#actually while i'm here let me share one more secret | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pedgito · 4 months ago

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𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 | Joel Miller x reader — Series Masterlist (part i)

summary | Moving in with you soon-to-be stepfather is the least of your concerns while under the unfavorable regime of your mother—but then there's Joel, Tommy's brother, who always know just how to soothes your worries.

author's note | this was originally supposed to be a tommy x reader idea that morphed into joel and here we are. special thanks to @chaotic-mystery and @swiftispunk for lending me their beautiful minds and helping this make more sense <3

content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma (mentally, with one instance of physical), und*rage drinking, contradiction all over the place, joel is a broke man who makes horrible decisions, reckless behavior for reader, mast*rbation, voyeurism, one-sided flirting, joel can keep your secrets <3

word count —9.2k

PART TWO, PART THREE (tbd)

“Married?”

There’s the wiggle of your mother’s fingers, the shine of the small diamond under the natural light streaming through the window to your shared two bedroom apartment—being twenty and still living your mother wasn’t ideal, but it was all you could manage at the moment. You force a grin and take her hand, examining the jewelry.

Tommy had actually talked to you weeks ago, a prerequisite to going through with the whole ordeal, making sure that it was okay with you. It wasn’t that you minded Tommy, he was a good man—too goddamn good for your mother, who always seemed to find a way to ruin something. Everything. You wanted to warn him, but even as much as you despise your mother on most days, he made her happy.

“It’s been a year,” You comment offhandedly, “you’re sure he’s the one?”

She snatches her hand away with a bitter gaze and fiddles with the engagement ring, pacing her way around your shared living room.

“Can’t you just be happy?” She pleads, so petulant and whiney. Like a child, “For once?”

You shrug, “I like Tommy, he’s a good guy. It��s just—he’s the only man you’ve dated since…”

“Baby, I know what I’m doing.”

Your eyes flick up under a lazy gaze, seemingly unconvinced. But, you mask it well.

“So, are you going to elope then?”

She shakes her head, suddenly shaking with a subtle excitement that has her bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“No, honey—we’ll be planning a wedding. Small, of course. You know Tommy doesn’t have much family.”

Just a brother, whom you’d never met. You never heard about anyone else.

“And—“

That’s a tone you don’t like.

Anticipation. Hesitation.

“We’ve been looking for a house.”

“Oh?”

So, she was kicking you to the curb. Time to leave the nest, grow up—blah blah.

But, she continues.

“And in the meantime, we’re going to move into Tommy’s childhood home!”

You cringe externally at the excitement, “What’s wrong with our place?”

“We’re gonna be saving every penny we can, cutting costs where it seems easier. Joel is offering to let us live there for the time being rent-free, given we take care of the place.”

Joel. You knew a name. Not a face. A personality. Only that he was Tommy’s older brother. Worked with him, spent weekends with him. That was it. He seemed like a lonely man from a distance.

“So, you’ll do just that,” She remarks, a definitive look that allows no argument, “we’ll be out of here by the end of the month.”

“That’s next week, mom—“

“Then, I suggest you get to packin’.”

Unbelievable.

“You can’t be serious—I don’t even know him. Do you? Have you even met him?”

“Once or twice,” She shrugs casually, “He’s a private man, but he’s nice enough. I’m not questionin’ it, honey. Tommy is a good man, I can assume Joel is, too.”

Your mother spots the disdain the moment it crosses your face, a finger held up in reprimand.

“You are as ungrateful as they come,” She bickers and then follows the shame, “what would he say?”

Your eyes drag up toward the ceiling, feeling the echo of a scripture you’ve heard time and time again—different words, same meaning, “Thou shalt love thy—“

“—neighbor as thyself,” Your mom finishes, a prosperous grin on her face, “Go on, wash up before bed.”

Even as you graduated and started college, still living under the conveniences of your mother, she felt the need to guide and protect, preaching whatever bullshit she’s swallowed down the past twenty years of your life.

She wasn’t like this before, in fact, it was strikingly opposite. But, she’d had you young, regretted her choices, and while trying to be a good mom had found something to cling to, to help guide her back to some semblance of sanity and safety.

Unluckily for you, it means years and years of strict teaching and rules that made no sense to you now. Hell, they had stopped making since long before that, given the way your mom has relaxed on her morals since she met Tommy, a man that was nowhere near religion or under the constant fear of something other.

You questioned it everyday—tried to fight it, but then the guilt creeped in.

It was your own mother’s doing; a rigorous and methodically set out schedule when you were young, everything followed by prayer or reminders from your mother. He’s always watching. As you grew older, into your body and started to question—it was never outwardly, but your mother took notice and found that shaming you for your inherent provactiveness was easier than guidance. In fact, punishment was an even easier route, most of the time.

“They’re having a cookout tomorrow,” She calls over her shoulder as you depart quietly to your room, somehow more exhausted from a five minute conversation with her than anything else you’ve done all day, “so, best behavior, alright?”

You don’t even try to hide the roll of your eyes that time, sighing softly and answering with a tired, “Yes, of course.”

It would have been hard to predict how that day would change the trajectory of your life completely.

—

The house is beautiful, really. Deep in the back of a suburban neighborhood, right in the middle of Austin. It was lively—kids playing, neighbors conversing over gates from their lawns, music blaring through the streets.

But frankly, it was fucking weird.

You're halfway up the driveway when Tommy opens the door, spots your mother first and swoops her up into a hug that lifts her off her feet, a squeal escaping her.

When it’s your turn, it’s a gentle but quick hug. An even softer pat on the back as he welcomes you in.

Welcoming you to what would soon be home.

Temporarily, at least.

“Come on,” He calls back toward you both with a nod of his head, “we just got finished on the grill and the game is about to hit kickoff, y’all are just in time.”

You step past the threshold, enveloped in the homey smell of vanilla and citrus, something a little savory—which you assumed was the food, and some of the scent from fresh cut lawns from the neighborhood seeping in through the open windows.

Tommy’s closing the door behind you before he comes around your side, yelling out with his hands cupped around his mouth.

“Joel, get ‘yer ass in here!” Tommy yells, slightly jarring as you flinch at the loud sound. Tommy seems to notice and offers an apology with a kind rub of his hand against your shoulder, “Sorry ‘bout that, sweetheart. He’s hard of hearing—“

“I’m not,” The man grumbles as he rounds the corner from outside, walking through the sliding door with a tray of freshly cooked patties lined up in rows, “my hearin’ is perfectly fuckin’ fine.”

Tommy seems careless to dismiss it as your mother offers Joel a polite greeting which he returns with what you can immediately spot is a forced smile. Then, Tommy introduces you. Your smile is just as forced, but out of the inherent nervousness of the situation, offering a small wave that Joel returns with a nod.

“Food’s done,” Joel offers as a change of subject, “game’s starting so—“ He waves vaguely at the array of food, “have at it, I guess.”

“Did you wanna say grace, baby?” Tommy asks, looking over at your mother.

“No—no, I’m sure you and Joel don’t do that,” Your mom looks at you, rubbing a surprisingly gentle touch over your cheek, squeezing gently, “We can say it to ourselves right, sweetie?”

Your eyes avert toward Joel who looks more uncomfortable now then when you walked in. You nod regardless, shrugging away from your mother’s touch. She doesn’t argue and returns her attention toward Tommy, thankfully.

You move curiously, examine the different toppings and add-ons, sides, and different treats. It was far more than you were used to—a nice change to your mothers botched box dinners and takeout ordering that always ended up wrong.

Joel moves mechanically, eyes on the screen as he slaps his burger together, sliding you the bag of buns like clockwork, almost as if he sensed it. It was the only tangible acknowledgment he’s made aside from the nod. But, beyond that—it was silence.

He was an odd man. Quiet, reserved—part of you understood. It was uncharted territory, two mostly strangers in his home. You’d be a little annoyed too.

But, you remember your mother’s words. So, you make an attempt.

His hip is digging into the counter at the edge of his kitchen as he holds the plate to his chest and eats his burger, messily and starved, scarfing it down in very few bites. He catches you staring at him curiously, shamefully taking the first small bite of your own burger. He doesn’t react at you, but he does consciously wipe the mess of grease around his mouth as he sets his plate down, aiming to set himself up with another burger.

“It’s nice,” You say suddenly, the lack of elaboration apparent and Joel raises his eyebrows in unison, “—your house, it’s…nice.”

Above the low rumble of music playing on the radio—something you can determine is a rock song, of what band or song name you have no idea, and the sudden voice of Tommy yelling over a fumbled pass, which Joel also echoes his frustration with as he catches the screen over your shoulder. You jump, turning over your shoulder to look.

Joel seems to notice the way you startle, “‘M sorry,” He apologies kindly, “and…thank you.”

It was hard to settle and feel comfortable, knowing that normally, in any other situation, your mom would be judging them—the music, the course language, the entertainment of boys throwing a ball around and tackling each other. It wasn’t in her taste or her faith to condone such things.

But suddenly, with Tommy, none of it mattered. It was jarring, to say the least.

Joel leaves you after that, taking a seat on the separate recliner from the couch your mother was sharing with Tommy, somehow entranced in the game and Tommy’s answers to her questions. Everything was overwhelming and in the midst of another yelling match at the screen with your eyes locked on the sight as you blindly walked backwards into the counter behind you, you felt your elbow hit a can and suddenly the liquid was spilling over your feet.

You yelp in surprise, catching only the attention of Joel. You scramble, picking up the can before sliding it into the sink, stepping out of your now ruined sandals and feeling suddenly overwhelmed by everything—the noise, the smelly, sticky mess of liquid all over you and your clothes.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy but swift, his plate sliding over the island as he rips off a wad of paper towels over your head and turns on the faucet, “That’s my bad—forgot my beer was there,” You look up at him wide-eyed, feeling him guide your hands under the stream to wash away the mess, “you alright?”

It feels like someone was twisting your gut in their grip—you’ve never heard those words aimed your way before and the anxiety engulfs you. Joel was already crouching down by then, scooping your ruined sandals into his hand and nodding toward the backdoor, “We can wash these off and leave ‘em outside to dry.”

You nod dumbly, watching him run them under the water, but his eyes examine you closely and the quick rise and fall of your chest, “You can follow me outside, if you’re needin’ a break.”

Again you nod, but you’re sure that time. You step over the small puddle on the floor and your face scrunches up in disgust, sensing the presence of your mother as she comes into view.

“Oh, honey—you made a mess.”

“She’s alright,” Joel stresses, “I left my beer there, s’nothing some napkins and water can’t clean up.”

There’s a silent reprimand behind her eyes, something you would hear about later or something she was storing for another time, “C’mon,” Joel’s voice saves you and you follow, shying away from the piercing look of your mother, feeling the wave of relief after Joel closed the backdoor behind you.

“Accidents happen,” Joel offers as a reminder and a sense of comfort, placing your sandals on the concrete as he reaches for the hose, turning the spout and watching as it sputtered out slowly before it steadies and he spray them down before catching your feet, washing away the foamy liquid.

You jump slightly, mostly from the change in temperature against the humid, sticky heat of the sun as it beats down over the house, “You got that look,” Joel says offhandedly, reaching over to turn off the spigot and wrap the hose up.

You glance up at him, stepping out of the puddle of water, “What look?”

“Like someone stuck you in a cage full of bears and you ain’t got a clue how to respond,” The comparison makes you laugh, not because it was ridiculous, but because it was true. “I got—I got a place you can sit for a while, if you need the silence?”

There’s a weight lifting off your chest, one you hadn’t realized was there until he says the words.

You nod and Joel crooks a couple fingers your way, beckoning you to follow.

Joel leads you back into the house, but takes a sharp right to the set of double doors leading to a separate room—bookshelves and stacks of unorganized papers, a desk cluttered with random items and an old desktop, an even dustier radio stuffed away in a corner.

“It’s my office, don’t use it much anymore,” Joel explains, but taps at the open double doors, “but it’s a good place to block out noise, if ‘ya need a minute.”

You step past him curiously, leaving a trail of wet footsteps that Joel would eventually clean up later. It was cluttered in the room but somehow brought a sense of comfort, clearly a place that Joel seeked out himself from time to time.

“There’s books, magazines—feel free to use the computer,” Joel waves vaguely, “although, I dunno how well it works, haven’t turned that thing on in ages.”

“Thank you,” You tell him sincerely, watching him nod as he closed the doors behind him and gave you free roam to look around, be curious.

And naturally, you were.

He had a large collection of music—CDs and cassettes, a shelf full of vinyl albums. Books, tons—something you assumed he’s collected naturally over the years. Most of it seemed fairly boring, non-fiction books on various topics; how-tos and instructional guides, nothing exciting. Your gaze tracks to his desk, running your fingers along the chair before you’re pulling it out and taking a seat, the plastic creaking with age.

You press a key on the keyboard but the computer refuses to come to life—you chew at the inside of your cheek, looking around at the pattern of squares on the wall, like missing pieces plucked from the wall—like dust collecting around picture frames that were no longer there. Your fingers dance along a drawer, twirling in your seat as you pulled at the handle and find a drawer full of thick files. But, on the top, a book with a sticky note is sitting alone, completely out of place.

Leave it, you tell yourself.

Still, your fingers reach for it.

It’s a thick book, a soft-matte touch from cover to cover. It was mostly unsuspecting, a plain cover of a mirrored forest, the post-it stuck over the title but you’re too scared to remove it. You flip it over, reading over the summary on the back. The summary is dull, unsuspecting, but as you flip through the book, skimming from chapter to chapter you realize it is not that.

And to be fair, you knew this type of genre was something people were interested in, never laying eyes on it yourself. But, to see it stuffed away in the desk of one Joel Miller, is a fair surprise—you examine the text, hanging on every word as you delve deep, deep; into a scene of voyeurism amongst a group. Somewhere between that and the next chapter you get lost, only resurfacing when you hear a knock at the glass door to the room.

The book snaps shut as you spot Joel, who’s peeking his head in with an emotionless gaze. He could just be checking to make sure you’re not snooping too deep, but then he’s walking toward you at a leisurely pace, a fresh beer in his hand as he squints, looking at the book in your hand.

He plucks at the post-it and chuckles slightly.

“Forgot that thing was in there,” He tells you, “Tommy bought that—year ago, I think? One of his stupid gag gifts.”

“You’ve never read it?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pulled in a tight line of indifference as he sipped at his drink.

“If you like it, you can take it with you.”

And then he realizes his misstep, your eyes meeting awkwardly.

“I mean, I’ll be here permanently come Sunday, so—”

Joel smiles slightly, a subtle quirk of his lip, “Well, least I know you’ll bring it back.”

You follow his movement, his fingers gripping the aluminum can and the perspiration from the can wetting his fingers, sweating down his wrist and you subconsciously lick your lips before your teeth are dragging, digging into the flesh of it. He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing with the movement and Joel catches you, your intrigued gaze and volleys it with a question.

“Did you want a sip?” He says, mostly as a joke.

He remembers the time Sarah had come to him, piling onto his lap and with her constant stream of questions—he’d let her have the tiniest sip as she kept pressing on it and Joel knew there was no use in fighting the steadfast energy of an eight year old.

She hated it, immediately retching in disgust. Joel gave her a chuckled “I told ya so, kiddo.”

This was different, though.

“I’m not twenty one,” You counter, mouth quivering down into a slight frown and your shoulders shrugging instinctively, “and my mother would kill me.”

But, you want to—not even driven by an act of rebellion. It was genuine curiosity.

Joel tilts his body, peeks around the corner and spots the pair still sat on the couch.

“What she doesn't know won’t hurt her,” Joel crosses that line for you, your hands cupping around his larger one as he guides it to your mouth, “s’not like you’re gonna go get piss drunk, right?”

You giggle softly at that, lips pressing into the can as he tilts it into your mouth. The vision of him is…overwhelming. Stood over you in the mostly unlit room, barefoot and jeans rubbing at the top of his feet, dark cotton shirt pulling over his shoulders and a few weeks of facial hair unkempt and outgrown.

If your mother were to see, it would have been you.

Your fault. And again, maybe it was.

But Joel, he towers. You’re nearly eye-level with his waist but admittedly, they never leave his face. You sip gingerly, fingers curling around his own as you tip your head back and consume more, until your cheeks are puffing out with the liquid and you swallow, immediately grimacing at the taste as you pull away, sputtering out a soft cough as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Joel defends, not even bothering to wipe the rim as he takes another sip, somehow finding that more intimate than any of what had just happened between you both.

Neither of you say anything and you shake your head, fingers curling around the book in your lap.

“I’ll take your word for it,” You nod, but Joel can see the disgust for it on your face.

“Go on, take the book home,” Joel offers, “ain’t gonna be missed ‘round here.”

You smile sweetly, licking over your lips and tasting the remnants of the alcohol, a sign of sin amongst the many you had just committed, but the lack of guilt was startling. You couldn’t even begin to care.

When you leave, the book is tucked away in your bag and hidden. Joel is already cleaning up by the time your mother is rushing after you out the door and to the car, leaving a curious Tommy to linger around, helping Joel sparsely before he’s bugging Joel for a lighter.

Joel had quit smoking long ago, but still had a few lighters tucked away in his study.

Tommy searches around aimlessly, sifting through cups and drawers until he’s pulling open one, pausing, calling over to Joel curiously.

“You finally put up that book I gave you a goddamn century ago?”

His answer is your name as he turns the faucet off, wiping off the final dish.

“She seemed interested so I let her borrow it,” He calls over to Tommy, who’s leaning up with a wide-eyed but amused expression—it was clear that his brother was sometimes just as oblivious as him.

“Joel, you never read the damn book, did you?”

“Was I supposed to?”

Tommy makes a face, a smug smile fading in for a brief moment.

“Tommy, what was the book about?”

Tommy eventually finds the lighter, snatching it up with a ‘aha!’, trailing back over to Joel before he finally answers him.

“Thought I’d spice up your nightly reading, brother.”

Joel can piece his words together; the innate smugness and tone that was edging toward a full-on chuckle, it wasn’t an appropriate piece. And given the stuff he did know of your mother, the worst choice of a genre for you to sneak home with.

“Did I do a bad thing?” Joel asks, “I mean, that girl is an adult—”

“Twenty, yeah. But, her mom—”

“Your fiance,” Joel clarifies, “she’ll be your step-daughter soon too, you realize that?”

“She can be a little—”

“Judgemental?” Joel finishes for him, drying his hands off with a dish towel before it toward the empty counter, “Freakish? She’s got your ass goin’ to church every Sunday, ain’t seen that before.”

Joel sighs, a clipped noise as he scratches at his forehead.

“I’m not judging, I swear. But, her moving here—I’m not feedin’ into that whole schtick.”

Tommy holds his hands up in defense, “She knows—”

“I fuckin’ hope so.”

—

The vision of the scene is imagined under the safety of your room that night, squinting to read the text under the dim light of your bedside lamp, words amongst feelings that weren’t foreign but often weren’t welcomed. You’ve had boyfriends and kisses, experiences like any other girl has, but you’ve shoved it away for far too long—it was years of high school, shying away from boys and girls only to finally find the freedom to branch out in college, but under the constant reminder of you mother’s generosity to allow you to finish schooling without the stress of work or the responsibility of earning your keep. He’ll guide you, she’d always remind you. A constant reminder that you were under his watch, more of a threat than anything. And your mother knew that.

The hand tucked under your chin switches to the other, your now free hand trailing down your chest and under the sheets, slipping past the snug waistband of your underwear. The scene was vivid, descriptive as the man pulled the female characters legs apart, exposing her, doting her with the kind of words that made your stomach swirl and your gut twist, dragging your middle finger down the center of your pussy and sighing at the slick that was already there, gathering up the wetness until you could guide it over your clit in quick, hurried circles.

You snap the book shut, biting on the corner of your pillow as you squeeze at the squishy fabric, squirming under the feeling of your impending orgasm, muffled moans slipping from your stuffed mouth as you feel it crash over you in a wave, eyes squeezing shut so tight you start to see the light.

The comedown is slow, rolling over onto your back and silently slipping the book under your pillow and the guilt you usually feel is filled with nothing. You were empty, thoughts filling with vague images of someone, a man—faceless, but if you dug hard enough you’d know.

So, you do.

And with his face comes something you felt so often but pushed away.

Desire.

And for the one person you know you shouldn’t.

—

The move takes place a few days later, endless hours spent packing boxes and putting the rest away in storage, several trips back and forth from the apartment to Joel’s house.

You often had to remind yourself it wasn’t Tommy’s. It was Joel’s—but Tommy was his brother and he wasn’t going to turn him away, so if there was anyone to respect, it was Joel.

The house had three bedrooms; Joel’s, the one Tommy and your mother would share, and the room with a door painted purple and covered in various things. Butterflies, flowers—it was off-limits and you didn’t attempt to make anyone budge on that matter. It was a sore spot for both of the Miller brother’s and when Joel offers up the attic, you’re quick to take it.

He’d even taken the time to make it somewhat liveable. A fresh coat of white paint, storage for clothes and some of your belongings you’d decided to bring along, a space for your bed and plenty of the furniture you couldn’t part with. Besides, it was nice having a level away from everyone else.

“The ladder does get stuck from time to time,” Joel admits as he stands a few feet away from you, watching as you look around curiously, “so, just give a holler. Hopefully one of us’ll be home if that happens.”

You laugh softly, dropping your bag to the floor and crouching, unzipping it and reaching in for a very specific item, pressing it into Joel’s hands as he’s expecting. His fingers curl around the side of the book and there’s an unspoken tension that fades as he speaks.

“Our secret, alright?” Joel’s eyes don’t leave yours, waiting for the confirmation of a nod.

You nod meekly, “She’d kill me, you know? I mean, not physically, but I’m sure she’d have an opinion on it.”

Joel nods in understanding, “Like I said, our secret.”

And given how rough the day was on everyone and once your bed was finally assembled in your room, you find yourself passing out without a moment of idle thinking, the exhaustion taking you the moment your body hits the sheets.

You wake up when the day has already gone, crickets chirping outside and the distant buzz of street lights outside the window above your bed. It’s dead silent in the house otherwise, aside from the hum of the central air and fan tucked in the corner of the room. You roll over and tap at your phone. It was a few minutes from midnight, one day fading into the next without waiting for you to catch up.

You rise groggily and rub at your tired eyes, placing your feet on the hardwood floor before deciding to take a walk down to the kitchen, feeling the dryness of your mouth as you licked at your lips. You’re careful as you open the entrance to the attic and lower the ladder, careful and quiet footsteps as you make your way down and close it, surprised at the growing hum and voices coming from the living room.

You edge close, soft and gentle footsteps as you pry the cabinet open and reach for a clean glass and turn on the faucet, filling it up halfway with water—that’s when you hear the hmph that warns you that you weren’t alone, spotting Joel turning over his shoulder to look at you.

He seemed half-asleep too and you suspect he fell asleep on the couch, insomnia or exhaustion getting the better of him, you offer a quiet apology as you sip at the water.

“You’re alright,” He assures, rubbing two hands over his face and through his grown out locks, curling around the side of his neck and around his ears, “I was heading to bed anyways.”

Unlikely, you think.

“What are you watching?” You speak softly, arms crossed your chest as the glass cup dangles from your fingertips, bare thighs pressing against the edge of the couch and Joel adjusts slightly, subconsciously making room for you.

“Dawn of the Wolf,” Joel answers through a long yawn, “you seen it before?”

You tilt your head with a raised eyebrow, “Joel, come on—”

“Right,” He chuckles tiredly, “It’s some cheesy action movie I’ve seen a thousand times, it’s a—sometimes I just throw it on for background noise, hate sleepin’ in silence, you know?”

“Could you make it a thousand and one?” You ask curiously.

The bed he was heading toward was suddenly forgotten, watching as you eagerly climbed over the side of the couch and curled up on your own cushion, smiling slightly as he reached for the remote and started the movie over.

“Were you actually heading to bed?” You ask as the opening credits begin to play, “Because, if you were I won’t be offended—”

“I mean, I could. Probably need to, the havoc this couch does on my back.”

You offer a kind but lazy smile, half of your mouth arching up, “Besides, I’d ask way too many questions.”

Joel never does move, though. Almost like he’s resigned himself to that position until the movie was over, watching you occasionally with that familiar glaze over your eyes. It was the last movie he’d watched with Sarah before she passed, a few weeks shy of her fifteenth birthday.

By now, it was more of a foolproof method to help him sleep.

It was mostly poorly choreographed fight scenes and a dialogue heavy relationship between the two main characters that progressed unrealistically fast, forcing a laugh behind your palm after the male character professed his love after two days of knowing the other character and even Joel shakes his head at that. But, as the penultimate point of the movie comes, it hits a peak.

They’re sitting around a fire, obvious and unspoken tension lingering that snaps in an instant, one touch on the other and they’re on each other—Joel leans forward, reaching for the remote to skip past the scene, “No, don’t,” You tell him gently, your hand pressing against his palm.

The remote loosens in Joel’s grip and he settles, feet crossed over the coffee table.

Your head tilts, “It doesn’t even come across real,” You comment, “or believable, I guess.”

The sex—or lack thereof, a swarm of lust-filled gazes and strategically placed camera angles. It was mostly heavy pants and moans and Joel coughs into his balled fist to break the silence. You snicker softly and pull your legs up near your chest, head resting against your hand as you watch.

“Probably because it doesn’t work like that,” Joel comments after a while, pulling your attention to him suddenly, “sometimes it’s just—”

“Fucking,” You answer crudely, “for the sake of fucking.”

Joel looks like he wants to keel over, his face contouring in surprise as the words slip past your lips. It’s a sight, a matching set of pajamas he’s sure your mother gifted you, covered in some pattern that mimics the innocence that lies within you, a soft pastel color on satin fabric and that definitive cross that dangled at the center of your neck, slipping just between the press of your breasts—and yet, here you were, speaking to him like sin incarnate.

“What?” It was amusing, in a way, “I got a strict mom, doesn’t make me a total prude.”

“Okay,” Joel feels the line drawing itself in the sand, or in this case, the middle of the couch, “you’re right—but we can move on from that.”

You offer a soft hum of acknowledgement, smiling at the way Joel continues to shake his head, biting back his own amusement in response.

Somewhere between there and the end of the movie, you both end up asleep on the couch, your feet tucked away in Joel’s lap and his hand resting over your ankles. It was easier falling asleep knowing Joel was near, oddly enough.

—

Things are set into motion very quickly after the first couple days. With wedding planning in full swing and your mother returning to her night shifts at the hospital, it was a sudden newfound freedom that you’d never experienced. Tommy and Joel were gone often too, sometimes for days at a time to work on site, only popping in every so often for little things. Showers, food, before they were back out for another twelve or so hours.

And with your semester of college over, you were left with the void of summer to fill up your time. It does take some convincing, but eventually your mother isn’t hovering as hard. Truthfully, you could thank Tommy for some of that.

“She’s not even a teenager anymore, she’ll be alright.”

It didn’t ease any of the restrictions she put on you in the past and it didn’t make you feel any better for feeling like you had to lie, hide—doing normal things that even if she did as a young girl, would find any reason to shame you over.

But, you were thankful with her infatuation over Tommy because it gave you a break.

Late nights at the beach with friends or last minute trips to the drive-in, it was a sorrowful peek at what you could have had for years, but only had the luxury of exploring recently, somehow always ten steps behind, still feeling that familiar strum of nervousness run through your body at the sight of a crush, somehow even more unavoidable now.

And Joel, well he hasn’t helped either.

Eventually, his own curiosity gets the better of him and he does read the book. His reader’s perched on his nose as he leaned back in the recliner, knowing that if he’s caught onto your schedule well-enough, you’d find yourself downstairs within the next few minutes.

You blamed the insomnia, but you always liked Joel’s company. At night, without the scrutinizing gaze of your mother when she was around, it was easier.

You’re spreading peanut butter on a plate of sloppily sliced apples when you hear Joel flipping through the page of a book, the cover obscured by the knee he had propped up to lean it on.

“Anything interesting?” You ask casually, screwing the top back on the jar of peanut butter and leaning up on your toes to return it to the top shelf, ignorant to the eyes that catch your backside and the stretch of your top as it exposed your ass and the small piece of your underwear that peaked over the waistband of your shorts.

You could blame it on the heat and that was partly the reason, but Joel notices the longer you settle in, the more comfortable you get, the conservativeness becomes less and less. It was subtle, shirt pulling up over your midriff or the collar of your shirt dipping a little lower than usual.

This time it was the shorts that hugged your ass and gave him an idea of every curve your body had been hiding and he felt his throat closing up at the thought, clearing it instinctively.

Joel sips on his beer, nursing it more like, as he shrugs and flips to the next page.

You’re curious, sliding the plate into your palm and making your way toward him, finger sliding over the cover and lifting it. Joel doesn’t stop you, but he rolls his eyes at the grin that breaks out on your face, tongue pressing into your cheek and you know–he knows.

“Good, isn’t it?”

If he only knew how many times you found yourself knuckle deep inside of your cunt with a whisper of a sigh on your lips, shame for the obscure pictures of the characters slowly morphing into him—it wasn’t like you had tried for that, your own subconscious betraying you.

Something in the bridge of your words and the look on your face has him pushing his glasses up his forehead and into his hair, swiping an apple off your plate and into the thick peanut butter before he’s shoving the fruit into his mouth and biting into it with a loud crunch.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” You smirk, walking backwards slowly until your calves hit the couch and you took a seat, turning it to a random channel playing some televised drama, legs stretched out in front of you and the gentle slope of your shoulders on display as you shoved the apple slice past your lips, licking up the remnants of peanut butter on your finger and Joel almost forgets what he’s doing, feeling the book slip from his hands and hit the glass bottle still half full, sending it pooling into his lap and you look over with a tickled expression. “Too much, I guess?”

“You’re a little shit, you know,” Joel comments as he tosses the book aside and departs quietly, bedroom door shutting behind him as he turns in for the night. There wasn’t an ounce of bite in his tone.

Joel doesn’t know what he expected of you—maybe something more docile, but you were anything but as time grew on and you realized that under the obvious distraction that your mother was dealing with, you found yourself pushing that line more and more.

There’s a particular night when an argument with your mother ends up with Tommy and Joel getting caught in the blowback of it, leaving both of the men at a loss for words. It was the first time they had seen the real, full extent of a meltdown from your mother. Tommy had seen glimpses, blips—but, Joel. It was a first.

It started over a simple question, harmless.

“It’s one dinner—I’ll be there and back before midnight. I don’t see the big deal?”

“Big deal? Honey, we’ve got plans tomorrow. Dress shopping, cake tasting—I was cooking a nice dinner tonight that we could all enjoy, as a family. Seein’ as we’re all somehow, by the grace of god, under this damn roof at the same time for once. And you leavin’ looking like that? I don’t think so.”

Family. Joel seems to find distaste in the word, his eyes flicking toward his brother briefly. He doesn’t understand her final point either, jean shorts and a tank top in the humid Austin heat in the middle of June seemed like a perfectly reasonable option, but it clearly struck a nerve.

“I don’t even know why I’m asking,” You counter, “I mean, this is Joel’s house, after all. Shouldn’t I ask him for permission?” You turn to him, a low blow at your mother, “Joel, do you care if I—”

Joel hesitates for half a second and you thought he might answer.

A sharp, but swift blow to your cheek has you stopping cold, eyes pulling up to anywhere but your mother and of course, they land on Joel who’s jaw is clenched so tight you think it might snap, matching Tommy’s shocked expression but Joel's was laced with an undertone of rage, simmering slowly.

There was nothing but silence, shoving past her with a charge of your shoulder and then past Tommy who has just enough time to side-step and catch your mother as she turns after you, the realization of her actions settling with her, her open hand balling into a closed fist before she drops it.

Joel was quickly discovering that this living situation was a lot more than he’d bargained for.

–

Tommy had taken your mother out for the night, rented out a hotel after dinner and allowed her the space to cool down but Joel had stayed up, mostly in anticipation that you had forgotten the spare key he’d given you in the quick flee, walking halfway down the block and then some, desperately waiting for your friends to swoop in and save you.

It was just supposed to be dinner at the local diner in town, but catching up with a classmate you hadn’t seen in weeks quickly turned into a night drive that reached well past midnight, eventually pulling out front of Joel’s house, receiving the less than gentle kiss the boy had been building up to all night.

Joel hears the low roar of the engine outside of his house, lowering the volume on the television as he walked toward the door and glanced through the window, fingers curling the small curtain that covered it and there’s a moment where he decides—do something or do nothing, but even then he doesn’t take his eyes off of you.

Not as you lean over the console of the car and into the lap of the faceless person in the driver’s seat, his hand all over you—Joel knows, you’re hoping that your mother would catch, that she’d end up more furious than she was earlier and then some.

The horn beeps as you fumble inside the car, the heat of the moment broken as your back dug into the steering wheel and his breath was hot against your neck and suddenly you wanted nothing to do with this, watching the glow of television through the front window of Joel’s home, knowing he was awake.

There’s a shadow that crosses the window and confirms your suspicion—you weren’t ever truly free, there was always someone watching. Joel seemed like the likely suspect and that was worse than your mother when you actually took the time to think it over.

The departure is quick, shoes scuffing against the pavement as you meet the front door, jiggling with the doorknob before it’s being opened from the other side.

Joel’s eyes follow you as you walk inside, toeing your shoes off near the door and finding that you don’t even have the energy to make a remark at him, nothing funny, nothing snide. You look over your shoulder briefly and find him watching, not so much staring, but he was following your movements. You’re right around the corner as he finally speaks and you stop, closing your eyes as you take a slow, deep breath.

“She’s not home,” He informs you, “left with Tommy about an hour ago.”

It was unwanted information, unneeded. You mumble an acknowledgement but he’s speaking again when he notices you move, forcing you to turn on your heels and look at him.

“Are you doin’ it to piss her off?” Joel asks. His intention was unclear, whether he was trying to get under your skin or not, but with the rage still lurking in the back of your mind, it takes on a mind of its own.

“What do you care, Joel?”

“She ain’t my favorite person, I think you know that. But, if she’d caught you just know, she’d have your ass—”

“She didn’t,” You retorted. It’s the first time you see Joel frustrated, his brow creasing and the hands at his side slide into his pocket.

“You’re actin’ out,” Joel concludes and there’s a squint of your eyes as they narrow that tells Joel he’s right, “and under my roof—”

“Oh, so that’s what it’s about,” You tell him, arms crossing over your chest as you step toward him, floorboards creaking under bare feet as you approach him, “what—are you gonna punish me then?”

“Not my business,” Joel tells you, “I ain’t like your mother. But you keep doing this, actin’ out. Something bad is gonna happen soon enough.”

“Then—what?” You ask, trying to surmise a path to both please him and shut him up—unfortunately for him, you know just how, “Would you rather me act out with you?”

“Now, that ain’t what I—“

“Make sense, don’t it? My mother would be so grateful you’re keeping your eyes on me, watching after her little girl.”

“I suggest you tone it down,” His voice is different—nothing you’ve heard before and it should scare you, but it doesn’t.

“Or what?” You retort carelessly, “You’ll do it for me?”

There was that face again, jaw clenched. His gaze never left yours, only following you as you grew closer.

“You can teach me all the stuff I’ve missed out on,” You smile slightly, “I mean, you’ve done alright so far.”

He says your name and for a moment, it scares you. But, it was a warning—don’t cross that line, don’t blur it.

“I’m messing with you, Joel.”

It’s a believable lie, one you can even convince yourself of.

His breath hitches slightly, breathing out through his nose as he nods at your response, “Just, be smarter. Alright?”

Your aggressive approach breaks, offering a sweeter smile as you back away, hands falling to your side. He can see the smear of your gloss at the corner of your mouth, half-tempted to swipe it away and clean you up.

“I will,” You appease, “can I go up to my room now?”

Joel offers a lazy glare of dissonance, not giving you an answer before he’s brushing by, off to his office that you hadn’t been able to spend much time in since the cookout.

If he could be stubborn, so could you.

—

The tension between your mother doesn’t settle, but she does attempt to be civil. You often thwart off any attempt at a conversation that would lead into anything other than necessary communication. It feels wrong, you know it is—but you couldn’t bear the thought of trying to explain to your mother how you were beginning to believe her so-called beliefs were a complete joke, pushing an insane and untenable rhetoric on you.

Joel isn’t as warm either, keeping his distance beyond the night you had lost your footing with him and slipped, offering him an opening that would lead you both down a dangerous path. It had mostly been a joke but you could never admit to yourself how badly you wanted him to agree. The idea of it.

There is a point where under almost constant supervision of one of them, all of them flitting out of the house at some time or another, that you find a window (figuratively and physically) to sneak out of, preparing yourself for a night that your mother would have shamed you about until you found yourself six feet under. It was hypocrisy, actually–knowing your mother was doing similar things at an even younger age, with much less mindful thinking.

And you might have pushed it a little too hard when you reach the front door that night, the floor spinning as you fumbled with the lock again—though, of course, Joel was saving the day.

“Do you ever sleep?” You gripe, eyes squinting as you stumble inside and out of your shoes with a wobbly wave of your arms, reaching out blindly for anything but finding nothing, almost tumblring over the motion but Joel is catching your arm silently, holding you upright.

He knows that smell, you reek of sweet alcohol and cheap booze.

“I was makin’ sure you got home,” Joel admits, “that a crime?”

“Yes,” You slur softly, “and crime—” You giggle slightly, stumbling closer and pressing your hand into his chest to steady yourself, “means punishment.”

Joel looks down carefully, watching your fingers curl over the collar of his shirt and the sensation of your body, warm and so soft as it pressed against his own.

“Unless, you’d rather punish me,” You offer, the deep buzz of alcohol inflicting your mind and thought process as you pull at his shirt, feeling the stitching rip slightly under your grip and you make a delighted noise, instantly leaning forward to press your lips to his neck.

Joel should’ve pulled you away minutes ago, but again, he’d allowed it to go a step too far.

A step closer to breaking—closer to complete corruption.

Joel wraps his hand around the back of your neck and squeezes, pulling you back easily despite your desperate grip, eyes blown out and wide as you peer up at him, so dazed he isn’t even sure it’s you talking.

“You can,” You admit, mouth parting open as you lick your lips, “I want you too, Joel.”

Joel’s nostrils flare as he forces your hands away more sternly, throwing them at your side until the dejected look forms on your face, stumbling back sadly.

“You need to sleep this off,” Joel tells you

But, you already have the idea in mind as you shove him away, stepping around him awkwardly until you can reach the couch, your limbs falling lazily against the cushion as you curl up, hazy gaze meeting his one final time before you eyes close and for once, Joel fides security in his room and tries to calm his rapidly beating heart—a mix of worry and guilt, knowing if he’d had enough alcohol and inhibition in his system he wouldn’t be as strong, given so easily into that temptation as you had.

But, if routine proved you right, it wouldn't be the last time you’d speak to him that night.

—

Joel was a creature of habit.

The nights that he is able to sleep have been few and far between and he can hear you moving around upstairs, early hours of the morning when he’s in and out of an exhausted daze and in your own similar nature, he hears it. There’s a creak and slow footsteps that traverse the floor above him, but there was no world where he could face you right now. He’s not sure when you decided to move upstairs that night, a curious but lucrative thought in the back of his mind.

Do you remember?

He spends the last hour flexing his achy fingers to distract him from the subtle ache in his pants.

Joel wasn’t a father anymore, the part of him was buried away and long-forgotten, the pieces of that part of him dissolved away through the years of tears and alcohol and constant repression.

Watching after her little girl.

It’s asinine, knowing you were anything but. He had no intentions of being that sort of figure over you, you didn’t need watching—or guidance from him, even. A protector? Maybe, but that wasn’t his job either.

Keeping your eyes on me.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you, in fact. And as the realization clicks, he knows he’s fucked.

He’s barricading himself in the bathroom before he puts himself through the suffering of another nightly conversation with you, especially after how things had left off hours before, turning on the shower in a hurry as he hears the latch to the attic release and your impending arrival.

He strips, pulling his shirt up from the center of his back and over his shoulders, working hastily at his jeans and climbing into the shower, palms pressed against the tile wall in front of him as the stinging, hot water hits his back and soothes the soreness that lingering in his joints. It did nothing for his cock which had gone from half-hard in his jeans to standing proud, insistently.

He couldn’t ignore it—and he knows under the safety of the constant stream of water, muffling out the ragged sigh that escapes his lips as he fists his cock in a tight grip—he hasn’t ached like this in years, knowing he was well past his prime, in his mind.

Unfortunately, the unraveling of it all would come down to the slippery lock on the bathroom door. It only stuck half of the time, eventually worming its way out of place and leaving the steam to slip through the cracks, but Joel is oblivious.

You find your footing as you step off the ladder, still reeling from your drunken stupor as you make your way down the hall, spotting the faint flickering of a light from the bathroom that told you Joel still hadn’t changed that lightbulb, but also that he was in there—it couldn’t be anyone else. You only vaguely remember your actions from earlier, but you didn’t forget the look on his face—the frustration. The want. Your footsteps are quiet, praying feverishly that they wouldn’t creak under the pressure of your feet as you peek your head into the crack, eyes scanning the mirror placed over the sink and suddenly, they stop.

Freeze, more like.

The shower curtain is shifted back just enough that you catch the front of his chest, so broad that it doesn’t even capture the full width of him, muscles in his shoulders straining as your eyes follow the length of his arm and down, until your eyes connect with the sight of his cock, fisted in his hand as he jerked himself earnestly, unabashedly with impatience. His head is hung too, water damping his hair over his forehead and obscuring his face.

You can hear him, though. God, you could fucking hear him.

His knuckles curl into the tile wall where his other hand still rest, balling into a fist as he punched it out of frustration, grunting with how tightly he was squeezing himself and the pace at which he was fucking his fist.

It wasn’t the first time you’ve seen such a sight, but with Joel it was bigger, intimidating—in every sense of the word.

His cock, for one, was larger than any you’ve seen before.

And with shame, your mouth watered at the sight.

His groans, a gentle guh that sounds like a prayer of something else but is strangled, his movements becoming jerky as his speech becomes slightly clearer, “God—fuckin’,” He heaves, the sound of wet skin and water under the speed of his movement, “—girl, always testin’ me.”

You swallow at the mention, fingers curling dangerously around the door frame—one misstep, one slip and you’d swing that door right open, revealing yourself.

He leans his head up suddenly, eyes closed as his arm works furiously. Your ears are locked on his face now and you see the way his lips form around your name as he utters it, so quiet you barely hear it but it was you. There was no mistaking that.

He comes a few moments later, his thumb rubbing over the tip of his cock and circling as he shot his load into his palm, knowing that he could make a mess if he wanted to but decided not to, using his slick covered hand to drag over his cock a few more times as it softened in his hand.

Fortunately, you’re long gone by the time he’s reaching for a towel, back upstairs like you’d never even been there in the first place.

There was no denying it now, though. It wasn’t in your head—the temptation was real, tangible, and just within reach.

Because with that temptation came doubt, followed by mistakes.

And really, you wish you were strong enough to resist.

Unfortunately, you weren’t. So, you plan.

He was already a broken man, but you needed him shattered.

divider creds: @/cafekitsune

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #the last of us fic #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #my writing #absolution

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cutielando · 5 months ago

Note

thinking about lando’s streams where he played fornite with angryginge and imagine the reading joining in and being better than everyone, and lando being proud n shit. can just imagine angryginge’s comments about it

fortnite | l.n.

a/n: i've never played Fortnite, so I don't really know how it works and i'm using the right terminology, but just bear with me

my masterlist

You had heard his booming laugh from the moment you entered your shared apartment. Lando was talking to someone and laughing his heart out in his gaming room, which led you to believe he was most probably streaming.

You had been out and about doing some grocery shopping, leaving Lando at home to work on some simulator runs.

That, apparently, had transformed into streaming with his friends.

You smiled and shook your head, starting to organize your groceries before changing into something more comfortable.

Settling down on the couch after you were finished with everything, you had just put your hand on the remote to put on a show when the door to Lando's gaming room suddenly opened, his eyes immediately landing on you.

"Hey baby" you greeted him, giving him a smile.

He grinned and hurried over to you, taking your face in his hands and kissing you.

"I thought I heard you come in" he mumbled against your lips, making you nod.

"I could hear your laughter before I even opened the door. You streaming?" you asked as you pulled away, fixing the curls that had fallen into his eyes.

He nodded, taking your hand and leading you back to his room with him.

You weren't a stranger to being in his streams. The fans often requested to have you on there with him because you were a much better games than he was and they enjoyed seeing you destroy him and his friends.

The moment you were in the frame, you saw AngryGinge on his screen, laughing and groaning once he saw you.

"Lando, you dirty bastard. Can't compete with me on your own so you have to bring your girlfriend to help ya" he joked, making you laugh at the unamused expression on Lando's face.

He settled in his chair and pulled you down to sit on his lap, letting you get in a comfortable position.

"I don't need Y/N to beat you at Fortnite" Lando argued, making you arch an eyebrow at that.

You and Ginge exchanged a look before you burst into a fit of giggles, something that did not impress your boyfriend.

"I can go if you want, let you prove to Ginge just how good you are without me here" you argued, making a move to get up, but Lando wasn't having it.

He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you in place, which made Ginge huff and you laugh.

The chat was flooding with comments about you two, warming your heart at how much his fans loved and accepted you being with him.

You had been very worried at the beginning about how his fans would take the news that Lando was in a relationship and actually kept it a secret for the first few months. But thankfully, they have been nothing short of supportive ever since you announced it on the internet and after you first interacted with them at the Silverstone Grand Prix.

You felt very thankful for their acceptance, knowing how important Lando’s fans were to him.

Coming back to reality, you watched as your boyfriend and Ginge played a round of Fortnite, cringing every time Lando would mess something up which would always make Ginge laugh.

At one particular point, Lando had got Ginge killed, prompting a rant which sent your boyfriend into a laughing fit, clutching his bell with one hand and your waist with the other.

"Lando, I swear to focking God, you're the worst player I've ever seen" Ginge groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You laughed, which made Lando pinch your side.

"I'm not that bad, am I?" your boyfriend asked, looking at you expectantly.

You turned to face him and cringed, giving him a sheepish smile. Lando scoffed while Ginge's laughter got even louder. "Can't believe my own girlfriend doesn't believe in me" Lando grumbled under his breath.

Giggling, you wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a loud kiss on the cheek, feeling the blush coming on under your lips.

"You're not bad, baby. You just sometimes lose sight of the big picture and lose focus" you explained, trying to make it sound like you didn't honestly think he sucked at Fortnite.

"Y/N, you play with me. Let's show Lando how it's really done" Ginge suggested, and you turned to look at Lando to see his reaction.

Even though he was partially mad because you and his friend insulted his gaming skills, he wanted to see you kicking Ginge's ass and show the ginger head how it's really done.

"Only if Lando wants me to play" you reasoned, smiling at your boyfriend.

"Oi, Y/N, leave the lad. His ego can take a little beating, that bastard" Ginge commented, making the fans in the chat comment on how funny the whole dynamic between the 3 of you was.

Lando huffed, straightening his back more determined than ever.

"Babe, show him how it's done" he solemnly said, making you nod.

You got more comfortable on your boyfriend's lap, cracking your knuckles as you prepared for the match to start.

Lando couldn't help but admire you as you skillfully dominated the game, looking so effortlessly hot that he felt pride blossom in his chest.

While watching you play with Ginge, his eyes kept shifting towards the chat where fans were literally screaming at how cute you guys were and how good Y/N actually was at the game.

"Y/N! That's not fair, you're cheating mate" Ginge shouted in frustration as he was, once again, beaten by you at his best game.

You giggled, clapping a little as you leaned back against Lando. "You're such a sore loser, Ginge. Just admit it that I'm better than you" you teased, eliciting a laugh from Lando.

Ginge was fuming while the two of you were laughing at his antics, the fans having an absolute field day with the three of you.

"What were you saying about my ego, mate? Seems like you're the one whose ego can't take a proper beating" Lando said, laughing once he saw Ginge flipping him off.

"I hate you guys" he mumbled, while you and Lando were in your own little bubble.

Oh, the sweet taste of victory.

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ldrfanatic · 8 months ago

Text

Italian Theodore Nott Headcanons

So... by popular request (I think like literally one person commented on a post from ages ago) and also because I'm still working on my most recent part to the '13' Series (linked here) here's some Italian Theo headcanons to keep you sated.

sorry if this is inaccurate it's based off of my own knowledge of italians and what I think Theo would be like

slytherin boys masterlist works

So, unlike most, I don't think that Italian Theo would be a whore. Let me explain:

Sure Italian men like to flirt, (although Theo doesn't), but they do it because it comes so natural to them and because more than anything, they value their partner.

They're well dressed and take pride in their appearance (something Theo does do) but they don't always entertain the people of the heads that they turn

They also have a natural air of confidence that Theo has and doesn't even have to use

However, just because Theo isn't a whore doesn't mean that he doesn't have his own little clique of fangirls.

In general:

As a person, Theo is incredibly quiet. His English is not the best as he grew up in the Italian countryside and spends his breaks there. He spends most of his time observing, and the rest of his time, mentally translating sentences from English to Italian and vice versa (and yes that's exhausting).

He does however take food incredibly seriously (as most Italians do I feel). His favorite kind of pasta is Paccheri and he will die on the hill that the Italians were the first to make Pizza (who else could make bread, sauce, and cheese taste so good?). He was also incredibly shocked when he found out the drinking age in England was 18. Theo had a glass of wine with dinner every night since the age of ten.

Another thing he doesn't quite understand about England is the frequency through which they drink tea throughout the day. At most, he has a cup a day while some of his English friends have four to five cups a day and usually, one cup with every meal.

Theo also had a very strong connection to his mother. Now that she's gone, he spends a lot of time in his head with his memories of her. It's not all that shocking to anyone really that he doesn't quite have the time or the patience for girls.

Platonically:

As a friend, Theo is a little more open but not much. His two closest friends in the group are you and Lorenzo who's also Italian. He'll talk to either of you and open up a little, but only if no one else is around. He's a bit impartial to Mattheo although he does think the boy is a loose cannon and he actually secretly despises Draco and his blood purity nonsense as it reminds him too much of his father (whom he also hates). So yeah, he spends the majority of his time with Lorenzo and Blaise.

In regards to your friendship with Theo, he's a complete gentleman. He never sits too close in fear of startling or offending you. He opens all of the doors the pair of you walk through and carries your books to class when you have the same class.

In fact, despite being significantly more well mannered than any other boy in your year, the only thing that hinted to you that Theo felt anything towards you other than indifference were small smiles and shared secrets.

Romantically:

Before you even became friends you'd caught Theo's eye. The first time he'd noticed you, you were comforting a crying first year muggle-born that Draco had bullied to tears. You spoke so kindly and softly to the boy. Theo knew then that you weren't like everyone else in Hogwarts. Most people were too afraid to stand up to Draco but the next day, you punched him square in the jaw and told him to stop being such a prick.

The first person to find out about Theo's crush on you was Lorenzo of course. He didn't tease him for which Theo was grateful. Now as stated, Theo is an incredibly quiet person so it's not clear to you that Theo has crush on you.

Also, once Theo has decided that he likes you, other girls don't even approach him anymore. Not after the Ravenclaw incident. A Ravenclaw from your guys' year approached him and asked him out. He didn't even acknowledge her. Just stood up and left.

He does however, make an attempt to spend more time with you whenever her can. He sits with you at meals and during lessons, he asks you for help in charms (even though he's already receiving high marks, but you don't know that). He brings you soup when your sick.

The way that you find out Theo has a crush on you is actually really surprising for you.

Lorenzo came running up to you after Potions one day, completely out of breath. "Y/n! Come quick." He didn't give you any room to disagree as he grasped your wrist firmly and began dragging you down the corridor towards the courtyard. When you got out there, your stomach dropped.

For the first time since meeting him, you saw Theo fight. He had Addrian Pucey on the ground and was currently pummeling the poor boy. The scariest part was that he remained completely calm, cold. Mattheo and Draco were standing on the sidelines egging him on while Theo ruthlessly delivered blow after blow in dead silence. He didn't even wince as his knuckles began to split open and bleed.

Blaise was desperately trying to pull Theo away but he wouldn't budge. Finally, you snapped out of your stupor and approached the boy. As he was throwing punches with his right arm, you approached him from the left and placed a hand on his left shoulder apprehensively. "Theo."

At the sound of your voice, Theo stopped immediately. He didn't look at you immediately. Instead, he stood and kicked Adrian who was on the ground rolling in pain. "Stay away from her." The crowd dispersed as the fight ended. When Theo turned to look at you, his eyes were blazing. For the first time since you'd known him, Theo was burning with rage.

"Theo come on." He let you lead him away in complete silence. Worse than what Adrian had said to you, Theo was ashamed. He couldn't believe that he'd let his emotions take over like that. Now he may have lost you for good. When you finally stopped in a secluded corridor, Theo turned away from you.

"Theo?" He was silent and your concern grew. It wasn't Theo's usual kind of silence, it was a silence that made your heart feel heavy. "Theodore."

"Don't."

"What?"

Finally Theo turns to you and his eyes are glossy. It was startling almost, to see the normally calm and collected boy tearing up. "Don't do that tesoro. Yell, push me, hit me if you need to, but I'm not Theodore. Not to you."

"What happened?" He sighed.

"I overheard Adrian say something completely vile about... you. I couldn't let him talk about you like that. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me cuore. You are the only light in my dark life."

You reached out and grabbed Theo's hands in your own. "That's incredibly sweet of you Theo. But why would you do that for me?"

"Isn't it obvious! I am entirely and irreversibly in love with you. I cannot live without you and I will not allow anyone to say such things about you."

After that, Theo took you out on a date. Thanks to his Pureblood lineage, Theo's family was quite wealthy. And his father had always taken to making sure he was well cared for financially, perhaps out of guilt from his emotional abuse.

For your first date, Theo took you to a London shopping district with his Black Card. At first you refused to spend any of his money. That is until Theo became resigned to buy you everything that your eyes lingered on for more than five seconds despite all your protests.

To end the date, he treated you to a nice dinner and then brought the pair of you back to Hogwarts.

As your boyfriend:

As your boyfriend, Theo's go-to nickname for you is either tesoro (treasure). He spends a lot of time staring at you which Mattheo teases him endlessly for of course.

He wishes you could meet his mother, but he adamantly refuses for you to meet his father. Instead, he introduces you to his grandmother. She teaches you how to make pasta from scratch and you and Theo often sneak into the kitchens at Hogwarts to try and make it there.

He makes it pretty clear that you're the only girl for him. He even tells you one night how his mother's dying wish was for him to find someone that he loved wholeheartedly and who loved him as much. Theo knows that this person is you, and he has no shyness in telling you.

He hates to see you cry, but if for any reason you're feeling sad, he recites Italian poetry to you in a soft and devoted tone.

Questo nostro amore, vita mia

lo prospetti felice

destinato a durare per sempre.

Dei del cielo, fate voi che lei dica il vero,

che lo prometta sincera e dal cuore,

che si possa per tutta la vita

mantener questo patto inviolabile

(This love of ours my life; I predict will be happy; destined to last forever.; Gods of the sky, do what you deem to be true; that promises to be sincere and from the heart,; which can be for a lifetime,; keep this inviolable covenant.)

When Theo speaks his native tongue it makes you a little weak in the knees. The way that his lips curve around the words and his tongue effortlessly forms each syllable makes your heart swell.

Overall:

Italian Theo is a complete cutie with impeccable manners and expresses more romance in ten minutes with you than most men express in their entire lives. He sees you as a light that brightens his life that he will do anything to protect.

----

help this is so bad

#slytherin boys #slytherin #theodore nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #theo nott #slytherin boys x reader #mattheo riddle #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #blaise zabini

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leona-hawthorne · 23 days ago

Note

AHHH IM SO EXCITED FOR YOU!!!! OKAY OKAY I WANTED TO BE ONE OF THE FIRST REQUESTS SO....

Can I have book browsing, trope is Friends to Lovers, with Theodore Nott, quotes/scenarios being: “say we’re just friends one more time. i dare you.”

“you’re so cute.” “what?” “i said you look like shit. bye!”

random people thinking you’re a couple when you’re supposed to be just “friends”

I'm so excited girl obviously no rush or obligation to write this but yeah love you

And I might have ideas for at least 2 more for the other two tropes I'm in love with (GrumpyxSunshine and fake dating)

I FEEL LIKE A PROUD MOM!! CONGRATS!!

HIIII I LOVE YOU THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING BB!!! and you can send in as many requests as you want, i LOVE fake dating 🤭 i haven't written a cute little friends to lovers in a VERY long time so this was so much fun for me, hope you like it :) also i love how i said these were gonna be drabbles and now this is over 2k 🧍🏽‍♀️(ps there was a position that i really struggled to describe so i hope the pic on the left helps you imagine it)

1k celebration navigation

JUST FRIENDS… book browsing

ミ★ THEODORE NOTT

The smell of old parchment and polished wood filled the little record store in Hogsmeade, the familiar scent settling around you like a cozy blanket. It was one of those shops you and Theo always managed to stumble into, especially on days when you both needed a break from the endless demands of exams and essays.

Theo was flipping through a stack of records, eyebrows knit in concentration, while you stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder, sharing amused little glances every time he pulled out a particularly dusty one. When he found an album cover featuring a hilariously dramatic wizard band—complete with glittering robes and exaggerated makeup—he held it up for you to see, lips twitching as he tried to hold back a laugh.

"Could be your new look," you teased, nudging him lightly.

He rolled his eyes, but there was a glint of mischief in them. "Think I could pull it off?"

"Not in a million years," you said, grinning, and he chuckled, the sound sweet and warm, and somehow just for you.

Moments later, he glanced at the clock on the wall. "Stay here," he said, brushing a loose strand behind your ear in an almost absent gesture, one that had become so natural you barely noticed it anymore. "I’m leaving and getting us butterbeers before you can insult my taste any further."

Before you could respond, he was off, slipping out of the shop and leaving you alone with the smell of old records and a contented smile you couldn’t quite shake.

You let your gaze wander across the store, admiring the walls plastered with concert posters and slightly faded album covers. It was then that the shopkeeper—a kind-eyed woman who looked as if she'd seen more than her fair share of young love—caught your attention. She was watching you with a soft, approving smile, and before you could say anything, she leaned in conspiratorially.

“You two make a beautiful couple, you know,” she said, her voice low but warm, as if she was sharing a delightful little secret.

Your mind stumbled over the words. “Oh! Um,” you stammered, your cheeks warming under her steady, amused gaze. “Actually, we’re not—uh, we’re just friends.”

The woman’s smile widened knowingly, her eyes twinkling. “Sure, sweetheart. Friends. I’ve seen enough ‘friends’ like you two in my day to last me a lifetime.”

She left you standing there, words caught in your throat, while you tried to brush off the fluttering in your chest, and by the time Theo returned with your butterbeers, you were still blushing furiously, trying to process the shopkeeper's words. Her knowing smile lingered in your mind, making you acutely aware of the way your body seemed to hum in content whenever Theo was near.

“What’s with you?” he asked, handing you your drink.

You hesitated, searching his face for any hint of awareness, but his expression was relaxed, oblivious. “Nothing,” you muttered, taking a sip and forcing yourself to meet his eyes. But the word “couple” echoed in your mind, and for the first time, you weren’t so sure you could ignore it.

You knew she wasn't the only one to have thought you and Theo were dating. You weren't stupid nor oblivious; you'd both known about the rumors floating around Hogwarts. The ones that said you and Theo were boyfriend and girlfriend, the ones that said you were in love with each other, even the ones that said you had to have fucked at least once (which, no, you hadn't!).

Though, you couldn’t blame people for thinking that way. With the way Theo would always brush a strand of hair behind your ear, spoil you with gifts, bury his face in your neck when you hugged, even casually kiss your cheek when he bid you goodbye—it made sense people assumed such things. But still, all of it was just platonic, right?

As you sipped your butterbeer, trying to calm the strange mix of emotions swirling inside you, Theo picked up where he'd left off, flipping through records again. His fingers brushed against yours as he handed you another one to examine, and the brief contact sent a jolt of electricity through you.

"You should get this one," he said, pointing to a cover adorned with a dragon riding a broomstick. "It's got some decent tracks."

You took the record, trying to focus on the music instead of the warmth of his hand against yours. "Yeah, maybe," you replied, pretending to study the cover intently.

"Maybe?" Theo repeated, a teasing lilt in his voice. "Come on, don't leave me hanging. You've gotta have an opinion." He leaned in closer, his breath tickling your ear as he spoke, "Besides, I think the dragon looks adorable on that broom."

You felt a shiver run down your spine at the closeness, his warm breath sending tingles across your skin. It took all your willpower not to lean into him, to savor the intimacy of the moment. "Alright, alright," you relented with a chuckle, holding up the record. "I'll take it. For you."

Theo grinned, satisfaction etched on his features. "Excellent choice. Now, let's pay for these and get out of here before you embarrass me further with your doubting of my impeccable taste."

Theo led you to the counter, setting the record upon the counter. The shopkeeper, who had returned to arranging a display of limited edition CDs, looked up and smiled.

"This looks like a treasure, you two," she said, ringing up the item with practiced efficiency. "The young wizard definitely has good taste."

She nodded towards you, winking, and for a moment, you wondered if she would bring up your earlier exchange. But instead, she wrapped your selection in a brown paper bag and slid it across the counter. "Enjoy!"

Theo reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, dropping a few galleons onto the counter. "Here you go," he said to the shopkeeper, an easy, charismatic smile playing on his lips.

"Wait, Theo," you interjected, reaching for your own purse. "I can pay for myself. You don't need to buy my record."

But Theo waved you off dismissively. "Nah, don't worry about it. Consider it a gift from me to you." He winked playfully, flashing you a crooked grin. "Besides, I'm the one who insisted you get it, remember? It's only fair I foot the bill."

Your heart fluttered traitorously at his words, at the easy affection in his tone. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest. "Well...thank you then," you managed, ducking your head shyly. "That's really sweet of you."

Theo shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a pleased gleam in his eye. “It’s what I’m here for.”

As you stepped out of the shop and back onto the cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade, Theo draped an arm casually around your shoulders. "So, where to now?" he asked, guiding you down the road. "We could head over to Zonko's, see if they have anything new and ridiculous... And potentially dangerous."

You hesitated, feeling the weight of Theo's arm around your shoulders, the warmth seeping through your robes. Normally, you'd be all for exploring Zonko's, reveling in their eccentric and often hazardous products. But tonight, everything felt different.

"I don't know, Theo," you mumbled, glancing around at the deepening shadows. "It's getting pretty late. Maybe we should just head back to the castle?"

There was a flicker of disappointment in Theo's eyes, but he nodded understandingly. "Yeah, okay." He gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze before releasing you, then holding out his hand, offering you a way to apparate together. "Ready?"

You nodded, placing your hand in his. His grip was firm yet gentle, his palm slightly rough against your softer skin. With a twist of his wrist, Theo activated the apparition charm, and suddenly the world blurred around you.

When the colors settled, you found yourself standing in front of the Hogwarts gates, Theo still holding your hand. He let go slowly, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. "Made it in one piece," he said, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

He fell into step beside you as you walked towards the girls' dormitories, his long legs easily keeping pace with your shorter strides. The silence between you was comfortable, the kind that came from years of friendship and shared experiences.

As you approached the door to your dormitory, Theo halted abruptly.

"Well, until next time, princess," he quipped, giving you a mock salute. "Try not to dream too much about me, hmm?"

A playful smirk danced on his lips, and you couldn't help but return it, your heart skipping a beat at the flirty remark. "I make no promises," you retorted sarcastically, reaching for the doorknob.

Theo chuckled, the sound low and rich. He opened his mouth, seemed to ponder something for a moment, then spoke with exaggerated gravity, “I must bid you adieu, my trusty companion! Until the morrow!"

He clasped his hands together dramatically, as if holding an invisible cane, complete with an imaginary top hat on his head.

Your laughter bubbled up unexpectedly, a sudden burst of joy at his antics. "You're so cute," you managed to gasp out between giggles, still grinning widely.

Theo froze mid-dramatic pose, his eyes widening. "What?" he sputtered.

Before he could react further, you added hastily, "Uh, I said you look like shit. Bye!" With that, you yanked open the dormitory door and practically dove inside, slamming it shut behind you.

The next day, you somehow found yourself in his room. You'd contemplated avoiding him altogether until you figured out your feelings, but who were you kidding? You could never say no to him when he asked you to hang out.

Theo sat by the windowsill, staring out at the sprawling grounds below. The setting sunlight cast a warm glow across his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the slight scruff on his chin.

As he lost himself in thought, he became vaguely aware of movement from the corner of his eye. Glancing over, he stared at you, sprawled out on his bed flat on your back, a book propped up above your head as you read lazily.

Theo pushed the window open wider, allowing the evening breeze to carry in the scent of damp earth and rain. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one, taking a slow drag as he gazed out at the sky. He exhaled slowly, watching the wisps dissipate into the evening air.

As you paused your reading for a moment, your gaze drifted over to Theo's silhouette by the window, the glow of his cigarette bright against the dim light. A familiar annoyance stirred within you, and you closed the book with a soft thud.

"Teddy, you know I hate it when you smoke around me," you said, trying to keep your tone light even as you wrinkled your nose in distaste. The acrid smell always lingered, clinging to his clothes and hair. You knew it wasn't fair to nag him, but old habits died hard.

Theo turned to face you fully, blowing out a stream of smoke before flicking the ash onto the windowsill. “I suppose I'm just a terrible friend then, aren't I?” he drawled, though there was no real bite to his words. “But tell me, Y/N, what would you prefer I do instead? Sit here and watch you sprawl across my bed like a lazy house cat all afternoon?”

You remained perfectly still, arms draped by your sides, book forgotten on your stomach. "Sounds like a plan to me," you replied nonchalantly, closing your eyes as if settling in for a nice nap.

The tension in the room seemed to shift, the air growing heavier with unspoken things. You could sense Theo's gaze on you, but you refused to acknowledge it, pretending you hadn't noticed the subtle change in his demeanor. Maybe if you acted like nothing was amiss, he would too.

Theo took another slow drag from his cigarette as he studied your profile, noting the slight furrowing of your brow as you pretended to drift off to sleep. After a moment, he stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray and leaned against the windowsill, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I have a better idea," he said, his voice low and thoughtful. "How about you tell me now why you were acting so weird yesterday when I came back to the record store?"

You felt your cheeks flush slightly at Theo's question, memories of the shopkeeper's words flashing through your mind unbidden. "I don't know what you're talking about," you mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "I wasn't acting weird."

Even as the denial left your lips, you knew Theo could see right through it. He always had, ever since you'd first met him all those years ago. That uncanny ability to read you like an open book was part of what made him such an incredible friend...and lately, maybe something more.

Theo raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Save it, Y/N. I can practically hear the gears turning in that head of yours from here. Why are you dodging the question? Just tell me what happened."

A deep breath escaped you as you finally surrendered to the truth, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Okay, fine. It was just...that lady behind the counter. When you left to go get us butterbeers, she told me you and I make a beautiful couple... and I guess it shook me a little."

Theo fell silent for a long moment, his gaze searching yours intently. When he spoke, his voice was carefully neutral. "A beautiful couple, huh?" He let out a short, humorless laugh. "And this bothers you because...?"

Still staring up at the ceiling, you felt heat rise to your cheeks as you tried to articulate your feelings. "Because! We're friends! And everyone keeps assuming that... you know. That there's something more between us."

Theo pushed himself away from the window, moving closer to where you lay across his bed. He sat down beside you, his fingers brushing against your arm as he rested his hand on the mattress.

"Well, maybe they're not wrong," he murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. "Maybe there is something more between us."

Your heart began to race as Theo invaded your personal space, the warmth radiating from his body making you suddenly hyperaware of every inch of skin that brushed against yours. You swallowed hard, struggling to maintain a facade of calm.

"Teddy..." you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Don't be ridiculous. It's not... We... We're friends, right?" Even as the words left your mouth, you couldn't help but wonder if they were true anymore.

In a swift motion, Theo leaned down above you, bringing his face mere inches from yours as you lay flat on your back, giving you an upside-down view of his face looming over you. His hands found purchase on the mattress, holding himself aloft without touching you, and in that moment, you could've sworn your heart stopped beating.

"Say we're just friends one more time," he challenged. "I dare you."

As Theo's challenge hung heavy in the air, you found yourself unable to speak. Finally, after what felt like ages of silence, you managed to whisper, "I... What are we then, Theo?"

Your voice wavered slightly, betraying your nervousness. But there was something else there too – curiosity, perhaps? Or maybe hope? Whatever it was, it was clear that you weren't going to back down this time.

"More," Theo breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. And then, slowly, tentatively, he closed the remaining distance between you, pressing his lips softly against yours in a gentle, exploratory kiss.

It was chaste, almost innocent—but it sent sparks racing through your veins nonetheless. Your heart hammered wildly in your chest as you returned the kiss, marveling at the way Theo's lips moved against yours with such tender precision. This was new territory for both of you, and yet somehow, it felt so incredibly right.

Theo held the position, hovering above you with his hands gripping the mattress, his nose lightly brushing against your chin. He didn't deepen the kiss or try to pull you closer; instead, he simply lingered, savoring the feeling of your lips meeting his for the very first time.

As Theo pulled away from the kiss, you found yourself staring up at him, wide-eyed and breathless. "Wow, I, um— you—" you stammered, trying to process the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you.

But before you could finish your sentence, Theo cut you off with a soft chuckle. "Shut up, Y/N," he murmured, his fingers grazing your cheek as he leaned in once more.

#theodore nott #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott fluff #theo nott #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x reader #theo nott x you #theo nott fluff #fluff #friends to lovers #slytherin boys #slytherin #harry potter #lorenzo zurzolo #leona-hawthorne’s 1k celebration #book browsing

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bokettochild · 3 months ago

Text

Linked Universe Enterence p.3

Okay! So I have thoughts!!!!

First off, does anyone remember when JoJo shared those first snippets? How there was a fun little detail that suddenly disappeared when the comic actually became more than doodles?

Yeah, I'm talking about this guy

(Not the grouchy old man being offended, the owl LOL)

I know there's a chance I'm wrong, a big one at that, but I think it would be really cool if, if only for a short while, JoJo brought him back, even if it's just for this era of Hyrule. Let Time have his owl buddy!

Anyways, to the actual comic!

I noticed that the boys are all still together, so I'm guessing they're waiting until they come to a cross-roads to actually split up like Four advised last time. So we have that to look forwards to in the coming updates!

I love that she's really highlighting the similarities and differences in this arc, showing us who knows what and what they've done, but also the little things; both with owls and the antifairy!

I adore the Owlan reference/appearance!

And Time immediately agreeing about the "long, drawn out lectures part" made me laugh. (His expression, my Hylia!!!)

That is the face of a man who kept accidentally asking to "hear it again" and regrets it with every bone of his being LOL

It's good to see more call backs to the last comics too! Having Hyrule be wary of the statue because he remembers seeing it before, and Warriors agreeing, but also reminding that it didn't cause harm. The fact that Hyrule keeps his sword pointed at it though, wary, does say a lot about how cautious he's being all the same (Wild ought to take notes)

And of course this whole panel

Twilight's awkwardly trying to assure the rest without spilling the secret, Sky laughing and turning to look at Legend, and the fact that the vet is just so entirely done with even just the thought of being a rabbit. (I love his face, omgosh).

Te way I screamed "anti-fairy!" when I saw this, and then was so, so delighted that Legend and I had the same thought (I am unwell about this man).

I'm equally unwell about the fact that Legend just has to say "ouch" (which you only say at inconveniences and not real, actual hurts) and immediately everyone's turning, weapons out and ready to help him face...whatever. Like, he's fine, guys, but it's sweet you care (now Legend, please take note and realize you belong, you idiot)

Love that Time hears "fairy" and immediately is all ears. All the more so at the "anti" part. Man was raised by fairies and he absolutely doesn't like the idea of something that would hurt them.

Meanwhile Legend is just being freaking Haku (Spirited Away) over here!

Tell me you don't see it!!!!!!

Also, his casual use of magic to purify something, to just make it no longer a threat, rather than hurting it. That need to save EVERYONE is really showing through here, huh?

And immediately, everyone is shocked that he did that, but also what it means about fairies. About dark magic. But Time and Wars especially!

Gosh, just Legend's little worried face and Time's offense at the idea of fairies being corrupted and harmed. Shows a bit about them here too I think. Time is maybe slightly obsessed with fairies (reasonably so) and hates them being harmed, but he shows his worry on the matter in anger. legend, meanwhile, becomes more sombre, quieter: it bothers him too (maybe reminds him of a certain predecessor?)

Get this man a tiara, he's a freaking Disney Princess over here, good grief!!!! He's carrying fairy food on what? The slim chance he has time to stop and feed them? Honestly, i know he's probably as attached to fairies as Time (although with a healthier relationship with them), but this is just too cute. this man is going to be the death of me!!!

Anyways, here's the bonuses!!!!

SUN APPEARANCE!!!!!!!! We have a canon Sun appearance!!!!! Like, sure, sleepy student Sky, but it's SUN!!!!

This smile. Oh my gosh I adore him. He's just so glad he got to help the corrupted little one become normal again.

JoJo was having fun with Four I see LOL

Man really said "hang on, let me check my purse, I think I have snacks in here"

Freaking Mom Coded

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu legend #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu four #lu time #lu sky #lu sun #linked universe update

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raguiras · 5 months ago

Text

POV: Deuce's very first kiss from his crush

(Click for better quality)

I'm finally officially introducing my Yuu/OC x canon/Yumeship here! (✿◕‿◕) Writing this post took me forever, but I'm super happy with it!

Reblogs are super appreciated hehehe

Please be kind & DO NOT take inspiration from this ship. ^^"

(While Allen isn't me, I'm calling them a Yumeship because he's based on my younger self/me when I first started playing TWST & because the ship gives me a ridiculous amount of comfort!)

Allen x Deuce (aka Spade of Storms) is my ultimate comfort ship and they mean a ton to me.

These two are best friends who become lovers and closely mirror each other. Deuce is the delinquent with rather bad self-control who tries to be a model student, while Allen is a former honor student who's now a very lowkey delinquent with stellar self-control and a mature attitude.

Due to the fact that Allen and Deuce are so similar and yet the opposite of each other, they're able to excellently understand and support the other, and they help each other accept themselves.

Their ship blog: @spade-of-storms (facts, drabbles & more est. May 2024)

Now why exactly are these two perfect for each other? Well...

LONG TEXT AHEAD!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Deuce:

Allen supports Deuce with all his heart. Instead of believing that someone "as stupid and temperamental" as Deuce could never become an honor student, Allen fully believes in him and encourages him. In comparison to when other people say it, these words actually have an incredibly strong impact on Deuce and are believable to him because he knows that Allen has similar experiences and speaks from them.

Allen doesn't think that Deuce is stupid in the slightest and views him as genuinely smart. To Allen, intelligence isn't determined by grades or academic abilities, but by morals, attitude, logic, and willingness — all of which Deuce has.

Allen doesn't try to change Deuce. Rather than turning Deuce into a full-on honor student and role model, which he isn't by nature, Allen prefers for Deuce to stay true to himself and work towards his goal while not suppressing any aspect of who he is — Allen knows exactly that forcefully becoming someone you naturally aren't would cause more issues than it would fix. In order to assist Deuce with staying true to himself while working towards his desired self, Allen does several things:

Allen lets Deuce be his 100% authentic self when they're together. Deuce tries extremely hard to always be polite and serious in order to maintain his reputation and not resort to old habits, but Allen, being very impulsive and easily angered himself, knows just too well that suppressing one's feelings and true nature isn't the way to go. When they're together, Deuce can openly rant about topics, use insults towards the people who angered him, and show his emotions without having to worry about how others perceive him or about how it might mess up his reputation — Allen would never judge Deuce nor share his secrets with others. This way, Deuce can be himself without restraints while also maintaining the way he wants others to perceive him.

Allen allows Deuce to be a delinquent in a safe, harmless way. If Deuce ever feels like doing something forbidden without breaking rules or staining his reputation, Allen (a very lowkey delinquent) has just the ideas for him. This provides a comfortable space for Deuce to live out his tendencies without falling back into bad habits.

Allen is able to introduce Deuce to a wide range of healthy coping mechanisms that work for him. Allen is a much angrier person than Deuce and is equally impulsive, but has stellar self-control due to the methods he uses, and passes them down to Deuce. As a result, Deuce doesn't feel the need to immediately lash out at others anymore and manages to become calmer and much more mature, taking steps into his desired direction.

Allen helps Deuce channel his "negative traits" into positive/helpful ones. With Allen's assistance, methods, reassuring words and unique view on things, Deuce learns how to use the qualities that he used to hate about himself to his advantage. Suddenly Deuce's anger is no longer a hindrance, but a source of energy and motivation.

Allen admires the things Deuce hates about himself. While Deuce wishes he wasn't as hot-headed, Allen views it as an amazing trait and sees the passion and longing for justice behind Deuce's fiery attitude. Additionally, Allen is able to help Deuce see the positive side of these traits, and aids him in channelling them into something good to use to his advantage (see above).

Allen is the only person to fully get through to Deuce. Due to them essentially having the same experiences, opinions, wishes and morals, Deuce felt comfortable trusting Allen with every last bit of his heart (in comparison to other friends) — not to mention that the way Allen was able to help Deuce so intensely and actually talked to him the way he needed it also played a role! Allen has his way with words and knew exactly how to talk to Deuce from the beginning.

Deuce can genuinely open up about his self-esteem to Allen. It's been heavily hinted at in the game several times that Deuce thinks incredibly lowly of himself, but this topic is usually cut short and he doesn't talk about it further with the canon Yuu. With Allen, however, Deuce can open up all he wants to. He knows that Allen has similar experiences and struggles with self-worth related issues himself, therefore not only not judging Deuce, but also fully understanding him.

Allen perfectly understands Deuce's past. Having been feared, avoided and known to be a delinquent/bad kid himself, Allen even understands the details extremely well. Neither of the two ever had a proper friend until they met each other on their first day at NRC.

Allen successfully helps Deuce with his studies despite hating school. Seeing how Deuce needs help, Allen (the "gifted kid") gladly volunteers, even though he's no longer interested in class and has sworn to drop the "honor student" facade himself. Due to Allen's easy explanations, methods, photographic memory and capability to catch on quickly, Deuce actually manages to improve his test results by 1-2 grades.

Allen's study methods are unique, which helps Deuce & is necessary for him. Being a slow learner (I also hc him to have some sort of intellectual disability), Deuce requires rather unique approaches to topics. As Allen is well-versed with both studying and psychology and also keeps Deuce's exact issues in mind, he's able to perfectly tailor methods and mnemonic bridges that actually work out for Deuce.

Allen makes sure that Deuce's desire to be a model student is & stays healthy. A fair part of Allen's trauma stems from being an honor student himself and having unrealistically high expectations regarding grades and attitude shoved down his throat by everyone at school (including himself), so he pays a lot of attention that the same doesn't happen to Deuce.

Allen respects Deuce a ton. Not only is Deuce determined, passionate, loyal, honest and eager, but he has the same core values as Allen, too. In Allen's opinion, finding someone with these traits is not only rare, but immediately makes them endearing to him.

Allen is patient with Deuce. He understands that Deuce occasionally has a difficult time processing and understanding things, and he isn't bothered by it in the slightest. This means even more when you consider that Allen is generally a very impatient person and is only able to be patient with those he truly loves and trusts.

Allen fills Deuce in when he doesn't understand something. Due to Allen being able to catch on extremely quickly, he can immediately explain things and situations to Deuce, helping him out and allowing him to get everything right from the beginning.

Allen indirectly protects Deuce. Known for being intimidating (in a good way), quick-witted, sly and a skilled schemer, most people — including those who enjoy picking on Deuce — shy away from Allen and avoid getting in trouble with his friends.

Allen stops Deuce from getting into fights. Whenever Deuce is about to get into a fight anyway, Allen gently but sternly reminds him of both his goal and the healthier coping mechanisms.

Allen understands that Deuce dislikes being picked on. Allen, being a sensitive person, hates it himself, and he actively tells off everyone who dares to make fun of Deuce or call him "Loosey Deucey". At times, Allen even gets snappy because of the inappropriate nicknames or insults directed at Deuce.

Allen inspires Deuce. Him being skilled at a variety of things and just logical in general gives Deuce the motivation to achieve the same. Deuce doesn't compare himself to Allen, either, and views him as an inspiration. If Allen can control himself and get positive things out of his negative traits, so can Deuce, right?! Not to mention that Allen is extremely tough and pulls through no matter what despite his mental and physical state...

Allen's maturity subconsciously wears off on Deuce. Even outside of the fact that Allen helps him grow and improve a lot through all the ways mentioned before, Deuce sometimes also subconsciously copies his boyfriend's mature attitude or asks himself what Allen would do in certain situations.

Allen is an advisor to Deuce. Deuce struggles with planning ahead, and Allen — a big-time overthinker who's extremely competent at scheming — is able to assist him. As a result, Deuce makes less bad decisions.

Allen loves blastcycles. Deuce can rant about them to Allen for hours, and the two often go on blastcycle dates together. Nothing is more fun than clinging onto your partner while driving at full speed!

Allen values Deuce's company like no other. Deuce regularly feels like a nobody, and Allen takes that feeling from him due to how much he connects with him and likes having him around.

BONUS: Allen is not only beautiful but also has an incredibly strong personality, drive, and determination and hasn't given up despite everything that happened to him. Deuce is a massive simp and his humongous crush on Allen has always been obvious due to how Deuce just can't shut up about him.

Allen:

Deuce loves and accepts Allen's body. As we have seen through his interactions with Azul and Epel, Deuce is very protective of people who don't fit the norm, and Allen is another such person — an intersex boy who was bullied for his unconventional body. Deuce has not only sworn to protect Allen from any possible discrimination, but also loves his body dearly and thinks he's super hot.

Deuce gives Allen a sense of stability. Allen's life was all about short-lived fake joys and prevailing negativity prior to coming to Twisted Wonderland, which made him feel disconnected from many things and people and gave him the feeling that everything is temporary anyway. However, Deuce's fierce loyalty and the strength of their relationship prove Allen wrong — yes, there can indeed be things in life that last forever.

Deuce's utter affection warms Allen's empty heart. Allen was never loved by anyone but his parents, who he thinks only love him because he's their son. Other than that, he never experienced love, affection, ... or even mere friendship. He was alone... until he met Deuce, who he somehow immediately connected with. It was as if their friendship was predestined by the universe... and with every day, Deuce's affection for Allen only grew.

Deuce genuinely admires Allen. Seeing how Allen always does his best, works hard, has ambitions and aims to improve impresses Deuce a ton. This is extremely healing for Allen, whose efforts were never properly recognized or rewarded before and who thinks that he needs to perfect at everything in order to be "someone".

Deuce makes Allen feel useful and resourceful. Allen often believes that he has no worth and could never make a change for the better no matter how much he tries, but seeing just how much he's able to help Deuce with a wide range of things proves Allen wrong — he's indeed capable of a lot of things. Not to mention that Deuce even passes some of Allen's tips down to Epel!

Deuce's honesty is refreshing to Allen. After being lied to and tricked by about anyone Allen ever knew before coming to Twisted Wonderland, Deuce's natural honesty and loyalty are an unfamiliar but utterly wonderful experience for Allen.

Deuce makes Allen feel understood. Allen often believes that others would view him as a monster if they were aware of his secret anger and opinions, but Deuce shares many of them. These two can openly talk about their values together and Allen feels extremely understood because of it — a feeling he barely ever experiences with other people.

Deuce helps Allen enjoy the moment. While he has some overthinking tendencies himself, Deuce is much more spontaneous than Allen and tends to act more on impulse. As a result, he can show his ways to Allen, allowing the overthinker to finally relax and think about his problems a little less.

Deuce doesn't hesitate to stand up for Allen. The fact that Allen was bullied for something he can't change in the past saddens and angers Deuce, and he has sworn to himself that he'll always protect his boyfriend. If there should ever be another situation where Allen gets bullied, Deuce won't hesitate to absolutely throw hands — this is not being a bad person and picking fights, it's standing up for an innocent person whose life was ruined by malice. Deuce wouldn't regret it in the slightest anymore, especially since Allen has helped him learn than anger isn't a bad thing.

Deuce helps Allen with becoming a proper mage. When Allen first gains magic during the final quarter of the school year, he has absolutely no control over it and is partially even avoided due to being a "walking health hazard". Deuce, however, sees this as the perfect time to pay Allen back for helping him study theory and decides to assist Allen with practical things. Through Deuce's determination and belief in him, Allen is able to improve much quicker than he would've without Deuce's help.

BONUS: Deuce is the warmth and honesty that Allen needs in his life. The boy's mere presence lights up Allen's day and Deuce's careful physical affection makes him feel like the most cherished person in the universe.

What else is there to them? (examples)

Both are extremely close with their families.

Due to being so similar and sharing many personality traits, loving each other so deeply allowed them to realize that they can easily love and accept themselves, too.

Deuce's previous incarnation had a crush on Allen's, who died way too early. In this life, the regrets of the past are being fixed.

Allen's the brain, Deuce is the brawn.

They're both extremely cuddly with each other.

LOTS OF COMPLIMENTS (from both sides).

Deuce often gifts Allen plushies.

Allen and Deuce are basically inseparable by now.

If you hang out with Deuce, you have to suffer through at least one tiny ramble about Allen.

...and much more that can be found on @spade-of-storms!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you like the art & ship and are looking forward to more of them! (✿◕‿◕)

EDIT: Please do not take inspiration from this ship. ;-;

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steddie-island · 5 months ago

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Broken

Written for day one of @steddie-week | Prompt: Secret relationship Rating: T | WC: 1,757 | Tags: Hurt/ Comfort, secret relationship, (referenced) canon-typical violence, coming out, slightly altered timeline ao3 | divider credit

No one was answering the phone at the Harrington house. There were no cars were in the driveway. There was a light on in the pool house, but Eddie knew that Steve left everything by the pool lit up as much as he could, though Steve had never explained why, and Eddie hadn't asked.

Eddie was starting to panic. No, that wasn't right, because he'd passed starting to the second day Steve hadn't shown up at school.

By day three, the radio silence had him chain smoking as he drove around town, looking for any sign that Steve still existed.

The fucked up thing was that Eddie wasn't supposed to notice. He wasn't supposed to care whether recently dethroned King Steve was okay, or whether he'd fucked off out of town. They weren't supposed to know each other beyond picnic table transactions while Hagan tried to get Eddie to give him a discount.

No one knew about the detentions they shared. They didn't know about Steve pulling up beside him when his car wouldn't start, didn't know about the hour they'd spent together figuring out what the fuck was going on. Or about the Saturday Steve volunteered to help him actually fix it.

They didn't know about the lunches spent in the back of Eddie's van, about the nights they watched the stars together through the open back doors.

They didn't know how soft Steve's voice had been when he'd whispered Eddie's name before they'd shared their first, and then their second, kiss.

Now the beautiful boy he cared about had fucking disappeared, without a goddamn trace, and Eddie was losing his mind.

One more sweep. One more sweep, and then I'm going to the police. Not like they hadn't ran into each other plenty, only maybe this time Eddie wouldn't end up in handcuffs.

The sound he let out at seeing Steve's car in the driveway was between a laugh and a sob. He barely had time to park the car before he was tripping over his feet all the way to the door.

"Steve! Steve, let me in!" His palm pounded on the door, and he knew Steve would yell at him for not even trying to be discreet when he'd warned about nosy neighbors more than once. "Ste—" The door opened, and Eddie stopped in his tracks.

Steve's face was swollen and turning several varying shades of yellow and green, purple and red. Eddie's stomach dropped.

He'd expected a lot of things, was ready to be angry for being ignored for three whole days. There was anger, but it wasn't directed at Steve.

"Fuck. Fuck, sweetheart." Eddie slipped inside, closed the door, took Steve's face carefully into his hands. "Who did this to you?"

Steve winced as Eddie's thumb brushed against a fading bruise on his jaw. "This is really not a good time," he murmured. He meant to pull away, but he couldn't. Not now that Eddie was here, holding him, tugging him closer and tucking Steve so carefully against his chest. "Are you okay?" Eddie whispered. "I've been so worried, tried calling but no one answered…" "I've been staying with the Hendersons," Steve murmured. "Dustin's mom is a nurse, she was taking care of me. I haven't been home long." He turned his head to kiss Eddie's palm. "You should go, I'm okay now. I'm—" "I'm not leaving you." Eddie tipped Steve's head up and hissed softly at the discoloration on Steve's eye, where the white wasn't so white anymore. "Who did this, Stevie?" "Eddie, stop. Doesn't matter, it's been handled. It's fine. I'm fine. I don't have a concussion anymore. Claudia wouldn't let me leave until she was sure of that. I just need to sleep some more." Steve folded his fingers around Eddie's. "Go home. I'll call you in a couple of days." "No." Eddie pulled Steve in with an arm around his waist. "You're hurt, I'm not leaving you." He oh so carefully pressed their foreheads together before kissing the good corner of Steve's mouth. "I'm not going anywhere." "Dingus, you said it would be a second, but it's been— what the fuck—" Eddie looked up, his eyes wide. A girl Eddie had seen around school stood in the entryway to the living room with her arms over her chest. Her face was red, her mouth an open o of surprise.

Oh.

Eddie's heart sank. This thing couldn't have lasted, he should have known that. Steve had someone else here, someone else taking care of him, why would Steve have called when he wasn't needed? When he wasn't wanted?

Before Eddie could drop his hands from Steve's face, though, Steve was gripping his wrists. "Eddie, wait, it's not like that. Robin's—" "Oh my god!" The girl— Robin— had both hands in her hair. "Steven, if you were not coming off of the assbeating of a lifetime I would give you another one. You made fun of my crush, but you didn't tell me you're screwing around with Eddie fucking Munson?"

The pink that flooded into Steve's face added to the rainbow painting the rest of his skin already. "God, you're as loud as Henderson." He shook his head, hissed when that made the world spin, then caught Eddie's fingers instead of his wrist. "Guess the cat's outta the bag." "Don't you mean you're out of the closet?" Eddie joked. He was staring at Robin, who didn't look pissed, or disgusted, or jealous.

Okay, maybe she was pissed, but not because he'd been kissing Steve.

"Is this why you kept asking for the phone?" Robin demanded. Even with sounding annoyed there was still a softness in the way Robin spoke to Steve as she adjusted the couch pillows for him. Eddie guided Steve directly to the spot Robin had made for him before sitting pressed tight against his side. There was a bag of frozen vegetables on the coffee table that Robin picked up and pressed into Steve's hand, meaning for him to cover his face again.

"I couldn't out Eddie to you," Steve pointed out. "But… yeah." He looked at Eddie. "I'm really sorry, but… I couldn't remember your phone number?"

"Concussions do that." Robin folded herself on Steve's other side and pressed the bag of vegetables into his hand, clearly ordering him to put them back on his face. "And this isn't his first one. I'm Robin, by the way. Buckley. I'm in band."

"Munson. I'm in a band." Eddie scratched lightly through Steve's hair, as if searching for any other places he was hurt that all that hair was hiding. "What the fuck happened?"

"Nothing," Steve said at the same time as Robin said, "Billy."

"Billy." Eddie looked at Steve and felt his stomach twist. "Fucking Hargrove did this to you?"

"Eddie, it doesn't matter," Steve said. He could feel an Eddie rant coming on— or worse, he knew Eddie, knew he didn't like fighting but he would fight for the people he loved. And he couldn't let Eddie get hurt on his behalf. "It's been taken care of."

"Taken care of. By the sheriff?" Eddie demanded. He looked at Robin, clearly expecting for her to answer as the person who didn't have the concussion.

"Max almost took out the Hargrove family line with Steve's bat," Robin said. At Eddie's confusion she made a swinging motion that landed between her own knees.

"Max is his little sister," Steve explained. "She stole my car, too."

"Hey, she did a better job than I would have," Robin pointed out.

Eddie shook his head— none of this made a damn bit of sense. "Why was Max driving your car?"

"Because I was in the backseat with Steve, trying to make sure he didn't die," Robin explained. She winced and reached out to take Steve's hand. "Billy broke a plate over his head."

"Jesus Christ." Eddie pulled Steve closer, kissed his temple gently. "How the fuck are you alive right now?"

"Spite?" Steve joked weakly.

"It was bad," Robin murmured. "Like… really bad. I didn't think Steve was going to wake up, and when he did wake up he kept getting sick…" She turned slightly green at the memory. "Claudia— Mrs. Henderson— she barely let him leave the bed for two days. He refused to get a CAT scan, but he listened to that much, at least. Stubborn asshole."

"Wouldn't have helped." Steve rested his head against Eddie's shoulder and closed his eyes. "We knew what happened, and we could guess how bad it was."

"Stubborn asshole," Robin said, waving at Steve with one hand while looking at Eddie as if to ask what to do with him.

"Claudia says you're okay?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." Steve looked up at him with his one good eye. "I just… have to be really careful. No more concussions or I might not be so fine next time."

Once again Robin held on to his hand tightly, like they were anchoring each other together, keeping the Billy Hargroves of the world away by pure force of will.

"How long has this been going on?" Robin asked suddenly. "The two of you I mean."

"Few months," Eddie said, like he didn't have the date circled on his calendar, like he wasn't ready to get it tattooed over his heart.

Robin lightly punched Steve's thigh. "You could've told me," she said. "You can tell the rest of your kids, too, you know. They love you, too."

Steve smiled softly. "Maybe I wasn't ready before," he said. "But after seeing Red go after Billy… there's nothing those little shits can't handle."

"I need to know what happened," Eddie said. "There's still so much that isn't adding up."

Steve winced as he sat back up. "It is a… really, really long story. And it's not a pretty one. I'll tell you, but… maybe later? For now, can we just put on a movie and… and you two hold me?"

"Whatever you need," Robin said without any hesitation. She jumped up to grab the remote and to push the table closer to the couch.

"You'll tell me later?" Eddie asked.

"Promise." Steve kissed Eddie's cheek gently, then snuggled to him so Robin could take her place, too.

Anyone who looked at Steve could figure out this was a sad story, an angry story. It was a fucking horror story.

As the opening credits of Grease started playing, Eddie promised himself that he was going to make damn sure Steve got a happy ending out of it.

#it's me hi i'm the late poster it's me lmao #steddieweek2024 #Steddie #Steddie fic #Stranger things fic #kintsugi_kid ao3

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thewulf · 7 months ago

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Bound by Shadows || Azriel

Summary: Request - I'm hoping you could write a fanfic where reader, Feyre's twin, who actually killed the wolf but let Feyre take the credit... and before she realizes what she's done Feyre is gone. She struggles with guilt and isolation in Velaris after the sisters transformation by the Cauldron.... Read Rest Here

A/N: OKAY I LOVE THIS. It got away from me a bit. I didn't realize how fun this world would be to dive into. Let me know your thoughts as always :)

Pairing: Azriel Shadowsinger x Female Reader (Feyre Archeron Twin Sister)

Word Count: 8.2k +

TW: General ACOTAR TW

Under the starlit skies of Velaris the City of Starlight pulses with a life of its own. Its vibrant lights reflecting off the river with laughter and music filling the air, breathing life into every cobblestone and corner. But for you the city’s brilliance only deepens the shadows that cling to your soul. Shadows that no light seems capable of dispelling.

You walked alone. Your steps aimless being driven by the restless guilt that gnaws incessantly at your conscience. Every whisper of the wind seems to accuse you, every glance from a passerby seems to pierce through the facade you barely maintain. The weight of the secret you harbor presses down on you with every step… the wolf, the woods, the dreadful slice of the arrow that was meant to protect Feyre not harm her. But Feyre stepped forward and shouldered the blame. She was taken from you in an instant and forced to face the horrors of the faerie lands. It was all to shield you her twin she thought of being too gentle, too fragile for the brutal truths of that world.

The transformation wrought by the Cauldron has only magnified everything. Every emotion, every fear, every shard of guilt. It was supposed to be a rebirth but for you it feels more like a slow descent into a nightmare from which you cannot awaken. The power that now courses through your veins feels like chains. A constant reminder of the price paid to the mother. Of the freedom you don’t believe you deserve.

As you wander through the bustling streets the sounds of celebration around you clash violently with the turmoil within. Families and lovers share warm, joyous moments. Their laughter echoing in the crisp night air while you drift among them. You were simply a specter unseen, untouched by the light of their joy. Your heart aches with a loneliness so profound it threatens to consume you whole. To reduce your existence to a mere shadow of regret and sorrow.

You find yourself on one of the many ornate bridges spanning the Sidra. A place you often found some sort of solace in. You leaned over the balustrade to gaze into the dark waters below. The reflection of the city’s lights dances across the surface, a stark contrast to the darkness that seems to stretch endlessly beneath. It is here in the quiet far enough away from the eyes of those who know you, those who worry over you, that your facade finally cracks.

Tears that were unbidden and unwelcome, spill over, tracing cold paths down your cheeks. You are tired. So incredibly tired of pretending. Of hiding the depth of your pain. You wish to scream so loud. To let out the anguish that fills you, but your voice is as lost as your soul feels in the face of your endless guilt. Instead, you just stare down at the dark waters with silent sobs wracking your body. It was better this way. You couldn’t let Feyre see you like this. She was finally so happy. So happy with her mate. Her Rhysand. You couldn’t threaten that happiness. You owed her so much more than that. You quite literally owed her your life. So, you would suck it up in solace. Cry it out on your own.

In the solitude of the night, you allowed yourself to feel your overwhelming emotions. To acknowledge the pain and the darkness. Little did you know you are not as alone as you believe. From the shadows an Illyrian figure watches you. His own heart heavy with unspoken secrets. Azriel was the spymaster of night court for a reason. He picked up on you disappearing for hours at a time when the others didn’t. He picked up on the fake smiles you threw everyone’s way. He seemed to pick up on it while the others didn’t… other than Feyre who seemed to watch you just as much as he did. He decided he would watch over you. For Feyre, his brothers mate. And for you. The woman who couldn’t seem to get used to being Fae as easily as your sisters did. The human turned Fae that consumed more of his thoughts than he cared to admit.

But for now, he waited behind his shadows. A silent guardian in the night recognizing that some battles must be faced alone before they can be shared.

You returned from the bustling markets of Velaris with arms laden with the myriad items Feyre requested. As you approach the townhouse the warm light from within spills out onto the cobblestones. It was a stark contrast to the dusk settling over the city. You pause at the door steeling yourself with a deep breath before stepping inside. Your smile as you hand the bags to Feyre doesn't quite reach your eyes. But she's too caught up in the moment to notice.

"Thank you so much," she says with a relief evident as she starts to unpack the food you’d volunteered to pick up for her. She pauses before she got too carried away giving you that look, the one you've come to know so well. The one that silently implores you to stay. To be a part of her world. "Will you stay for dinner? Everyone's coming over. Even Amren agreed to come. It would mean so much to me."

Her eyes are pleading and you know you can't refuse. Not when she's given up so much for you. With a nod you agree even as your stomach tightens at the thought of facing everyone. It was easy to fake your inner turmoil when it was only her or Rhys. But when it was the entirety of the Inner Circle it was harder to hide away. Inevitably someone would get you hooked in on a conversation. You haven't sat down with them since… well, since before the Cauldron. Since before everything changed. And that was almost an entire year ago now. You knew this request would come sooner or later. Though you were hoping for later you were going to suck it up for Feyre.

As the evening wears on the townhouse fills with laughter and conversation with everyone gathering in the familiar camaraderie that once felt like home to you. But now you feel like an outsider watching from the shadows even as you sit among them. At the dinner table you're terribly quiet. You were merely pushing food around your plate listening to the ebb and flow of conversations you can't force yourself to seem to join.

Feyre decided to sit beside you in hopes of calming your nerves. She notices. She notices the way your eyes were downturned. The way you occasionally nodded your head or smiled briefly pretending to be listening. The way you didn’t pick your fork up once. Her joy fades a little each time she glances your way. You didn’t notice the way her expression turned from mirth to concern. She squeezed your hand under the table in a silent message of solidarity and love. But even her touch can't pull you from the fog that's settled over you. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was your punishment? To live in a hazed state for thousands of years? Oh, how you wished to be a tiny little human again with the promise of dead after a hundred years or so.

Rhysand sat at the head of the table catches Feyre’s subtle, worried glances towards her twin. She meets his eyes with a silent conversation passing between them. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She needed help. He nods slightly. His expression was solemn, understanding the depth of her worry. His gaze then shifts to you filled with a quiet resolve. He knew you were struggling but didn’t pick up on just how much you were. You’d done a masterful job until tonight hiding it away.

Rhysand had felt the ripple of concern from Feyre long before she voiced it. Her distress over your withdrawal echoing within him. She watched you with a sister's keen eye and her silent worry bled into their shared bond. A testament to her deep care for you.

Azriel, Feyre is troubled by Y/N's state. As am I. Rhysand's thought reached out to his brother that was sitting next to you. There was a thread of urgency woven through the mental call. She's pulling away and Feyre feels it deeply. Keep an eye on her please? Help her if you can.

Azriel's presence in Rhysand's mind was immediate and calm. He was steady force amid the silent storm of concern. I'm already on it, Rhys. I’ve sensed it too, he assured. His mental voice as composed as the shadows he commanded. You don't need to worry. I’ve been watching over her not out of obligation, but because... because she matters to me. I’ll make sure she’s safe and supported.

Azriel’s vigilance came not from an order but from a place of quiet solidarity. His attunement to the nuances of emotion and the unspoken had already drawn him to your side. Rhysand’s request merely echoed the actions he’d already undertaken. His actions were born from a blend of duty and a deep, personal concern that Azriel rarely let show. In the face of Feyre's distress and now Rhysand’s request, he became a silent sentinel for you. He needed to ensure that you were not only protected but also truly seen and understood.

Dinner continues around you as you withdrew into yourself. The laughter a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you. You're barely aware of Azriel's presence on your other side until you feel him beside you. His chair slightly closer than usual. His voice is soft, almost lost in the surrounding noise, as he leans in. "You don't have to be anything you're not, not here," he murmurs only for you to hear. "It’s okay to just be. To just breathe." His words meant to comfort felt like a lifeline in the sea of your tumultuous thoughts. You didn’t look at him for you were worried tears might spill over. But you nodded in acknowledgement letting him know that you heard him.

The evening slowly winds down and as the others linger over drinks and stories Azriel stays by your side. His presence a steady promise of understanding and patience. He doesn't push you to talk nor does he expect smiles. Instead, he offers the silent support you didn't know you needed, becoming a guardian not just of your safety, but of your peace.

Feyre watches this exchange with a glimmer of hope lighting up her worried features. Perhaps with Azriel's help you might find your way back to them. To yourself. Tonight, though, is just a small step in your journey back to yourself.

As everyone departs for the night you linger in the living room feigning interest in tidying up the small mess left behind. Feyre watches you for a moment with that same concern etching her features. But she decided against speaking, sensing your need for space.

Once the house is quiet you decide to step out for a walk under the night sky of Velaris. It had become your favorite routine. A routine that kept you grounded. A quick walk to your favorite spot on the Sidra. The city's soft lights reflect gently on the river casting dancing patterns on the water. It's beautiful yet the sight does little to ease the tightness in your chest.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice Azriel's approach until he's almost beside you. His presence is calming and somehow it doesn't startle you. Perhaps because in your heart you know he understands the need for quiet. His own demeanor is often just as reserved.

"Good evening," he says. His voice a low rumble. "Care for some company or would you prefer solitude tonight?"

You consider his offer for a moment. Company might not be so bad even though this was usually just a place for you. But it was Azriel. Someone who respects the silence as much as you do. "Company sounds nice, thank you," you reply with your voice softer than you intended.

Azriel nods falling into step beside you. As you walk his shadows play at your feet. It was a subtle yet comforting gesture. At one point one of his shadows curls around your hand. This small, almost imperceptible touch from his shadows offers a silent, comforting presence that envelops you in a sense of security. Neither of you speaks as you walk along the riverbank. The only sounds was the gentle lapping of water against the shore and the distant hum of the city. The silence between you is more than comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding that words can sometimes be too cumbersome.

After a while though Azriel speaks up. He wasn’t looking at you but staring out at the water. "It's easy to feel lost in this city… even with its lights and crowds. Sometimes it feels like being surrounded by shadows even in the brightest part of the day."

You glance at him, surprised by the reflection of your own feelings in his words. "Yes, it does," you agree. You were feeling a weight lift slightly knowing that someone else understands.

He nods slightly at your words, "The shadows aren't all there is though. There are places, moments like these, that can offer some respite. And not all shadows are bad." He smiles looking down at the ones that clung to your feet.

His words make you look at him anew. You weren’t just seeing the spymaster or the warrior but someone who also seeks to find balance between the light and the dark. It makes you wonder if perhaps in this shared moment you might find a way to navigate your own shadows. They might not all be bad you had to agree with him.

You don't say much more as you walk back to the townhouse, but the silent agreement hangs between you, comforting and promising. Maybe, just maybe, you're not as alone as you thought.

The dawn is still a whisper of light across Velaris as you sit quietly by the Sidra. The gentle murmur of the river a soothing background to your thoughts that never seemed to shut the hell up. Lost in the reflections of the dancing water you hardly notice Azriel’s approach until he’s beside you. His presence as quiet as the morning. It was becoming a routine for him to join you on the river it seemed. Not that you minded. He might be the one person you’d happily accept to intrude on your solitude.

“You’re up early,” he remarks softly not wanting to startle you. His tone as gentle as the river’s flow.

You look up with a soft smile on your face. His familiar, reassuring presence is a comfort. “Just needed some air,” you reply with a yawn. Your voice carrying the weight of another sleepless night.

Azriel nods, understanding. He looks out over the water for a moment sharing the silence with you. Then, turning back to you, he suggests, “Come with me. I think I have something that might help clear your head. Help you to focus a bit.”

You’re hesitant. The idea of doing anything but sitting quietly feels daunting. But there’s something about his offer. The promise of relief, however temporary, that nudges you to your feet.

“It’s just training,” he adds. seeing your uncertainty. “Physical activity can be a good way to let out some of the emotions that are harder to express in words. We’ll take it slow. You set the pace.”

Trusting Azriel’s judgment, knowing he wouldn’t push you into something without reason, you stand and follow him towards the training grounds. The city is quietly waking around you and the walk is silent but comfortable. His presence a steady reassurance by your side. Something you were slowly growing to cherish.

As you reach the secluded training area the first rays of sunlight begin to warm the cool morning air. Azriel gives you a small, encouraging smile. “Let’s start simple. No pressure. Just you learning to trust your strength again.”

The training starts at an easy pace. Azriel guiding you through basic maneuvers. His patience was evident. But as your body begins to warm up with the activity and your focus sharpens on the movements. There was that sense of release you never knew could come. It was unfamiliar yet welcome that starts to take hold on you.

As the morning sun climbs higher the training session progresses under Azriel's watchful eye. You find yourself gradually syncing with the rhythm of the physical exertion. Each movement flushing out the restless energy that has been building up inside you. Azriel's guidance is firm yet encouraging and you start to feel a rare sense of accomplishment as you slowly master each new maneuver he throws at you.

But as the session intensifies Azriel begins to push you harder, increasing the pace and complexity of the drills. His softness changed into some else. You knew he was only pushing you to help but it was starting to become a little too much. You’d only been Fae for a year to his centuries. "Come on, Y/N, focus. You can handle this," he urges. Throwing a series of rapid, controlled strikes that you're meant to block and counter.

For a moment you rise to the challenge your movements sharp and sure. Yet the physical strain is relentless. All too soon it starts to mirror the inner struggled you've been trying to manage. The boundaries between physical exertion and emotional pain blur… each block and dodge feeling more like a fight against your inner demons rather than a simple training exercise.

Suddenly, one of Azriel's strikes comes a little too close, a little too fast. It isn't meant to hit you and it doesn't but the rush of air as it passes by your face triggers something within you. Panic seizes your chest and the walls you've been holding up begin to crumble. Your movements falter. Your hands drop to your sides rapidly as your breath catches in your throat.

You step back abruptly with short, ragged breaths. Azriel stops immediately, concern replacing the intensity in his eyes. "Hey, are you okay?" he asks all too softly this time. He watched with concern as you struggled to compose yourself.

You nod rapidly trying to blink back the tears that want to rush out. “I’m fine. Just tired.” You murmur. It didn’t even sound believable to you. You turned you back to him so he wouldn’t see the distraught look on your face.

He steps forward with a sadness etched deeply on his features. "It's more than just tiredness, isn't it?" he asks gently as he reached out but stopped short, giving you space yet showing his readiness to support.

You shake your head again trying to compose yourself. Willing yourself to rebuild the barriers crumbling around you. "I'm fine, really, just got a little carried away," you offer weakly with your back still turned, fearing that facing him might reveal too much.

But Azriel doesn’t retreat. Instead, his shadows do what he physically refrains from—they reach out for you. You feel a cool, soothing sensation as one shadow gently curls around your arm, not binding but comforting. It was like a silent message of empathy and support. The unexpected kindness, the soft touch of darkness that doesn’t demand or judge, only seeks to comfort. But it undoes you completely.

Your defenses shatter at the tender contact. Tears finally spilling over as you turn back to face him. The floodgates opened by the gentle brush of his shadow. "I'm not fine," you admit, your voice choked with emotion. "It's all just... it's too much sometimes. I feel like I'm drowning in what I had to do. In what Feyre had to endure because of me. All because of me."

Azriel listens with his gaze never wavering. His eyes were filled with compassion and a profound understanding. His shadow retracts slightly giving you a moment, respecting your space while keeping the silent promise of his presence.

He nods his head willing you to continue. "Let it out, Y/N. You don't have to carry this alone," he says quietly finding the courage to step closer now. He opened his arms to you in an offer of comfort that you no longer have the strength to refuse.

As you step into his embrace, allowing yourself to be held, the warmth of his body contrasts with the cool touch of his shadows creating a cocoon of safety around you. "I was the one who killed the wolf that started this whole mess," you confess through sobs. Your words muffled against his chest. "Feyre took the blame to protect me... because she thought I couldn't handle the consequences."

“It’s okay,” he whispers. His voice close to your ear. “You were never meant to carry this alone.” He pauses. His hand gently lifting your chin so you can look at him. “Feyre’s path was her own. Fate had a hand in it. She was meant to meet Rhysand through Tamlin. To find her way to the Night Court. It couldn’t have been you, Y/N. Your path is different and it’s still unfolding.”

You shake your head feeling the weight of it all. “But-“

Azriel’s hold tightens reassuringly. His wings stretched around you before he stops you. “She did what she believed was right, out of love. And now you need to allow yourself to be loved and supported, too. Let your family be here for you. Let me be here for you.” he pleads, his tone imbued with a promise. In the safety of Azriel’s wings with the gentle embrace of his shadows, you feel a lightness you haven’t felt in a long time.

Beneath the shelter of his wings Azriel holds you close feeling the profound shift within as your eyes meet. In that moment a golden thread previously unseen but always present tightens, binding your soul to his. The mating bond ignites with a radiant force, undeniable and transformative.

This newfound connection stirs a deep protectiveness in Azriel, an urge to cherish and guard you that feels both ancient and freshly awakened. Love pulses through this bond unspoken yet palpable aligning his heartbeat with yours. He experiences a profound sense of belonging, understanding now that every moment with you, every shared concern, was leading to this revelation.

With the emergence of the bond, Azriel, who often cloaked himself in mystery, finds in you a clarity that illuminates his existence. This bond does not overwhelm; instead, it completes him, brightening his path forward. The world around him expands promising a journey not walked alone but side by side, in step with each breath.

Yet, the magnitude of this discovery brings a mix of elation and a daunting sense of responsibility. You are vulnerable, your soul laid bare before him, and he is cautious not to burden you further. Internally, Azriel grapples with the desire to declare the bond versus the need to provide you with stability and support without the shock of this revelation.

He resolves to keep this monumental discovery to himself for now, focusing on being your steadfast support. His shadows as a subtle extension of his will, curl gently around you both. They offered a protection and comfort without overwhelming you with the truth.

Azriel knows he must seek Rhysand’s counsel to navigate the complexities of this bond with sensitivity and respect for your emotions. As he holds you he silently vows to take this journey at a pace that honors both your readiness and the bond’s potential. Wrapped in his embrace, Azriel stands as your guardian bonded by fate yet guided by a deep respect for the journey your heart needs to undertake.

"You've been strong today," Azriel whispers into your hair as he senses your grip tighten. "Let's head back home. You need rest." His voice is as soothing as the twilight and his offer is tender, without any urgency that might hint at the truth simmering beneath his calm exterior.

The walk back from the training grounds is quiet, filled with a companionable silence that speaks of shared struggles and mutual care. As Azriel guides you to Feyre's studio, where she immerses herself in swathes of color and light, his touch lingers reassuringly on your arm. It's an affirmation of his presence, his support, his unspoken pledge to be there for you, come what may.

You offer him a soft smile. One that acknowledges the solace his presence brings even though you were still oblivious to the tectonic shift in his inner landscape. Azriel returns your smile with a quiet intensity, a vow that when the time comes for the bond to reveal itself to you he'll be there, just as he is now—steadfast, protective, and utterly devoted.

A subtle shift in Azriel’s demeanor as he prepares to leave catches Feyre's sharp eye. There's a fleeting tension, a trace of something potent and profound flickering in the depths of his usually inscrutable eyes. It's a glimpse of vulnerability. An undercurrent of panic that he's quick to disguise but not before Feyre takes note. Something significant has unsettled the shadowsinger and it likely had to do with you.

With a nod that holds more gravity than usual Azriel turns to go. His steps are measured but the urgency in his exit is apparent to anyone who knows him well. Once he steps beyond the view of the townhouse his wings unfurl, a dark silhouette against the Velaris skyline. He takes to the air with a speed driven by the need for counsel. For understanding the newly realized bond weighing on him with a mix of awe and anxiety.

He lands at the House of Wind with an intensity that is uncharacteristic for him. His feet touching down on the stone with a thud. There's no time for hesitation as he makes his way to where he knows he'll find Rhysand, perhaps Cassian too. The door to the study bursts open under his force and he stands there as a figure riddled with the shock of his own heart's awakening.

Inside the study, Rhysand and Cassian pause mid-conversation as the unexpected clamor announces Azriel's approach. Concern flickers over their faces. A stark, thunderous arrival is not Azriel's way.

"Are you alright, Az?" Cassian is the first to react. His voice tinged with concern as he notes Azriel's agitated state.

Azriel pauses before catching his breath. His demeanor one of a man grappling with overwhelming news. "It's the mating bond," he manages to say with his voice tight of emotion. "With Y/N—it just... it just snapped into place."

Rhysand rises from his chair. His expression shifting to one of understanding as he processes Azriel's words. The air in the room thickens with the significance of his declaration and there's a moment of collective stillness as they all absorb the meaning.

Cassian’s previous levity fades into a solemn gravity, reflecting the seriousness of Azriel's revelation. "That’s... big news, Az. How are you feeling about this?" he asks as he stepped closer in caution.

Rhysand, maintaining his composure, offers a supportive nod. "This is a momentous time, Azriel. We’re here for you, whatever you need," he assures him embodying the role of the leader who understands the profound implications of such a bond.

Azriel exhales deeply the reality of the situation settling in. "It's overwhelming," he concedes. A frown creasing his brow. "I mean, I hoped, maybe even wished for it. But now that it’s here, it feels... heavy." He looks up. His expression serious. "She’s still healing. I need to be careful. Need to make sure this doesn’t overwhelm her."

Rhysand gives a supportive nod. "Just keep being there for her, Az. You’ve always managed to support her without pushing. This doesn’t change your approach just your understanding of the connection."

Cassian smirks, pushing off from the table and clapping Azriel on the back with a bit more force than necessary. "Look at you all serious and broody—more than usual, I mean. Come on, Az, you know you're probably the only one who can handle this with the perfect blend of mystery. Besides," he adds with a wry grin, "have you seen the way she looks at you when you're not looking? That’s not just gratitude my friend. It’s like she’s hit the jackpot and she doesn’t even know it yet."

Azriel can’t help but crack a small smile despite the turmoil inside. "Thanks, Cass. I just don’t want to mess this up."

"Don’t worry so much, brother," Cassian chuckles, his tone light but earnest. "You’re doing fine. Plus, if you start floating around like a lovestruck bat, I’ll be here to pull you back down."

Rhysand laughs softly before shaking his head at the general. "He’s right, though. Take it step by step, Azriel. Let her come to terms with her own feelings. When she’s ready it’ll be right for both of you."

Feeling somewhat lighter Azriel nods appreciatively at his brothers. "Step by step," he repeats, firming his resolve. With a final nod he steps back into the night bolstered by the mix of Cassian’s humor and Rhysand’s leadership. He was ready to face the future with a heart full of hope and a mind cautious of the delicate balance he needs to maintain.

Back in the townhouse Feyre greets you with that mischievous grin that heralds some sisterly teasing. She sets her paintbrush down before wiping her hands on a cloth as her eyes sparkle with playful curiosity. "So, what did you do to him?" she teases with a smirk on her face.

You frown genuinely puzzled by her question. "What? Nothing, I... we were just training, then he said he had to go." Your voice trails off mirroring your confusion over Azriel's sudden change in demeanor.

Feyre chuckles, shaking her head as she picks up her brush again. "That man is always so mysterious. But don't worry it's probably just Azriel things. Or maybe, just maybe, you're the perfect distraction for our dear spymaster."

"What are you on about?" you ask while feeling a mix of amusement and bewilderment at her jest.

"Oh, please!" Feyre laughs, her brush dancing over the canvas. "He looks at you like every moment you spend together is something precious. Like you're a rare painting he can't quite believe he's stumbled upon."

"You're imagining things," you dismiss her. Shaking your head with a smile. "Azriel is just being kind. He's like that with everyone."

Feyre gives you a knowing look. Her smirk broadening. "Sure, he’s kind to everyone, but with you it’s different. He doesn’t look at anyone else quite like he looks at you. Like you’ve cast a spell on him and he’s trying to figure out how to live with the enchantment."

Her words make you pause. The playful insinuation tugging at the edges of your thoughts. Despite your dismissal Feyre’s observation lingers. A teasing possibility that maybe there's a hint of truth in her playful assertions. The room fills with your laughter, a sound that masks the flutter of curiosity her words have sparked.

Unbeknownst to you while you puzzle over Azriel's sudden departure, Feyre's mind is swiftly connecting with Rhysand's. A silent inquiry flits through their bond: Something's up with Azriel, he seemed... off. Did I miss something?

Rhysand's mental response comes with a chuckle that Feyre can almost hear: He’s fine, love. Just had a bit of a revelation. He’ll share when he's ready.

A spark of mischief lights up Feyre’s eyes as understanding dawns on her. Her lips curve into a sly, knowing grin. But she carefully masks any hint of her newfound knowledge from you. "You know, I think we deserve some fun today. Just us twins. You’ve been pushing hard with all that training and brooding," she suggests. Her voice bubbling with an excitement that piques your curiosity.

"Really? What did you have in mind?" you ask. Your earlier confusion over Azriel's behavior giving way to intrigue at Feyre's sudden enthusiasm.

"Oh, just a day for us to unwind and maybe get into a little mischief," Feyre replies, winking. "We can leave the mysteries of shadowy spymasters behind and focus on spoiling ourselves."

You laugh while nodding in agreement, relieved to set aside the morning's puzzles. "That sounds perfect, actually."

As the day unfolds with Feyre leading the way with her occasional secretive smiles and the warmth of her company envelop you, making you feel cherished and a part of something larger than just sisterly bonding. Every now and then she throws you a look filled with unspoken laughter as if she's in on a joke that’s yet to be told adding an intriguing layer to your day out.

"Enjoy today," Feyre says at one point. Her grin infectious. "Because who knows? Tomorrow you might find yourself swept off your feet in ways you never expected." Her words are light, but they dance with implication, leaving you wondering about the possibilities that tomorrow might bring.

As the days unfold since your training session you begin to notice an unusual shift in Azriel's behavior when he's around you. Always the quiet, stoic presence, he now seems to carry an air of nervousness that is both surprising and endearing. It's as if he's forgotten how to be around you. His typically smooth demeanor replaced with an awkwardness that sends a ripple of amusement throughout your days.

During your daily routines, whether you're practicing combat skills or just strolling through the lush gardens of the Night Court, Azriel is consistently by your side. Yet, his typical quiet confidence seems to falter. Today when he hands you a training sword his fingers not only linger but also tremble slightly against yours. The contact is brief but the moment his skin brushes against yours a visible blush creeps up his neck coloring his cheeks in a rare show of discomposure.

"Sorry," he stutters. Quickly retracting his hand as if scorched by the brief contact. He averts his gaze making sure to look anywhere but at you. His discomfort palpable in the tight set of his shoulders.

You can't help but tilt your head eyeing him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Azriel, are you alright?" you ask with a hint of a smile on your lips. Your voice is soft though hoping to ease some of his evident tension. The gardens around you bloom vibrantly. A stark contrast to Azriel’s suddenly flustered state.

He clears his throat attempting to regain some of his usual composure. "Yes, I'm... fine," he manages. His voice a notch higher than usual. He meets your gaze again holding it for a moment longer than he intends. The intensity of his stare both confusing and thrilling.

Just then as if to spite Azriel, Cassian strolls by and upon noticing Azriel's flushed face and your puzzled expression he can't help but let out a snicker. "Lost your cool, Shadowsinger?" he teases, winking at you before continuing on his way with a chuckle. "You’re usually smoother than this, brother!"

Azriel shoots Cassian a brief glare but there's a resigned humor in his eyes that suggests he knows just how out of character he must seem. As Cassian’s laughter fades into the distance Azriel finally turns back to you attempting a sheepish smile.

"It seems I'm a bit out of sorts today," he admits. His voice finally steadying. "Nothing to worry about, really."

Watching Azriel grapple with this uncharacteristic awkwardness only endears him more to you. There’s a sweetness in his struggle. A reminder that beneath the composed façade of the Night Court’s spymaster lies a depth of emotion rarely seen but profoundly felt.

On a tranquil afternoon in the Night Court, you find yourself relaxing in one of the quieter gardens alongside Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. The air is filled with gentle laughter and the soft rustling of leaves. Cassian and Nesta are notably absent, presumably because Cassian has taken it upon himself to "help" Nesta with some errands—a pursuit that everyone knows often ends in playful bickering and affectionate banter.

Elain has also opted for a day out with Lucien exploring new botanical gardens on the outskirts of the city. Her passion for plants and Lucien's support in her endeavors showcases the growing bond between them.

The conversation flows easily until Rhys, with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, steers it towards Azriel’s recent scouting mission. "Azriel here stumbled upon something quite intriguing recently, didn’t you?" he teases while watching Azriel closely.

Caught off-guard Azriel’s response is delayed, his eyes widening slightly as if Rhys had tread into forbidden territory. "It was nothing out of the ordinary," he finally mutters. Though his voice holds a trace of unease.

Feyre jumps into the fray. Her tone laced with playful curiosity. "Oh, but I heard it was quite the discovery. Rare and fascinating… something that might deeply engage a man’s interest."

You laugh completely oblivious to the underlying meaning and look at Azriel with raised eyebrows. "What was it, Az? Some kind of hidden gem or a lost artifact?"

There’s a brief moment where Azriel’s composure falters under your direct gaze, his eyes meeting yours before quickly glancing away. He recovers quickly, however, a slight flush on his cheeks. "Yes, something like that," he agrees, his voice steadying. "A discovery that could indeed change one’s perspective for a lifetime."

Rhys doesn't miss a beat adding with a light chuckle, "Let’s hope it’s not kept secret too long. Such treasures are better when shared, right?"

Feyre nods enthusiastically. Her eyes dancing with amusement. "Especially when they bring people closer together, right, Az?"

Azriel meets Feyre’s gaze. His expression settling into a subtle smile that hints at his deep thoughts. “Indeed,” he replies quietly, the single word rich with unspoken meaning, affirming the sentiment with his usual succinct eloquence.

As the conversation moves on the jokes and laughter continue, your heart warmed by the newfound perspective you found with them. Azriel watches you with a gentle, albeit slightly wistful smile. He noticed how much more you're around, how your laughter fills the air more often, and how your vibrant personality begins to shine through once more. His heart fills with a mixture of relief and deep affection, seeing the signs of your healing. In these moments he cherishes the progress you've made feeling hopeful about the future. He was ready to support you every step of the way as the true nature of his discovery waits to be shared with you.

As the weeks blend into months, the connection between you and Azriel deepens. It was nurtured by shared moments and his unwavering support. On a crisp evening as the sun begins its descent painting the sky with strokes of pink and gold, Azriel brings you to a secluded hilltop that overlooks Velaris. This spot was known only to him and offers a panoramic view of the city as it starts to twinkle with the first lights of evening, the natural grassy surface underfoot soft and inviting.

Standing close by his presence was both comforting and solid, Azriel shares a story, his voice low and warm, recounting a humorous mishap from his early days as a spymaster. The tale is endearing, revealing a less guarded side of him and laughter bubbles up freely from your throat.

As your laughter transitions into a soft chuckle, you turn to face him. The last rays of the sunset bathe Azriel in a warm, golden light that illuminates his features, casting a glow that outlines him like an ethereal halo. His eyes that were filled with affection and a hint of amusement, meet yours. In that instant something profound shifts within you.

It feels as if a key has turned, unlocking something wondrous and overwhelming. The mating bond, which has been delicately weaving its way through each of your interactions, now clicks into place with perfect clarity. The sensation is electrifying yet profoundly comforting. Resonating through your very being.

Your breath catches and your heart races—not just from the shock of the realization but from the undeniable rightness that surges through you. Azriel, noticing the subtle transformation in your expression halts his story. A flicker of concern crossing his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks with his voice tinged with worry. The humor from his story now replaced by attentive care.

A mix of joy and amazement washes over you as you feel a comforting swirl of his shadows around your feet. Like curious creatures affirming this new connection. "Azriel, I think... I think the mating bond just…," you trailed off unsure how to continue. Your voice was filled with awe. The realization brings a new depth to your smile as you meet his gaze which is now shimmering with a mixture of relief and happiness.

"That's what I've been feeling," Azriel breathes out, a tender smile spreading across his face as he steps closer. He reaches out gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I've been waiting, hoping you would feel it too when the time was right."

Taking his hand, you feel a warmth that goes beyond physical touch. A connection that seeps into the depths of your soul. "I’m glad it’s you," you say quietly, sincerely, the words flowing easily.

Azriel’s other hand comes up to gently cup your cheek. His touch feather light. "And I’m honored it’s you," he responds. His gaze locked with yours. The world around you—the city lights, the soft whisper of the evening breeze—fades into a gentle backdrop to the profound connection you share.

In this moment with Azriel’s shadows dancing around, playful, and protective, you feel a sense of completeness. A promise of endless possibilities. Together, bonded not just by fate but by a mutual understanding you know that whatever the future holds you'll get to navigate it side by side.

As the realization of the mating bond settles between you, Azriel's shadows seem to take on a life of their own. They swirled around you both with a newfound enthusiasm. The delicate tendrils of darkness weave around your legs and occasionally brush against your hands as if testing and reinforcing the connection that has just been acknowledged.

Azriel watches with a tender amusement as his shadows interact with you, their movements more animated than usual. "They seem to have taken quite a liking to you," he comments. His voice warm with affection and a hint of pride. "They're not usually this... attentive."

As the shadows continue their gentle dance around you, one particularly daring tendril snakes up your arm, its touch lighter than a feather. You can't help but laugh. The sound echoing softly in the quiet of the evening. With a delighted grin you reach out to trace the path of the shadow with your fingertips, marveling at the cool, tingling sensation it leaves on your skin.

Azriel continues watching with an affectionate roll of his eyes accompanying his half-smirk. "You're going to spoil them," he teases. His tone light but full of warmth.

Encouraged by your positive reaction another shadow playfully darts forward and mimics the motion of a gentle kiss on your cheek. You giggle with joy, your hand touching the spot in mock surprise and then you're both laughing. A shared moment of joy and wonder at the peculiar yet endearing behavior of the shadows.

Azriel shakes his head, but his eyes shine with amusement. "Now you've done it. They're going to expect this king of attention all the time," he jokes as the shadows around him swirled in what you swear could be shadowy laughter.

"You know, I think I'm okay with that," you respond still smiling as you watch the shadows retreat slightly, as if bashful from the attention. "They're quite charming. Just like someone else I know." You glance up at Azriel with a playful smirk. Enjoying the light flush that colors his cheeks at the compliment.

The shadows, seemingly pleased with their role in this light-hearted exchange, settle more calmly around you both like a contented sigh after a bout of laughter. The protective circle they form feels like a gentle embrace not just from Azriel but from all parts of him.

As the laughter fades Azriel's expression turns tender, his gaze softening as he searches your face looking for any sign of unease. "But seriously," he says with his voice low and earnest, "are you really okay?" His concern is palpable. The bond between you making every emotion, every nuance of feeling that much more intense and meaningful.

You meet his gaze feeling a surge of warmth from his sincere concern. Smiling gently, you nod, the tranquility of the moment filling you with a profound sense of peace. "I really am okay. For the first time in a long time," you admit. Your voice steady and sure. The confession feels like a significant acknowledgment of the journey you've been on and the role Azriel, and his shadows, have played in it.

Azriel's smile in response is radiant. A look of relief and happiness that brightens his entire demeanor. "That's all I’ve ever wanted to hear," he murmurs. His voice soft with emotion. He stands closer, his hand gently squeezing yours. "Come on, love," he whispers with a twinkle in his eyes. "Let's fly home."

With a graceful motion Azriel unfurls his expansive wings, the dark feathers shimmering under the starlight. The sight never fails to take your breath away. He wraps an arm securely around your waist, his touch reassuring. "Ready?" he asks. His voice a low rumble filled with excitement and anticipation.

With a nod you cling to him, feeling the rush of air as he leaps into the sky. Velaris unfolds below you. It was a gorgeous tapestry of lights and shadows. The wind was cool and exhilarating against your face. Flying with Azriel, held close against his chest, the city sprawling beneath you is an experience that feels as if it straddles the line between dream and reality.

The flight is swift and smooth. The quiet only broken by the rushing wind and the steady beat of Azriel's powerful wings. The world seems to shrink away, leaving only the two of you soaring through the night sky. As the House of Wind comes into view Azriel’s descent is gentle, a reminder of his skill and care for you.

You land softly on the balcony, the cool night breeze playing around you, still wrapped in the warmth of his embrace. Just as you touch down the laughter and lively banter of the Inner Circle reach your ears from inside.

As you and Azriel step through the grand doors of the House of Wind the lively atmosphere of the Inner Circle greets you. Cassian's booming voice fills the foyer as he spots you descending from the balcony. "Finally decided to join us, huh? Or were you two plotting to take over Velaris with your love-struck scheming?" he teases, winking not so conspicuously.

Rhysand joins in with a sly grin. His eyes twinkling with mischief. "I think they were busy weaving shadows and starlight. Look how they landed, like a pair of night-blooming flowers." His voice was laden with humor and draws a round of chuckles from around the room.

Feyre, Nesta, and Elain watch from the side, their expressions varying degrees of amusement and affection. Feyre's eyes meet yours and she gives you an approving nod. Her smile suggesting she understands more than she lets on. Nesta’s smirk is more enigmatic but supportive while Elain’s gentle gaze is filled with romantic delight at the scene unfolding before her.

Amid the teasing Azriel keeps you close, his arm remaining protectively around your waist. The warmth of his embrace reassures you. His presence a calming force against the good-natured ribbing. "Ignore them," he murmurs softly against your ear, just loud enough for you to hear over the laughter. His voice is rich with affection and a hint of playfulness that only you are privy to.

"You make it sound so easy," you whisper back, unable to suppress a smile feeling buoyed by the love filling the room.

As the evening progresses the light banter continues, with everyone occasionally casting teasing glances your way, making playful comments about the inseparable duo you and Azriel have become. Despite the jests there’s an underlying current of genuine happiness for you both. A celebration of the deepening bond that everyone seems to recognize and respect.

The night unfolds with shared stories, laughter, and an occasional clinking of glasses in toasts, not just to the night but to new beginnings and magical connections. As you stand by Azriel’s side, surrounded by friends who are more like family. You feel a profound sense of belonging and happiness. Here in the heart of the Night Court, under the watchful eyes of the stars and the soft glow of the city, you are home—not just in place, but in heart, bound by love, laughter, and the eternal dance of shadows and light.

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 2 years ago

Text

Make It Worth It

Pairing: Moonknight trio x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: So many okay; body worship, HEAVY praise, multiple orgasms, oral (f,m receiving) unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it <3), creampie, hella petnames, fingering, kinda marking too, oh and cockwarming, a lil bit of a jealousy thing going, vague mentions of injuries

Genre: fluff & smut

Summary: The idea of you going on a date makes your friend confess feelings you didn't know they had

***

Meeting Marc Spector was something you'd consider a total fluke. A mishap with his suit had him limping down the street hardly able to hold himself up. Against... probably your better judgment, you brought him to your apartment- patched him up, got him some food, and let him crash on your couch. He was gone before you woke up in the morning and you honestly expected never to see him again. A couple of weeks later though he popped by to say thank you and introduce himself, you told him he could stop by if he needed help again. You didn't think he'd take you up on the offer but you were fast friends as you became his only confidante. Apparently, the vigilante life is not conducive to friendships, especially when you share your life with another; Steven Grant.

It was a while before Marc told you about Steven and you liked to call him Marc's best kept secret, considering Steven doesn't even know about it. It took even longer for you to meet Steven. Another mishap with Marc's suit had him frantically banging on your balcony door one night. You pulled open the door and he'd practically fallen into your apartment.

"Y/n! Hey!" He groaned.

"Jeez! I thought that stupid bird was meant to protect you Marc!" You crossed your arms.

"Help now, be mad later. Oh! And if I wake up and I'm not me, lie." He barely got the last bit out before he practically fell on you.

"Heavens above you still haven't told him the truth?" You groaned technically to yourself as you shoved a now unconscious Marc onto your couch. Even with him passed out you'd gotten more than enough practice patching him up that you had it so down that you were quick and efficient. He was out for quite some time afterwards, you even made dinner before he suddenly startled awake.

"Who are you? Where am I? What are you doing here?" The unfamiliar British accent immediately told you that night that Steven had woken up instead of Marc.

"Um- this is my apartment so that's where you are, I live here so that's what I'm doing here and my name is y/n. You're Steven right?"

"How did you know my name?" He'd looked at you suspiciously.

"I- I looked at your wallet for ID?" He does have his wallet on him so that lie was totally believable.

"Well why am I here?"

That was the question you were dreading from the moment Marc passed out on you.

"You were hurt so I brought you here."

"Hurt? Hurt how?"

"I- I didn't see it happen. You were hurt when I got to you." You shrugged. It wasn't technically a lie. You didn't see Marc get hurt. The answer seemed to satisfy Steven at the time but maintaining separate friendships with Marc and Steven wasn't something you wanted to keep up long term. Hence, with some gentle nudging, Marc eventually revealed himself to Steven and you ended up having to help the duo navigate the new dynamic.

However, where you thought Steven was Marc's best kept secret; a new player had him beaten. A secret so well kept Marc didn't even know until after you did. And his name was Jake Lockley. Meeting him had actually happened intentionally on his end. Apparently tired of watching the back and forth between you and his alters he stepped in to meet you himself. You'll admit you and Marc toed the line pretty much since you met, flirting with each other but not obvious enough to change your dynamic, and once Steven got comfortable with you it was only too fun to tease him. So in came Jake; the hidden protector, questioning you and ultimately deciding you were safe for them to be around. He even trusted you enough to facilitate his introduction to the other two. Now you've got the whole trio you can call friends and they often tell you how instrumental they consider you in maintaining stability in their shared life. You really enjoy having them around most of the time even with how chaotic it can be covering for, patching up, and keeping track of their system.

Tonight, while you're finishing your makeup for a date, you hear a knock from the living room. You're not expecting anyone right now so when you leave your room and find Moonknight on your balcony you're not exactly surprised. You open the door and the suit disappears as he walks into your apartment.

"What're you all dressed up for?" Marc asks taking in your outfit.

"Hello to you too Marc." You roll your eyes.

"Hello. What're you all dressed up for?"

"I have a date tonight." You say with a shrug heading back to your room knowing Marc will follow you.

"A date? What date? You didn't tell me about any date."

"I don't have to tell you about dates."

"Why wouldn't you tell me though?"

"It's a first date Marc I'm not getting married. You're making it a much bigger deal than it is."

"It is a huge deal. You haven't been on a date since we met!"

"Thank you for pointing out that Marc yes this is my first date in a while. Did you come here for a reason? Doesn't that bird of yours have errands for you?"

"I always come here when I'm done with Khonshu's stuff. This is why it's a big deal you didn't tell me about this date. It throws off our routine!"

"Marc you coming here to eat my food after running around for skelo-bird is not set in stone."

"It is set in stone. If it wasn't we wouldn't do it every time."

"Well it's still early, so when I finish my date I'll text you and you can come back over and your routine will be fine."

"That's not the same."

"I dunno what to tell you sweetie, I have to leave, I'm meeting this guy in like 10 minutes."

"Don't go."

"Marc!"

"Come ooon I'm way more fun than whoever this random guy is anyway."

"You don't even know him."

"Neither do you. So stay."

"Let me get this straight, you want me to cancel my first date in over a year because it's more important that we watch a movie while you eat leftovers? Call me crazy but I'd personally rank those a little differently."

"I want you to cancel your first date in over a year because I don't want you to go on a date."

"Okay I know we're close but I feel like that's crossing a line a little bit. That's not really up to you."

"Princessa, are you intentionally misunderstanding him?" Jake's sudden appearance only further confuses you.

"No Jake. I genuinely have no idea what the deal is here and at this rate, I'm going to be late so one of you better start talking straight."

"He's jealous. He doesn't want you going on a date with anyone that's not... us, really. None of us do."

"All of this is about a crush? Bring Marc back out here." You roll your eyes.

"Look I did not send Jake out here to speak for me!"

"You are such a dunce." You smack his chest lightly.

"What?!"

"You don't want me to go on this date because you three like me and you couldn't just say that?"

"I dunno I guess I just didn't want to risk what we've already got, as friends." He says sheepishly.

"Say the words."

"What?"

"Say exactly why you don't want me going on this date and I'll cancel."

"I don't want you to go on this date because I have feelings for you. Stay home. I can make it worth it in any way you ask."

"Any way that I ask?"

"I'll worship you like a god if you want me to."

"Won't that make that silly old bird of yours a little jealous?"

"Let him be if he is. All that matters is you not going on this date and me showing you my gratitude."

"Alright, I'll call and cancel the date."

"Don't bother. Who cares if he gets ghosted?"

"First of all, I'm nice so I care; secondly that's the shit that gets women stalked."

"Oh please, as if he'd ever be able to hurt you with us around." Marc scoffs.

"Okay, bodyguard. The call will take less than two minutes and you'll have my attention the rest of the night." You say grabbing your phone and stepping into the living room. You notice Marc following you as you call your date.

"Hello?"

"Lewis! Hi, I'm sorry to do this so last minute but something has come up and I'm not going to be able to make it to dinner."

"Oh. Is everything alright? Do you need anything?"

"Uh- thanks but I'll be fine! I just gotta take care of a thing and I didn't wanna leave you sitting there waiting."

"Yeah no, thanks for letting me know. We can reschedule."

"Sure! Soon as I get a handle on things I'll reach out to reschedule." You say, ignoring the look Marc gives you.

"Alright no problem. Good luck with your thing." Lewis says before hanging up.

"You aren't actually rescheduling with him, are you?" Marc asks you.

"Probably not." You shrug.

"Probably?!"

"I already canceled the date for you once."

"You making this hard for me on purpose sweetheart?"

"Not at all. Just not sure how things are gonna go." You smile.

"How things are gonna go? I'm gonna show you that canceling that silly date was the right idea and that you don't need anyone other than us."

"Us? Steven and Jake are in on this too?"

"Of course they are."

"Well, that's a big promise Marc, how do you plan to show me all of that?"

"I'm going to start by kissing you. Is that okay?" Marc asks, pulling you towards him with an arm around your waist.

"Absolutely." You say draping your arms over his shoulder. Marc's free hand comes up behind your head as he kisses you hard. You gasp against his lips and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Without warning, Marc lifts you into his arms and easily carries you back to your room, not even phased when you pull away from the kiss to squeal. He tosses you onto your bed and climbs over you with a smile.

"You have no idea how crazy we are about you." Marc breathes out, trailing kisses down to your neck.

"Crazy about me? Is that right?" You ask, a moan punctuating your question as Marc latches onto a particularly sensitive spot to turn purple.

"Completely." He says softly, staring at you so intently you pull him towards you for another kiss to escape the look in his eyes. Marc pulls away to tug your already bunched up dress over your head, leaving you in your bra and panties as he looks you over. "Fucking hell you're even more gorgeous than I could've imagined." Marc groans.

"You spend a lot of time thinking about me naked darling?" You can't help but chuckle at the thought as you take the moment of silence on his end to pull his shirt over his head and drag your nails down his chest appreciatively.

"I plead the fifth." Marc groans and moves to litter your chest in more patches of red and purple as he reaches under you to unhook your bra. His hands cover your breasts as soon as they're free, palms kneading the flesh while fingers toy with nipples. The sudden onslaught of stimulation has little whimpers falling from your lips that Marc decides he can't get enough of. He pulls one of your nipples between his lips, sucking, nipping, and tonguing at it to test your reactions, discovering all the sounds you make from this alone. "You make such cute little noises." He chuckles switching from one nipple to the other, pulling all the same sounds from you. Eventually, Marc trails his kisses down your stomach, soft and slow, like he has all the time in the world. "So pretty." He whispers. He pulls your panties down your legs, kissing your thighs on the way down and back up. "I'm so going to enjoy this." Marc says before burying his head between your legs. He licks a hard stripe between your folds that makes you moan and his arms wrap around your thighs before you can even squirm. Marc's tongue swirls around your clit as he watches you, testing what pulls the best reaction from you. When a certain rhythm has your fingers tugging at his hair he settles into it, intent on making you cum like that. Whimpers and cries fall from your lips in quick succession as he sucks and laps at your sensitive bundle of nerves. You writhe and grind against him, although his grip on your thighs restricts your movement as he works you quickly towards an orgasm.

"Holy fuck Marc!" You groan, throwing your head back and pulling almost too hard at his curls but the man between your legs only lets out a pleased growl at the action. "Fuck I'm close." You pant out and Marc wraps his lips securely around your clit, sucking harshly until your legs tense and your orgasm crashes into you with a silent scream. Marc doesn't even let you fully ride out the high before his fingers slide into your opening. He curls the two digits just right and you can feel the pull in your abdomen when he brushes the spot inside you. Your back arches into him as he works you open with his fingers, his tongue still lapping at your clit, determined to pull another orgasm from you. Your second orgasm hits you faster than the first your entire body twitching while you let out the prettiest whine Marc's ever heard.

"My goodness." Although the voice is muted in your pleasure fogged brain, you don't miss the accent in his words.

"Steven?!" You blink at him, chest still heaving slightly as you try to catch your breath. His eyes are as wide as saucers as he takes in the situation he's just been thrown into.

"Hi. I can't imagine Marc did this on purpose I-" Steven's words trail as his head snaps to the mirror hanging on your closet door. "He did this on purpose." Steven looks at you and then back at the mirror. "Why would you do that Marc?!" You pull his gaze back to you by grabbing his chin,

"Steven, calm down." You say.

"Clearly I've missed a lot because how did you two even end up like this?" Steven asks and your giggle at his confusion quickly turns into a whimper when the action makes you distinctly aware of his fingers still buried inside you. "My god, help me." Steven breathes out at the sound from your lips. "If this was your act of gratitude why am I here?!" Steven asks to the mirror and you suppose Marc told him how you, in his words, ended up like this. Steven makes a face at whatever Marc says next and then turns to you with a look you can only describe as curious. Before you can question it, his fingers inside you move tentatively, making you moan. He's less sure of himself than Marc had been but he watches intently as he slowly strokes your inner walls, enjoying the way you react to him. "You're absolutely breathtaking."

"And you, are simply adorable." You say bringing him down to kiss him. Steven is obviously much more nervous than Marc was and you take the lead in the kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips as you explore his mouth with your tongue. It seems your reactions feed his confidence as his fingers gain speed the longer you kiss him and soon you're moaning too much to actually do it properly.

"I love the sounds you make." Steven sighs. You pull his fingers from you before he can make you cum again and he pouts at you until you guide the fingers between your lips. You suck them clean, enjoying the way Steven takes a shaky breath at the action. You use one hand to undo his jeans and pull them down his legs, pulling his fingers out of his mouth for him to get up and shove them the rest of the way down with his boxers. You lean forward and take Steven into your mouth, swallowing him down as far as you can.

"Oh god." Steven groans and his eyes roll as he tosses his head back. You bob your head up and down his length, swirling your tongue as you go, enjoying the way he moans and shivers.

"I love the sounds you make too darling." You hum dragging your tongue along the vein that runs the underside length of his dick. Steven hisses and you wrap your lips around him again.

"Holy hell you're... really good at this." Steven's praise is breathy and stuttery. You take him all the way into your mouth, feeling him in the back of your throat. Rather suddenly, you feel his fingers in your hair tugging you off of him.

"Now, it was my understanding that we were meant to be showing you gratitude." Your ears perk up hearing the accent change.

"Jake, yeah so I've been told." You hum.

"And yet here you are pleasing Steven instead of him worshiping you." Jake's thumb rubs along your bottom lip.

"Steven is just so much fun to tease." You smile.

"Tease him later princessa, tonight is about you. How lucky we are to have you in our life. How much of an honor it is to kiss you, to touch you, to please you." Jake intentionally speaks slowly, staring at you intently.

"You are... very good with words." You muse.

"Have our actions not supported them?"

"Marc definitely, and Steven- before I got my hands on him, yes. You however haven't done anything but talk." You smirk at him.

"Tell me what you want from me and it's yours. Anything you ask." Jake says.

"In other circumstances that would be... a dangerous promise to make. But tonight, I just want you inside me. I want you to make me cum on your dick."

"With pleasure." Jake pushes you onto your back and tugs your legs to pull you towards him. He wastes no time lining himself up with your entrance and thrusting into you. Your back immediately arches at the fullness of Jake bottoming out and you can't help but moan. "Fuck you're so wet." He groans dropping his head to your shoulder for a moment. Jake sets a rhythm of sharp thrusts, deep but quick.

"Sh-shit Jake! Feels so good." You whine, dragging your nails down his back. He hisses at the sting and his thrusts pick up speed.

"God y/n you're perfect. So gorgeous. Taking this dick like you were made for us." Jake huffs out. One of his hands reaches between your bodies, finding your clit with ease. You squirm against his ministrations moaning as he drives into you repeatedly. "That's it princessa, moan for me, sounds so nice." He grits out, rubbing circles against your bundle of nerves. You grind against him, trying to bring your orgasm on quicker. "Cum for me sweetheart, let me feel you let go around me. Please mi vida." Jake sweetly kisses you as he practically begs for your orgasm and a few thrusts later you're falling over the edge, nails digging into his back as he watches the way pleasure washes over your face. Once your eyes slowly peel open, Jake tightens his grip on your hips and changes the pace of his thrusts, slowing down now.

"You're gonna cum inside me aren't you Jake?" You ask with a pout specifically to get what you want.

"Mierda." Jake's eyes close for a moment. "Is that what you want princessa?"

"Yes Jake, please."

"I told you I'd give you whatever you ask me for." Jake shifts slightly before picking up the pace of his thrusts, they're sloppier now as he focuses on chasing his own release. "I'll pump you so fucking full, you'll be leaking. Fuck you'll look even prettier dripping like that."

"Please Jake, give it to me. Fill me up baby." You whine, grinding against him. His hips stutter and stop buried inside you and you the warmth of his orgasm inside you makes you moan. Before Jake can twist to lay beside you, you pull him onto you comfortable with the weight of him on you. "Don't move yet, let's just- lay like this for a bit, please." You say.

"Thank fuck you didn't go on that stupid date." Jake mutters and you giggle a little.

"Thank fuck you said something or I would've."

"Well, did we make it worth the stay?" "I'd say so." "Good. After a nap you can discuss the details, probably with Steven, he'll have the most to say." Jake mumbles into your neck.

"I'll have to talk to each of you ya know." You say.

"Sure but start with him. All I have to say is I think you're perfect, and we'd be lucky if you date us."

"You're not the only lucky ones." You say kissing the side of his face. Yeah. It might have been by pure chance that you crossed paths with Marc over a year ago but you're glad the rest of your decisions landed you here. Even if it's not the trajectory you saw that first interaction leading to, definitely worth it.

***

3K notes · View notes

mclqren · 8 months ago

Text

SPORTING SECRETS ★ CL16

PAIRING ✦ charles leclerc x fem!footballer!reader

SUMMARY ✦ you are a famous footballer & you have been dating charles in secret for some time, but your fans start to piece together the clues when they spot him at one of your matches [ SMAU ]

WARNINGS ✦ cursing

REQUESTED ✦ here!

NOTES ✦ reader plays for the arsenal women's team. the fc i've used is alessia russo, but feel free to picture whoever you want! my requests are open so feel free to leave a request :)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

liked by leahwilliamsonn, bethmead_, and 214,990 others

yourusername match ready for this weekend ❤️

view all comments

user1 i literally aspire to be like you when i get older

user2 she does it againnn!!

user3 london is RED ❤️❤️

liked by yourusername

bethmead_ my girllll 💘

yourusername love youu!!

user4 i look up to her sm

user5 sameee!!

user6 HOW IS SHE SINGLE STILLL

user7 literally NO CLUE HOW

charles_leclerc

( caption one: guess where i am 😍 | caption two: london 🇬🇧 )

liked by kimlittle1990, charles_leclerc, and 252,111 others

yourusername walking back after a victory this weekend:

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user12 LETS FUCKING GOOO

user13 KNEW YOU COULD DO ITTT!!

leahwilliamsonn ❤️❤️

yourusername foreverrrr! ❤️

user14 is no one going to talk about how CHARLES LECLERC is in her likes??

user15 i swear he's been following her for a while, though?

user16 yup!! but this is the first time they're actually interacting with each other on the internet

liked by bethmead_, charles_leclerc, and 292,400 others

yourusername best end to the weekend!! ft millie 💘

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user17 MILLIE IS BACKKKK!!

user18 ugh y/n is such a cutie i can't

user19 OKAY BUT WHO IS THAT GUYYY??

user20 Y/N HAS A MAN??

user21 i'm kindaaa surprised but not really bc LOOK AT HER

bethmead_ so who's the man that's replaced me

yourusername shhh look away ❤️

charles_leclerc millieee!!

yourusername my fav 💘

user22 THE COMMENT FROM CHARLES HELLO?

user23 my two worlds colliding is this a fever dream.

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, and 1,101,767 others

tagged yourusername

charles_leclerc my y/n - aka the best footballer i've ever met (other than myself, of course) i'm so happy we can finally share our love with the rest of the world. forever and always, i love you ❤️

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user25 WHERE IS THAT GIRL ON TWITTER BC SHE MUST BE PUNCHING THE AIR RN.

user26 SOMEONE GIVE HER A MEDAL

user27 AHHH SHES SO CUTE!!

user28 NEW PARENTS UNLOCKED

user29 wait can someone tell me who she is??

user30 y/n l/n!! she's a footballer for the arsenal wfc and she's sooo fucking perfect!

user29 ahh!! she's so gorgeous! 💗💗

yourusername the way you posted this without my permission is crazyyy...

charles_leclerc had to let the world know at some point 😘

yourusername i love you tooo! (the caption abt you being better is def a lie but okay!)

charles_leclerc excuse me i dominated the game??

yourusername how - by falling flat on ur ass??

user30 OKAY THEIR DYNAMIC>>>

liked by charles_leclerc, bethmead_, and 401,928 others

tagged charles_leclerc

yourusername charlieee my love!! thank you so much for supporting me for just over a year (crazy how no one managed to clock us for it until now), you mean so so much to me! p.s. if you ever want to say ur better than me at football, take a look at the last pic. you're welcome. 😊😊

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user31 STILL CAN'T BELIEVE IT TOOK US SO LONG TO FIGURE OUT

user32 FR like we're meant to be so diligent??

user33 AW MY HEARTTT

user34 icl him in that first pic>>> WOW

bethmead_ still can't believe you replaced me :(

yourusername no one could ever replace you, come over rn 😘

bethmead_ omw!!

charles_leclerc i love you

yourusername LOVE YOU MORE

user35 my heart can't handle this sedate me now.

charles_leclerc WHY THE LAST PIC

yourusername i get to insult you every once in a while 💘

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#f1 x reader #f1 #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #formula one x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #smau #formula one x you #mclqren #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n

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fluentmoviequoter · 9 months ago

Text

Yell at Me and Tell Me You Love Me

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: You distance yourself from Tim because you think he is still in love with Isabel. When he confronts you about why you've been avoiding him, you accidentally tell him the truth.

Warnings: angst to fluff, argument, friends to lovers, the timeline of Tim and Isabel's relationship is probably off but I needed to make everything fit

Word Count: 3.0k+ words

A/N: The first title I typed was "Yell at Me, Tell Me You Love Me, But Don't Push Me Away" and I'd just like to say (a very sarcastic) you're welcome for shortening it. (Unless you like the original, then I'm sorry.)

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

You met Tim Bradford less than a week after he left the Army and quickly became one of his closest friends. Despite the secret kisses shared without thought, holding each other tightly for no reason, and falling asleep in each other’s arms, you continue to be just friends with Tim Bradford. Being part of his life for so long means you’ve seen more than most. You were at Tim and Isabel’s wedding, gave him a place to stay after the divorce, and you fell in love with him without even trying.

Since his divorce from Isabel, you’ve shared a few more thoughtless kisses, said “I love you” before ending phone calls, and slept in the same bed simply for comfort on more than one occasion. You know you need to stop, however, because Tim is still attached to Isabel, as far as you can tell. She calls occasionally, and he rushes to answer the phone, leaving you like an afterthought as the woman he truly loves becomes available again. You’re unwilling to be a rebound or a distraction while Tim works on his relationship with Isabel, but you can’t decide how to set a boundary you don’t want.

It's nearly midnight, and you can’t sleep with thoughts of Tim running through your head. As you consider the idea of simply giving him space, letting him know that you both have things you need to deal with before you can be his friend again, your phone rings. Tim’s name and face light up your dark room and life before you answer.

“Hey,” you greet.

“Hi. I- did I wake you up?” Tim asks.

“No, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither. Are you okay?”

When Tim asks that question, you realize that the only thing you want from or for Tim is for him to be happy. Alone, in the dark, you acknowledge that the only way for him to be happy is if you are willing to move out of the way of what he really wants. If you step away and give him room to work out his feelings toward Isabel, maybe he can find what he wants and focus entirely on that.

Tim says your name, and you rush to say, “Yeah, I’m fine, just- just thinking.”

“You want me to come over?” he offers.

“No,” you answer quickly – too quickly. “It’s late, and I’m really fine. Are you?”

Tim sighs before answering, “I guess. Isabel called today to tell me she’s going back to rehab. She wants me to come by once a week, act as part of her support plan.”

“Do you think it’s a good idea?”

“I enabled Isabel for so many years that I don’t know.”

“You’ll do the right thing, Tim. You always do.”

A memory of last week, when Tim kissed you during a walk on the beach, flashes through your mind. Was that the right thing?

“Or you have too much faith in me,” he argues.

“I think I have just the right amount of faith in you.”

“It’s your turn to pick dinner on Friday.”

You see an opening to pull back and tighten your grip on your phone as you ask, “Actually, can we skip this week? I’m swamped and don’t know if I’ll be able to make it. I’d hate to leave you waiting.”

Tim hesitates before agreeing, “Sure. Just let me know when you’re free. We can do whatever you want.”

“I will,” you reply softly. “I’m getting tired now, though, so goodnight, Tim. And good luck with Isabel and your decision.”

“Yeah, thanks. Goodnight.”

You bite your tongue to keep from saying I love you one last time, and as you set your phone down, actively pulling away from your best friend, you want to call him back and ask if you ever had a chance. Instead, you press your face into your pillow and force yourself to think about other things as you fall asleep.

✯✯✯✯✯

You sit in bed and stare at your phone as your finger hovers over the star beside Tim’s contact. When you remove him from your favorites list, everything will begin to feel real. Just as you lower your finger, your phone buzzes with a text from Tim. Three simple words make your heart pound as you read them.

Call me, please.

You want more information before you decide to call him or not. Distancing yourself will be hard enough without Tim vying for your attention the entire time you pull away. Clicking the star so it disappears, you make the first step in separating your life from Tim Bradford’s.

“Please be the right choice,” you whisper, staring at his contact photo. “I just want you to be happy. Happier than I could make you.”

An hour later, your phone rings, and you send Tim to voicemail. If it is an emergency, he’ll leave a voicemail. With each unanswered call and text, the time between them lengthens. Maybe Tim has already realized you weren’t as important to him as you both seemed to think.

By the end of the first day not talking to Tim, you want to scream and cry simultaneously. It’s hard to lose a friend, but harder to lose the one person you love. Reminding yourself constantly that you’re doing it for Tim and his happiness, you don’t give yourself time to think about how much your decision and the distance are hurting you. You knew Tim would hurt for a while before finding his way back to Isabel, but you weren’t expecting to feel like a piece of your heart had been ripped out. That’s what you get for giving it to Tim without telling him, you suppose.

✯✯✯✯✯

After a sleepless night of tossing and turning, someone knocks on your door as the sun rises over Los Angeles. You roll out of bed and pull a sweatshirt over your head before looking through the peephole. Tim stands on the other side of the door and speaks before you can think about pretending to be gone.

“I know you’re here,” Tim calls. “I don’t have a lot of time, just wanted to check on you before work.”

After you open the door, you look out at him and give him a closed-lip smile. He looks at you like he can see straight through you, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he could.

“We made a huge arrest last night and a couple of us are going out tonight to celebrate,” he says instead. “Do you want to come out with us?”

“Uh, no, but thanks for the offer. I’ve got a lot going on right now, and-“

“Like what?”

You tilt your head to the side, wondering what he means.

“What’s got you so busy that you can’t even text me back?”

“I- I don’t want to talk about it right now, Tim,” you say, opting to deflect rather than lie. “But congratulations on the arrest and have fun tonight.”

Tim’s jaw tightens as he nods. You watch as he walks away, wishing you could run after him. As you close your door, you decide that slowly pulling back will not work; if you want to give Tim room to find his way back to Isabel, you must leave him.

Pushing your fist against the closed door, you take a deep breath before walking through your place and gathering everything that reminds you of Tim. After placing it in a box, you shove it into your closet. Next, you turn off the notifications in your phone, so you won’t be tempted to answer when he calls or texts. The hurt of losing Tim worsens with each action as you pull yourself further away from him.

“Please be happy,” you beg as you close the door on your box of memories.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’re grumpier than usual,” Nolan notices. “I mean- sorry,” he adds quickly.

“Timothy,” Angela calls. “A word?”

“No,” Tim replies.

“Bradford, now.”

Tim rolls his eyes as he stands and walks to her desk. She gestures for him to sit, and while he should feel like a kid in the principal’s office, he feels more like a man being told his wife is divorcing him and having to maintain a brave face even as his heart shatters in his chest.

“What do you want, Lopez?” he asks. “No small talk.”

“I wouldn’t dream of trying with you, Timothy. I want to know what’s up with you and why you’re taking it out on everyone here.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“You’re making it our business by pushing your frustration, or whatever it is you’re dealing with, off onto us. Is it Isabel? I heard she’s back in rehab.”

“No,” Tim answers, scoffing as he leans back. “It’s not Isabel.”

“Is there any chance that part of you still cares about her, and even if you’re lying to me and yourself about it, Isabel still affects you?” Angela asks.

“No, Lopez. I can guarantee that this has nothing to do with Isabel. She asked me to visit her as part of her support plan and I told her I would think about it, but the ‘source of my frustration’ hasn’t even let me do that.”

“Timothy, just tell me what’s bothering you and maybe I can help,” she offers quietly.

Tim stands as he replies, “You can’t. The only one who can help me with this is avoiding me.”

Angela’s brows furrow as she wonders who he could be referring to. Tim is adamant this isn’t about Isabel, but Angela can’t think of anyone else with this level of pull over him.

“Let me know if you change your mind and want to talk, Tim.”

“Will do,” he answers, though he and Angela know it’s a lie.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Isabel!” Tim calls, jogging to catch up to her. “Hey.”

“Hi,” she replies, hugging him quickly. “I thought you were going to call my sponsor with your decision.”

“I was, and I did. But I also wanted to let you know, in person, that I can’t be part of your support plan. At least, not right now, not after everything I did over the last few years.”

Isabel nods as she guesses, “You feel partially responsible and don’t want to risk letting me fall back into my old ways. I get it, Tim, but thanks for considering it.”

Tim nods, and Isabel can tell something is bothering him.

“You want to stay? Talk for a bit?” she asks.

“I can’t. I’ve got a work thing,” he replies. “Thank you, though, and good luck with everything. I’ll be back by when I have some time.”

“Tim,” Isabel interjects, wrapping her hand around his forearm. “I recognize that look. I only saw it once, and it didn’t turn out well for me. Whatever it is you want to say to whoever it is, just say it.”

“I don’t know how,” Tim admits.

“My take: if she’s important enough to affect you like this, you’ll find a way to let her know what you’re feeling.”

“What if she doesn’t care, Isabel?”

“I can’t tell you what to do, Tim, but I can tell you that waiting too long doesn’t make things any easier… I have to go, I’ve got a group meeting, but, Tim, what’s worth the risk: saying something or keeping it quiet until it’s too late?”

Tim nods before he waves as Isabel turns toward another building. Tim texts Nolan that won't be at the celebratory gathering while he walks to his truck. He knows where he needs to go but doesn’t know how to deal with everything once he gets there. Hopefully, seeing you will give him the right words to say.

✯✯✯✯✯

You broke your heart trying to let Tim be happy and keep yourself from getting hurt in the fallout of losing him. Your house seems bare, every picture and memory of Tim tucked away in a failed attempt to keep your mind off him. A knock draws you out of your miserable reverie. Whoever it is knocks again when you leave it unanswered, the sound harsher and louder than the first time.

“Coming!” you call.

You open the door without thinking and are surprised to see Tim standing on the other side.

“Can I come in?” he asks in response to your stunned silence.

Say no, your mind says, but your heart makes you step back and invite him inside again. Pushing him away the second time will be much worse, but you can’t seem to stay away from Tim.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Tim says.

He leans against your kitchen counter with his arms crossed, waiting for an explanation you don’t want to give. The whole point of making room for him and Isabel to reconcile (like he wants) was for Tim to figure it out himself.

“Ready for what?” you ask defensively.

Tim shakes his head and scoffs as he tightens his arms over his chest. “You’re unbelievable, you know that? After everything we’ve been through together, you really expect to avoid me without an explanation or question?”

“Everything we’ve been through?” you repeat incredulously. “We’re friends, Tim. Friends stop hanging out when one of them gets busy.”

“Oh, now we’re friends? Were we friends when you crawled into my bed three weeks ago, or when we were making out on the beach? Because that didn’t feel very friendly,” he snaps.

“No, we weren’t friends; I was just a woman who made a mistake,” you reply.

“Am I your friend or am I a mistake?” Tim demands. “Because you can’t seem to keep your story straight. It’s a simple question: why are you avoiding me?”

“If I’m such a bad friend, why does it matter, Tim?”

Tim pushes off the counter, stepping toward you. His jaw clenches, and his biceps flex as he raises his arms in question. You would kiss him any other time, but right now, you’re angry that he can’t just trust you are busy. Granted, it is a lie, but you don’t appreciate the accusation, which is likely your emotions talking.

“I’m not answering your question unless you answer mine,” he says.

“Then I guess we’re not going anywhere.”

Tim looks up at the ceiling before asking, “Why?”

“I’m not going to stand here and argue with you all night. If you think I’m a liar, just say it, Tim!”

“Well, you are the one keeping secrets.”

“So, what, you think I’m avoiding you? Then get out and let me!” you demand.

“And go where? In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not surrounded by friends, and I thought you were one of the few I had, but I can see now that I made a mistake.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry that your precious, perfect little world decided to turn you into this,” Tim seethes, looking into your eyes as he steps toward the door.

You move with him, chest to chest, as you yell, “And I’m sorry that you couldn’t figure out I love you enough to let you go back to Isabel!”

Tim falls silent, and your chest heaves with anger. You realize what you admitted, drop your gaze to Tim’s chest, and lick your lips before lowering your voice to speak again.

“Maybe I was stupid for chasing after you when I knew you weren’t interested, that your heart would always be with someone else. I thought that someday you’d realize that everything I’ve done over the last few years has been for you; I’ve been chasing you just to find out that I never had a chance.”

“I don’t want to go back to Isabel,” Tim says after a moment of tense silence. “I went to see her today to tell her that I couldn’t be there for her anymore. If I’ve been acting different, chasing after someone, it’s because I’m falling for you.”

“You don’t fall,” you argue quietly.

“You deserve better,” Tim adds. “I don’t remember what it’s like to share my life with someone who cares about me and wants the same thing.”

You nod and try to step back, but Tim moves with you. The couch is right behind you, and you have nowhere to go, so you look into Tim’s eyes.

“I am not in love with Isabel,” Tim repeats. “You really started avoiding me because you thought I was?”

“What else was I supposed to do?”

“You could have asked instead of forcing me to start a yelling match for answers,” Tim replies, his lips quirking up into a small smile.

“I want you to be happy, Tim,” you explain. “And I thought that couldn’t happen if I was in the way.”

“You’re not in the way. You’re exactly where I want you.”

“Where is that?” you ask, leaning toward Tim.

“Right in the middle of my life.”

You raise your arms over Tim’s shoulders, smiling as his hands meet your waist. Tim pushes you against the back of the couch as he kisses you. He moves a hand up to cradle your head as you move with him. This kiss differs from the others; there is a need for more, an apology, and love coursing through you and Tim. Tim pulls back, and you pant for air as he places his hands on either side of your hips and leans forward.

“Just talk to me next time, would you?” he requests.

“And miss out on this? No way,” you argue.

“Don’t seem so excited about getting to yell at me for so long.”

“You’ve never kissed me like that before,” you say before you distract Tim by moving your hands to his chest.

“You’ve never told me you love me before today.”

“Sorry I had to avoid you for a while to confess it.”

“Maybe we can do it again soon, without the insults before.”

“I don’t know,” you muse. “Insults and yelling are kind of your thing.”

Tim cuts you off, kissing you again and tipping you over the back of the couch. You laugh as he catches himself and hovers over you.

“I love you too, even though you were too blind to see I felt the same,” Tim whispers.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford angst #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie abc #requests #fem!reader #hanna writes✯

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fortunapre · 1 month ago

Text

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Oscar Piastri x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Oscar asks you to attend an important event with him, and during this, secrets and moments are shared. HOT MOMENTS!!!

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: my first smut so tread carefully. 18+, also kind of fluff, p in v, fingers do things, swearing, 1st person

★ 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 ★ 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ★ 𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏 ★ 4.5k words (long)

A classic childhood best friends to lovers. This story is written in first person and includes thoughts of the main character:

y/n of course.

I know that I promised him. I know what I promised him. However, I also know that keeping this promise might very well leave me crying on my bathroom floor listening to Gracie Abrams's "I Should Hate You” later tonight.

You know when you agree to something so irrational and god damn stupid that you immediately know you’ll regret it? At the time, when he asked me, I thought: I should really start going out more anyways and, really, how bad could it be? Safe to say, if I could go back in time and strangle (maybe not strangle but slightly maim) those words out of past-Me’s mind, I'd be hopping in a telephone booth right now.

But, if that were the case, you wouldn't be hearing about this now, would you?

I guess some explanation should be given…

Cheesy movie-like-warping flashback to 2 months ago…

It was around noon on a blistering Thursday, at the Singapore Grand Prix. I had just shown up a little later than expected, and the sun had already given me a death wish. I was wearing a Mclaren cap and sunglasses, but I swear heat waves were emitting from my face. Dramatics aside, it was really fucking hot, and I wanted to find Oscar and get in the shade ASAP.

I probably looked stupid as I whipped my head back and forth like a crazy woman, trying to spot him. I dragged the friend I’d taken with me across the paddock, trying to locate the Mclaren Area.

Once I remembered it's the 21st century and I have a cellphone, I called Oscar.

“Yeah?” He answered after one ring.

“Ugh where are you? I’ve been looking everywhere…”

“I'm at the Mclaren-”

“Where?! I don’t see a wink of papaya.” My friend beside me gave me a pointed look because I was getting a bit aggressive because of the heat, but who cares? I NEED SHADE.

“If you’d let me finish my sentence, dork, I’d have told you It’s to the left of the entrance. It’s kind of hidden by Ferrari.”

“Okayyyyy…” I said while walking and looking around for what he was talking about. “walking there now. See ya.”

“See ya.”

I hung up and practically sprinted to where he said.

Once I caught sight of Lando a few steps away, I knew I was heading the right way.

“Lando!” I yelled. He looked up from his phone, eyes squinting and searching for the voice that called his name. He was wearing a nice outfit, no doubt because it was media day. Once he saw me he smiled and gave a short wave.

I tried to bring my friend with me, but they insisted on going to the Ferrari area instead since “Mclaren is enemy territory.”

I understood and let them go since I know how much of a die-hard Tifosi they are.

Once I reached Lando, I gave him a short hug and stood next to him in the shade. I was going to ask how the day’s been so far, but he spoke first.

“Wow, was it really that bad? What did you say?” Lando said, looking at me with concern. “Umm what?” I am very confused. Who? What? When where? Huh? “Lando. What are you talking about?”

“Well, you walked over looking kind of, i don’t know… mad? And now you're all red so I assumed that your guy’s conversation didn’t go down well.” He explained, still not giving me a better explanation.”

“Huh? What why? Wait. Mine and whose conversation?” I expressed my concern and confusion by waving my arms around.

“Oscar, dumbass. Who else?”

“I just got here. What are you talking about? Actually, I was going to see Oscar right now, but I thought I’d catch up with you, since I saw you first.”

“Oh! You haven’t seen Oscar yet?” Lando’s eyebrows raised up like a cartoon character in surprise. I shook my head. “Go over there! He should be by the interviewer's pen. And just ignore everything I said. Yeah?”

“I- ok?” Before I could say anything Lando walked away towards a group of people holding neon yellow merch.

I shook my head in confusion and then walked towards the interview pen. I spotted Oscar in a second, wearing a black Quadlock T-shirt, black shorts, an orange and blue OP81 cap, and the all-known backpack. His hands were in his pockets and he was nodding along to whatever the person next to him was talking about.

He caught sight of me and did a double take in my direction. Instead of immediately leaving his conversation, he kept nodding respectfully but while occasionally looking at me. The person talking to him must have realized he was distracted and let him go. Once he was free, he turned away and started walking towards me, a smile present like always.

“You good? You look a little sweaty?” He asked while laughing a bit and wiping the space between my eyebrows and hat with the cold handkerchief he was holding.

“No shit, Sherlock.” I answered and tried to wipe away more moisture with the collar of my shirt, to no avail. He just gave me the handkerchief instead of watching me struggle.

Once I was done, I looked at him and saw his classic amused smirk. I shoved his shoulder playfully and walked past him into the shade.

He directed me to a room with air conditioning. It had a couch, closet and other Oscar things- it was his driver’s room.

I plopped down on the couch, fanning myself.

He sat down next to me and once he did, I didn’t hesitate to drape my legs over his lap and lay back, exhausted.

We kind of sat there for a bit until he spoke up.

“So listen there’s this…”

When he stopped talking I opened my rested eyes and lifted my head to look at him. When I saw how flushed he looked, I properly sat up, moving my legs off of him and sat next up. Instead of asking what he was going to say, I just stayed quiet, knowing he would say it when he wanted to.

“I have a question for you. You can say no, but I figured I’d ask you since you're my closest friend and I’d be more comfortable if you were there.” He said quickly.

(Hi. Future-me here. I’d have told you what him saying “friend” did to my heart, but I haven’t explained that part yet.)

“Ok, I’m all ears!” Who says that? Is that an actual saying? Why am I nervous?

He laughed a bit at that and continued talking. “So, are you up to going to this team gala thing in November with me, ‘cause I need a plus one and I don’t think I could get an actual date at that time.”

So, 1. Actual date? What's that supposed to mean? And 2. What does he mean he couldn’t get a date when he looks like that?

(If you didn’t get that: I find Oscar very attractive.)

“Oh, um…” I started.

(Waaiiiittttttttttt)

“Well, I guess. I mean-” I stuttered.

(Anddddddddd)

“Sure. I’ll go with you.” I finally said.

(There it is. The worst mistake: I agreed to go to this stupid gala with him.)

Present

After I agreed to go to the gala with him, he brightened up and the look on his face made me excited to go, at the time. Now, however, I’m standing in my room, in my dress, chewing my nails and thinking over any type of excuse I could come up with.

Over these past 2 months since he asked me, we’ve gotten closer.

We’ve been hanging out more, and doing things that have made me feel like maybe he reciprocates my feelings.

Oh! By the way, I’m in love with my best friend, Oscar Piastri, but you probably already gathered that.

This Gala is making me nervous because of how intimate it sounds to go as Oscar’s date and social gatherings haven’t been my favorite either.

So, now I’m racking my brain on anything I could say to get out of this.

Right as I debate pretending to fall ill, my doorbell rings.

I take a deep breath, grab my purse and my shoes and make my way downstairs to answer the door.

Once the door swings open, I’m hit with cold air from outside, but a shiver makes it’s way throughout my body for a completely different reason.

Oscar’s standing there, wearing a black suit that fits him way too well. He’s wearing a burnt orange tie to match my dress and is holding flowers. His face is tinted pink from the cold and his hair is messy in a “yeah I styled it, but in a rockstar-messy-sexy way.”

We both looked at each other in silence, checking each other out with no guilt. His gaze broke from me first and right as I was trying to imagine what his torso looked like under his shirt, he cleared his throat. I looked away quickly and smiled at him warmly. He had his signature smile-smirk that made me want to grab his face and kiss it off of him.

I withheld from any of the inappropriate actions flooding through my mind, no matter how many, and instead let him in.

He walked in and stood in the entrance across from me.

“It’s 7, and you’re not even finished getting ready?” He asked, grabbing my heels from my hand and lifting them up.

“Yeah, well, to be honest I’m kind of nervous.”

Instead of asking why, he just nodded his head in a 'yeah me too' way.

He set the flowers down on a table nearby and started kneeling.

“Oscar, come on.” I tried to lift him up by his jacket, but he just playfully swatted my hand and continued. He lifted one of my feet slowly and began putting my shoe on for me.

Safe to say I am very much enjoying this, and might just internally combust.

Once he put both shoes on, he looked up at me, still kneeling. Instead of getting up immediately, he just looked at me for a bit and me him.

There was something burning and overly intimate about this: us looking at each other. He slowly got back up and stood in front of me at his normal, towering, height. The change in his position did not stop our gazes.

He looked serious now. Not the usual, playful, best-friend Oscar. Something different....

“You look beautiful.” He spoke in a low, gravely way that made my insides warm.

I looked down, blushing like crazy.

He looked away, a new hard expression on his face, and opened the door for us both.

“Thankyou for the flowers.” I mentioned it quietly, afraid of this blooming tension.

He just nodded and led me to his car.

When we reached the gala, my nerves still hadn’t settled. In Oscar’s case, he didn’t look relaxed anymore. The whole way here, he kept stealing glances at me. I tried to understand what he was thinking but his expression wasn’t giving anything away.

We walked into the building together. His head was on the small of my back, and since the dress was backless, his pinky was very close to grazing the top of my underwear. My back was burning from his touch and it’s all my mind was on. As we walked through a ton of people, I never thought about anything other than Oscar’s hands, and what they would feel like anywhere lower.

Welcome to my mind: the place where Oscar’s hands have supremacy over any valid thought process.

I imagined him gripping my hips and pulling me close. Rubbing my arms, touching my face, lightly brushing my lips with his fingers, slowly touching my thigh.

But then his hand left my back, and my surroundings faded back into reality.

We reached an area where people were mingling by an open bar. I'm going to need a drink to get through this.

Before I could get a drink to filter my emotions, Lando found us.

“Hey guys, thank god you're here.” He said. He was wearing a nice navy suit, and any girl would fawn over him. Except, next to me was Oscar, and he looked so incredibly handsome that I couldn’t take my eyes off of him to spare Lando anymore than a glance.

“Hey man.” Oscar fist-bumped him awkwardly and I gave him a small side hug.

“You guys are kind of late, but that’s okay because everybody figured you guys were doing-” Lando didn’t finish whatever he was going to say and instead gave a horrible wink.

I didn’t understand what he was saying at first but then Oscar made a comment,

“Mate, come on.” Oscar looked annoyed with Lando and rolled his eyes. I blushed when I realized and scoffed at Lando’s attempt to make a joke.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s true though.”

“Lando.” This time i scolded him.

“Sorry! Anyways, you’re a bit late so you missed the introduction but I'll summarize. There’s going to be an open bar, a raffle, dancing and mingling. The raffle's for some car but we don’t get to participate...But he wants us to either talk to these fancy people and find sponsors or dance.”

I winced a bit, not at all excited to do any sort of talking, let alone business talking.

Lando walked away towards a pretty blond woman, going to do God knows what and left us to decide what to do with these instructions. I thought hard about how much I do not want to talk to strangers and instead blurted out: “Let’s dance.”

Oscar looked at me quickly in confusion. “What? You hate dancing. Remember the school dance where we sat at the table the whole night because of how petrified you were of dancing in front of everyone?”

Yes, of course I remember. Right now, though, I’d take anything over sponsor-mingling.

“I'd do anything to not have to follow you around to make conversation with these people. So, let’s look busy and dance.”

Oscar agreed and took my hand.

His hands, good lord. We found a spot and situated ourselves in a normal dance position.

His hands were on my waist, and I held mine around his neck. I did whatever I could to not make eye contact. Instead, I watched as couples around the room held each other closely and danced to the music, looking very formal.

“You good?” Oscar asked me in a whisper. He tilted his head down to speak right next to my ear. He was very close to my face, and when I moved to look at him and answer, our noses brushed. I jerked away a bit at the touch and just nodded. I held him closer and rested my head on his chest. My heart was beating out of my chest. He was breathing slowly and deeply near my face.

Our closeness, his voice, his touch, my heart, and the collection of everything that’s happened over these last two months were gathering to the front of my mind.

I needed to say something.

“Oscar.” I whispered, finally making eye contact with him.

His gaze was sharp, darting between both of my eyes.

“Yeah?” he asked softly.

We were slowly moving to the music, and he was leading effortlessly. Even though dancing in a crowd was one of my worst nightmares, I wasn’t scared at all. All of my emotions were focused on the man holding me. My best-friend. My childhood crush. My Oscar. I needed to tell him how I felt. Tonight.

“Can we go somewhere private?” I asked nervously. His eyes got intense and his jaw moved. He looked around the room, and without asking why, he took his hands away from my waist and held my lower back, moving me through the dancers.

He didn’t know this building and neither did I, so it took us some time to find somewhere, but eventually we found a room filled with plants. It didn’t look like an indoor garden at all. Instead, it looked like plants that originally decorated the building and were stashed in this room for the night, to make room for Mclaren decor. The green made the room weirdly beautiful and the arrangement of vases were Louvre-worthy.

Oscar closed the door behind him and turned to me. I sat on the edge of a table that was in the middle of the room and hid my face in my shoulder, suddenly scared and regretting this very much.

Oscar and I have always been able to tell when something was bothering the other. So, whenever one of us caught that look on the other, we never pressured them to say anything. Instead, we waited in comfortable silence for the other to say what they wanted. Asking somebody what’s wrong over and over or pressuring the anwer out of someone never works. So, we wait. Wait until we’re ready.

That’s what Oscar was doing. He was waiting for me to speak up, but I could tell the silence was eating at him this time. So, I spoke.

“Listen, I’m just going to say it. I don’t know if this is going to change our friendship, and I really don’t want it to. If it’s weird, just ignore it and we’ll pretend this never happened, ok? I don’t want you to leave my life or stay away forever after this.” I said quickly, looking at my feet dangling from the edge of the table.

Oscar didn’t respond at first. I looked up trying to catch an emotion but I had no idea what he was thinking.

Instead, he stepped closer to me. He got so close that his thighs were touching my knees.

“Nothing you say could ever keep me away from you.” He said, looking at me with sincerity and an intensity that could have someone on their knees in a second.

I just nodded and cleared my throat.

“Ok.” I nodded again, trying to get the words out.

“Oscar, I-” My heartbeat was in my ears and suddenly any nerves fell away as I was cut off. Oscar stopped me from talking by softly grabbing my neck and bringing my face close to his. I fell silent and instead admired our shared breaths. Our noses were touching and with one lean, I could be feeling Oscar’s lips on me. I don’t know what he wants. Is he going to kiss me? A few seconds later, Oscar moved his head a bit. He grazed my lips with his, but we still weren’t kissing yet. All of my emotions were on high, I needed him. Now.

I took the last space and smashed my lips on his. He inhaled deeply into the kiss and immediately started moving with me. His lips were soft. Softer than I’d imagined.

His hand that was on the back of my neck brought me closer to him. Our lips were only touching. We're not properly making out, but somehow, it was the sexiest, most intimate thing I’d ever felt. Oscar used his other hand to move my knees apart so he could step between them. As soon as he moved closer, a heat burst in my heart. I grabbed the front of his jacket with both hands and pulled him into me. He started moving his lips, dragging my bottom lip between his teeth in the most sensual way.

I gasped in the air and fluttered my eyes at the feeling of finally kissing Oscar. Oscar was kissing me back and it was more than I could have ever imagined in the steamiest of dreams.

He kissed me like it was the break of dawn, and he was fulfilling a dream he had about us. I heard the unsteady breathing between us both and every nerve of mine was on fire.

Oscar placed a hand on my thigh, grazing his thumb across the soft skin. He made a deep noise–a growl?-and said against my lips, “Me too, dork.” He could only mean that he agrees with what I was going to confess.

“Wait, you didn't even hear me.” I whispered, moving to rest my forehead against his.

He chuckled and it made me shiver in a way that made me want his whole weight on me. “I’ve known you my whole life. I kind of figured, well I hoped, that’s what you were trying to say with the warning you gave about ‘not wanting to ruin our friendship,’ so I had a hunch and took it.”

I smiled and opened my eyes to look at him. “Im glad.”

“Yeah?” he whispered, then angled his head to kiss along my neck. I was going to reply but only a sultry moan escaped my lips. He sucked in a short breath at the noise and started to nip further down to my collarbone and back up to behind my ear. I ran my fingers through his hair, gently pulling and playing with the strands. He licked the warm spot on my throat and then abandoned my neck.

“Listen, I know this is extremely inappropriate," I looked at him, praying to any romantic gods that he says what I need him to say. "but I really need you right now. I think I’ll go insane…” He kissed me again, this time not hard but inviting and slowly. My mind was going haywire from his confession. He seemed so confident, and his touches and movements only seemed to validate the truth of his wants.

I pulled back and made sure to look him in the eye when I said: “Please, yes.”

He growled again and latched our lips and hips at the same time, dragging me closer to him. He was still standing between my legs, while I sat on the table. I was grasping at his hair, then down to the nape of his neck where I pulled him again. I couldn't get enough of him.

He slowed us down again and started to take off his jacket. Then, he got down on his knee to take off my shoes.

What kind of irony is it that he’s doing exactly what I imagined him doing when he was putting them on.

After the shoes, was his tie, then I undid the buttons of his shirt. I wasted no time feeling his toned abs with both hands. We kissed for a little longer, not being able to leave our mouths alone for long.

What’d you expect? Its years of mutual longing, of course, we’re making it last.

Finally, all that was left between us was my bra, and our underwear.

He was incredibly hot and I needed to feel him closer. I didn’t want a barrier between us anymore. In seconds, the last pieces of clothing were gone and our bare bodies were feeling everywhere.

He slowly pushed me back onto the table and the coldness of the wood made me shiver. Then, he lifted my legs to bend and rest on the table as well.

I couldn’t see him completely but I felt him.

His fingers, the ones I’d daydreamed about minutes ago, touched my inner thigh. I heard him let out some unintelligent words as he got closer to where I needed him more than the entire universe.

“Oscar,” I gasped, telling him my needs.

Then, in a flash, I was brought back up , and facing Oscar again, sitting up. I let my legs drop off the table and Oscar held me close to him again.

“I need to kiss you. I need you close.” I melted at his words and moaned when his hand crept back down. Our mouths unlatched but slayed near each other.

“Good god. Is this all for me?” He asked, finally dragging his fingers through my wetness. His fingers push into me, thumb stroking. “All me?”

I nod and this makes him start to stroke and pump. Every feeling in me is being dragged in and out by his hand, making me spiral. Every touch is amplified, making me move with him, over and over. He adds another finger, and I can't hold it anymore. Just a few more and I’d have reached bliss. The bliss was going to have to wait though.

“Osc.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to come.”

I hold in another cry at the sight of his naughty smirk. “Good.”

Instead of coming alone, I clumsily reach for him. Once I find the heavy heat of him, I close my hand around it and feel how ready he is. I shift up so he can line up.

He moved his fingers to grp my thighs.

He groans deliciously as he finally sinks in, and that sound tugs at something lovely and warm inside me.

The relief of him, thick and hungry, sliding deep in and out of me could cause a cosmic reaction. Stars are bursting, my skin could be glowing. By god, If the world was ending around us, I’d stay here with him. Our bodies, finally being together, creates a fire in my bloodstream.

I whisper that I never want to stop.

He groans how there’s no way this is real.

I want to keep him here, he never wants to come, never wants to let go.

I'm already reaching my high, and our expressive, frantic love-making gets me there with a few more thrusts.

I go, he follows. I finish, he’s still following.

The world feels quiet as we make noises that rival the movies.

In the silence that follows, I feel our heartbeats and hear our mixed breaths.

He kisses me, but it’s so lazy and slow. We have to keep breathing deeply between kisses.

I shift to disconnect but he stops me, and he brings me into him, hugging me. Our sweat and skin feel each other in a warm embrace. He's still inside me.

“Holy shit.” Oscar says into my hair. “Never leave me.”

What did we just do?

How have we gone this long without doing this?

I'm going to need it in every part of my life from now on- to live.

“Oscar, I’m in love with you.” I say, after everything.

He smiles and lifts my face to look at him. “Well I mean, you did just say it like over and over-”

“Oscar, I'm serious.” I lightly smack his chest. I love how after everything we’re still the same friends and lovers that tease each other.

“I love you too.” he kisses me short and sweet. The kiss suddenly grows again. And leads to more. And more.

After we rushed to put on our clothes after realizing how long we were probably missing, we made our way back to the gala. We didn’t stay long, both scared someone would see us and figure out the obvious, and wanting to be alone again somewhere more private.

We almost made it, when Lando stopped us both. I was going to make up some bullshit excuse, but instead of saying anything, Lando held a hand up, then gave the most horrendous wink and let us pass. Idiot.

#reader reached the apex before oscar #lets fucking go #smut's lowkey hard guys #f1 #no pun intended #f1 x reader #fanfiction #formula one #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri smut #formula one smut #oscar piastri one shot

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