucky, is this a mistake?”

He tilted his head. “Why would it be a mistake?”

“We’re ordering a hit on a shipment,” you whispered. “That’s breaking the truce.”

“Eh, it’s not like they’ll know who did it.”

“But if they somehow figure it out?” you insisted as you stepped away from him to pace in the room again. “I keep telling myself Ian is the wrong choice, but what does it say about me that I’m willing to risk war? That I’m willing to risk so much bloodshed just to get there?”

“That you have what it takes.”

“Do I?” you asked him. “At that cost? You heard the same thing I did while we were growing up, over and over again. Never break the truce—”

“We’re not breaking the truce,” he assured you. “No one will know it’s us, and even if they did somehow figure it out; your father will kill me on grounds of breaking the truce sweetheart, nothing will happen to you.”

Even the thought of it was enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Don’t say that,” you murmured, rubbing at your eyes. “Just don’t.”

He shot you a playful smile. “I thought you wanted me dead.”

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead,” you grumbled as you approached the window to look outside again. “It just feels…”

“Overwhelming?” he asked you as he came closer before his hands clasped over your shoulders, massaging there, making your eyes flutter close.

“A little,” you admitted and he hummed.

“Of course it’s overwhelming, we’re pushing you to the top.”

You opened your eyes again, then turned around to look at him better.

“Why are you risking your own life for this?”

“Because I want to see you at the top of the food chain,” he said, then flashed you a smirk. “And on top of me but—”

“Bucky,” you said warningly as if that didn’t make your stomach do a happy flip despite the tension and he chuckled.

“Because unlike what your father seems to think, you’re the right choice for this.”

“And you still think that about me even if I’m putting the truce in danger right now?” you asked and his smile widened.

“You could shoot me right now and I’d still think that, princess.”

You nibbled on your lip, a warmth spreading in your chest before you let out a bitter chuckle.

“We’re both fucked up, you do realize that?”

“I know,” he said. “But fucked up or not, will you be alright when Ian inevitably burns your father’s empire down? The empire that belongs to you?”

You swallowed thickly as he ran his fingertips over your bare arm, awakening fire underneath your skin.

“Stop playing by your father’s rules,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “It’s your game now, you make the rules.”

You pursed your lips together before taking a deep breath, then looked up at him.

“Give the order.”

Bucky smiled at you, then touched the phone’s screen before taking it to his ear.

“Do it,” he said, then hung up, making you let out a breath, your head spinning because of the adrenaline rushing through you. Bucky stepped closer to press a kiss on your temple and you rested your forehead on his chest for a moment, letting his irresistible scent fill your nostrils.

“You’re alright.”

“I’m alright,” you muttered to his chest and pulled back to nod your head as if trying to convince yourself. “I am.”

“You are,” Bucky said, then smiled at you. “So let’s get drinks and dessert, hm? To celebrate your first ever hit order in the business?”

A nervous laughter climbed up your throat. “What?”

“Yeah I’ll even put a candle on the champagne— or on the cake, I haven’t decided yet,” he told you, pulling you by the wrist through the room while you giggled.

“Bucky wait, I need to do my makeup if we’re going out—”

“Less whining more walking princess, come on,” he said and you snatched your coat off the hanger as you walked past it, then followed him out of the apartment, still smiling.

Chapter 27

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juniperdugong · 5 months ago

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Forgot Your Lunch - Scoups

WC: 1023 || Genre: Fluff :) ...Angst :( || Happy (late) Birthday to this very handsome man!! ❤

A/N: If this does well maybe a pt.2 with what happened? (I totally don't have a whole story in my head about this fic alr...and this totally wasn't meant to be a teaser but got out of hand)

Some songs that inspired this fic!

Those morning hours, right before the sun shines in all its splendor, when most people are still resting their tired brains, and when quietness feels like a warm welcome to the day.

These were Seungcheol's favorite hours. The slivers of warm orange sunlight peaking through the curtains illuminating the space, giving the house a different type of glow. He relished in the fact that no one, not even you, was awake during this time. It gave him all the pleasure of gazing at your sleeping figure and giving you a few feather-light kisses before he actually got started with his day.

Seungcheol had gotten really into cooking when you two got together. Watched the tutorials, wrote down the recipes, and did a lot of the grocery shopping when he had the time - he even asked for help from Mingyu when he was really struggling. All of this effort put in for one simple goal - to be able to make your lunches for work.

He took great pride in making sure your lunch was not only healthy and balanced but nice on the eyes as well! Presentation was half the battle of cooking in his (humble) opinion.

Today wasn't any different, after haphazardly washing up he waltzed into the kitchen and chose a fitting playlist for such a joyful morning. He knows what to make, one of your favorites, a very simple and delicious spread of kaarage, a rolled omelet, rice, and a mix of fruits and vegetables cut up in the cutest little shapes! (Never forgetting the homemade spicy mayo, of course.) It's a specialty of his - and more than that - it was the first lunch he made you that you had raved about to your coworkers, only boosting his ego evermore.

Humming along to the music he went through the motions of washing and cooking the rice, setting out all the ingredients he'd need, and placing all the dishware on the counter in an assembly line. The few times that you'd woken up early enough to witness this practiced scene you'd have to admit that it was impressive the way he had gotten it all down to a T. Like a drill sergeant he would lead the charge in the kitchen, at least in the mornings, and if you ever dared to lift a finger…the earful you'd get before work- But what else can you expect from the most loving husband in the world AND the leader of one of the top kpop groups in history?

It's like everything, all the problems and worries, drifted away during this time. The sole issue in Seungcheol's entire world being what you would eat for the day. It was his way of showing you that he still cared and that he was still very committed. With a job that kept him away from you for such long periods of time and that took up all his energy and attention when he was home, it only felt right to do something as small as wake up before you and devote some time to you - even if you weren't always there to see it.

It would be a very hard task to try and tear away the smile that grew from him as he carefully assembled the different pieces of your food into a bento box. The only change in expression coming from the way his brows would furrow and his mouth would form a pout when he was ultra-focused with a knife or when he was gently making the finishing touches.

He took the chicken from the hot oil and placed them on a paper towel-lined plate - he knew how much you hated the excess oil when you ate. Turning off the stove in a swift movement he turned his attention to slicing the egg roll into perfectly proportioned pieces that you could eat in one bite. Then the fruits and vegetables - today's variety, some blueberries, leftover chocolate-covered strawberries, and a small salad with cherry tomatoes, all served with a small toothpick - he took note of that little comment you had made about how eating things with a toothpick makes the experience a bit more fun.

With a little jaunt in his step, he moved to put the puzzle together in an eye-pleasing manner. And once he was satisfied - he stepped back from his masterpiece. His gift to you. He looked at the clock-

8pm.

Oh.

It's night time.

That's right.

He stilled completely, coming back to reality. He left the kitchen with a ruffle to his hair. Dragging his feet into the bedroom he let his hands roam around the cold sheets, desperately searching for your warmth - your figure.

This was your bed too! The one you shared. C'mon, you remember, right? You're supposed to be here.

He looked out the window, no slivers of sunlight. Just the light pollution of a bustling city.

It's late and you're supposed to be home now, works done. It's supposed to be done.

He balled up all the sheets in his two fists and knelt on the bed. Gritting his teeth through tears that didn't dare hold back his emotions. And he punched that mattress so damn hard he could swear it felt like a human fighting back against him. The tangling of the sheets feels like Seungkwan and Dino holding him back from doing something else to hurt himself. He screamed so loud that his throat hurt, and he choked himself with the sound until red and veins popped. Drunk on something akin to anger but closer to loneliness he headed face-first into a pillow - but oh it was yours. The one you laid on just a few days ago. His tears and snot smeared across the blank canvas created a gross mirage but he didn't care. He let himself sit there, inhaling everything you left. Wailing into your remnants - curling up into your side of the bed, what would always be your side of the bed.

You forgot your lunch. It's here with him. "So come back, y/n. I'm really fucking sorry."

A/N: Hey guys...been a minute (a few days) And I come back with this- I do really like this though. Love me some happy memories and train wreck tbh. Let me know what you lovelies think! Have a great weekend or week, depending on when you see this. (protip DO NOT read this while listening to "The Place Where He Inserted the Blade" almost shat tears) Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda

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marvelfilth · 1 year ago

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Jealousy (18+)

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x f!reader

Warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, strap-on sex, bike sex (?), anal fingering, possessiveness, jealousy, mommy kink, pet names

Summary: Sam finally has enough of Ethan's bullshit.

Masterlist

The engine rumbles under you with a twist of Sam's wrist and you moan loudly, the noise almost unnoticeable behind the rev of the engine.

"Think you can come like this?" Sam taunts, pushing you against the vibrating metal with a firm grip on your hip.

Another twist of her wrist and you arch into her, grinding your hips against her bike.

"Y-yes." You don't even bother trying to hide the tremble in your voice, clutching her jacket in a vice grip as you buckle in her hold, whimpering against her chest. The vibrations send jolts of pleasure up your body, making your clit ache deliciously.

You're sure your makeup is ruined and your dress is all wrinkled, but you don't care as long as she keeps doing that.

The engine growls in quick succession, and you come with a cry, burrowing into her neck.

She hums, kissing down the side of your face. "You did good," she praises, "but the dress has to go." Her tone leaves no room for objection.

You wince. "We're already late, I can't go back to change."

She bites down on your neck, and twists her wrist again. This time you rise to your tiptoes, trying to get away from the overwhelming pleasure. She firmly pushes you back, her deft hand pushing under your dress to cup your ass possessively.

"I don't want him seeing you like this." You can tell by her tone she's barely holding herself back.

You sigh, letting her fingers disappear under your panties to push inside. You welcome her eagerly, spreading your legs, knowing it'll help ease her jealousy.

You don't even know why she's so sure Ethan's into you. He's one of your closest friends, and has been for years before you met her, but lately she's been drilling holes into him whenever you hang out together, watching his every movement like a hawk and making sure to never let him get close to you. For someone who's adamant about keeping your relationship a secret she's been acting too obvious. You're sure Mindy already figured it out.

"Sam, he's just a frien-" You try to reason, swallowing back your words when she pinches your clit. "Fuck, Sammy." You throw your legs over her hips, grinding against her palm.

"He wants you." She hisses, thrusting and spreading her fingers inside your clenching pussy.

You claw at her shoulders, trying to keep up with her pace. She's hammering into you, making you ache in the best possible way.

"Only want you," you whimper into her mouth and she relaxes slightly, "I'm yours, only yours."

She exhales, pulling you in a heated kiss. "Come for me," she orders, "Now, princess."

You come with a loud moan, your eager pussy swallowing her fingers, wanting her to stay inside forever. She doesn't try to pull away, leaving kisses all over your face before nuzzling into your neck. "I love you."

You hum, straightening your back. "Love you too."

She smiles and untangles from you, kneeling in front of her bike and pulling your legs on her shoulders.

Your breath hitches. "What are you doing?"

She grins, placing a kiss on your inner thigh. "Cleaning you up," she says before licking a long stripe up your slit, drinking in your wetness. Your hips jerk uncontrollably, closing around her head, but she doesn't seem to mind being squished between your thighs, moaning at your taste.

She stays true to her words and doesn't go further, placing a chaste kiss to your clit before pulling your panties back up. "Come on, we're already late."

You're sure she chose a route with the most speed bumps on purpose. You cling to her back the whole ride, swallowing back moans and praying you'll get there quick. You wanted to ask her to turn around at least five times, but it's Ethan's birthday and you can't just ditch him like that. Soon enough his house comes into view and you exhale in relief.

The music is so loud it makes your ears buzz, but you push through the discomfort and follow Sam as she tugs you inside by your wrist. The house is full of people and you're almost hundred percent sure they're all Chad's friends. You love Ethan, but there's no way the nerd knows that many people.

"You came!" A loud voice reaches your ears, and Sam abruptly stops just as Ethan's arms circle your waist to pull you in a bone crushing hug.

You huff out a laugh and press a kiss to his cheek. "Of course! I wouldn't miss it. Happy birthday, loser." You grin and take a step back to Sam's side, nudging her with your elbow.

She grunts, but pushes out a tense smile. "Happy birthday." She mumbles, shooting daggers at the younger boy.

The party goes swimmingly after that, with a minor hiccups of Sam occasionally shouldering the birthday boy on her way to get you more drinks. You take it in stride, knowing she's holding back for your sake. Mindy's eyebrow keeps jumping up every time that happens, and you pray she won't say anything, at least not tonight.

"Soooo, Y/n, little birdie told me you're still single after all this time." Chad starts after you settle in the living room, a shit eating grin on his face, and Sam immediately tenses up, looking at you. "Is there a reason for that? Perhaps you're waiting for a certain someone to make a move?" He drawls, his glance at Ethan not subtle at all.

Mindy chokes on her soda, spewing it all over the floor before hiding her laugh behind a pillow. Tara looks between them in question, a confused frown on her face.

"Chad, don't," Ethan hisses quietly, a blush overtaking his face.

You have no idea what to do.

"Can't she just enjoy single life? Single doesn't mean miserable, you know." Anika rolls her eyes, and you want to crawl over to her and smother her with kisses in gratitude.

"Not when there is a certain someone who's perfect for her." Chad says, lifting his bottle.

Sam places her hand on the back of the couch, her fingers brushing your shoulder. "And who would that be?" She asks, her jaw grinding in annoyance.

"Me," Ethan speaks up, seemingly gathering all of his bravery to utter a single word. He meets your eyes, before looking down at your outfit, appreciation shining in his eyes.

You regret not going back to change like Sam wanted. You glance at her and you know she noticed the look in his eyes too, because she's livid. "You?" Sam gritts.

You want the ground to open up and swallow you.

You put a hand on her thigh, not caring at this point about anyone noticing. "A perfect friend you mean." You try to ease the tension, your eyes full of hope as you look at Ethan.

It's impossible to miss the way Mindy doubles over, wheezing. Anika sends her an annoyed look, elbowing her harshly. Tara just looks like she wants to disappear out of the room.

"Look, Y/n, I've been thinking about it for a long time and I think it makes perfect sense, you know? For us to be together. We're so close it's almost like we're dating already." He hurries to get his point across, his hands shaking. Chad nods approvingly and you know he was the one to give your friend a pep talk, with the way he mouths along to some of Ethan's words.

"Almost is the key word, Ethan." Sam's words are full of venom, her eyes so dark you struggle to make out any color.

"I'm not talking to you." Ethan barks, annoyed by her intervention.

"Hey!" You exclaim. "Don't talk to her like that."

He has the decency to look apologetic.

"Can we just speak in private?"

"No." Sam says at the same time as you do, and plants her hand firmly on your shoulders and pushes you into her side. "She's not going anywhere with you."

"I totally don't want to be here for this." Tara abruptly stands up and leaves the room, disappearing between dancing bodies. Anika follows a second later, trying to force Mindy into going with her, but the short haired girl only gets more comfortable on the couch, munching on some snack.

The tension is so thick you're not sure even a knife will cut it, you'd need a chainsaw for that.

"Just give him a chance, he'll charm your pants off." Chad smiles at you with a knowing glint in his eyes.

How can men be so fucking blind?

"I can totally do that." Ethan nods eagerly. "I mean, not on the first date, but in the future, of course. I've been reading about that a lot. You know, the sex stuff."

You groan, hiding your face in Sam's shoulder. You don't know if you're more disappointed in Ethan or yourself. All this time Sam was right, and you were too naïve to notice. Was he ever your friend or was he always hoping for more, waiting for the opportunity to act on his feelings?

Sam's chest rises quickly with each breath she takes and you feel her heart drumming against her ribcage. Her hands slid over your waist a long time ago, tugging you over her lap, but it doesn't feel like enough to get a point across. She tenses up and you know she's ready to get up and punch him square in the jaw.

Ethan is ripped under all of his plaid shirts, but Sam is fucking brutal when it comes to protecting what's hers, she'll rip him to shreds. You can't let this escalate any further.

"Sam, let's just go home," you whisper, praying she'll listen.

"Wow, you're just gonna let him steal your girl?"

Fucking Mindy.

Sam jumps up and Ethan follows, not caring about you trying to push them apart. "Sam, please." You plead, pushing against her chest.

She doesn't even spare you a glance, her knuckles clasped in fists. "Outside. Now." She hisses at the boy and he visibly blanches, swallowing nervously.

Chad intervenes, pushing Ethan back on the couch, finally sensing that he might've… miscalculated.

"Get the fuck up," Sam growls, taking a step to him.

Ethan rises back on his feet at the command, agitation rising in his eyes. "What the fuck is wrong with you? You don't get a say in this."

She chuckles, looking at you for a second before pinning him down with a withering glare. "I don't get a say in this? Her taste is still on my tongue, Landry. She's mine."

You freeze, holding your breath as the room grows eerie silent. Mindy slaps a palm over her open mouth, Chad blushes deeply, looking at the ceiling.

Ethan blinks, looking at you. "What?"

"Ethan-" you start before getting interrupted by Sam.

"You heard me. Back off or I'll make you back off."

Ethan falls back, eyes wide and terrified.

"Let's go," she gritts, tugging you harshly into her chest.

You barely keep up with her pace, stumbling on the pebbled driveway as she tugs you into a shed. She pushes the door closed with her foot and bends you over the closest horizontal surface, pushing your face into the dusty wood.

"A friend, huh? A fucking friend." She fumes, nudging your legs apart and then grinds against your barely concealed ass, your short dress riding up even further. You grip the edge of the table, biting back a moan, when you feel the outline of her strap. "I don't think about having sex with my friends, do you?" Her palm lands on your bare cheek with a loud smack.

"N-no," you whimper, arching back into her.

"No what?"

You quickly realize your mistake. "No, mommy."

She slaps your upper thigh, making you buckle against the table before pulling your underwear down, drinking in the sight of your slick dripping down your leg.

"Fucking slut, already soaked," she grunts, fingers teasing your entrance.

You hiss when she spanks you again, this time harder, leaving an imprint of her hand on your soft skin. "F-for you, mommy."

"That's right," she punctuates her words with another spank, making your tears drop. "You're gonna take my strap and you're gonna scream my name like a good girl." Her pants pool at her ankles and you feel the tip of her strap nudge against your slit.

"Yes, mommy," you moan, hips buckling back against her.

"I want everyone to hear you, got it? Everyone. Don't make me take you back and fuck you in his fucking room," she growls and snaps her hips, filling you to the brim.

You quickly realize she chose her biggest strap today, when you feel the pain at the stretch hitting you in waves. You cry out as she ruts into you like a wild animal, making the feeble table creak.

"Mommy! Fuck, Sammy, please- ah!" You scream, blindly clawing behind you to pull her flush against your back.

"Look so good when I fuck you, princess," she pants, quickens the pace.

The wet sounds of her slapping into you overlap with your desperate cries, making it crystal clear to anyone passing by what exactly is happening behind the door.

"Louder, baby." Her hand sneaks around to circle your clit, making your legs twitch.

"Yes, yes, yes- Sam!" You moan, clenching around the silicone shaft.

"Who do you belong to?" She places her other hand on your ass, tugging to grant her a better view.

"You, mommy, I'm yours," you whine.

"That's right, you're mine. Mine to fuck, mine to love." She changes the angle, hitting your sweet spot. You do your best to try and bounce in time with her thrust, but she doesn't let you move an inch. "This sloppy cunt is mine," she says, pinching your clit. "This tight little ass…" she trails off, resting her thumb on your puckered hole.

You bite down on your lip, feeling a gush of wetness escape your pussy when she spits on your tight hole. She's been obsessed with the thought of claiming you in that way, but never tried to act on it. Until now.

"It's mine, isn't it?" She taunts, circling it, timing the movement with the one on your clit. Then she dips the tip of her thumb inside and you break, the joined pleasure pushing you over the edge.

"Yours! All yours, mommy." You scream, feeling her whole finger enter you.

Your vision blacks out as you come, legs jerking in Sam's hold, but she doesn't stop, each of her thrusts harder than the previous one as she fingers your ass.

You're a mess of tears and sweat, pathetically clinging to the table as she continues abusing your holes, drawing another orgasm out of you.

"Please," you whimper, pushing back.

"Please what? You want more?" She asks, pushing another finger in.

And fuck does that feel good. She's ruining you in the best way possible, spreading both of your holes wide open for her own enjoyment. Each of her thrust brings you closer to your high as she makes a mess out of you.

"I asked you a question," she hisses, and fists your hair, tugging harshly and making your back arch.

You don't remember what the question was, you're not sure you even heard it, so you just nod, "Yes, mommy."

She chuckles, and kisses the side of your face. "That's my good girl."

"S-so close," you whimper, your salty tears falling down on your chest. Your body boils with the need to come, your senses focused only on Sam.

"I know you are, baby, but you're not allowed to come." She coos in your ear and your heart falls to your stomach.

Her thrusts slow and her fingers slide out of the tight ring of muscle, the emptiness making you cry pathetically. "No, please," you whine, "please, mommy, please."

She tuts, a smirk on her face. "We'll continue this at home, princess."

She pulls out of your pussy, leaving you to sob quietly and clench around nothing. She hums and there's shuffling of fabric, before you hear a click of a camera.

"Don't worry, I'll keep it safe," she says.

She helps you stand, taking most of your weight as she leads you back to her bike.

Fuck.

#sam carpenter x female reader #sam carpenter x y/n #sam carpenter x you #sam carpenter smut #sam carpenter x reader #scream #melissa barrera x reader #melissa barrera x you

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utterlyazriel · 6 months ago

Text

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: not gonna even acknowledge the time break between chappies... all i'm gonna say happy cassian chappie ! <3! i hope u all enjoy it mwah thank u for reading

word count: 3.8k

synopsis: Adjusting to life in Velaris means learning to train with new, friendly faces. A tentative friendship forms. Azriel keeps his distance.

CHAPTER NINE :: FRIENDS (IN OTHER PLACES)

Whoosh.

Training staff gripped tightly in your calloused hands, you swing with a muscle memory built over decades, the stick whistling as it cuts through the air with deadly precision. Strike. Twist. Bend. Strike, twice as hard.

You're going through the motions. A simple warm-up, running a drill that you've done enough times you could probably do it in your sleep. The movements are familiar, easy. Routine.

If you close your eyes, you could almost imagine you're still in Exordor.

Except... there's no familiar wind current to perform its melody in the early morning, dancing through the mountainside trees. No frozen chill to the air around you. No crunch of snow beneath your feet to throw your balance. No bound chest to chafe your skin.

No looking over your shoulder in pure panic at every unexpected noise.

Well, not quite that last one. It's a habit you're dedicated to breaking for the sake of your shot nerves — but evidently failing, considering how you straighten up and whip around when the door leading out to the training ring shudders open.

You hold your breath on instinct and clutch the training staff tighter.

Stepping out into the early morning air, the dawn still unbroken, is another Illyrian warrior.

Mother, how many of them were there around here?

You hadn't got to meet anyone else after that encounter on the balcony, almost exactly one week ago. Hadn't exactly wanted to either.

You hadn't even wanted to see Azriel again so soon after the churning, sickening twist of emotions you had barely managed to stumble through after your severe reawakening.

He hadn't come to see you.

You hadn't asked.

Besides Madja, Rhysand was the only new face you had come to know. He had taken to coming by your room a couple times over the week, checking on the progress of your healing, particularly sympathetic on the state of your wings. Revealed his own with a polite flourish.

He was... different than you were expecting. Perhaps you were learning that rumours are not everything — certainly it's clear that there is more to Rhysand than what first appears.

As Highlord, he had to discuss your potential living situations once you were healed enough to leave the infirmary.

I meant what I said. He had said, violet eyes kind as he hovered at the end of your bed. You're no prisoner here. You'll be free to go wherever you wish, even back to Exordor if that's what you decide.

And if I don't? You had whispered, your gaze fixed on the fine sheets of the bed. If I decide that... I have no home there anymore?

Then you'll have a home here. For as long as you would like.

And though it overrode every single instinct you had learned to trust, everything that had kept you alive this long, you chose to take his word for it.

Rhys said no harm would befall you in Velaris and you would be welcome here for as long as wanted.

But... that didn't mean you were exactly looking to make new friends.

Staring the newcomer that enters the balcony with much less grace than that of usual Illyrians, you watch him closely, not quite daring to take a breath.

At a first glance, you had thought it might be Azriel—heart leaping up your throat—but that was quickly washed away. Something in you knew from the hair standing up on the nape of your neck, before you even saw him properly, that this male was utterly unfamiliar to you.

He's taller, you realise. His hair is a longer and he doesn't quite move with the grace of the Shadowsinger — though, perhaps you are just so unused to seeing a male so relaxed. So caught off guard, in fact, that when he turns he gives a little yelp in surprise.

"Fuck!" He says, one of his large hands jumping out and clenching into a fist —his whole body switching to a fighting stance, you realise— before he relaxes again. His fist uncurls into a less threatening open palm.

"I- sorry, just didn't realise anyone else was out here." His fighting stance melts away, open palm still extended. He gives what you think might be a friendly smile.

You don't respond, only gripping the training staff a little tighter. Every hackle is raised, the hair on the back of your neck prickling, and your entire body winding itself up to prepare to fight, if it comes down to it.

The male seems to realise this as his next move is to raise both hands, palms out, the universal signal for surrender. They're large, tanned, and void of the scars you've come to know on Azriel.

However, where there are usually shimmering cobalt blue siphons, this newcomer has dazzling ruby red ones instead. You count each of his. Seven.

Your throat tightens — like all of Illyria, you've heard of this warrior too. The Lord of Bloodshed.

He doesn't exactly look so fearsome at the moment, his expression easy-going, even friendly, from behind his raised hands.

He seems to be waiting for you to make a move or to speak but after a moment, he realises neither are going to happen.

"Rhys said there might be another Illyrian around." He says, taking a tentative step forward, in the direction of the training ring, letting his hands drop to his side. You notice how he tucks his wings in a little more, like he might be trying to be respectable. Polite.

He's watching you closely. "Didn't mention you were a female, though."

Instinct makes you want to sneer in response — the only time Illyrian males bother bring up the differences in sex is to make some nasty comment about the biological weakness of females.

Not born to be warriors. They spit. Fragility is bred into them from the moment they're conceived. Breakable. Less than. A female in the training ring has as much place does as a male does in the kitchen.

But this male... says female in a way you've never quite heard before. As though he's somewhere closer to awe.

"My name is Cassian," The male introduces himself, his tentative steps becoming more of a stroll as he wanders across to the weapons stand. He eyes them halfheartedly, his focus still on you.

He turns lightly, tucking in one of his wings to peer back at you. "And yours is...?"

You still haven't moved, only tracking his movements with a slight shift of your eyes. Part of you wonders if he already knows your name and he's simply being polite.

Cassian nods as though you've spoken, despite the fact you haven't made a sound.

"Okay, not a big talker, I get it." He dips his head in a little nod, giving you an easy smile, then a quick wink. "Promise I don't bite."

No reaction. You’re not entirely sure if that’s a joke or not.

Either way, Cassian turns and focuses on his selection, pulling one of the training staffs off the weapons rack into his strong, sure grip.

Despite Rhysand's promise, your heart begins to rabbit wildly.

You wonder if this is some sickening game of cat and mouse—if he's perhaps going to tire you out before he selects his true weapon. If he wants you to know he can best you, even without a blade at his disposal.

You're a decent fighter—hell, a great one even—but you know better than to expect to come out on top against the Lord of Bloodshed.

You finally force yourself to move; shifting your feet to face him, you sink into a fighting stance, staff poised to face him, prepared to bare your teeth.

Cassian blinks. It takes another moment for him to realise that none of his friendliness is working to thaw your iciness. He quickly sets the training staff back down with a clatter, raising his hands once more.

"Woah," He says, giving a small shake of his head. "Not looking to fight. Unless you and I are in that ring—" He gestures to the training ring behind him. "I will never try to fight you. And... I hope you can say the same for me."

You don't even realise you've released your breath until you deflate a little, relief coming in small, incremental waves.

He doesn't want to fight. There's no proving yourself, at least not today.

Maybe some day in the near future, he'll demand you get in the ring to earn your space here—because that was the first thing you ever learned as an Illyrian warrior. But not today.

Reluctant and relieved all at once, you lower your training staff.

Your hesitance or silence doesn't seem to hinder Cassian. In fact, he smiles at the motion.

He's quite handsome, you note. In that rugged way, not quite so classically handsome as Azriel. The unexpected thought makes you flush. You shake it away with a shiver.

"You have your reasons for your unease I bet," Cassian continues, his hands drifting back to his sides. His wings have begun to spread out a little more, as if relaxing.

"And if you want me to piss off, I certainly will. My goal is not to make you uncomfortable in the slightest. But... well, I do have just one question."

He pauses, as if waiting for something. Permission, you realise faintly, which surprises you enough that you give a rather jerky nod, permitting him to ask his question.

A brilliant smile spreads across Cassian's face. "Did you really stab Azriel with a fork?"

The question takes you by utter surprise, fresh bewilderment rippling across your features. You shift back almost awkwardly, stepping out of your fighting stance. The memory from months ago rises up inside, the first meeting in your lonely shelter.

How did he know that? He could he know that?

"I—" You trip over the words, not entirely sure how to answer the question. You can't quite tell why he's asking—is he assessing you as a threat? Your voice is tentative and guarded as you murmur out, "...yes?"

You don't think it would've mattered how you answered truly, as the moment you confirm it, Cassian roars in laughter, his head thrown back and his hand clutching his belly. He laughs loudly for a moment, shaking his head with a fond smile.

"Holy shit, I thought Rhys was kidding! Cauldron, what I would've given to see that." His hazel eyes glitter brightly, as though he's excited. "Was he surprised? I bet he was. Where did you stab him?"

His easy tone, like he's talking to an old friend, takes you back. You find yourself responding with an unexpected ease. Looking back on it now, it is a little funny.

"He was," You nod, nearly smiling at Cassian's enthusiasm. Your lips twitch and you gesture to your neck, somewhat awkwardly, miming the motion. "In the neck."

Cassian laughs again. "Oh, and I bet he'd deny the whole thing if it ever came up."

You don't know quite what to say to that—Azriel hadn't ever brought it up and you certainly weren't going to remind him of it. You tilt your head to the side a bit, an unknown feeling making itself known in the pit of your stomach. An anxiety of an entirely different kind.

The male before you is not an enemy. He's not an ally either... and you can't understand what he gains from talking to you.

You can't even fathom the idea that he might just want to be your friend.

So, you turn. Tighten your grip and resume the exercise that had been interrupted. Muscles groan as you work through their achiness, slowly becoming warmer as the hot blood pumps around your body.

Despite what Madja had said a week ago on that balcony, today was actually the first morning you were allowed to train.

For the last seven days, the exercise you were restricted to was mere stretches; only enough to ensure each of your wings could extend fully and that your limbs could move without serious cause for concern.

It had driven you stir crazy.

The only time you ever skipped so many days without training was during your cycle—something you had mercifully missed the end of this time around, hidden away in your unconsciousness.

So, at the first opportunity, when you rose from your bed this morning and Madja hadn't given you that pointed stare and instead gave you directions, you had found the training area. Began with old routines, if only for the fact you don't know who you are when you're not training.

Inhaling now, the wood of the training staff creaks beneath your iron grip. You're trying desperately to use it as a tether, to some semblance of normal for yourself. It's difficult when there's so many changes lurking.

The solid stone makes you sturdier than before. There's no snow beneath your feet to sink your boots into, to find your balance on. But your injuries aren't entirely healed either.

The pain is not fresh but it's still hindering enough to be a nuisance. Your left ear still twinges from time to time—sometimes it seems to hum so loudly you can't hear clearly, others it dulls altogether. Neither are particularly pleasant to experience.

Pain, however, you have plenty of experience in. Gritting your teeth and pushing through it is practically standard for the Illyrian way; especially when you know your body. You know how much it can take. You know it's been through worse.

But the pesky problem with your ear keeps you off balance, just enough that it shows in your motions.

You keep stumbling around like a goddamn fledgling with every new attempt, footing clumsy, which makes you burn in humiliation because that's what you learn first. It's impossible not to feel unendingly frustrated as decades of training all get shifted slightly to the left.

It doesn't help either that there's still those holes in the edges of your wings.

Fae healing is incredibly advanced but even so, there is only so much magic can do.

Lacerations can be healed, stabs and slices stitched up with ease — but a hole, torn forcibly in and through the delicate flesh of Illyrian wings? You know that you should be thanking the Mother that they even still work in their complete capacity.

The skin around where the stakes had been forced is puckered and stiff, whitened by the scar tissue and trauma. It had been sickening the first time you had curled them close around you and realised with a faint horror that you could technically see through them — a irregular circular gash preserved in either wing of how you'd been pinned down.

The air passes through them as you shift, causing an uneasy shiver. They don't catch on the wind quite the same as they did before.

You haven't taken to the skies yet. You're torn between your eagerness to fly again, to prove to yourself that they can still, and the sinking fear that that's something new you'll have to relearn as well.

So, instead, you run through the training drill for the nth time, trying to get back in sync with your own body. Trying to push past where it seems to falter and trying and failing to not care that your wavering movements now have an audience.

Watching him subtly out the corner of your eye, Cassian appears to be running drills of his own, a gentle warmup. He stretches his toned arms above his head, the motions limber and easy. Briefly, your mind wanders to Azriel's own morning training —never mind that you did have experience training with him over many mornings — and the most peculiar fluster flows through you.

You bite your cheek and rein in your drifting thoughts, gripping the staff tighter.

Strike. Twist. Bend. Strike, twice as hard. Your left eardrum squeals, jumping abruptly in volume at the motions, and though you manage to contain yourself to a wince, your twist goes off kilter.

Your wings stretch out to counterbalance but they don't catch the wind as well as you're used to. Your feet stumble to realign and all you can think is how fucking easy it would be decimate you in a fight in that second.

Something awful starts to grow in your throat and it takes a full moment to realise its the urge to cry, clawing up your throat.

You inhale shakily, eyes fixed on the stone beneath you, and will them away. You weren't a crier — but then again, never had you ever felt quite so utterly hopeless as you were right now.

You've always had this—always had the fight from within your bones, always had your body, always relied on your dexterity to push you forward.

Shadow covers the stone before you. Your head shoots ups, that same panic you can't shake jolting in your chest.

"Hi." Cassian says, giving a little two-fingered salute. He smiles kindly. "Cassian. We met maybe, uh, 5 minutes ago? Remember that?"

You blink at him, not even noticing how the distraction sends away the urge to cry. Swallowing thickly, you give a tentative nod.

"Fantastic. Great memory." His smile melts into a grin and though it sounds like he's teasing, you don't exactly feel like it you who's being made fun of. "I— I have no doubt you're an excellent fighter, especially considering you managed to land a hit on a warrior such as Azriel."

Cassian seems to hear his words only after he's said them and gives a minuscule frown. "Wait, don't tell him I said that. He'll never let me live it down."

When you don't react in amusement as he was aiming for, Cassian changes his tone again, more serious this time.

"Look, I might not be exactly sure what happened that meant you ended up here. I know it might not seem like a welcome change of pace but— well- and what I mean to say is— I can see your missteps."

The admittance of your failings makes humiliation swell up within you. You avert your eyes. Cassian, aware of his awful blunder, barrels on.

"But I can see you're getting your feet again." He adds, softer than before. "After whatever happened to you and your wings, I can tell you're already doing better than most Illyrians would. I also know that everything is easier with a little support."

Your gaze tugs back to Cassian's face as his sentence ends, the offer within it leaving you momentarily dazed. He wants... to help you?

You open your mouth to say just that—but instead, say, "They... didn't tell you?"

Something foreign yanks on your heartstrings. You can't say you had expected privacy, not when Rhysand was already generously providing you with both medical aid and a place to lay low and recover. You were in no position to ask for more.

Suddenly, you become hyper aware of your wings and their gaping, obvious scars to pair with the thin white lines of the lashes adorned across them. You rein them back self-consciously, keeping them tucked close against your back. There's relief in that simple motion alone.

"It is not their story to tell." Cassian nods, grave and serious. "And, just as important, sharing it is not a requirement to be allow yourself a little support."

You don't have to tell him, if you don't want to.

Before you, an Illyrian male, like so many that you've detested all your miserable life, and he doesn't know a thing about you. He doesn't get to know what happened unless you decide to tell him.

You taste his words, mulling them over in your mind as you try to figure out what he means. In the heart of it, you can't understand what he truly stands to gain from this offer of support.

"What... kind of support?" You question warily.

Unthinkingly, your grip tightens on the training staff once more—a knee-jerk reaction to the idea of baring your vulnerabilities. It had been well-trained out of you. Connections of any kind risked exposure... and well, the one time in your life you had given it a go, it had only been proven true.

"Whatever you wish." Cassian grins, as if pleased you had asked that exact question. He tucks a stray piece of hair behind his ear and rattles off his list easily, with a slight shrug of his armoured shoulders. "Friendship? Training? Someone to listen when you need it or to drink your sorrows with? I've had plentiful practice with all."

He sends you another wink, teasing and easy like everything else about him. It's disarming actually, just how different he is from what you had been expecting from only the rumours around Exordor. Lord of Bloodshed. He's so...casual.

After another beat of silence, Cassian clears his throat when it becomes clear you aren't exactly jumping onto any of his initial offers. The caginess you exude is palpable and something ragged in Cassian's chest tears wider at whatever his mind conjures up about what might be lurking your past.

True to his word, Rhys hadn't delved into your story or how you came to end up here at the House of Wind.

All Cassian knew for sure is that Azriel had talked of training with a bastard some months ago and now, you were here. A female warrior from Exordor.

Cassian thinks that Azriel likely would've mentioned it if the bastard he was working with was female—but he hadn't. There's much more to your story, he can tell, and it seems to ripple from the edges of your wary, dangerous form at just a glance. Almost a full picture for him to realise, to see clearly.

But... these things were earned.

If Cassian wanted to be your friend, to know your story, he would do it the honourable and hard way.

He would become someone that you could trust in this new, unfamiliar place and he knew it was possible because what Cassian knew lay within him was reflected in you. The one clear part of the picture.

A warrior who knows themselves best when they're fighting.

"Train with me. Please." Cassian tries once more, ready to relent if it was too much, too soon. "There is a lot we can teach each other, I'm sure."

That seems to catch you by surprise, your brows jumping a fraction up your face. You school the expression away quickly but not before Cassian catches it. He nods.

"What do you say?" Cassian grins again, holding out his hand, palm up. Nonthreatening as can be. "Friends? Allies? Reluctant rooftop sharers? I'll take any happily."

You eye his hand, that still cautious air in your gaze, but Cassian can see as something settles within you. Tentatively, you reach forward and put your hand in his, giving it an awkward, stilted shake.

"I'll take allies for now," You say, somewhat demurely. It's taking a mountain load of trust for you to do so, Cassian knows. He does not take that trust lightly.

Cassian grins. "Allies it is."

[NEXT PART: SHADOWS]

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#this chappie is one big kiss to cassian #i love him and i like to think we would be besties irl #apologies for no azriel in this chappie tho D:#i promise it won't go like this as she meets all of the inner circle #cassian is a Special one like im thinking maybe these guys are gonna be Besties for the Resties so he needs a specific introduction #and also they're so alike!!! they survive best when they're fighting n brawling!!!!! they're gonna like and respect each other so damn much #azriel #azriel fic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel series #cassian #<- yeah he's there #acotar #acotar fanfiction #whom the shadows sing for #wtssf #whom the shadows sing for (and the thief’s echoing hymn)#hope u like it!! tell me what u think!#sloane writes

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