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bunny-jpeg · 12 hours ago

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secret tattoo (vol. 3)

lando norris

tags: smut/pwp, secret relationship, tattoos, assistant!reader, kitchen sex, implied dom!reader,

max edition // charles edition // lewis edition // toto edition

"she must have secrets somewhere. no one is that innocent. not even like a facebook profile or something....." lando trailed off while him and oscar eyed you while you were speaking to zak.

you were lando's new assistant, around his age with everything to the t. every box checked, perfect to keep mclaren's wonder in check. the issue was that lando had a keen eye. and he knew there was something, some secret that you were hiding.

curiosity got both drivers and a deep dive into your internet footprint turned up nothing. it wasn't that you had a lack of presence on it, it was just there was nothing to show. not even a drunken night at a club or an unsavory joke on twitter.

"maybe she's just that good." oscar shrugged, "perfect for this line of work." he turned to you, "i think maybe you're just assuming things, mate."

lando remained unconvinced. it wasn't until saw you after the summer break, usually your windbreaker while on the track covered your neck. but a shorter haircut plus the lack of the jacket combined to expose your dirty little secret.

you had a tattoo.

tattoos were no scandals. everyone and their mother had a tattoo nowadays. but the knowledge that you had one made sparks light off in lando's brain. it was so normal, but to lando it seemed so scandalous.

a little tattoo of a checkered flag. wasn't that sweet. it was so sweet that it made lando a little harder in his jeans when he saw it. he wanted to trace his fingers across it, kiss at it. watch you grow weak in the knees.

maybe it built onto the crush that lando harboured for you since the two of you met before the season. when you reached out and said, "lovely to meet you, mister norris. i hope we can work well together." then flashed him a smile that made something in his soul met.

you made him melt in ways that made him more willing to listen to his lovely assistant. zak once remarked that you trained him well. which you simply replied, "well mister brown, if lando is made is iron. then i'm made of steel."

so no wonder when you two ended up in a relationship. it was on your terms. lando was more than happy to put the trust in your hands. after all, you made sure that he got from point a to point b. you kept on a better leash than anyone else at mclaren could do.

but lando still wanted to kiss that tattoo so badly.

"hey, angel." he said as he came up behind you. he wrapped his strong arms around you and kissed the side of your neck. he asked, "i didn't know you had a tattoo?"

you chuckled, "i've told you i was always a fan of racing. so of course i'd end up with a tattoo of it." you rested against him, "i also have another one."

he replied, "and i thought that you were the innocent one."

you snorted a laugh as you flipped the pancakes in the pan, "oh please. unlike you, lando, i didn't have photos taken of me of every moment of every day. not everything needed photographic evidence."

"ah, well. i'd love to see you drunk at a club." lando remarked with his lips near the back of your neck, "now where's this other tattoo?"

"maybe after breakfast you can find out." you replied as you got the next pancake onto the plate. but lando was impatient with that sort of things. and he leaned over you to turn off the stove. and when you tried to swat him away with the spatula. you ended up over the counter top next to the stove. you could feel the heat of the appliance near by.

"mmm, aw, c'mon, beautiful. show it to me now. i wanna know all your dirty secrets." his voice was seductive. and while you held the reigns, lando know how to curl his hand in them as well. he leaned over you, his clothed hard on rubbed against your clothed behind, "i bet it's a tramp stamp. awww, dirty girl."

you moaned with your flushed face against the counter. damn lando norris, damn him. you replied, "it's not a tramp stamp. i've never been that drunk. it's on my bicep." and yelped when he got your shirt off over your head. his hand instantly touched your right bicep.

"aw, well isn't this a cute little tattoo.. a little cow."

you replied, "maybe you should get a matching one." you shuddered and let out a soft noise when lando's hands reached to the waistband of your sweatpants.

lando kissed the inked skin and replied, "no, no. i think you should get another. lucky number four." he chuckled, "that would be very cute. maybe my intials right up against your collarbone." his voice tinged with affection and sexual want.

to see his girlfriend/assistant with his number and initials across his skin was an arousing thought.

you chuckled against the granite counter top, "mmm, you know more girls ask for a ring, right? a little less permanent than a tattoo."

lando dropped your sweatpants and panties to your ankles and spread your legs a little further. he grabbed at his hard cock in his own pants and replied, "that's why i want you to get it. after all, i consider your my number one fan."

you rolled your eyes, "just a fan, huh?" and when you tried to move away from the counter, he placed a broad hand at the middle of your shoulders and pressed you back onto the counter. you moaned a little.

"but you're so much more than that, babe. you're the light of my life. the keeper of my secrets. you're my lover and so much more." he pulled his sweatpants and briefs under his cock. he stroked it a few times at the sight of your pussy and smiled to himself, "you're everything and so much more."

"and yet you want to taint my skin, mister norris?" you replied before you chuckled. your back arched a little when lando pressed himself into you.

"mm, i want to taint all of you." he held onto your hips, "make you all might. head to toe. body and soul." he kissed the center of your back where you were still in your bra. you felt the shudder of pleasure course through you as he fucked you up against the counter.

"you sound like a possessive man, lando." you looked over your shoulder and winked at him, "maybe you could have my name on you. so no one gets the wrong idea."

lando beamed at you for a moment, "well of course, everyone should know the woman who keeps me in line. made me a good boy." he rocked against you a little faster and you rested your head back against the counter.

you blushed a little more. his words really made your stomach clench. you felt really amazing under him. he knew how to fuck you so good, he knew how to make your stomach twist in the best way possible. there was something about lando. despite the trouble he could and had caused you, you yearned for him. something so deep. it felt like it was in your soul.

"you're everything to me. in more ways than one. i'm so lucky to have you, beautiful." he moved against you. he leaned forward once more and kissed the back of your neck where the tattoo was.

the sensation of his lips against a ticklish part of you made you tense up. your cunt clenched around his cock and he groaned at the feeling. which only spurred him on to kiss your tattoo more. to hear your sweet moans as he continued to fuck you with a heat in his gut.

while you usually didn't have sex in the kitchen. but lando couldn't help himself with you. there was something about you that just pulled him in. he loved the feeling of you in his arms.

he knew from the moment you met, that he'd want to be in your life for a long while. you held onto the edge of the counter while he rutted up against you. you moaned against the cool counter top, your hot breath warmed the area of the counter you were up against.

you could feel your sweaty body hot against the counter while he fucked you with an intensity that it radiated through your body. your thoughts were full of your lover while he moved. the two of you in the quiet kitchen of your apartment.

you were supposed to start the morning with some breakfast. pancakes for you to share, but it was hard to do that when lando had you up against the counter with his cock snug inside of you. but you could barely resist your lover on the track or when he was giving you puppy dog eyes when you scolded him for forgetting to reply to an email or was late for a meeting. so all bets were off when you two were alone.

his continued to kiss at the back of your neck and you held onto the counter top even tighter. he could feel the excitement in his chest, which caused it to clench. he panted heavily against you. he even kicked under the tattoo, where you were still ticklish and it made you tense up even more.

lando could only imagine how loud you got when you got the tattoo. he kissed your shoulders and continued to rut against you. his thrusts were short and fast, but the mounting pleasure made you feel the heat in your core.

"i can think of some other tattoos for you, beautiful." he said, "you look good with a bit of ink on your skin. turns me on even more." he chuckled as he kissed at you more.

"i can't believe you didn't know that i had another one."

he chuckled as he held onto you tighter, "never looking at your arms when i'm making you feel good." he said as he kissed your neck, which made you feel even more turned on.

"well aren't you a romantic." you moaned as you felt the pleasure hit its peak. you held onto the counter tightly as you arched your back a little bit and climaxed around his cock. your noises were short and your breathing was heavy. your heart was racing and you cursed under your breath.

this spurred lando on. he continued to fuck you and you made such sweet noises as he moved himself against you. he could feel the tension in his legs and the jelly in his knees. for even as someone as strong as him, it was hard for him to fuck while standing up. but, if you were able to climax. then he was going to get his.

his pace didn't stagger, only quicken. he felt the thrum of excitement in his chest as he moved. he kissed your back once more. with a few more thrusts, he pushed himself up inside of you. and finished inside of you. he groaned and said, "you're my girl." as he came.

he slowed to a stop and he kissed your cheek with a deep affection. you giggled a little. when he pulled out and got his cock back into his sweatpants, you still laid against the counter for a moment.

you exhaled deeply before you said, "you better help me finish the pancakes." before you reached for your bottoms. if he was going to give you mind blowing orgasms. he could at the very least help make breakfast.

there wasn't much affair when it happened. after a successful weekend in silverstone. you walked up to meet lando. he noticed a bandage behind your ear. it wouldn't be until you got to your next location that you'd show lando what was under the bandage

it was small, mostly covered by your hair. but lando say it as clear as day. the lucky number four, inked onto your soft skin. <3

the checkered flag tattoo

the cow tattoo

#bunny writes #reader insert #formula one imagine #formula 1 #f1 smut #formula one fanfiction #formula one smut #f1 x reader #lando norris imagine #lando smut #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando norris #lando x reader #ln4 drabble #ln4 smut #ln4 imagine #ln4

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velarisdusk · 2 days ago

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and All I Got Was This Stupid Song Written About Me

word count: 1.7k author's note: listen.. i may write but i am no songwriter. i dont wanna hear shit abt these lyrics, i drove myself to madness for HOURS trying to come up with them ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

The studio smelled faintly of old coffee and cedar, the latter courtesy of Cassian’s obsession with “ambience candles.” Their flickering glow did little to cut through the dim light of the room, but that was how they worked best—shadows stretching long across the walls, a backdrop of soft atmospheric music mingling with the faint hum of amplifiers.

Cassian was seated cross-legged on the worn couch, his drum pad balanced precariously on one knee. Rhys sat opposite, his guitar cradled loosely in his lap as his fingers absentmindedly picked out a melody that might, one day, become something.

Azriel lounged across the arm of a chair, his legs draped over one side, notebook in hand. He’d been silent most of the night, pretending to be engrossed in writing, but he hadn’t added a word in over an hour. His pulse thrummed low and steady, though it felt like it was trying to climb into his throat.

He cleared it instead. “I, uh…” His voice broke the lull, and both heads turned to him, expectant. “I’ve been working on something,” he added, tone clipped, casual—too casual. “Thought I’d see what you think.”

Rhys’s guitar fell silent, and Cassian stilled his restless tapping. “Let’s hear it,” Rhys said.

Az’s fingers curled around the edge of his sacred notebook, the slight crinkle of paper betraying his tension. Still, he began to read.

“Got a taste of sin, it’s dripping off your skin, Lost in your fire, pull me in, Your body’s a drug, and I’m high on the feel, Push me to the edge, make me kneel”

Cassian’s mouth fell open, and Rhys slowly set his guitar down, leaning forward as Az kept going:

“Whisper my name, and I’m already there, Fingers gripping tight, pulling through your hair. Take me in deep, make me lose control, I’m yours to break, body and soul.”

When he finished, the studio was dead silent, save for the faint buzz of the amp. Cassian stared at him like he’d just confessed to a crime.

“Holy shit.” Cassian let out a low whistle, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Az, I don’t know who did this to you, but she must’ve been a damn good lay.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, but he schooled his features into a mask of indifference. “It’s just a concept.”

Rhys arched a brow, his lips twitching in amusement. “Sure it is.” He didn’t press, though, only added, “It’s good. Uncomfortably horny, but good. Way different from our usual stuff.”

Cassian grabbed his sticks, tapping out a beat on the drum pad with a lecherous grin. “Let’s lean in, boys. This is the kind of trashy filth that gets crowds throwing bras at us.”

Rhys’s lips twitched into a smirk, and he picked up his guitar again, plucking out something slinky, the kind of riff that felt like it belonged in a smoky, neon-lit club. “It’s dark,” he said, nodding to himself. “Sultry. Needs that dirty edge, though. Cass?”

Cassian’s grin widened as he began hammering out a beat—deliberate, aggressive, a rhythm that hit like a pounding pulse. “You’re singing this, Az.”

Azriel froze, shooting him a glare. “Absolutely not.”

Rhysand chuckled, pointing at him with his pick between two fingers. “You’re the one who wrote this filth, so you’re singing it, lover boy.”

“It’s just a concept,” Az repeated, gritting his teeth.

“Oh yeah?” Cassian retorted, his grin feral. “Then why does it sound like you’re confessing to something you did last night?”

Az opened his mouth to respond, but Rhys interrupted, strumming a riff so suggestive it could’ve been banned on public radio. “Alright, focus, idiots. Let’s make this worth the headache.”

For the next hour, the song began to take shape. Rhys layered intricate licks over Cassian’s primal rhythm, the combination dripping with heat and tension. Azriel’s lyrics were sharpened, punctuated with pauses that hit like clenched fists, every word landing like a whisper pressed against the shell of your ear.

Cassian couldn’t help himself. “‘Tie me down, tear me apart,’” he sang mockingly into the mic, voice exaggeratedly gravelly. “Az, I’m learning so much about you tonight.”

Az snatched the mic out of his hand, deadpan. “Learn to shut the hell up.”

Cassian laughed so hard he almost fell off his stool. “This one’ll wreck them. Absolute filth.”

Rhys leaned back, smiling lazily. “Filthy sells. And Az?” He tilted his head, studying his brother like a puzzle. “Next time you’re uh, inspired, maybe don’t hold back. This is… enlightening.”

Azriel only shook his head, flipping his notebook closed as Cassian howled with laughter, already promising to slap the song on the album.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Midnight wrapped around you like a blanket, the world outside still and quiet. The soft glow of your laptop lit your room as you settled further into bed, earbuds in place, ready for this moment. You’d been counting down for weeks, your excitement bubbling just beneath your skin. Finally, their newest album was here.

It’d been months since the concert—months since you’d stood in that dark, electric space, his voice carving through the air like a blade. You could still feel the vibrations of the bass in your chest, the heat of the crowd, the way his eyes had found yours for just a second too long.

You hit play, and let the first track wash over you, a rush of gritty guitars and smooth vocals pulling you in instantly. The familiar sound of Rhysand’s honeyed voice wrapped around you, rich and magnetic, while Cassian’s drums hit like a thunderstorm. But it was the deeper, shadowed harmony threading through the background that made your breath catch.

Azriel.

Hearing him again sent a shiver through you, unbidden memories tugging at the edges of your mind. You’d spent one unforgettable night with him, his low, dark voice murmuring filthy things in your ear—words that had set your skin on fire and lingered long after the moment ended. His presence had been like gravity, drawing you closer, holding you there, even when you weren’t sure you could take it.

And now, hearing that same voice woven through the music, backing Rhysand’s lead, was enough to make your pulse race. You didn’t know if you wanted to rewind the track or keep going, chasing that sound, that pull.

You let it play. Each song unfolded like a gift—raw emotion, sharp edges. You found yourself nodding along, your fingers drumming softly against the blanket as you let the music consume you. But you couldn’t ignore the way Azriel’s harmonies caught your ear, his voice dipping into the pockets of the melody, haunting and magnetic.

The opening notes slinked through your ears, unhurried but charged, the tempo slow enough to make your breath hitch. This was different. Azriel’s voice took the lead, a rare spotlight for him on a track, with Rhysand providing backup vocals—a reversal of their usual dynamic. It was striking, intimate, and laced with something that felt far too personal.

“Past the greenroom, whispers low, ‘No one’ll see, now don’t let go.’ Your nails, your teeth, the sting, the scrape— Pull me under, I’ll beg, I’ll break.”

You froze.

The blanket bunched in your fists as your mind caught up to what you were hearing.

No.

Your thumb hovered over the pause button, but you couldn’t press it. The way Azriel sang it—low, raw, and dripping with heat—made it impossible to think straight. His voice wrapped around the lyrics like a confession he hadn’t meant to give, and Rhysand’s smoother backing vocals added a dangerous edge, amplifying every word.

You yanked one earbud out, your pulse thundering in your ears. For a moment, you just stared at the ceiling, the words looping in your mind like a broken record. But the harder you tried to dismiss it the more the connections gnawed at you. His mouth at your ear, his breath hot against your skin, murmuring reassurance as his hands slid under your shirt. You’d laughed, breathless, trying to quiet yourself as his lips pressed to your neck, but he’d just chuckled, low and dark, “No one’ll see. Just let me feel you.”

And “now don’t let go”—your stomach flipped at the memory. His voice, husky and commanding, echoing through his dressing room as he hauled you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. His teeth grazing your jaw, his hand gripping your thigh. “Now don’t let go, sweetheart,” he’d rasped, right before pressing you into the wall and wrecking you.

Your breath came shallow, heart racing as the memories sharpened, aligning too perfectly with every word. The song ended, and silence pressed heavy against your ears. Before you could think, your thumb hit replay.

Your knees tucked up against your chest as the opening notes filled the air again. You closed your eyes, the melody threading through you, every word lodging itself deeper. Was it just your imagination? Or was there something unmistakable in his voice—a heat, a pull, that felt like it was meant for you?

Your chest tightened as the song finished, leaving you breathless and stunned. “No way. No way,” you muttered, shaking your head, but your hands were trembling as you pressed play again.

You got up, pacing your room with restless energy, the song still blasting through one earbud. Each time you heard it, new details jumped out at you—an inflection here, an ad-lib there. It wasn’t coincidence. It couldn’t be.

The realization hit you all at once, like a weight in your chest. The lyrics weren’t just abstract poetry. They were something real. They were yours.

You needed to see them perform this live. You needed to hear Azriel sing those words like looking out at a crowd, to watch the way he carried himself under the stage lights. Would he meet your gaze if you were there? Would he falter, even for a second, knowing you’d heard every word and recognized yourself in them?

And more than anything, you needed to talk to him. To get his attention again, to hear the truth from his lips.

#wings of illyria #acotar #acotar au #rhysand #rhysand acotar #cassian #cassian acotar #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #(<- still only insinuated ig lol)#bat boys #bat boys acotar #bat boys band au #acotar band au

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hcneymooners · 3 days ago

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⋆ heart on a sleeve.

(lowkey toxic!)bsf!vi x bsf!reader. men & minors dni.

pt. i ( you are here. ) / pt. ii.

synopsis: vi is handling her breakup badly, but you refuse to give up on her. it's part of the deal when you're irrevocably in love with your best friend.

cw: vi exhibits toxic behavior but is more complex than toxic, this part is sfw but part ii is going to be explicit, pit fighter!vi, implied alcoholism, emotional hurt/comfort, second chances, implied friend breakups, not actually unrequited love, vi is trying her best and so are you, blk-coded reader but all are welcome to read.

notes: inspired by the beautiful @avonnimimi. adore her. also the raccoon thing actually happened to me, lol. love you.

you've always loved winter in the city. winter is your season. the world grows unnaturally quiet underneath the suffocation of snowfall; you can finally hear yourself think. the heat is cranked up as high as it can go without bothering you and you sit on the floor, hips groaning as you stretch them out.

tonight, the snow falls soft and quiet, less fervent than the day before, catching in the glow of streetlights. you’re in a navy blue sleep set, your silk shorts clinging to your cocoa-buttered thighs. the fabric is covered with detailed illustrations of eopards, their mouths open and demanding. despite it not being your preference, you have your best friend on the phone as you contort yourself into different shapes. she keeps shooting you looks as your joints pop, your bones waking up from their slumber.

“baby, i don’t think you’re supposed to be sounding like this at twenty-one.”

“don’t worry about it, lia. that’s why we stretch.”

dalia rolls her eyes from where she looms across the screen, her skin dark and gleaming post-shower.

eventually, you settle, loose and limber, and begin scrolling through old photos on your phone. your gold rings catch the light as you swipe past memories – vi teaching you to throw a proper punch, both of you sprawled on the quad during finals week, the night she got that bartending job. you’d celebrated with cheap champagne and a close call (read: climbed right into her lap and almost kissed her.)

your shared apartment feels hollow tonight. vi's combat boots aren’t kicked off by the door, her jacket isn’t thrown over the kitchen chair. her location is turned off and it eats at your stomach, but you try to self-soothe.

traces of her are everywhere – the worn boxing gloves hanging by the entry, the pile of mechanics textbooks on the coffee table, the polaroids magnetted to the fridge. your favorite was from last summer: vi half-asleep on the couch, head in your lap, while you read your sociology textbook.

dalia took that one, said something about capturing moments that matter.

you remember the night vi moved in, both of you drunk on cheap wine and possibility, sprawled on the empty living room floor.

"mama," she'd said, grinning up at the ceiling, "we're gonna make this place ours." and you did – vi's fight posters next to your framed family photos, her protein shakes beside your san pellegrino, your shared vinyl collection taking over the windowsill.

it was your most desired dream: to have a beautiful life. with her, if you could have everything you truly wanted.

your mom's daily check-in text slides gently over your screen: how's my baby doing? vi still being stubborn?

before you can reply, your phone buzzes with another call.

( three months ago )

vi's sitting on your bathroom floor, knuckles bloody from another underground fight. she's been taking more of those since caitlyn left, each one more reckless than the last. you don't say anything, just kneel beside her with the first aid kit you've kept stocked since freshman year.

"you don't have to keep doing this," she mumbles as you clean her wounds.

"i know." you focus on wrapping her hand, trying not to let your fingers shake. "i want to."

she watches you work, something unreadable on her face. "why?"

you don't answer at first. just keep wrapping, gentle as you can. some questions are too dangerous to answer honestly. still, you try.

“you’re never going to stop doing this to yourself,” you say finally. “this ache, this punishment—it’s going to live inside you for a while.”

you can feel her looking at you, blue eyes following the bend of your neck as you slick the splits of her skin with paste. her gaze is heavy. you refuse to look up.

“when i was younger, i found a racoon in my backyard. it was so sick, but i was so little and tried to save it. i called animal control, because i didn’t understand how they “handled” situations.” you flip her hand over, thumb grazing her palm. “i asked them to come pick it up, to rehabilitate it. he told me to look away, but i still held out hope. he shot it right in front of me. i cried, i think. still think about it.”

you’re still holding her hand, and she takes over the grip. she exerts pressure and tilts your chin up, bringing you back to her. your eyes are wide and luminous, two planets.

“when i see you, it’s like that,” you tell her. “except i know better now. i take care of it, of you, myself. it makes me feel like there’s a better chance at survival.”

you shuffle onto your knees, body tensing as you push yourself up. vi catches you by the ankle, tugs until you stumble against her bandaged chest. she presses a weak kiss to your calf.

“thank you.”

“mmhmm,” is all you answer, thumbing at her brow before leaving.

(one month ago)

the party's too loud, too crowded. bass thrums through the floor like a second heartbeat. you're watching vi across the room, watching her drink too much, watching her laugh too sharp when someone mentions caitlyn's name.

when she starts another fight – with who? does it even matter anymore? – and ends it with kissing someone else, something in you breaks. you slip away to the bathroom, sink to the floor in your party dress, press your hands against cool tile. you hate crying. hates how it makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. but the tears come anyway.

the door opens. dalia's there, sinking down beside you. she doesn't say anything, just pulls you close, lets you hide your face in her shoulder.

"baby girl," she whispers, but you cut her off.

“lia, later. please,” you rasp.

the bass keeps thumping outside. you can’t hear your heart, but you can feel it. you’re always fucking feeling it. you keep crying.

( now )

for years to come, you will always remember this moment. how you paused before hanging up on dalia and picking up for vi.

“violet?” your voice is low, tired.

across the line, somewhere cold and devoid of you, vi shivers. she loves when you say her full name, wants to eat you whole when you let it rasp across your tongue and teeth until it falls free.

“hey, angel. look, i swear m'fine to drive," she slurs before you can continue asking after her. your heart drops. “i just wanted to tell you ‘m on my way home.”

"violet, where are you?" you're already grabbing your keys, oversized park half-falling off of you.

"just... just leaving jinx's. cait was there with her new fucking—“ her voice cracks. "doesn't matter. i got this."

"stay put. i'm coming to get you."

“what? no—“ there’s a sound suspiciously like her dropping her keys. “fuck, ‘m dizzy.”

“violet,” you’re beginning to panic, your voice rising. “vi, listen to me. are you in the car?”

the door slams across the line. you have your answer.

“vi, please listen to me. i’m coming, okay? i’ll be right there. please don’t start the fucking car.” nothing. “violet! i know you can fucking hear me.”

it’s about five minutes of silence, before she speaks again. you’re borderline hyperventilating, hands shaking as you try to locate jinx’s number to get her to go outside and stop her sister.

"nah, you don't gotta—"

the sound of screeching metal cuts her off. then it’s dead air. you're running to your car before the call ends.

ᥫ᭡.

the accident scene is a nightmare made real. you find her car wrapped around a lamppost, driver's side crumpled like paper. your heart nearly stops until you see her stumbling away from the wreck, that familiar shock of pink hair catching the streetlight. she's swaying dangerously on the icy sidewalk. your hands shake as you guide her into your passenger seat, trying not to think about how close—

she reeks of whiskey and wears that same leather jacket she's had since her fighting days. The one with the worn elbows and faded patches. the one you helped pick out years ago, before university, before caitlyn, before everything got so complicated.

"you should've minded your own business," vi mutters, breaking the tense silence. her words have edges, sharp ones meant to cut.

you grip the wheel tighter. "you could have died tonight."

"yeah? maybe that would've been better than—" she cuts herself off, but you both know what she means. better than feeling like this. better than watching caitlyn walk away.

"don't." your voice cracks. "don't you dare. what the actual fuck is wrong with you, violet? why do you say shit like that? you have to stop.”

vi turns to you, eyes blazing with that familiar fight-night fury. "or what? you'll lecture me again? tell me how i'm throwing my life away? save it. i don't need another person telling me how to live my life."

the car comes to a stop at a red light. your layered necklaces catch the glow, throwing golden shadows across the dashboard.

"you think this is about lectures?" the words come out quieter than you meant them to. "vi, i found you in a crashed car. do you have any idea what that felt like?"

"oh, here we go. make it all about you, why don't—"

"yes! for once, let me make it about how i feel!" your voice rises, surprising both of you. you never yell. never let the mask slip. but tonight is different. tonight you almost lost her. "because i love you too much to watch you destroy yourself!"

“you don’t even fucking know me, [name].”

you can feel the heat rising. your throat is growing tight, and you know how this will end.

“we’re best friends, vi.”

her eyes flicker over the side of your face, and you’re just such an easy target and her mouth is opening and—

“i’m only yours.”

the light turns green. neither of you moves. no one’s behind you, both on the road and in real life.

“you,” you whisper, “are so fucking mean to me sometimes.”

embarrassment rushes through you. your face feels hot, and the ball in your throat is so large you’re struggling to breathe. you’re going to cry. maybe she can tell, because she lurches upward and jerks toward you. you jerk back, staring a hole through your windshield.

“[name]—“

you run the red light.

ᥫ᭡.

a week later, dalia corners vi outside the campus coffee shop. you're not there to see it, but the story spreads fast. the city feeds on scandal and t thrives on the misguided.

"you know what?" dalia gets right in vi's face, fury radiating off her small frame. she looks like a wind-up doll, braids freshly done and her hands balled into fists. “i’m sick of watching you treat her like this. she's been there for every fight, every breakdown, every time you needed someone. and what does she get? you taking her for granted, acting like she's disposable."

vi's jaw tightens. "you don't know what you're talking about."

dalia is yelling now, drawing attention. vi’s pretty sure jinx is observing, bright blue teetering in her peripheral vision. her sister had ripped her a new one after receiving your belated messages.

"don't i? because while you're out here playing self-destruct, she's at home crying over you. she'll never say anything because that's just who she is – she loves too damn much and asks for too damn little. she ain’t one of those weak-ass little bitches you keep messing with, but she was never good at establishing boundaries with you. i don’t know what the fuck she's on, but i'm off it. i'll say it."

something in vi's expression shifts, breaks open.

"she... she cries over me?"

"god, you're dense," dalia spits. "she's been in love with you since sophomore year."

vi stumbles into your empty apartment at 1 am—early for her—, still reeling from dalia's words.

“hey, angel?” she calls out, more habit than hope. only ghosts answer.

she finds your room too neat, closet half-empty. your parka's gone. your heavy jewelry box has left a perfect dust-free silhouette on the top of your vanity. she rummages through your desk and finds your monogrammed passport holder gone. she sinks onto your bed, head in her hands.

her phone's in her hand before she realizes, your number dialing. voicemail. again.

“[name], i... i fucked up. i know i fucked up. i’m sorry. please... please pick up. please." her voice breaks. “please, mama.”

seventeen calls. seventeen voicemails. silence.

finally, desperate, she calls dalia.

“look,” she begs, voice raw. "i need to fix this."

dalia's quiet for a long moment. "you're lucky i love that girl so much," she says finally. “she’s going to see her parents. her flight leaves at 4. terminal c. don't fuck this up again."

ᥫ᭡.

vi misses the flight.

ᥫ᭡.

your parents' house hasn't changed. same bright warm kitchen, same family photos lining the walls, same smell of your mom's cooking. it’s been two weeks post-fight. you’re recentering, need space to breathe, to remember who you are without vi's gravity pulling at you.

your dad keeps giving you those knowing looks over breakfast. you’re his daughter emotionally, your mom’s physically. they always joke that your mama said copy-paste, that you stole her entire face.

"sometimes," your dad says one night, his voice carefully light, "loving someone means letting them figure things out on their own."

you re-adjust one of your rings, a nervous habit. it was a gift from vi—two angel wings set on a thin diamond-speckled bar spread across two of your fingers. she’d fought for it. you were pissed. you never took it off, even though you rarely mixed metals.

“mmm. yeah, i know, daddy."

your dad finds you again in the kitchen at midnight, making tea you won't drink. you look so small in your grief, eyes blinking owlishly at the draft of your introduction to ethics paper. you’re wearing your glasses, the frames thick, and he smiles at the sight. you only used them when your eyes became too dry for contacts.

"you want to talk about it?"

you shake your head, then nod, then laugh wetly. your screen blurs into a smear of white and blue.

“i don't know how to stop loving her, daddy." your head drops. “why is this shit always happening to me?”

he pulls you close, kisses your forehead like when you were small. he chooses to let the language slide this one time.

"maybe you're not supposed to, baby. maybe it's not about stopping."

“i know,” you sniff, wiping your face. “i just wish i could pause it when things get bad, take a minute.”

“and that’s fair, baby. nothing wrong with that.”

“love is hard, baby girl.” your head whips up, finds your mother sitting in front of your computer. “you don’t have to pretend otherwise. no one here is going to shame you.”

your heart quakes with so much love that you start blubbering again. your parents only smile, pressing twin kisses to your oil-wet scalp.

“i’ll finish the draft for you, honey. get some sleep,” your mom says and you try to protest, only to get served with her “keep talking” look.

“‘kay,” you tell her. “thank you.”“mmhmm,” she tugs you into another hug. “finish your tea, baby.”

ᥫ᭡.

at the airport, you're going through security when your phone buzzes again. this time it's dalia.

d. <3: girl, you're not gonna believe this.

you hear her before you see her. vi's voice cuts through the airport chaos: "[name!] wait!"

you turn, lower the volume on your playlist. she's there, pink hair wild, still wearing her leather jacket despite the cold. she's holding a ticket.

“i missed the first flight, so i was gonna go to your parents. i couldn’t get a plane out ’til yesterday but then,” she says, breathless. "dalia told me when you were leaving. i... i couldn't let you go without—" she runs a hand through her hair, frustrated.

"i'm shit at this. but mama, please listen to me. i need you to know i'm sorry. not just for that night. for everything. for not seeing what was right in front of me."

you hold yourself very still, careful. hope is a dangerous thing, and she’s starting to rumble within you.

"violet…”

her eyes light up at the sound of her full name, and she rocks onto the balls of her feet.

"i miss you," she says simply. "and not just as my best friend.”

your eyes widen, and vi steps closer. her face is soft and open. somehow, you know she’s aware of your biggest secret. you’re gonna whip dalia’s ass.

“ i think... i think maybe i've been missing you for a long time without knowing it."

the airport bustles around you, but all you can hear is your heart beating too fast. vi takes another step, careful, like you might spook.

you look so beautiful to her, face bare and glazed with what she knows is a mixture of skincare and vaseline to combat the dry air of the plane. you’re being swallowed by your oversized sweatsuit, the hoodie absolutely massive and bubblegum pink. she focuses on your hands, finds the ring she gifted you. you flex your fingers, and her eyes fall on the small “vi” inked between your thumb and pointer. it’s stylized to look like roman numerals but it’s her name.

yours is tatted on her too, just behind her ear.

“look, vi. i—“ your top teeth worry at your bottom lip, plush and pink like a tulip.

"i know i don't deserve another chance," she says softly. "but if you're willing to give me one i swear to god, i’ll take what i can fucking get.”

you look at her – really look at her. she's a mess, clearly hasn't slept, probably bought the first ticket she could find which meant the airlines had robbed her blind. but her eyes are clear. present. seeing you maybe for the first time.

“i think you still have some things to deal with. like cait.”

“who?” she says, and you know she’s posturing, but it makes you laugh. vi grins, pleased with herself.

“don’t piss me off, violet,” you tell her and she closes the distance, threads her hands along your hips.

your body conforms to the comfort, to the familiarity. you close your eyes, lean your forehead against her chest. she’s so thick, so broad, that she shelters you. the world is so quiet here.

"slow," you say finally. "we’re taking this slow."

her smile breaks like sunrise. "slow," she agrees. "i can do slow."

above, your gate is called over the speaker. vi adjusts your necklace, takes your suitcase and bag. her fingers linger as you transfer them to her hands, sending a pulse down to your stomach. it’ll be hard to be careful. gentle. new.

“c’mon, mama,” she murmurs.

her hand is held out. you take a minute, maybe two, but you still hold it.

bonus:

d <3: so y’all kiss yet, or what?

you: you got one more time.

#vi x y/n #vi x you #vi x reader #vi arcane x reader #vi fluff #vi arcane #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane fanfic #female!reader #fem!reader #black!reader #blktumblr #wlw #lesbian #sapphic #vi x fem reader #vi league of legends #mine ; 🐎.

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bread-crum206 · 1 day ago

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A Game of Hearts

Chapter six: In the Quiet of the Storm

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

Pt 1 Pt 2 P t 3 P t 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8

The night air felt heavy, like it was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. The rain was coming down in thick sheets, but instead of offering any comfort, the sound of it pounding against the windows only seemed to highlight the emptiness of the sitting room. You stood there, staring out at the sprawling ocean, your thoughts just as clouded as the sky outside.

It had been a day since the games began. One. One day. The moment that loud, obnoxious and robotic voice blared across the compound, it felt like everything else in the world just… stopped. The strange, suffocating tension between you and him had taken a backseat to the madness that had already started. And yet, you couldn’t help but find your thoughts drifting back to him, over and over. It seemed that he was the only thing you could think about sometimes.

The whole day had been consumed by the task of redesigning the VIP room. You’d tried to throw yourself into it, tried to use it as a distraction, but the room’s original design—gold and black jungle motifs with naked models in every corner—felt like a grotesque reminder of everything wrong with this place. You had to change it. You had to. But how could you make it feel… right? And more than that, how could you do it without drawing attention to yourself?

———————

It was late now. Hours had passed since you’d last seen him, and yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling of him lingering in the air. Everything felt like it was on the edge of shifting. But what? You didn’t know.

The sound of the door creaking open behind you snapped you out of your thoughts. You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. You could feel him.

“You’re still up,” his voice was low, rougher than usual, like he’d been carrying the weight of the world all day. But you didn’t answer him right away. The air between you both was thick with something unspoken, and the last thing you wanted was to break the silence.

When you did finally speak, your words came out without thinking. “I couldn’t sleep.”

It wasn’t just the rain, or the work. It wasn’t even the games. You just felt… restless. Like everything in this place was slowly swallowing you up, and you couldn’t escape it, no matter how hard you tried.

His boots clicked against the floor, a soft, deliberate sound as he approached. When you finally turned to face him, you met his gaze—those cold, unreadable eyes. They hadn’t changed since you first met him, but you could swear there was something different about the way he looked at you now. It wasn’t softness, but maybe something like… exhaustion? A weariness that didn’t belong to the mask he wore so carefully.

“You’ve been quieter than usual,” you said, your voice steady but tinged with something you couldn’t place. You weren’t sure if it was concern or frustration. It felt like both.

“I have my reasons,” he replied, the words curt, but there was an undercurrent of something else in them. Something that made you want to press further, but you didn’t. Not yet.

You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you hesitated. “Is it because of that night?” The words tumbled out before you could stop them, and immediately, you regretted it. It had only been a few days since that awkward exchange by the window, and you still weren’t sure what to make of it.

For a brief moment, his eyes softened, just enough for you to catch it before the walls slammed back into place. The mask fell over his face like a curtain. “That night was… unnecessary,” he said, his voice low, tight.

You wanted to argue. You wanted to say that everything about this was unnecessary, this marriage, this life, this twisted game you both were stuck in. But instead, you swallowed the words. Silence filled the space between you.

“I don’t know how to do this, you barely speak to me, I don't even know your name!” You didn’t know what else to say, your voice was barely above a whisper. It wasn’t just the two of you, it was everything. The games. The VIP room you were redesigning, trying to make something decent out of the mess you’d been handed. The loneliness that was starting to settle in, creeping up on you every time you thought about what was happening outside.

He took a step closer, and this time, you didn’t look away. You noticed the exhaustion in his posture, how the usual rigidness in his stance had softened just a little. His eyes, usually so guarded, seemed… worn. Tired. “Neither do I,” he admitted quietly, his voice rough, like admitting it hurt. “But I don’t have a choice.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. You had always known, in some way, that neither of you had a choice in this. But hearing him say it so plainly, so quietly, made it feel real. Too real.

“You don’t have to keep doing this alone,” you said, your voice barely audible, but there was an honesty in it that surprised even you.

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity, his gaze flicking over your face like he was trying to figure you out, trying to understand what you meant. Finally, he spoke, his voice gruff. “I’m not doing this alone.”

Before you could process what he meant, his fingers brushed lightly against your arm. It was so quick, you almost wondered if you imagined it. But the shock of it was real—his touch sent a jolt of warmth through your body, like a bridge snapping into place between you.

For a split second, the distance between you seemed to vanish. It was a fleeting moment, but it was there. And then, just as quickly as it came, it was gone. He pulled his hand back, his usual indifference sliding back into place. “I should go,” he said, his voice cold once more.

You nodded, but before he could leave, your voice broke the silence. “Wait.”

He paused but didn’t turn around.

“You… you don’t have to be alone, either,” you said, your voice shaking now, unsure whether you meant it for him or for yourself. “I don’t want you to be.”

There was a long, agonizing silence. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. You could feel his presence like a weight in the room, but there was something about it—something vulnerable in the way he stood there, even with his back to you.

When he finally spoke, his words were barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to be anything else.”

And with that, he was gone. The door clicked softly behind him, leaving you standing alone, the rain still pounding against the windows.

———————

This is chapter six! Let me know how you like it! I have more ready!! :)

Tag list:

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#squid games x reader #squid game x y/n #squid game x reader #squid game #x reader #in ho x reader #the front man #frontman x reader #marriage au #arranged marriage #a game of hearts

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mapis-putellas · 11 hours ago

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𝑺𝒉𝒆’𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈/𝑨.𝑷𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒂𝒔

Alexia seemed completely at ease as she drove the two of you to the party. Her hand rested casually on your bare thigh, giving it an occasional reassuring squeeze as the city lights flickered past the windows. She glanced at you as she brought the car to a stop at a red light, her eyes softening when she noticed you fiddling with the hem of your dress.

“Estás nerviosa?” she asked gently, her accent curling around the words in a way that always made your stomach flip.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. “A little. It’s a big deal meeting everyone all at once.”

Alexia smiled, her thumb brushing lightly over the side of your thigh. “They will love you,” she said, her tone brimming with quiet confidence. “Just be yourself. That’s all you need to do.”

You smiled back at her, appreciating her faith in you, but the nervous energy bubbling in your chest didn’t dissipate. This wasn’t just any group of people; this was her team—her family. Alexia had always been cautious about introducing significant others to her teammates, and you knew why. The women from her past had left scars that took time to heal, and even now, you could tell there were moments when her walls still crept back up.

As you approached the venue, the faint sound of music spilled into the night air. Alexia parked the car and climbed out before making her way round to the passenger side and opening your door, her hand outstretched to help you out. You took it, finding comfort in the familiar warmth of her touch as she reached around you to close the door.

“Lista?” she asked with a small, encouraging smile.

You nodded, taking a deep breath as she led you inside.

You stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, clutching the glass of water Alexia had handed you before she’d been called away to help coordinate something for the celebration. She hadn’t even had the chance to introduce you to anyone, and as the buzz of chatter and laughter filled the air, you felt utterly out of place, an outsider in a tight-knit group of friends and teammates.

It was fine, you told yourself. You could do this. These were just people, and you’d dealt with intimidating groups before. You adjusted the hem of your dress and took a steadying breath before making your way toward a cluster of Alexia’s teammates.

Patri was the first one you approached. Her bright smile and easy laughter had drawn you in when you’d first spotted her across the room, so you figured she might be the safest person to talk to.

“Hi, I’m Y/n. I’m Alexia’s girlfriend,” you said, offering your hand with a nervous smile.

Patri’s smile faltered, her eyes flicking over you quickly before she leaned back slightly, not taking your hand. “Girlfriend, huh?” she said, her tone light but laced with something that made your stomach twist.

“Yes,” you replied, your voice soft but steady. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Sure,” she said, her gaze already drifting elsewhere as she gave a noncommittal nod. “Excuse me.”

And just like that, she turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your hand still awkwardly extended. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you dropped your hand back to your side, forcing yourself to stay composed.

It’s fine. Maybe she was busy.

You turned to another group nearby, where Claudia and Aitana were chatting animatedly in rapid Spanish. Their laughter was infectious, and you hoped their good mood might make them more welcoming.

“Hi,” you said, smiling brightly as you approached. “I’m—”

But before you could finish, Aitana’s eyes flicked to you, narrowing slightly. She leaned in to whisper something to Claudia, who looked at you briefly before smirking, and you felt your cheeks heat.

“I’m Alexia’s girlfriend,” you tried again, pushing past the lump forming in your throat. “It’s really nice to meet you both.”

Claudia crossed her arms, her smirk still firmly in place. “Girlfriend, huh?” she echoed Patri’s earlier words, but there was no mistaking the edge in her tone.

“Yes,” you replied firmly, though your voice wavered slightly.

“Eso es... interesante,” Aitana said, exchanging a glance with Claudia.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but they turned their backs on you, resuming their conversation as if you weren’t even there.

Your chest tightened, but you refused to let it show. You scanned the room, spotting Alexia still deep in conversation with the team manager. She glanced at you briefly, her eyes lighting up when they met yours, and she smiled. You returned it weakly, not wanting her to see how rattled you were.

Determined not to give up, you approached Mapi, who was chatting with Frido and Lucy near the bar. You’d heard Alexia mention Mapi a lot—she was one of her closest friends. Maybe she’d be different.

“Hi, I’m Alexia’s girlfriend,” you said, trying to project more confidence this time.

Mapi’s head tilted slightly as she gave you a once-over. “Oh,” she said simply, her tone flat.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you continued, extending your hand.

She didn’t take it. Instead, she crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Girlfriend,” she repeated, the word dripping with skepticism.

Frido and Lucy exchanged looks, and Lucy shrugged, clearly disinterested. “Another one?” Lucy muttered under her breath, though loud enough for you to hear.

Your heart sank. You tried to keep your expression neutral, but it was becoming harder with each cold interaction.

“I’m sorry?” you asked, forcing yourself to remain polite despite the sting of her words.

“Nothing,” Lucy said, waving you off dismissively.

Mapi let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “Bueno, buena suerte,” she said, her tone almost mocking. “Lo necesitarás”.

They turned away from you, diving back into their conversation as if you weren’t even there.

You took a step back, blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. You glanced around the room again, looking for Alexia, but she was still busy.

Each interaction chipped away at your confidence, but you refused to let it show. The whispers and side glances only grew louder, and while you couldn’t catch everything being said, you caught enough to know you weren’t welcome.

“She’s probably just here for the money.”

“Another gold digger.”

“Why does Ale keep falling for this?”

The words echoed in your mind, cruel and cutting. They didn’t know you. They didn’t know that you’d been with Alexia for months before you even knew who she was, that to you, she was just Ale—your sweet, thoughtful girlfriend who made you laugh until your sides hurt and held you when the world felt too heavy.

They didn’t know was that you had your own successful career, one that had nothing to do with Alexia’s fame. You were an astrophysicist specializing in renewable energy solutions, your work making headlines in scientific communities for its potential to revolutionize sustainable living. You’d never once needed or wanted Alexia’s money, and in fact, you were the one who often planned elaborate dates, surprised her with thoughtful gifts, and went out of your way to show her how much you cared.

But none of that mattered to them. They’d already made up their minds on who they thought you were.

By the time Alexia returned, you were sitting on the edge of the couch, nursing the drink you still hadn’t touched. She noticed the tightness in your smile, the shine in your eyes and the way your hands fidgeted with the hem of your dress.

“Todo bien?” she asked, crouching beside you so she could look into your eyes.

You nodded quickly, not trusting yourself to speak without your voice betraying you. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.” You whispered.

Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she stood back up and held out her hand. “Let’s go home,” she said softly, wiggling her fingers.

You followed her without hesitation, relieved to leave the party and everything that had happened there, behind. In the car, she kept glancing at you, her concern growing with each mile.

“Seguro que estás bien?” she asked again.

“I’m fine,” you insisted, though your voice was quieter this time. Less sure.

She didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push, reaching over to rest her hand on your thigh instead. The weight of her touch grounded you as you curled your fingers beneath her own, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the ache in your chest.

That night, as Alexia slept soundly beside you with her face tucked within the crook of your neck and her leg thrown over your hips, you stared at the ceiling, replaying every cruel comment and dismissive glance in your mind as you absently trailed the tips of your fingers up and down the bare skin of her back. You told yourself it didn’t matter, that their opinions didn’t define you or your relationship. But the hurt lingered, a quiet ache that refused to be ignored.

From that night on, you began declining Alexia’s invitations to join her team for outings. You made excuses—work commitments, exhaustion, anything to avoid putting yourself in that position again. At first, she accepted your reasons without question, but as days turned into weeks, her confusion turned into concern.

At home, you were still the same person she fell in love with. Caring, gentle, and oh so sweet. She loved the way you’d curl up on the couch with her, your fingers running through her hair as she told you about her day. She adored the way you’d sneak into the kitchen while she cooked, wrapping your arms around her waist and pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

But whenever she brought up her teammates, you withdrew completely, your usual brightness dimming into something more subdued. Alexia noticed the change and couldn’t understand it. Every time she asked, you brushed it off with a smile and a vague excuse, leaving her more confused than before.

It wasn’t until one quiet evening on your balcony that she finally confronted you, her eyes filled with worry as she asked, “Why don’t you want to come with me anymore?”

You hesitated. You didn’t want to burden her with the truth, didn’t want to cause tension between her and her team. But you knew she deserved honesty.

“They don’t like me,” you finally whispered, your voice barely audible over the city noise.

Alexia frowned, leaning closer as if she hadn’t heard you correctly. “¿Qué? They don’t like you?”

You nodded, your gaze dropping to your lap. “Your teammates. They think I’m… like the others. That I’m using you.”

The words hung heavily in the air, and for a moment, Alexia didn’t respond. You chanced a glance at her and saw the way her jaw tightened, her eyes narrowing as the realization sank in.

“Who said that?” she asked, her tone sharper than you’d ever heard it.

You shook your head quickly, your hands moving to clasp hers. “It doesn’t matter. Please, Alexia, don’t make it a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” she insisted, her voice firm but still laced with concern. “No te conocen como yo. No tienen derecho a decir esas cosas”.

“I know,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “But it’s not worth the fight. I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

Alexia’s hand cupped your cheek, her touch gentle but grounding as she tilted your face toward hers. “¿Crees que me importa más lo que dicen que tú?”

“No, of course not,” you said quickly, your eyes searching hers. “But I don’t want to cause problems. You’re their captain, their friend. I don’t want to come between that.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her frustration evident, but it wasn’t directed at you. She exhaled deeply, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she tried to reign in her emotions.

“They don’t see what I see,” she said softly, her thumb brushing against your cheek. “They don’t know how much you mean to me. How much you’ve done for me. I should’ve told them.”

“It’s not your responsibility to defend me, Ale,” you said gently, your hand covering hers where it rested against your cheek.

“Yes, it is,” she countered, her eyes blazing with determination. “Eres mi compañero. Debería haber dejado claro desde el principio lo importante que eres para mí. Que no eres como los demás. Que eres...” She hesitated, her voice softening. “You’re everything to me.”

Your breath hitched at her words, the sincerity in her tone leaving no room for doubt.

“Ellos no entienden,” she continued, her voice thick with emotion. “Pero les haré entender. Les contaré cómo nos conocimos, cómo ni siquiera sabías quién era yo durante meses. Cómo eres el que siempre está planeando citas y sorprendiéndome con regalos. Cómo nunca me has pedido nada”.

“Ale, you don’t have to—”

“Sí, lo hago,” she interrupted, her grip on your hand tightening. “Porque necesitan saber la verdad. Y la verdad es que nunca he sido más feliz que contigo. Eres lo mejor que me ha pasado, y no dejaré que nadie te haga sentir que no eres suficiente”.

Her words brought tears to your eyes, and you blinked rapidly, trying to keep them at bay. “You mean that?”

“Every word,” she said without hesitation, her voice steady and unwavering.

You leaned forward, wrapping your arms around her and burying your face in the crook of her neck. She held you tightly, her hands running soothingly up and down your back. For the first time since that night at the party, the weight on your chest began to lift. When you finally pulled back, she cupped your face again, her thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen.

“Promise me you won’t keep this from me again,” she said softly. “Si algo te está haciendo daño, necesito saberlo. Somos un equipo, ¿recuerdas?”

You nodded as you leaned into her hold, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I promise.”

“Good,” she said, her own smile breaking through the worry that had clouded her features. “Porque nunca quiero que sientas que estás solo en esto”.

She leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling you into another hug. You wrap your arms tightly around her waist, hands slipping beneath her shirt to rest against the bare skin of her back. She pressed closer against you, hand rising to cup the back of your head as she rocks the both of you side to side, cheek pressed against the top of your head.

The next day, Alexia was uncharacteristically quiet during training. Her usual focus and precision were still there, but there was an edge to her movements, a simmering tension that the team couldn’t ignore. When the session ended, she didn’t linger to chat or laugh with her teammates like usual. Instead, she stood in the center of the locker room, her arms crossed, and waited for everyone to gather.

The energy in the room shifted. Mapi and Ingrid exchanged glances, and Patri raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing something was off.

“Necesito hablar con todas,” Alexia began, her voice steady but firm.

The chatter died down, and all eyes turned to her. Her eyes scanned the room, landing briefly on each of them. “I found out something yesterday. Something that has me very disappointed in all of you.”

The room was silent

“Se trata de cómo has estado tratando a mi novia,” she said, her voice dropping slightly.

There were murmurs of confusion, some players glancing at one another, but no one spoke.

“La traje a la fiesta porque quería que te conocera, para que se sintiera bienvenida. En cambio, fue ignorada, insultada y se le hizo sentir que no pertenecía. Algunos de ustedes incluso la llamaron buscadora de oro.”

Her voice hardened, and the room seemed to shrink under the weight of her anger.

“Ella no me lo dijo,” Alexia continued, her tone sharp. “Porque ella no quería causar problemas. Pero tienes que entender algo: ella no es como las mujeres con las que he estado antes. Ella ni siquiera sabía quién era yo cuando empezamos a salir. A ella no le importa la fama ni el dinero. Ella se preocupa por mí”.

Her words hung heavy in the air, and no one dared to interrupt.

“Ella es amable. Ella es inteligente. Ella tiene éxito por derecho propio, de maneras que la mayoría de ustedes ni siquiera se dan cuenta. Y ella me trata mejor que nadie. Entonces, ¿escuchar que las personas que considero familia la hicieron sentir no bienvenida?” She shook her head, her disappointment palpable. “Es inaceptable.”

Mapi spoke up first. “Ale, no quisimos decir...”

“No,” Alexia cut her off, her voice sharp. “No me digas que no fue intencional. ¿Ignorar a alguien? ¿Se niega a estrechar su mano? ¿Llamándola por su nombre? Esas son opciones”.

Mapi looked down, guilt evident on her face, and the room grew quieter still.

“La quiero,” Alexia said, her voice softening but losing none of its conviction. “Y si te preocupas por mí, la tratarás con el respeto que se merece. Ella es parte de mi vida, y eso significa que es parte de este equipo, te guste o no”.

No one argued. Slowly, heads began to nod, and a few murmured apologies filled the silence.

Alexia nodded once, satisfied for now. “Bueno. Porque vas a tener la oportunidad de…show it to her”.

“¿Qué quieres decir?” Patri asked cautiously.

“Porque ella viene a la barbacoa esta noche, y espero que todos ustedes estén mejor”.

The barbecue was a casual team tradition, held in one of the larger gardens on a sunny afternoon. You had hesitated when Alexia invited you, worry flickering in your eyes. But she was persistent, her hands on either side of your waist. “Trust me, amor. It will be different this time.”

When you arrived, Alexia’s arm looped protectively around your waist, guiding you through the throng of players and staff. A few heads turned your way, but to your surprise, the smiles that greeted you seemed genuine, if a little sheepish.

Ingrid approached first, her green eyes soft with guilt as she extended a hand. You didn’t recognise her as one of the people who had spoken down to you, so you didn’t quite understand why she looked as guilty as she did, but you appreciated the fact she was one of the first to try and make amends.

“Hi,” she said, her voice careful. “I’m Ingrid.“

You hesitated for a moment before shaking her hand, offering a small smile. “Hi.”

Mapi sidled up a few moments later with an exaggerated grin, her Spanish accent thick as she playfully elbowed you, “Lo siento. You forgive us, sí? Alexia would kill us if you don’t.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension easing slightly. “I’ll think about it.”

As the evening went on, the team’s efforts to make amends became clear. They included you in conversations, asked you questions, and seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you.

But it wasn’t until they saw the way you interacted with Alexia that the guilt truly sank in.

You were attentive without being overbearing, making sure she had a drink, coaxing her to eat when she got too caught up in talking with her teammates. When the sun began to set and the temperature dropped, you wordlessly draped your jacket over her shoulders, your hands rubbing her arms over the material on her arms to make sure she was warm as she instinctively leaned against your front.

“She’s always like this,” Alexia said softly to Ingrid as you headed off to grab both you and Alexia another drink.

“She takes care of you,” Ingrid replied, a note of admiration in her voice.

Alexia smiled, her eyes shining with affection at the mere thought of you. “Better than anyone ever has.”

By the end of the evening, the team’s initial wariness had dissolved completely. As you and Alexia prepared to leave, Mapi approached you again, her expression earnest. “We were wrong,” she said simply. “About you. I’m sorry.”

You nodded, your smile soft but genuine. “Thank you. That means a lot.”

As you walked away hand-in-hand with Alexia, her thumb brushing over your knuckles, you felt lighter than you had in weeks.

Tags:

@ceesimz @marysfics @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @simp4panos @silentwolfsstuff @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

#soft alexia putellas #protective alexia putellas #alexia putellas x you #alexia putellas x reader #woso community #woso x reader #woso appreciation #woso imagine

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bookofbonnie · 1 day ago

Text

NEIGHBOURS: 2 - VI ARCANE.

Characters: Vi x Reader.

Summary: AU. You've settled into your new apartment and life with your new neighbour, Vi. It's domestic bliss until you notice that something is clearly going on with Vi.

Word Count: 2k+.

A/N: This is formatted and written really weirdly so, I'm sorry if it's hard to read. Anyways, I enjoyed writing the first one so, I decided to do a second part. Honestly, in my head, this is taking place in the 2000’s.

PART ONE.

Excluding the difficulties that came with the first day and a half in your new apartment, transitioning into life in your new home had come with a surprisingly, comfortable ease after that.

A huge part of that was thanks to Vi.

During your first week of moving in, Vi found herself and her tools at your place more than her own as you settled in and discovered new faults and problems that she was more than happy to fix.

In return, you fed her and after that, the two of you found yourself falling into something of a domestic routine.

Including (but not limited to) -

Collecting each other’s mail from the mailroom:

(Angel Face: Attachment: 1 Image. 1 new message. Did you know that despite marketing their packaging as discreet, sex shops still print their website in tiny print on the label?

Bob the Builder: fckn kill me.

Angel Face: You have to show me what you got when you get home. Please and thank you!)

Carpooling where you could:

(Your keys jingle in the lock and you twist the door handle for good measure, making sure it’s locked when a low whistle comes from the end of the hallway.

Vi emerges from behind her own door, gym bag in hand.

“Cute leggings,” Vi comments with a grin, closing and locking her door behind her.

The compliment has your cheeks heating up but, you cover it with something silly.

“Thank you,” you beam and begin hitting a few poorly executed bodybuilding poses for her. “I’m glad you noticed. They’re new.”

Vi watches, amused, as you continue to muck around with the poses when her mouth suddenly goes dry when you pull your too-big-T up and over your ass and hit another pose.

She swallows thickly, eyes wide and focused on the curve of your plump backside

When you spin around, she quickly averts her gaze with a cough as you toss her your car keys.

“They’re nice,” Vi catches the keys, ducking her head to hide her coloured cheeks before mumbling. “You should definitely buy more.”

“Hm?”

“Uh- nothing-” Vi fiddles with the strap of her gym bag. “Ready to go?”)

Grocery runs together + shopping in each other’s pantries:

(“This is a lot of eggs,” Vi comments, eyeing the crate of twenty-four.

You breathe a half-laugh, “do you need eggs, Vi?”

There’s a long pause and it prompts you to turn around from your position on the couch to where a contemplative Violet stands in front of your open fridge.

“... Maybe.”

You laugh, proper, this time and it sends a kaleidoscope of butterflies through Vi; she's committed the sound to memory but still she wishes she could bottle the sound and wear it around her neck.

Vi steals a glance at you and you smile fondly at her with your head propped on the back of your couch, “take as many as you need.”)

Movie and weekly TV nights:

(“Finally! Hurry, hurry,” you usher Vi inside your apartment.

“Live rewind only goes back 30 minutes and the show started 28 ago.”

“Fuck, sorry, I didn’t realise I was that late,” Vi apologises, quickly kicking her shoes off and dropping her keys in the bowl.

The two of you settle into your usual positions on your couch, you in the corner of your L-shaped couch and Vi at the other end with her feet propped up on the ottoman.

You cast one last look between the TV and Vi, ready to hit play but you don’t because the way she sits slumped in her seat, feet on the floor, shoulders sagging and eyes glazed over doesn’t go unnoticed by you.

“Hey,” you call softly. “You okay?”

“Hm?” Vi blinks, taking a second to register your voice.

“Yeah, yeah, let's watch,” she waves off your concern with a hand in the air.

“Vi… you know we don’t always have to do these movie nights? Right? If you don’t want to… you can just tell me. I won’t be offended,” you offer her what you hoped was a comforting smile. “and I mean if something’s happened, you can talk to me… if you want .”

Vi feels her throat clog because there’s genuine concern in your eyes and how is she meant to tell you that she just got into a huge fight because she wanted, chose, to be here with you tonight.

She can't so she says-

“Just got into a disagreement with a-uh friend. It’s nothing, promise. Now hit play otherwise it’ll be you who makes us miss the first few minutes,” she finishes with a teasing grin and hoping you didn’t notice the way she stumbled over the word friend.

You did. But, you don’t say anything and, soon you forget about it all together because Tyler Lockwood just triggered his werewolf curse!!)

Taking turns to cook and having dinner together most nights - turns out neither of you knew how to cook for one person so, it was easier to just cook for both.

It’s how the two of you end up in Vi’s kitchen on a Wednesday night.

Topic of conversation: family, parents, childhood and everything in between.

You were both still learning about each other.

You learned Vi’s parents had passed away in the Zaun Revolution.

She and her sister, Powder, were adopted by her dad, Vander, who was an old friend of her parents.

They also had two brothers- Mylo & Claggor.

Vander raised them all with the help of another old friend of her parents, Silco.

You recognised both of their names.

“Wait- how do you know who they are?” Vi looks at you with curious eyes.

“Because, I’m from here? And I think I would know my cities leaders,” you say, laughing, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Wait- so you are from here?”

“Yes… have we not had this conversation before?”

"Nope," and Vi is pleased to learn that she was right about you, after all.

You were from Zaun, you just didn’t grow up in Zaun which is why she had never met you before.

Your parents were Zaunite scientists who initially worked for Former Councillor Heimerdinger at The University of Piltover but, following his retirement, they now worked for Councillor Talis and his partner, Viktor, so you had spent the majority of your life in Piltover.

Vi’s mood shifts at the mention of Jayce Talis.

“For Jayce Talis, huh?” Vi questions, casting a sideways glance at you. “He’s uh- he’s pretty close to the Kiramman’s… your family, are they um- like, close to any of them?”

Vi doesn’t know why she asks that. (She does).

But there was no taking it back now.

She shakes her head at herself and peeks at you from the corner of her eye, hoping you don’t notice the odd question or the way her hand slows on dicing the last of the vegetables.

You don’t.

Not missing a beat, you fire up her stove, place a pan on top of it and answer her question.

“With Jayce? I mean, yeah? Sort of? My parents work for him so they’ve spent a lot of their time over the years with him in the lab but, they’re way closer to Viktor. Grew up down the road from each other and all that so, he’s practically family and well… Jayce is his family. They’re kind of a package deal, so Jayce is around a lot much to the initial annoyance of my parents but they’ve learned to indulge him.”

Finishing up with the vegetables, Vi turns to face you, leaning against the counter with her arms folded across her chest.

Your eyes can’t help but stray for a brief moment to look at the swell of muscles in her arms that flex from the movement.

“Learned to indulge him?”

“Yeah… I mean- he means well and he’s really nice but he’s still… unlearning some of his prejudicial misconceptions about Zaun and her people but... he's getting there,” you breathe a short, wry laugh. “Slowly but surely.”

Your words hit a little too close to home for Vi and she clears her throat uncomfortably, pushing off the counter to start cleaning the bench so she can distract herself while you stand over the stove and cook.

“And as for the Kiramann’s, I mean I went to school with Councillor Cassandra’s daughter, Caitlyn but-”

Vi drops the dish in her hand and it lands in the sink with a loud clang!

The sound makes you jump and you ask her if everything’s okay-

“Yeah, yeah, all good,” Vi wipes a sweaty hand across the back of her trackies with a nervous chuckle. “Just a slip of the hand- sorry, why are we talking about Caitlyn Kiramann?”

Vi tries not to sound defensive, tries her best to sound casual but it comes out as anything but, her voice short and clipped.

You pause for a moment - was she... annoyed with you? - then breathe a sigh of disbelief, confused by the sudden whiplash-

“Vi… you asked me about the Kiramann’s,” you remind her. “I was just answering your question.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you did-” you retort, feeling a little exasperated and desperate for answers because there had been a steady build up of- this.

Whatever the hell this was.

After that night when she showed up late to your place, you noticed that something was off.

She seemed to be eating less, drinking more on the weekends and sleeping even less.

Then there were the bruises and scuffs that were making more frequent appearances across her face and all over her body.

You were pretty certain those weren’t coming from the sparring matches she participated in, in the gym as she so claimed.

Despite all of that however, the routine the two of you had fallen into hadn’t changed- Vi was still showing up for you.

But... even you could see that it was becoming exhaustive for her, light snores more frequently leaving her lips from where she’d laid her head on your lap only minutes into whatever tv show or movie the two of you had started but, every time you offered to cancel, she’d flat out refuse.

“Me? Cancel?” she’d scoff. “And miss my favourite part of the day? Yeah, right, angel face. Not getting rid of me that easily”

You had made it a point not to comment because you weren’t sure how’d she react if you began to more forcefully pry into her life considering she had already shut down your several attempts to check in with her before.

But, this time you don’t give her a pass.

“Vi, are you sure everything’s okay? I just feel like you’ve been really off lately and you keep saying you’re fine but, you’re clearly not. You can talk to m-”

“I said I’m fine!” Vi snaps and you freeze.

The tension is palpable and hangs suffocatingly between the two of you.

Neither of you move.

Neither of you say anything.

Save for the water dripping from the kitchen faucet and the food sizzling on the stove, there is nothing but silence.

Vi stares at you wide-eyed and caught off guard by her own outburst and you blink back at her in surprise.

You’re the first one to make a move- releasing a slow, controlled breath.

“I think I’ve overstayed my welcome,” you utter, removing the kitchen towel from your shoulder.

Your words breathe life back into Vi and colours her face with a molotov cocktail of emotions before she settles on a regretful grimace.

“Shit- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“I think you’ve had a long week, Violet,” you interrupt her apology and turn the stove off. “In fact, I think you’ve had a long couple of weeks and if you’re not going to let me in on your problems then maybe you should just leave me out of it.”

With that, you leave without sparing her a backward glance.

Everything would make sense the following Monday however, after a weekend spent at your parents in Piltover.

You would learn exactly what the problem had been or, who the problem had been, you should say.

You and Vi had never really discussed each other’s love lives but you figured she was clearly fucking someone/s (the sex shop order was a strap harness) and it led you to make assumptions about her.

Assumptions that were inclusive of:

1. Vi didn’t have one (a love life) - not in a monogamous type way at least - because she never mentioned a girlfriend (why would she omit that, right?) and never brought anyone over.

2. Vi was a player, a serial sleep-arounder, ladykiller, skirt chaser, philanderer- whatever the hell people called it nowadays.

The point was, you found it hard to believe that someone as hot and kind and charming and smart and funny as Vi wasn’t getting laid and frequently - if she wasn't in a relationship then she had to be pulling an insane amount of pussy.

But, as it turned out, both your assumptions about Vi had been very wrong.

No, she had a third, more terrible thing going on…

An on-again, off-again girlfriend.

“Why are we talking about Caitlyn Kiramann, huh?” you cock your head at Vi with a raised brow from the bottom of the steps.

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

#vi fanfic #vi x reader #vi x y/n #vi x you #vi x fem reader #vi arcane fanfic #vi arcane fic #arcane fanfiction

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hauntedhokage · 2 days ago

Text

this is going to be the longest friday of your life

word count: 9.7k

warnings: references to sex explicit sexual content

[read on ao3] [masterlist] [ko-fi]

“You’re up early.”

“Could say the same to you.” You mumble back, pushing his hair back so you could clearly see him while his eyes try to focus on the new light of the room. He’d been working hard the last few days, you’re confident this is the first morning all week that he’d woken up in a bed and not his office chair or an unused gurney left in a hallway. “Sleep well?”

“Getting to sleep in bed with you is always preferable.”

“I’m glad I could inspire you to take me to dinner and to bed, then.” His smile as you speak is warm, full of adoration that makes your heart flutter with your own smile stretching across your face. “Could I possibly inspire you to make breakfast?”

“I can be bought.”

“How so?”

“Kiss tax, plus a few extra, and I’ll even make the coffee.”

You pretend to think about it, finger tracing patterns against his bare chest as his hand carefully caresses your jaw. There’s a clench to his jaw that you catch, reflective of the urges you knew he was fighting to repress for the sake of whatever moment it was that you were sharing in your bed - urges that you’d press with hope that he’d let himself go again like he had the night before. “I think we have a deal.”

His own fingers dance across your lips before he leans in, the feather light sensation replaced by his soft lips that somehow still tasted of his minty chapstick. His kiss is languid, your movements still affected by the haze of the lingering sleepiness mixed with the warm bed sheets and body heat. His hands pull you to roll with him so you’re laying on him, holding you by your hips to keep you with him.

“Does that only count as one? Or can we make that two?”

“I’ll have to think about it.”

Not that it mattered, the rumbling of your stomach was enough to cut off any escalation of your physical intimacy with Zayne for a while. He carefully sits up, keeping you in his arms until you’re both upright before he’s depositing you to sit beside him so he can stand then help you to your feet.

“You always look so cute when you steal my clothes.”

You look down at the green long sleeve you had picked up on your way back from the bathroom last night, one of Zayne’s oversized shirts that he slept in but was now serving a higher purpose - not just keeping you warm, but also keeping you cute for your boyfriend. Cute wasn’t a normal word for Zayne, but you were going to take it and savor it because you liked being cute for him.

So cute that he keeps you perched on the counter, passing a mug of coffee between you that you have to turn around and refill as he cooks. Your kiss tax for breakfast is paid in full at least twice over by the time he’s helping you down so you can make your way to the table with your plate and coffee to eat.

“Thank you for cooking, Zayne.”

“It’s never a hassle for you.” His assurance has you smiling as you bite into your toast, warm with the knowledge that he enjoyed taking care of you. “Is there anything you’d like to do today?”

“Not really. Let’s just see where the day takes us and, if it’s just laying on the couch then that’s fine by me.”

The faint sound of a ringtone can be heard from the bedroom, and you pause mid-bite as you focus your hearing on the noise. That was your phone, and Zayne nods when you tell him as you stand from your chair so you can half-jog to the bedroom to see who was calling. Your hope that it was just someone inviting you out is squashed when Jenna’s name lights up your screen, and you can only redirect your hope in the direction that she’s only checking on you instead of needing you in the field.

That hope is squashed as soon as you hear her tone on the other line, laced with apologies unspoken for calling on your day off. But apparently Xavier needed your help with a Wanderer he’d been tracking, and that was a big enough deal for having your day interrupted.

“...If Xavier wasn’t specifically requesting you, then-”

“Yeah, I know Captain. I’ll be out there ASAP.”

And you know that he knows exactly what had just happened, knows what you’re about to tell him when you reappear wearing your usual combat pants, but you still have to brace yourself for the words to leave your mouth.

“I hate to dine and dash, but-“

“I know, duty calls.” He doesn’t look surprised nor disappointed, only shooing you towards your bedroom as he stands from the table. “Go finish getting ready, I’ll make some coffee for you to take with you.”

You nod, starting to head that way but quickly doubling back to steal a kiss from him. “You’re the best.”

“I try to be.”

“Hey Xav,” you greet, sneaking up on him for once and laughing when his startled expression meets your own smug grin.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

“Extremely. Even more proud that you requested my help.”

“I stole your kill yesterday, this is a courtesy.”

“Sure, whatever you say.” You check your gun one last time, nudging him with your elbow to signal that you were ready to move. “You just like spending time with me.”

“I won’t argue that, partner.”

You listen as he tells you about the wanderer he’d been tracking this morning, now aware of why he’d requested your backup as he explains that this wanderer was being drawn to a Luminivore that he’d been trying to pin down for about a month. He didn’t want to risk letting it go, and after this long it would be strong - better to get the help than not and risk it getting even stronger by feeding off more wanderers.

When you do find it, the battle is difficult. The creature was more unpredictable than any wanderer you’d come face-to-face with, moved faster and was all around nasty - even Xavier had been caught off guard a couple times and was reliant on his speed being greater and trusting in your aim being steady and not shooting him by accident. Aiming at blurry subjects was never easy, and you're grateful that you hadn’t come close to hitting Xavier even once throughout the battle despite what you felt were a couple close calls.

“This restaurant just opened today.” Xavier tells you as you walk through the city, having relaxed from the tough battle. “I figured it was something we could try together.”

You nod, not looking up from your phone while you texted Zayne to let him know your mission had gone well and that you were going to get lunch with Xavier. You don’t expect an immediate response so you pocket your phone so you can give Xavier you full attention.

“I was given a flier the other day on my way to the no-hunt zone.” It’s a simple explanation that makes perfect sense, and you nod again while teasing him for being able to sniff out a new restaurant in town without the help of a promotional flier. He rubs his neck as he agrees, earning some nudges from your elbow to his side as you enter the building.

He orders a roast beef sandwich while you go with the waitress’ recommendation, and you’re pleasantly surprised by the chicken salad that’s put in front of you just ten minutes later. There’s discussion between you and Xavier about the fight, as you need the additional reassurance that you hadn’t come close to hitting him with any of your shots while he’s happy to make you feel better about that. Next you talk about any plans you might have for the rest of your day off, since you both already know that he’s going back to sleep after exerting so much energy on the wanderer.

When you leave you’re happy

“Careful.” Xavier comments, his hand tugging you back by your collar to get you out of the narrow crosswalk just in time to avoid the truck barreling through the intersection. A good call, since the vehicle was huge and probably would have killed you if he hadn’t pulled you out of the crosswalk.

“Katie!?”

You both turn at the sound, your eyes seeing the woman rushing into the intersection before they find that she was rushing towards. A young girl, no older than twelve, was laid in the center of a growing group of people. Xavier is already calling for help as you move in to push the crowd back to give the girl and her mother space, but the whole time you can only think about the fact that it was almost you in that position.

Maybe it should have been you? Better you than a kid, right?

The thought haunts you through the rest of your day. You’d come home to an empty apartment, a text from Zayne telling you that he’d been called in to the hospital to assess a cardiac patient admitted from the emergency room but he’d ordered you dinner in advance that would be delivered around six. You text him asking if he’d heard anything about the girl that he could share with you before you get into the shower. Your shoulder aches, and your fingers find blood from a small wound that you’d have to wrap up on your own and ask Zayne to look at in the morning. You weren’t going to the hospital today, you just needed to lay down now.

DAY TWO

This felt unusually similar to the last day, but you shake the unease as you watch Zayne continue to sleep - or at least pretend to be sleeping.

“What time do you need to be at the hospital?”

A smile as he knows he’s been caught, and your hand gently caresses his cheek as he sighs into your pillows before telling you, “Not at all. I’m yours all day, if you’ll have me.”

There wasn’t a single place you’d rather be than with him, and the way his cheeks develop a pink tint makes you smile as you lean in to kiss his nose. You swear you’ve had this conversation before, down to the way Zayne bashfully presses his face deeper into the pillow to try and mask the normally uncharacteristic smile - but that was your smile and you weren’t going to let him hide it.

“Stop hiding your handsome little face from me right now.”

“Is that a request or a demand, miss hunter?”

“A…req-mand,” you respond with a grin, sitting up in the bed so you could look down at him. “If I may make another?”

“Yes, I’d happily cook our breakfast.”

“You’re a blessing and a doctor and a wonderful boyfriend.”

“Anything else?”

“You’re also great in bed, but you knew all of that already.”

“I still like to hear you say it.”

Your phone rings as you’re eating, and you sigh as you stand to retrieve it from the bedroom. It seemed you never got a day off, even when you were supposed to have one. Two days in a row wasn’t fair, and you have half a mind to complain to Jenna about it after she explains the situation but hold off in favor of keeping your job.

Zayne had followed you to the bedroom, and you’re disappointed at the slight frown that graces his usually stoic features, but he was just in demand as you were so you know he understood your situation. It still sucked though.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you assure, leaning against the doorframe as he presses his forehead to yours. The strong hand on your hip keeps you in place, three little words weighing down the tip of your tongue as he leans in to capture the kiss he’d been seeking. “It’d just be nice to have a day with you.”

“There’s always tomorrow,” he assures, kissing you again in something much more weighted with the adoration he held for you - a true parting kiss that you needed to be able to leave comfortably. I’ll see you later, I hope.”

“Yeah, I should hopefully be back around dinnertime so you can make sure I eat something.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it.”

It had to have just been deja vu. That made the most sense as to why you felt like you’d been to this exact area with Xavier telling you it was him wanting to make up for stealing your kill. This entire morning felt familiar, down to the way the wanderer swung at your left shoulder. Any closer and it would’ve gotten your skin instead of just slicing through your shirt and you’d be gang lectured by Xavier, Jenna, Tara, then Zayne in that order.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Lunch?”

“Lunch.”

He tells you about the little diner he’d found and wanted to try, and you nod along as you walk back towards the city. Walking with Xavier was always refreshing, even when you felt uneasy- as if you’d been in the exact situation before. But it was possible that after how long you and Xavier had been partners that every battle felt like a repeat of one before it.

When you go into the dinner you pause, looking around only to realize that you’d been here before. There was no way this was the first day they were open, and Xavier only shakes his head as you take your seat across from him in the booth.

“Maybe you’d been to whatever was here before,” he starts, tilting his head when you shake yours. “This building has been closed for the last year while they remodeled for this restaurant to open.”

“I swear we were just here yesterday.”

“We didn’t see each other yesterday, remember? I had the day off and you were with that artist.”

You had been with Rafayel, but that was two days ago. Yesterday you had been with Xavier in this restaurant. He ordered-

“I’ll have the roast beef sandwich.”

That.

“And you, miss?”

You weren’t ready, too busy staring at your menu in disbelief at being correct. Xavier was impossible to guess when it came to a menu that didn’t have hot pot, and you were able to get that? How?

“I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

You’d done that yesterday, too. This waitress would likely bring a salad like she had yesterday, and it would be a damn good salad.

“She’s going to bring a salad, and I know this because we were here yesterday.”

“Here yesterday but she didn’t recognize us?” Xavier retorts, leaning back into the booth as you cross your arms over your chest. “Did that wanderer hit you? Do I need to get you to the hospital?”

“No it didn’t, but thanks for your concern. Maybe it’s just deja vu, then.”

“Or maybe you need to buy a lottery ticket.”

It was possible that you should’ve bought a lottery ticket, as you find yourself an hour later in the same intersection trying to keep the crowd away from the horrified mother and the daughter who’d been hit by a truck. But this time you don’t go home, you call a taxi to take you to Akso Hospital where the girl had been taken for emergency care.

You just weren’t expecting to see Zayne crossing the reception area when you walked in, needing to be redirected by a receptionist to see you.

“What are you doing here?” He’s carefully inspecting your body for injuries, even carefully gazing into your eyes to look for signs of head injury. You let him look until he’s satisfied, knowing that if you didn’t he’d just continue to worry and check you out as discreetly as possible - even holding your hand a particular way so he could check your pulse for any irregularities.

“I promise you I’m fine. A girl was brought here after being hit by a truck,” you start, something that has Zayne instantly registering who you were talking about. “I wanted to see how she was doing.”

He adjusts his glasses, and you know that he wasn’t going to have an answer for you that would feel satisfactory. But there was also very little that he could actually tell you, due to patient privacy laws and the like. But even hearing that she was projected to be okay would be enough for you.

“She’s in surgery now.”

That was better than being dead on arrival, but you’re right in not feeling satisfied by the answer. He wasn’t even supposed to be here, so you can’t fault him for not texting you from the operating room about a kid you had no obvious connection to.

“Why are you here?”

“Cardiac patient admitted to the emergency room displaying signs of protocore syndrome. I needed to come in to operate with the goal of stabilizing their condition.”

“Dr. Zayne the elite cardiac surgeon.”

“Specialist, not elite, but I appreciate the compliment.”

“Yes, yes, ‘medicine is about helping people, not being popular’,” your impersonation of him earns a smile, his hand catching yours before you could back away from him. But something is tugging at your heart, your repeated close calls enough to remind you that life was very fleeting. “Zayne?”

It’s not the right time, the hospital reception area had too many eyes on you and so many listening ears courtesy of the receptionists and passing nurses that watched with interest as you talked. “You look tired, I’m sorry to have kept you up last night.”

“I’m hoping for a repeat tonight, Doctor.”

“I hope I’ll be able to leave in time to give you that.”

You did too, but for now you were content with just the kiss pressed to your forehead and a whispered request that you text him when you got home so he knew there weren’t any other truck incidents. You just attracted trouble, and you knew that worried him but there wasn’t anything you could do about it - it’s not like you were intentionally seeking it out but you trusted that he knew that.

DAY THREE

“You’re acting strange,” Xavier points out, a hand on yours to stop its anxious tapping against the table top. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

You only shake your head at first, weighing your options before you settle on, “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

“That ship sailed a few months ago. I do watch you throw yourself into danger at every possible corner, y’know.” His teasing does exactly what it was meant to do: make you feel better about telling him what had been bothering you. Now that you’d thought about it, he had a bunch of experience with Wanderers and their abilities, maybe he knew how to help?

“This is my third Friday. I’ve woken up three days in a row, and it’s been Friday. Every. Day.”

“I thought time loops only existed in comics and movies,” he mumbles, bringing his finger to his lips as his face settles into something much more serious. Your hope that he would know something about the cause dissipates quickly, and he also deflates a bit when he sees your dejected slump back into the booth. “Everything was the same both days?”

“For the most part. Yester- I guess the last loop is a better description - I had a slightly different conversation with Zayne but that didn’t change anything about waking up this morning.”

“You have to figure out what it is you need to change to break the loop.”

“Do you think this could be the effect of a Wanderer?” you ask, leaning forward on the table once more as Xavier also leans in a bit. Asking directly would likely get you to where you wanted to be information-wise. “That one yesterday was a little weird.”

“It was weird, but not time-manipulative kind of weird. I haven’t heard of a Wanderer who could do that.” That has you slumping back into your seat, a pout on your face as he sighs. “What happens next today?”

His question makes you check your watch, seeing 1:47 looking back at you has you rushing from your seat and out the door of the restaurant. If you could prevent the girl’s accident, maybe that would break the loop? It happened at 1:49pm on the opposite corner of the restaurant you were eating at, and you see the bright floral sundress of the young girl approaching the corner as you use your evol to boost your speed just that much more so you can pull her out of harm’s way just in time.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine! Thank you Miss Hunter!”

“Be more careful crossing streets,” is what you leave the girl with before making your way back to the restaurant.

Xavier is still sitting patiently at the table, an amused smile on his face at how winded you were after the show of talent to save the girl from getting hit by a car. It’s all you can do to simply shrug when he asks, “You knew exactly when that was going to happen?”

“The last two loops we were out of here at 1:45, then you pull me out of traffic but she gets hit. Today, neither of us got hit.”

“Loop broken?”

“Let’s hope so.” To celebrate, you order a dessert for you and Xavier, trying to relax but unable to shake the feeling that something still didn’t feel right. It could just be that the loop was truly broken, and now your universe had shifted just that much to create a strange feeling, but you supposed you’d find out when you woke up the next day.

“Where do you go next?”

“I’m not sure. The first time in went home, last time I went to the hospital.”

“I think we’ll need to go to the hospital again,” Xavier comments, pointing his fork at your shoulder where red was blooming under your white blouse. “From this morning?”

“Probably made it worse when I grabbed the girl. I can get myself there, though.”

“Let me at least make sure you get there in one piece. Then you can do whatever and I’ll go home and sleep.”

You reluctantly agree, and find yourself sitting next to your partner on the train as it speeds towards the hospital. Outside the doors you perform your little handshake with Xavier before he leaves you with a request to check in and update him on your status throughout the evening, something you agree to with a smile before thanking him for listening to you and giving you his own advice.

Regardless of the day or time, there is always at least one receptionist working who knows exactly who you are and has sent a message to Zayne indicating your arrival and the state in which you walked through the door. You know this time there is a new receptionist available to greet you, ready to have you redirected to the urgent care area until Theresa - a long time receptionist very aware of your relationship with Zayne - tells her not to bother since your primary care physician would be seeing you shortly.

Three minutes and twenty two seconds. That was likely a new record, something you tease him about as Theresa lets him know that an appointment had been booked for him. She always looked out for him in her own little ways, safeguarding the time he’d get to attend to your health without interruption was just one of those things she did for him.

He’s always so composed as he leads you to the elevator, a composure you do your best to mimic for his sake despite knowing that wasn’t necessary. The security of the elevator is when that composure crumbles a bit, and he’s turning to face you properly as he asks, “How deep is it?”

“Not sure.” You’d shrug if you could, but all you’ve got is leaning against the wall of the small elevator. “I didn’t know I was hurt until half an hour ago.”

“What made it open up more?”

“I rushed to pull a girl out of traffic before a large truck could hit her.”

“Always the hero,” he comments with a smile, hand on your back to guide you out of the elevator when the doors open. “My daring Hunter.”

A kiss grazes the top of your head as he leads you to the exam room that he’d use to stitch you up. That’s the only purpose this white room would serve, you know the rest of your appointment time followed by whatever free moments he potentially had would be spent in his office to ensure true privacy as you enjoyed each other's company.

His fingers are nimble as they traverse the familiar road that was undoing the straps of your protective gear then continue into the buttons of your blouse. His eyes always drift to appreciate your skin as he gets the honor of exposing it, a crack in the perfectly crafted mask of professionalism that Zayne always wore in the hospital - a crack only you could’ve created and only you get the pleasure of looking into to see Zayne without the title of Doctor in front of it. His fingertips drag along your skin as he helps you remove your blouse without further agitating your wound, allowing himself to touch you ever so slightly in the way a lover should rather than a doctor, and you can only reach up to cup his cheek once your healthy arm is free to move.

“I worry about you when you’re out of my line of sight.” A tilt of his head to kiss your palm, his hand coming to hold yours to his lips while also giving a small squeeze. “I know that you’re capable, and trust that you aren’t throwing yourself around recklessly, but I still worry. Seeing you hurt like this, it’s a smaller wound but I never want to see your blood.”

“I know,” is all you can say, continuing to hold his eye contact despite how small that focused gaze made you feel sometimes. “I try my best.”

“That’s all I can ask for. Let’s get you patched up.”

You were as good of a patient as you could be, given the situation you’d found yourself in. Stitches were never an easy procedure to sit through, and the location of your injury meant that you got to look at Zayne as he did it. He was so focused, eyes locked onto his task with minimal room for distraction. That hand that wandered previously to graze at your chest as he cleaned the wound was perfectly still as it helps to hold you still while his other hand handled the sutures. His eyes didn’t even move to look up at you, not until he was done and bandaging your fresh stitches.

“Please go home and rest. Don’t lay on it, no alcohol, but eat before you take any medications.”

“Yes, Dr. Zayne.”

“I’m serious. If they call tomorrow you need to say no.”

“I know, and I will,” you assure, hand on his chest as he sighs.

You’re not sensitive enough to think he’d be mad at you, you both knew the risks involved with your career and he wasn’t foolish enough to believe that you’d always be out of harm’s way. You were damn good at your job but you weren’t resistant to wanderer attacks nor were you able to truly predict their moves before they were made.

“I know. You’re quite the capable patient.” His praise as he helps you get your shirt buttoned back up makes you smile. “We’ll both take a real day off tomorrow.”

You weren’t confident that he wouldn’t get called in again tomorrow, but it sounds so nice to hear him say it anyway. He didn’t promise, which is how you know he’s not confident either, but that was a concern for tomorrow and not this moment where Zayne is helping you down from the table. The air still feels heavy, even as he meads you out of the room and turns to leave after a kiss.

“Zayne, I-” You stop short when he turns to look at you, biting your lip as you try to look away from his dissecting gaze. “I’m sorry for worrying you. Thank you for always taking care of me.”

He smiles, closing the distance between you two and taking your hand in his own. “It’s my job as your primary care provider. Will you be heading home?”

“You don’t have time for dinner?”

“Not anymore. The emergency room has seen quite a few patients get fully admitted, it’ll be a busy night tonight.”

“Oh, then I can bring you something so you’ve got some protein when you’ve got a few minutes to breathe. I’ll just leave it in the little fridge you keep in your office.”

“You’re too kind to me. I love-“ he stops to clear his throat, and you’re ready to say it back until he finishes with, “Excuse me. I appreciate how much you want to take care of me.”

“It’s my job as my primary care provider’s care provider.” You’re grinning at him despite the dull ache in your shoulder, and he leans in to sneak a chaste kiss before you start to back away. “Will you come by when you’re off shift? Give me something nice to wake up to?”

“If I get out of here in time. If I don't, will you come see me here?”

DAY FOUR

You wake up surprised to feel that Zayne had made it to your home last night with how busy the ward was. But it was still nice to have his warmth encase you and keep you hidden away from the evils of the world for as long as you could stay in this bed with him - and even more relieving that he was resting after such a busy afternoon and evening.

It was still a day off for you both, at least it was supposed to be, so staying home all day was definitely required. You had a balcony with decent chairs, so you’d get the sunlight that you know the doctor will suggest and that would suffice for one day - it had to after the last three Fridays you’d been forced to experience.

You lift your phone to send a text to Xavier, excited that the loop had been broken, only to pause when you see the time and date over the picture of you and Zayne that was your background.

06:52

Friday

You want to throw it, you really do. Anything to make it feel like it was any different day. But you can’t, since phones were very expensive to replace - as if that would matter if you lived the same day anyway.

“Fuck me,” you groan, sinking back under the covers and burrowing yourself into Zayne’s waiting arms.

“I’d be glad to, but what’s the occasion?”

“You’ll think I’m crazy. Hell, I think I’m crazy.”

A thoughtful hum leaves the doctor, followed by a kiss to the top of your head as he pulls you in closer. “For the record, I’ve thought you were crazy since we were children. Second, I like that you’re a bit…eccentric at times.”

“I’m stuck in a time loop.”

“Repeat that?”

“I’m stuck in a time loop. This is Friday round four, Zayne.”

You don’t even want to look up at him, can’t bring yourself to see the face he was making before he asked if you’d hit your head while out on assignment yesterday. Zayne was a man of logic and science, a time loop did not follow any real logic. It sounded crazy saying it to Xavier before, but saying that to Zayne makes you feel batshit nuts.

“I know, it’s ‘wanderer ate my baby’ nuts, but I know what I’m experiencing.”

“Then you’ll stay home today. I have today off as well, so we’ll stay in and keep you out of trouble.”

“You believe me?”

“I have no reason not to.” That had you looking up at him in surprise, confusion clearly etched on your features when he shrugs as he sits up. “There’s a lot you would mess around with me about, but I know your tones well enough to know that this isn’t a joke. So we’ll stay home and hope that breaks this vicious cycle you’ve managed to find yourself in.”

“But it’s-“

“It’s absolutely ‘wanderer ate my baby’ crazy, and I don’t understand the logic, but still if this is happening we’ll figure it out.”

“And if we don’t figure it out today, and tomorrow I wake up and it’s still today and you don’t remember?”

There’s only a moment of hesitation, a slight furrow in his brow as he considered the fact that if this didn’t work then he’d forget about all of this. But he relaxes, a smile on his face as he assures, “Then you’ll tell me again. I believe you today, don’t I?”

“You get called in at around one.”

“That’s a problem for the afternoon. It’s only seven.”

“Jenna calls at like eight fifteen.”

“Then we have time. Just lay back and let me take care of you.”

These were doctor’s orders that you would never ignore, and you watch as he moves to the end of the bed to have the room you needed to shimmy back into a lying position with him between your legs. The hem of his sweater that you wore is bunched up near your belly button, allowing him full access to see what had become favorite treat. Those eyes are almost dissecting you as he takes you in, long fingers carefully parting your folds so he could see his handiwork from the night before.

“You’re already so wet,” he starts, bringing his thumb into his mouth to wet it. That thumb is then gently rubbing circles against your clit as he watches your body react to the pleasure. “But more is always better.”

It takes everything for you to keep still, keep looking at him as he watches you. They said that the eyes were the windows to the soul, and Zayne believed that which was why he’d always watch you so intently. He thrived on eye contact, needing it as his way of assessing whether or not he was succeeding in his goal of pleasuring you.

“Please don’t tease,” you whine, reaching down between your legs to catch his free hand. “I’ve been through too much, Zayne.”

He only gives your hand a squeeze, kissing the inside of your thigh then leaning in to lick at your tender clit. His fingers graze the inside of your labia, teasing the edges of your already fluttering hole before two long digits easily slide in. A third joins quickly after, Zayne clearly wanting to stretch you out some more than he had the night before. His eyes have left yours, now more enamored by his fingers disappearing inside of you and how sweet your breaths sound as your hips rock up to meet his pace.

“Think you can take one more?”

You’re nodding without hesitation, although your brain doesn’t register just what you’re agreeing to until you feel his hand shift to allow his pinky to join the other three fingers that were stretching you out. The initial discomfort quickly dissolves into pleasure, and you’re struggling to keep your legs open as you feel your stomach tighten with your impending orgasm. His head disappears between your legs again, lips suctioning to your clit in a way that sends you toppling over the edge with a cry of his name. He just holds your thighs that now hold his head in place, letting you ride out your orgasm against his tongue that was eagerly lapping at your essence. There’s a pleasured groan that leaves him at your taste, the vibrations against your clit causing your legs to tighten around his head until he’s gently prying your thighs apart so he can sit up to look at you.

“I think you’re ready, are you ready for my cock?”

You nod, but you know he wants to hear you so you gather yourself just enough to give him that verbal confirmation. He’s pleased, hands caressing your thighs before he moves up along your body while pushing his sweater up as he goes, leaving the occasional kiss to your skin as he exposes it.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispers, tossing the sweater to the side once it’s over your head and smiling when you grin up at him. “I’m incredibly lucky that you chose me.”

“Every day I’ll make the same choice.”

The air between you grows heavy; a sentiment that you can’t voice lingering on your tongue, just waiting to be captured and held by him. The look in his eyes is one you’re familiar with but unable to decode, the only thing you’re certain of is that it’s an affectionate gaze and nothing less, a gaze that betrays his evol and sets your heart ablaze and makes your fingers tingle with the intensity held in those green irises.

The strong vibration of your phone against your nightstand has you sighing, pushing your head back into the pillows as Zayne whispers for you to ignore it. You weigh you could, but you know what time it is and that it means Jenna is calling to let you know that you will need to meet Xavier to complete a mission, and failure to answer the call would mean that someone would be sent to you to make sure you were okay and instead would walk in on Zayne fucking you on some surface in your apartment. Your attempt to reach for it is stopped by Zayne as he starts to push his length into your waiting cunt.

“It’s Jenna,” you inform, struggling to keep your eyes open when he starts to push his cock past your slick folds. “I can’t ignore it.”

“Give it here.”

The exchange is brief, but Zayne catches your hand before you could pull away to kiss your palm as he settles into the base of his length. You feel so full, so content when he’s inside you like this regardless of how often you had sex with him. He completed you, you always knew that he did and that no other partner would compliment you as Zayne did. He truly was perfect, despite all of his perceived flaws. You’re so caught up in the feeling that you almost forgot that he was supposed to be answering your phone, but he didn’t.

“Yes good morning,” Zayne greets, lowering his fingers to play with your sensitive clit to keep you occupied while he spoke to your captain. “Yes, she’s still in bed under my care. Running a high fever of over a hundred degrees with severe nausea, I wouldn’t recommend her leaving home today.”

His finger moves faster, the pattern becoming recognizable the more you feel it. Only now he’s moving, something that has you biting your knuckle to keep from moaning at the sensation of his cock stretching you open more.

Z-A-Y-N-E-Z-A-Y-N-E-Z-A-Y-N-E

His name, over and over again against your clit until your body is tightening around him while he nods along to whatever it was Jenna was saying to him. But he’s proud of himself, watching the fingers of your left hand curl into the pillow under your head as your nails dig into the taut skin of his thigh. He's proud that he’d made you cum now for the second time when he was just getting started.

“I will pass along those sentiments and let her know to reach out once she’s feeling better ... Yes, and to you as well.”

He tosses your phone to the side, promising to buy you a new one when he hears it bounce off of your bed and hit the floor with a harsh smack that lands in time with the first full meeting of his hips against yours. Not that you really cared; the phone was replaceable, these moments with Zayne were not.

“How do you recommend treating this high fever, Dr. Zayne?”

“Careful attention from your primary care provider. There is also a special medicine I can provide, but it’s internal.” You only quirk a brow at him, knowing that dirty talk wasn’t his strongest skill when it came to sex but proud of him for trying. “That didn’t sound sexy, did it?”

“Not exactly,” you respond, a smile on your face as you rub his thigh. “But I could listen to you read a medical textbook and still get off, so don’t worry.”

“You’re too kind,” he murmurs, taking one of your thighs into his firm grip to bring it up and around his hip. “Be a good patient for me.”

You follow the doctor’s orders for once, very pleased with the praise he gives you as he fucked the stress of the time loop out of your system. It was still a bit awkward, given that he wasn’t the most experienced or really comfortable being vocal in bed, but that was Zayne and you wouldn’t have him any other way.

“Feeling any better?” He asks when he returns from the bathroom, washcloth in hand so he could help you clean up.

“A bit. I feel better that you know and are just as bamboozled as I am, but it’s still a weird situation.”

“You’ll figure it out. You always do.” His assurance makes you feel a bit better, the gentle nudge to your cheek with his knuckle getting a smile out of you as he carefully cleans up the mess he’d made of you. You were so in love with this man it was unreal, but it didn’t feel like the right time to tell him that.

“I’ll go make breakfast now, you’ve got to be starving.”

“Let me,” you request, something that has him looking at you in surprise. He always made breakfast since you preferred the way he cooked your eggs compared to your own, but you were desperate to force any change to the routine in hopes it would break the cycle. “Trying to break the loop.”

“Right. I’m going to take a quick shower, I should be out by the time you’re done cooking.”

You nod as you pick your robe up from the bedroom floor, giving him a wave as you leave your bedroom.

The breakfast you cook is the same as the previous ones he’d made, only instead of coffee you opt to pour some orange juice for the both of you. A small change that could have a huge impact, like a butterfly effect in time travel.

After breakfast Zayne pulls you to lounge on the couch with him, putting on the drama you’d been watching together in hopes that it would distract you from your predicament. You’re comfortable between his legs with your head on his chest, his fingers gently massaging and scratching at your scalp making you drowsy halfway through the episode.

“Relax and get some rest, we can always restart it when you wake up.”

DAY FIVE

This time when you wake up you’re mad.

Why would the loop reset when you’d only laid down for a nap?

What did the universe want from you? If it wasnt avoiding reckless combat, or saving the girl, or letting the girl be injured - what the actual fuck did it want from you?

It’s with a sigh that you pull yourself from Zayne enough that you can sit up, leaning back against your headboard while trying not to look at your phone. The date and time would only make you cry, you’re sure of that fact, so you only tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling.

You might as well get your morning started.

“I know you’re faking,” you tease, gently poking Zayne’s cheek when he smiles. “Doctor faker.”

“Good morning to you too.” His greeting comes with a hand on your side, pulling you into him but laying across him slightly due to your previous positioning. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty good. I’m still kinda tired but I don’t want to go back to bed. You?”

“I also slept well. Going to sleep with you helps me sleep better.”

“Is it me or the sex?” There’s a dusting of pink across his cheeks, something that has you grinning as you pull back to sit up again. “I know I wear you out both in and out of bed.”

“You do, but you’re the sweetest cause of exhaustion,” he murmurs, sitting up and stealing a kiss from you. His hand slips under your shirt, warm against your skin as he tries to nudge you into his lap. But his attempt at getting more than just a kiss from you is thwarted when you pull away and roll off of your bed - landing solidly on your feet while flashing a thumbs up at him. “You’re cruel, honey.”

“Maybe you can dip into your honey pot later.” You suggest with a smile, though you know that he likely wouldn’t get the opportunity since Jenna would be calling. But he didn’t need to know all that since clearly it didn’t make a difference in the time loop if he did or didn’t know. As frustrated as you were with this situation, you would simply let it be and enjoy the little variations of this morning with him. “Breakfast time, Doctor Zayne.”

The day has the same elements every other Friday has had.

Breakfast.

Call from Jenna.

Hunting a wanderer with Xavier.

Save the girl.

Hospital for stitches.

You’d probably be able to do the whole day with your eyes closed, including shooting at the high-speed wanderer. You felt like a hamster on a wheel, destined to do this forever while chasing a reward that didn’t exist. How this ended, you fear you’d never know, and that is disheartening at best but heartbreaking at worst. You were looking forward to a lifetime with Zayne, but instead you were likely to live the same Friday forever. Maybe this was your forever?

“You’re thinking hard, are you alright?” Zayne asks as he fixes your shirt, eyes scrutinizing your expression in a way that tells you that you won’t get away with lying to him but you were going to try anyway.

Telling him about the loop doesn’t help you at all, so why waste the breath? All you can muster is an “just tired” that he certainly doesn’t buy, and that has him inviting you to sit in his office with him for as long as he can avoid his duties without being negligent.

You choose to stand by the window, looking out at the hospital courtyard to see a couple children attempting to fly kites despite there being no wind. If you had an evol that could create the breeze they needed, you’d do it in an instant to provide them that joy of flying kites together.

“Alright, what’s bothering you? Was it the-”

“Wanderer was fine, and the girl is okay so that’s not on my mind.” You assure, finally looking at him as you turn to lean against the windowsill. “It’s just been a long day and my shoulder hurts. I’ll be okay.”

There’s a lot of unspoken emotion hanging in the air around you, creating a tension that wasn’t unbearable but only because this was standard for these moments with him. After the day you’d had with the abrupt exit in the middle of breakfast to meet with Xavier, his own call into the hospital to perform an emergency surgery, your injury made worse by pulling that girl out of traffic - it was quite a bit stacked onto itself and that was without considering your additional stress that was the time loop. He’s boxing you in against the windowsill, hands on your hips with thumbs gently massaging into your skin beneath your shirt, it seemed like there was always something that he looked like he wanted to say, and you had your own sentiments that you wanted to share but never felt like it was the right time. Another mission, another patient - just too many distractions that ruined the moment.

The realization hits you like that truck almost had earlier in the day - and you feel stupid at the fact that it took five rounds to get to this point.

There was only one thing you hadn’t done, the one thing you’d been terrified to do, and you were going to be brave and just say it. He already knew, you were sure of it, but you couldn’t let it go unspoken any longer. Two near death experiences in a day clearly meant that you needed to just get it off your chest before you couldn’t and you were going to do it now. Potential disruption from another doctor or nurse be damned - you had to do this before you lost the resolve. You’d been stuck in this stupid time loop for far too long, you had to see if this would break it.

“Zayne,” you start, hands carefully holding onto the lapels of his lab coat to keep him close to you - as if he’d be going anywhere with how wedged between your legs he’d made himself. “I love you, and I’m sorry that it took me so long to just get the words out.”

“You know that you can’t hide anything from me, right?”

“You’ve known this whole time?”

“You mumble it when I leave in the morning and you’re still sleeping. I’ve always said it back.”

“Doesn’t count if I’m sleeping.”

“You’re right,” he states, his nose brushing against yours as he leans in. He’s looking at you through his lashes, and you’re grateful that he’d pocketed his glasses so you had a clear view of the deep green irises. “I love you, and I’m very grateful to have you love me in return.”

You’re in his place of work, the door to his office only providing a slight protection of your privacy for this intimate moment with him, but still he kisses you. Large hands moving from your hips to carefully cradle your face and keep you close to him as his lips coax yours into opening for him. He has work to do, patients to attend to and nurses to provide medicinal instructions to, but he’s standing here kissing you against the window without reservation for your location. Your hands move up his shoulders to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as you relish in the taste of bitter coffee and mint on his tongue.

His pager beeping forces you to separate, the sound bringing a disappointed sigh from your boyfriend as his hand has to leave your warm cheek to check the notification. “Surgery patient just woke up.”

“I suppose you need to go handle that,” you murmur, smiling when his lips reconnect to yours in a much more chaste affair. “I’ll allow it.”

“You’ll be rewarded for your sacrifice. I should be able to leave in about an hour, if you’re willing to wait.”

“You wanna take me home?”

“Every night for the rest of our lives together,” he whispers, stealing another kiss from you. “Get comfortable here. I’ve got to finish up some rounds and check on my patient, but we should be heading home soon.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” And you are, there was plenty to do with him - mostly catch up on lost sleep and exchange some more words of love and affection to make up for the weeks of intended exchanges left unspoken. “I love you.”

A smile, small and shy with cheeks red and radiating a warmth is what you get from Zayne - uncharacteristic given the location and his need for a collected personality at work. He needed to be as cool as his evol, but with a kindness that kept patients calm and comfortable in his presence. But that was your smile, your bashful boyfriend who exposed his emotions to you as if he were a painting in a museum, a private collection with only your name on the invite list.

“I love you, too. Stay out of trouble and please don’t shift items slightly to the left while I’m gone.”

You hadn’t planned on it, having seen the book you’d left last time you visited sitting on his desk and ready to sit and read that, but now you’re inspired to shift a few things to the right this time. Maybe move his pen cup and other things that were more convenient being on the side of his dominant hand. He hadn’t said anything about moving things to the right, bringing a mischievous grin to your face that makes him shake his head as he backs away from you with just a warning to behave.

DAY SIX

Another morning comes, sunlight sneaking in through a crack in the curtains that is perfectly positioned to hit your eyelids. Just bright enough to be annoying, so you turn to hide your face into the warm chest at your back while pulling the duvet over your head for good measure.

You’re terrified to open your eyes, not wanting to have to relive yet another Friday since you weren’t sure what would break the loop if telling Zayne that you loved him didn’t do the trick. You were tired of learning a lesson, you’d been through enough.

“You’re too tense for just waking up.”

…that was different.

Now that you were thinking about it, this wasn’t your bed. Your bedroom smelled sweeter, vanilla and spice courtesy of the incense Zayne had bought you for your last birthday. This was bergamot, mint, and sandalwood, an earthy scent that was unique to Zayne and his bedroom - and when you open your eyes you come face to face with the picture of you both that he kept on your nightstand and the Wasabi Octopus that sat beside it. The picture had you both with arms full of plushies because you’d gotten much too lucky one afternoon, the octopus on the nightstand balanced perfectly atop Zayne’s head but he didn’t look perturbed in the slightest. He was excited to have all those plushies, but more excited at how happy you were - he was looking at you rather than the camera.

This wasn’t Friday morning, there was no sun to assault your eyes but there were gentle fingers tapping Mary had a Little Lamb along your side - light enough that it wouldn’t have woken you but noticeable enough for you to make out the pattern. The only song the doctor’s fingers could perform, a pattern your skin could never forget and a song you’d never tire of. This wasn’t your bedroom, this wasn’t your bed - this whole morning was different.

Finally, a change in the loop.

Your head almost slams into his in your haste to sit up, Zayne barely dodging by laying back on the bed as you move.He can only watch as you scramble to grab your phone from the nightstand, only to groan when you see that it was dead courtesy of you forgetting to plug it in, then turn to lean over him to grab his. Your elbow knocks into his ribs a bit in your scramble, pulling a pained grunt from your lover that is met with your apology as you frantically tap on his phone screen to wake it up and check the time.

ignoring the fact that you were naked since every other Friday you’d woken up in Zayne’s very comfortable green sweater that he’d worn when he met you for dinner on Thursday night.

07:34

Saturday

“It’s Saturday?”

“That is the day that comes after Friday, is it not?”

“Zayne, it’s Saturday.” You could honestly cry, having never been happier to see Saturday than after experiencing five Fridays in a row that were tragically nearly identical to the other. You can only stare at the date and time that covered the landscape of his lock screen, the image perfectly placed to avoid blocking your face at the last festival you’d gone to. “It’s Saturday, and we love each other, and-and-“

You’re overwhelmed with emotion as you pull him in for a kiss, his very confused hands settling on your back and carefully rubbing your skin as he kisses you back. It doesn’t take long for you to be straddling him, continuing to make out with your now accepting boyfriend as his hands move to get your body ready for the inevitable conclusion to your early morning.

“I’ve never seen you so excited for Saturday,” he mumbles when you give him time to breathe, his hand leaving your breast to wipe at the tears that had fallen down your cheeks. “Are you alright?”

“Yesterday just sucked, aside from the love confessions.”

His promise to wash it away is mostly successful, his touch tender but delivering exactly what you had needed to lose yourself in him and his love for you, only for him to do it again in the shower before carefully scrubbing at your sensitive body and freshly stitched shoulder wound to properly clean you up. You then get to sit on his countertop, watching as he cooks a simple breakfast that would tide you over until your lunch reservation.

“What made your Friday so awful, if I may ask?”

“It was…” You trail off as you consider your choice of words, reaching out and cupping his cheek as he smiles at you. Explaining the loop of Fridays didn’t seem worth it when you’d come out of it on top, especially since you know Zayne wouldn’t want you to spare a detail So he could understand it better. “Just extremely tedious.”

“We’ll just have to make sure your Saturday is anything but.”

“I love you, Zayne.”

“And I love you. Now let's have breakfast and then we can visit the arcade before lunch.”

#zayne x mc #zayne x reader #zayne x you #love and deepspace zayne x reader #lads fanfic #lads fic #lads smut #lads x reader #lads x mc #zayne li smut #zayne li fic #zayne li x reader #zayne li x mc #zayne lads x reader

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nachrosas · 3 days ago

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CUPID'S PUPPY | e.prentiss x romanoff!reader

summary: in which a walk in the park with your puppy gives you more than a little fun. pairing: emily prentiss x romanoff!reader content warnings: none, just pure fluff! word count: 1.2k a/n: night, night! first time writing for emily prentiss, so I'm nervous! i want to give a big thank you to @mggslover who encouraged me to start writing about this idea! i had fun writing this one and i really hope you guys like it! feedback is always appreciated! also, my inbox is always open to chat! till the next one!

The park was particularly busy on that sunny Tuesday afternoon, but the sound of laughter, chatter, and footsteps didn't bother you. You were holding the lead of Bucky, your Belgian Malinois puppy, who was trotting lively beside you, his tail wagging as if he were greeting the whole world with his contagious animation. The current of wind blowing towards you carried the scent of flowers, freshly cut grass, and… food.

“Bucky, slow down!” you ordered, adjusting the strap of your fanny pack on your shoulder. It was the perfect day for a leisurely walk in the park, and you planned to make the most of it — since you didn't know when exactly you'd have another mission-free day. However, something seemed to distract your puppy. He raised his snout, sniffing more intensely, and his posture became alert.

“Hey, kid, what now?” you asked, laughing as he pulled a little harder on the leash.

That's when it happened. And, to your utter panic, Bucky fired without warning, the leash sliding quickly through your hands.

“Bucky! Stop!”

That's when it happened. And, to his utter panic, Bucky took off without warning, running into a woman with brown hair in a messy ponytail, absent-mindedly eating what looked like a sandwich while leafing through a book with a faded cover. Without warning, he jumped up, snatching the food out of her hands and running across the park.

“Bucky! Stop! Drop it now!”

You ran through the park, your face red with embarrassment as Bucky, with all the enthusiasm of someone who thought he'd just won the lottery, held the stolen sandwich firmly between his teeth. He settled comfortably in the soft grass, chewing his snack as if it were the best meal he'd ever had.

When you finally reached him, you knelt down beside him, trying to snatch the remains of the sandwich from his jaws, but he only turned his head away, protecting his delicious prize.

“You're terrible, you know that? Terrible!”

“He seems to think otherwise.” a humor-laden female voice replied behind you, startling you slightly.

You turned around quickly and, a few steps away, there she was: arms crossed and with a relaxed posture. Her eyes were shining and a huge smile that seemed to be lit up with amusement took over her face.

“I'm really sorry!” you began, standing up hastily, the words running over each other. “He's never done that! He's usually very polite. I can buy you another sandwich… or anything else you want to make it up to you!”

She raised an eyebrow, still smiling, and shook her head. “You don't have to. It's not the end of the world.” Her eyes turned to Bucky, who was now licking his paws, completely oblivious to the mess he'd just caused. “Besides, he's got good taste…”

You opened your mouth to thank her, but she finished, her soft smile turning into something a little provocative:

“… just like the owner.”

The words hung in the air for a second before you realized what she had said. A wave of heat went up your cheeks, and any attempt to answer was shuffled off with a nervous laugh.

“I… uh… eh… Well, thanks, I guess?”

She laughed again, this time more softly, and held out her hand. “Emily Prentiss. Nice to meet you and this little sandwich thief.”

You accepted the handshake, your face still feeling hot. “Nice to meet you… even if that's not exactly the best first impression.”

“I disagree.” Emily blinked in your direction and, for a brief moment, the chaos caused by Bucky seemed to have been worth it.

Emily looked at what was left of the sandwich: a tiny piece, still wrapped in the crumpled paper, that Bucky had saved.

“Well, he left something. Do you want to share?” she asked, holding up the piece with a playful smile on her lips.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Eh, I couldn't accept it, especially after… that.” you gestured to Bucky, who was still lying on the grass, licking his lips as if he didn't feel a pang of guilt in the world.

“Okay.” Emily said, tossing what was left onto the table next to you with a thoughtful look on her face. “How about a coffee? The place around the corner has amazing sandwiches. And I promise to keep an eye on your dog this time.”

You hesitated. Accepting an invitation from a complete stranger wasn't exactly in your plans for that day — however, neither was Bucky stealing a sandwich. But there was something about Emily — her genuine smile, the relaxed way she had handled the situation — that made you want to stay a little longer.

“All right,” you said, smiling back. “But it's on me. Bucky's already put me in enough debt for today.”

Emily laughed, starting to walk beside him. “Fine. But only if he behaves.”

Bucky, as if he understood that the conversation was now about him, looked up with an expression of almost innocence.

On the walk to the café, the conversation between you flowed naturally. Emily asked about Bucky: how long you'd had him, how he generally behaved — and you again assured her that he behaved much better than he does today. You told her about the various adventures and pranks you'd been on with him, and Emily, in return, told you about her childhood dog, called Max, who she also regarded as a “little terror”.

“I think he knew how to pick his targets,” she joked. “Max also stole a sandwich once. It was from the most annoying neighbor in the whole neighborhood. I remember he was quite furious, but my mother managed to get around it with an apple pie from a prestigious restaurant.”

“So, for you, Bucky was just an evolution of this legacy of thievery?” you teased, feeling more at ease with every step.

“It's quite possible.” Emily laughed, and the sound was light and infectious.

The conversation between you flowed with such surprising ease that you didn't even notice the time passing. Emily was fun and full of stories that made you laugh and relax. When the waiter brought the bill, she insisted on splitting it.

“Consider it a draw,” she joked. “A sandwich was stolen for a shared coffee.”

The golden light of late afternoon illuminated the sky, giving the scene an almost magical tone. When they reached the door of the café, Emily turned to you, a shy smile on her lips.

“I come here often,” she said, putting her hands in her coat pockets. “Maybe we'll meet up again… if Bucky isn't too busy stealing sandwiches, of course.”

You laughed, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks again. “Maybe. Or, well, we could arrange a time, if you want to avoid food surprises.”

Emily arched an eyebrow, clearly holding back a bigger smile. “That sounds like a plan. Can I take your number?”

You nodded and exchanged numbers, the gesture accompanied by a slight feeling of nervousness, but also anticipation.

“Right, so I'll see you around!” Emily said, taking one last look at Bucky, who was watching everything curiously. “And if he needs a lawyer for his next prank, let me know.”

You laughed, nodding as she walked away.

As you walked home, you looked at Bucky, who was walking beside you with his chest puffed out, as if he knew exactly what he had done.

“You knew all along, didn't you?” you asked, and he wagged his tail enthusiastically, as if in agreement.

A smile escaped his lips. The day that had started out like any other had turned into something unexpected and special — all thanks to a dog with a refined taste for sandwiches and, apparently, casual encounters.

#criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x fem!reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic

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rose24207 · 2 days ago

Note

anything with maifa!lando and his gf!reader with lots of angst and jealousy

What she is to me

Summary: In the ruthless world of power and betrayal, Lando’s desperate attempts to shield you from the darkness of his empire begin to unravel when a mysterious woman threatens to destroy the fragile trust between you both.

Genre: Mafia!Lando, angst, hurt no comfort, miscommunication

TW: Mafia, accused cheating

A/N: This one was definitely due for! Sorry for the delay! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The air in the lavish penthouse was thick with tension. You sat perched on the armrest of the leather couch, your arms crossed tightly against your chest as you stared at Lando, who stood by the bar, his back to you. His tailored suit was slightly undone, his tie hanging loose around his neck as he poured himself a glass of scotch with a deliberate slowness that only made your anger burn hotter.

"You really think I'm stupid, don't you?" Your voice sliced through the silence, sharp and accusing.

He sighed, resting both hands on the edge of the bar. "You know I don't."

"Then why the hell did I see her leaving your office tonight?" Your voice cracked despite your efforts to keep it steady. "You promised me, Lando. No secrets. No lies."

His shoulders tensed at your words, but he didn’t turn around. "It’s not what you think," he said flatly, the familiar calmness in his tone only fueling your frustration.

"Not what I think?!" You stood abruptly, your voice rising. "Do you know how humiliating it was to stand there and watch her walk out like she owns you? Like she owns us?"

Finally, he turned to face you, his expression unreadable. But his jaw was tight, and his stormy blue eyes burned with something darker than regret. "You think I’d betray you with her?" He spat the last word like it was venom. "After everything I’ve done to keep you safe? After the people I’ve put in the ground for you?"

Your chest heaved, your eyes glossy with unshed tears. "This isn’t about keeping me safe, Lando. This is about trust. You’re keeping me in the dark, shutting me out, and now I don’t even know who you are anymore."

His silence was deafening, and for a moment, you wondered if he would even try to fight for you. But then he took a step closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You don’t know what she is to me. What she knows. If you did, you wouldn’t be asking me this."

"Then tell me," you pleaded, desperation leaking into your tone. "Tell me what’s so important that you’re willing to tear us apart over it."

He was close now, his scent—whiskey, cedar, and danger—invading your senses. But instead of answering, he cupped your face, his touch firm yet tender, and pressed his forehead against yours. "I’m trying to protect you," he murmured, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "Even if it means you hate me for it."

Tears spilled over, and you pushed him away. "I don’t want your protection, Lando. I want you. I want the truth."

But he only watched you as you grabbed your coat, his expression hardening as you walked toward the door.

"I’ll come back when you’re ready to stop running from me," you said quietly, your back to him.

"You’ll come back when you realize you can’t run from me either," he replied, his voice low and menacing.

And just like that, the door slammed shut behind you, leaving him alone with his demons.

The memory of her still burned in your mind. You couldn’t shake the image of the tall, blonde slipping out of Lando’s office earlier that night. Her fitted red dress clung to her like a second skin, her crimson lipstick still pristine as if she hadn’t just been in a heated discussion—or worse—with your boyfriend. She had paused when she saw you, her lips curling into a smirk so sly it made your stomach churn.

“Oh,” she had purred, her voice rich and sultry, dripping with condescension. “You must be her.”

You hadn’t even managed to respond before she brushed past you, her heels clicking confidently against the marble floor. Her perfume lingered in the air—some expensive floral blend that made you nauseous.

You had stood frozen, fists clenched at your sides, until Lando emerged seconds later, his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up like he’d been working tirelessly. But the flicker of frustration in his expression betrayed him.

“Who the hell was that?” you had demanded, your voice louder than you intended.

“No one you need to worry about,” he had replied, his jaw tightening. He brushed past you, offering no further explanation as he disappeared into the main hall.

“No one I need to worry about?” you had echoed under your breath, your chest tightening with a mix of anger and disbelief.

And now, standing outside of his penthouse, the anger had festered into something darker, something laced with hurt and betrayal.

Lando’s words still rang in your ears: I’m trying to protect you. As if that excuse could erase the image of her smug smile or the sound of her voice dripping with familiarity when she had spoken about him—about you.

You had walked out because staying felt suffocating, but the streets outside did nothing to soothe you. The city was alive with its usual chaos, the bright lights and blaring horns a cruel reminder that the world kept spinning, even when yours felt like it was shattering.

An hour passed, then two. You found yourself wandering aimlessly, Lando’s words replaying in your mind. Was he right? Did you really not understand what he was up against?

But then, the other side of your mind argued, if he couldn’t trust you enough to tell you the truth, what did that say about the two of you?

By the time you returned to the penthouse, it was nearly midnight. You half-expected to find him gone, retreating to one of his clandestine meetings or drowning himself in scotch, but instead, you found him sitting on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the floor.

He didn’t look up when you walked in.

“I couldn’t stay out there,” you admitted quietly, closing the door behind you.

“I knew you’d come back,” he said, his voice rough, almost tired.

You hesitated, your arms crossed protectively over your chest as you took a few cautious steps forward. “You’re not even going to deny it, are you? That she’s someone important?”

Finally, he looked up, and the vulnerability in his eyes caught you off guard. “She’s a threat. Not to us, but to what I’ve built—to the people I’ve had to answer to, the people I’ve had to keep off our backs.”

“So you do trust her?” you asked bitterly, your voice rising again. “You let her walk out of here like she—like she knows everything about you, but I’m the one you keep in the dark?”

“It’s not about trust,” he snapped, standing abruptly. “It’s about survival. She’s a piece on the chessboard, one I have to keep in play if I want to keep you safe.”

“Stop saying that!” you shouted, tears stinging your eyes again. “Stop using ‘protecting me’ as an excuse to lie to me!”

He stepped closer, his voice softer but no less intense. “Do you know what she said about you tonight? She said you’re my biggest weakness. That if I wasn’t so tied up in you, I could be untouchable. She’s not wrong.”

Your breath hitched, and you shook your head, taking a step back. “So what, Lando? You keep her close and push me away because she says I make you weak?”

He reached for you, but you slapped his hand away. “No,” he growled, his eyes blazing with frustration. “I keep her close because if I don’t, she’ll use what she knows to destroy everything. And I push you away because I’d rather have you hate me than see you hurt.”

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, and for the first time, you saw just how deeply the shadows of his world had seeped into him. But it didn’t make the ache in your chest any easier to bear.

“And what happens to us, Lando?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “What happens when there’s nothing left of you for me to hold onto?”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at you, his silence speaking volumes.

And that silence was your answer.

Thank you for reading!

#lando norris #lando x reader #lando imagine #lando x you #fluff #angst #f1 #mafia!lando #f1 mafia au #mafia #formula 1 #formula one #angst no comfort

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gracie-eilish · 3 days ago

Text

good luck, babe.

an: has anyone else heard that ai cover of billie singing this song? need a real version STAT. what an angel girl:)

The balcony was draped in the kind of quiet you could only find late at night, with stars scattered across the sky and a faint breeze carrying the scent of Billie’s vanilla candles. She had insisted on spending the evening out here, wrapped in blankets with a bottle of wine between the two of you, and you couldn’t think of a better place to be. Billie had always been your comfort person—your best friend since the two of you were little.

You took another sip of wine, letting the warmth spread through you. “Okay, but seriously, Billie,” you said, your voice teasing. “What is it with you and Florence Pugh? You’re obsessed.”

Billie smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Florence is a goddess, babe. Don’t act like you don’t see it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I mean, yeah, she’s pretty. But you talk about her like she’s your dream girl.”

“Maybe she is,” Billie said, wiggling her brows. Then, with a pointed look, she added, “But you’re not exactly subtle when you talk about her either.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Billie grinned, her tone teasing but affectionate. “I’m just saying, you’ve got a little sparkle in your eyes whenever we watch a movie with a pretty girl in it. Florence, Margot Robbie, Zoë Kravitz… should I keep going?”

Heat rose to your cheeks as you laughed nervously. “Oh, stop. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t it?” Billie asked, her voice softer now but still playful.

You rolled your eyes, trying to brush it off, but her words stuck with you. Sure, you’d always noticed how beautiful those actresses were, but that didn’t mean anything… right?

The conversation shifted to safer topics, and you let yourself relax again. Billie started talking about her latest project, and as always, her excitement was contagious. But when the laughter faded and the night grew quieter, Billie turned to you with a thoughtful look.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, her voice unusually serious.

“Of course,” you replied, straightening up.

“Have you ever… thought about it?” Billie asked, her green eyes searching yours. “Liking girls, I mean.”

You hesitated, your heart skipping a beat. “I don’t know,” you said slowly. “I mean, I’ve never… I’ve just always assumed I like guys.”

Billie nodded, her expression gentle. “That’s fair. But sometimes… it’s not as black and white as people think. Sometimes it takes a while to figure it out.”

You looked at her, unsure what to say. Billie had always been open about her sexuality, and you’d always admired her for it. But the idea that you might…

“I just don’t know,” you said quietly, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

Billie smiled, her tone lightening. “Hey, that’s okay. You don’t have to know right now. But if you ever want to figure it out… I could help.”

Your eyes widened, and you laughed nervously. “Oh, really? How exactly would you help me figure it out?”

Billie smirked, leaning a little closer. “Well, for starters, I could kiss you. See if that sparks anything.”

Your heart jumped into your throat. “Billie!”

“What?” she said, her grin widening. “I’m serious. It’s a scientific experiment, babe.”

You shook your head, laughing, but her words lingered. The idea of Billie kissing you wasn’t as strange as it should have been.

The air between you shifted, the teasing giving way to something more vulnerable. “Do you really think… I might like girls?” you asked, almost shyly.

Billie’s smile softened, her heart aching with how unsure and sweet you looked. “I think you’re amazing, no matter who you like,” she said honestly. “But yeah… I think you might. And that’s okay.”

Billie could see the shift in my expression from thinking to just flat out nervous. “Hey,” she said quietly. “I’m not trying to push you into anything. I just… I love you and I want you to know that. And if you’re not into it, that’s okay. I’ll still be here, no matter what.”

Your eyes widened. “Wait—are you saying…?”

Billie’s cheeks flushed, but she met your gaze head-on. “Yeah. I’m saying I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember.”

Your breath caught, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause.

“You… love me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Billie nodded, her smile soft but unwavering. “So much, babe. But like I said, no pressure. I just—needed you to know.”

You stared at her, your heart pounding. And suddenly, everything clicked. The way you always felt safest with Billie. The way her laugh lit up your entire world. The way your chest fluttered whenever she called you “babe” or “princess.” The way you gravitated towards her in any and all social situations…

“Oh,” you breathed, realization dawning on you. “I think I might love you too.”

Billie’s eyes widened, a grin breaking across her face. “Yeah?”

You nodded, laughing a little. “Yeah. I think I do.”

You stared at her, your heart racing. And then, before you could overthink it, you said, “So what if… What if I said yes? To the kiss?”

Billie’s eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly recovered, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Then I’d kiss you,” she said simply.

You nodded, your pulse pounding. “Okay.”

Billie leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away. But you didn’t. When her lips met yours, it was soft and warm and completely overwhelming. Your heart felt like it might burst, and for the first time, everything made sense.

When she pulled back, her eyes searched yours. “Well?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, tears pricking your eyes. “I think… I think I like girls. Or maybe just you.”

Billie grinned, her relief and joy evident. “Oooh.. Good luck babe.”

You tilted your head in confusion, “Why?”

Billie just smirked looking at you with so much love in her eyes, “Because you’re stuck with me now.”

Billie leaned in to kiss you again. It was soft and sweet and everything you’d been too afraid to admit you wanted.

You smiled into the kiss, leaning into her embrace as the stars sparkled above you. For the first time, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

#Spotify #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish #wlw #good luck babe #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x fem!reader #billie eilish fic #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish x you #billie eilish fanfiction #fluff #fanfiction

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uconnwbbcrashout · 6 hours ago

Text

last winter break

chapter iii: “i think i’m gonna kiss you”

paige x azzi

word count: 6.5k

content: swearing, some fluffy banter, and a healthy dose of angst

chapter list: here

author’s notes: after a long wait, it’s finally here!! i wanna apologize for the 100th time for how long this took me to write. as you can tell by the word count compared to chapters i & ii, this one kinda got out of hand. but i'm happy w/ how it turned out and i hope it's worth the wait!! :) enjoy!

Winter 2022-2023

AZ: hey, i saw the news

AZ: about your acl i mean

AZ: i hope you’re doing okay p

p (IGNORE): thanks. good as i can be yk

p (IGNORE): surgery went well and all

p (IGNORE): but hey

p (IGNORE): delayed not denied right ?

changed user’s contact name to “p”

AZ: right

AZ: you’ll be okay

AZ: i know it

p: i hope youre right

*****

p: did you see the schedule

p: we play you guys

p: dec 11

p: well i wont be but

AZ: i did!!

AZ: you guys don’t stand a chance btw

p: damn way to kick a girl while shes down az

AZ: sorry?

*****

AZ: happy birthday paige

AZ: you’re so old

p: shut up

p: thank you azzi

*****

p: happy bday az

p: yOu’Re sO oLd

AZ: ok i had that coming

AZ: but thank you :)

*****

p: just saw the clip

p: hope you and your knee are ok <3

p: rest up azzi

AZ: thanks p

AZ: looks like we’re both gonna be on the bench next week

AZ: we’re still beating you guys though

p: well see bout that

*****

AZ: told you so

p: i couldnt even play bro

AZ: and i could??

p: whatever

p: we beatin you in march idc

AZ: sure p sure

*****

Azzi sighs, stretching her thumbs again where they hover over the keyboard on her phone. She’s laid out on her parents’ couch, legs propped up on a pillow, feeling utterly ridiculous as she tries to muster up the courage to send a text to Paige. She scrolls back up through their conversations from the past few months for what must be the eighth time today, overanalyzing every word.

It shouldn’t be this difficult, really—it’s hardly the first time this year that she’s been the one to reach out and text Paige. And she’s literally just trying to ask her if she’s going to a party. It’s an extremely low stakes conversation topic.

And yet here she is, practically ripping her hair out at the thought of pressing "send."

In all honesty, it’s a pretty good way to sum up what this year has been—so much more difficult than it ever needed to be.

And to say it’s been a weird fucking year would be an understatement.

After a disappointing tournament run in March, Maryland’s team changes significantly, so much so that Azzi has a hard time keeping track of it all. Graduations, transfers out, transfers in, new freshman—they're basically an entirely new team by the time the season starts up again in the fall.

And then she meets a girl, Maya, late one night in February when she’s cramming for an exam in the student union. She’s on the track team—a sprinter—tall, and devastatingly pretty. She’s unwaveringly confident, too, sitting across the empty table from Azzi and striking up a conversation with her easily. They end up talking for so long that night that the cleaning staff have to kick them out.

Things just click after that.

It's nice. It’s safe. It’s fun.

It’s sneaking into team housing well past curfew. It’s study dates at their favorite coffee shop on campus. It’s stolen hoodies and cold winter nights, huddled together for heat. It’s good luck kisses and lingering hugs before away games or meets. It’s late-night FaceTimes when there’s hundreds of miles separating them. It’s flower bouquets and greeting cards left on kitchen counters.

It’s something that feels a lot like the beginning stages of love.

And, above all, it makes Azzi happy.

There’s just one persistent, unavoidable problem—there's never enough time. Differing practice schedules. Basketball games and track meets. Press conferences and weight training. Midterms and March Madness. Conference championships and long flights across the country.

And it’s unfortunate, really, because a big part of Azzi thinks things could’ve been different. That maybe in another life—one where they met at a different time—things might have stuck. Things might have been long-term, could have worked out.

But in this life, they don’t.

After that it’s fairly quiet. Some random hookups here and there over the summer. A couple dates that fizzle out by the end of the night.

In the end, nothing she really regrets, but nothing that's as real as those few months were with Maya.

And then she reinjures her knee in December, forcing her to be sidelined. An unfortunately familiar seat on the bench with her name on it.

And then, of course, there's this weird situation with Paige. One that Azzi herself more or less created when she first reached out in August after Paige tore her ACL. It isn't like texting a stranger, but it also isn't like texting the old best friend she once knew. It's something in between, some strange acquaintance-like relationship that leaves Azzi entirely confused as to what she should or shouldn’t say.

Even if it is a bit strange, and maybe not quite ideal, she has to admit that it's still nice to have Paige back in some capacity. And enough time has passed, enough people have come and gone, that Azzi's just starting to warm up to the idea of someday calling Paige her friend again. Just a little bit.

Oh, and maybe Azzi also still finds her to be incredibly attractive.

But that's hardly relevant.

Her phone vibrates in her hand, catching her so off guard that she nearly drops it on her face. Her heart starts pounding in her ears, her stomach fluttering with anticipation—

Damn, it’s just from Diamond.

Azzi groans, clicking the notification.

diamond: you text her yet

Azzi rolls her eyes at her friend’s impatience.

AZ: almost

diamond: you’re actually killing me here

diamond: gimme her number

diamond: i'm gonna text her if you don’t

AZ: absolutely not

AZ: i regret telling you anything

diamond: no you don’t

diamond: now quit stalling and text. her.

AZ: oh my god FINE

Azzi swipes out of their conversation and taps back into her one with Paige.

Here goes nothing.

AZ: hey, you going to that stupid party again this year?

She turns her phone off immediately and slams it face down into the couch cushions, bringing her hands up to cover her face.

Her phone chimes not more than 30 seconds later, and Azzi half expects it to be another text from Diamond asking for updates.

But it isn’t.

p: yo

p: the one at that football players house??

p: maybe. ion know yet

“Oh my God,” she mutters, fingers already flying over her keyboard.

AZ: dude

AZ: it’s literally tomorrow

AZ: how do you not know

p: dude

p: ima busy person

p: my time is valuable yk

p: wbu tho

Azzi tries to fight the smile that’s forming on her face. She thinks for a minute, deciding to answer honestly.

AZ: i was thinking about it

Azzi watches with bated breath as the three dots on the screen disappear and reappear several times.

p: then maybe i will

Azzi sighs, closing her eyes and pressing the side of her phone into her forehead.

I’m never getting a straight answer out of her, she concedes.

*****

If anyone were to ask Azzi, she would argue that a cropped cami tank top with a pair of ripped jeans is perfectly reasonable attire for a casual house party in early January. The below-freezing temperatures are simply irrelevant.

It, of course, has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Paige is likely to show up tonight. Azzi doesn’t think about how Paige had hugged her from behind and mumbled, “Looks so good, baby,” the last time she wore this shirt in front of her. She also doesn’t think about how Paige always seems especially distracted when she wears her hair up in a bun like this, blue eyes constantly straying to the lines of Azzi’s neck and collarbones.

She absolutely does not, under any circumstances, think about that. At all.

Azzi just likes to feel and look good is all. She’s got the former down easily, and she thinks she’s managed the latter, too, if the number of people who have come up to her tonight is any indication. Guys, girls, people she recognized and people she didn’t—it didn’t really seem to matter. It felt like there was an endless stream of drinks being offered, numbers trying to be given out, and suggestive conversations directed at her. It was flattering, sure, but none of them had the right tint of blonde hair, the exact shade of blue eyes, the correct build of muscle she had been searching for all night.

She downs the last of her drink, crushing the plastic cup in her hands and tossing it in the trash can behind her. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, checking the time. No texts.

Lifting a hand up to rub at her eye, she yawns and scans the room one more time, debating whether she should just call it a night at this point.

And then she feels it—the soft graze of fingers along her lower back, just above the waistband of her jeans. A warm, featherlight touch, then the familiar scent of vanilla and sandalwood and a low voice in her ear.

“Azzi.”

She spins towards her quickly, her breath catching in her throat at the proximity of Paige’s face to hers, just inches away. Azzi leans back a bit, mostly to give herself a chance to breathe, and feels the hand on her lower back slide to lightly press on the side of her hip.

Azzi drags her eyes over Paige then, unable to help herself, taking in the tech fleece pants hanging low on her hips and the black fitted T-shirt straining against the muscles in her arms. Azzi’s a bit surprised to see that she’s wearing her glasses—it’s not something she does very often. Paige is smirking, her blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders, and Azzi swears she must have gotten taller since the last time she saw her.

She manages to catch her breath for a moment, flashing a smile that she hopes doesn’t reveal the nerves that she’s feeling. “Hi, Paige.”

Neither of them seems to know what to do after that because, honestly, what are you supposed to do in this type of situation?

To Azzi’s surprise, Paige makes the first move, stepping into Azzi’s space and snaking her other arm gently around Azzi’s waist. It takes Azzi a few seconds to respond before she leans into Paige and circles her arms around her shoulders. Azzi’s heart rate picks up even more when she feels Paige’s breath being released heavily against her, the tension leaving her shoulders.

“This okay?” Paige asks, her breath hot against the outside of Azzi’s ear. Azzi hums in agreement, settling her head to rest on Paige’s shoulder.

It probably should be awkward, and it is for just a second or two, but muscle memory kicks in and it ends up being more comforting than anything. It’s a hug after all, something they’ve done probably hundreds, if not thousands, of times over the years.

They could be there for a few seconds or a few minutes—Azzi really isn’t sure. At some point she feels someone bump into her as they walk by and that snaps her out of it, makes her realize that they are still at this party and people are definitely looking. She takes a step back and clears her throat, patting Paige’s shoulder once before dropping her arms to her sides.

“You look good, P,” Azzi admits, smiling softly.

Paige coughs and looks over her shoulder for a second before turning back to face her and—

Is she blushing?

She coughs again before saying, “Thanks. You do too, Az.”

Azzi smiles appreciatively, looking down at her hands. “Couple people here seemed to think so, too.”

Paige chuckles. “Yeah, saw ‘em all lined up for you.”

“You been talking to anyone else here?”

“Nah, not really,” Paige replies, waving her hand, and Azzi glances up to meet her eyes. Paige shrugs. “Only really came here for one person, you know?”

Azzi doesn’t have to ask her who that person is—the way Paige’s eyes are trailing across her face tells her everything she needs to know.

“Is that so?” Azzi crosses her arms in front of her, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Mhm.” Paige glances around the room before leaning into Azzi’s space again. “Hey, wanna get outta here? We can go somewhere else or somethin’.”

“I guess I can swing that,” Azzi agrees, hoping she comes across as indifferent as possible.

“Aight, cool.” Paige pats her pockets, searching for her keys. “You take your car here?”

Azzi shakes her head. “No, I walked.”

Paige raises an eyebrow at her, an incredulous look on her face. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” Azzi tries again, patting her own pockets to prove that they're empty.

“You walked here,” Paige repeats, still disbelieving. “In this weather.”

“It was only, like, 20 minutes.”

“There’s no way.”

“It’s better for the environment!”

“You’re insane.”

“Oh my God, can we just take your car or not?” Azzi rolls her eyes.

“Always the passenger princess.” Paige remarks, looking smug. “But, yeah, let’s go.” Paige beckons for Azzi to follow her to the coatrack. Paige holds the door open as they pull on their coats, both of the waving their hands over their shoulders as some people call out to them.

The short walk to Paige’s car is quiet, the occasional crunch of footsteps on snow the only sound. Azzi slips into the passenger seat and clicks her seat belt on, watching as Paige does the same in the driver’s seat. Paige drums her fingers quietly on the steering wheel, and Azzi glances out the window to look back at the house they just came from.

“So, uh, where to?” Paige asks, breaking the silence.

Azzi thinks for a moment before turning to Paige with a grin.

“Slushies?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

*****

“There’s just no way he said that,” Azzi giggles, readjusting her feet where they rest on Paige’s dashboard. They’re parked outside of Azzi’s parents’ house, heat blasting through the vents, SZA playing softly through the speakers, conversation flowing freely, half-drunken slushies melted and abandoned in the cupholders between them.

“I swear it’s true!” Paige promises.

“He for real told you that you have ‘the shittiest shooting form he’s ever fucking seen’?”

“On God, he did,” Paige laughs, running a hand through her hair. “Coach can be ruthless when he’s pissed off, man.”

“And you wanted me to come to UConn because?”

“Oh, c'mon, Az. You know no one can stay mad at you.” Paige reaches out and pokes at Azzi’s cheek. “Not with that face.”

Azzi pushes her hand away, flustered. “Shut up, P.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Whatever.”

A comfortable silence stretches on then, the two of them taking a moment to enjoy each other’s presence.

Azzi glances down at her watch. “I should probably get going,” she admits regretfully, turning around and rummaging in the backseat for her coat.

“Lemme pull up for you,” Paige insists, putting the car in drive and turning into the driveway.

She feels Paige put the car in park again just as she manages to find her jacket. “Thanks,” Azzi starts, pulling the door handle—

It’s locked.

What the hell?

Azzi yanks on it twice to be sure before turning to level her a stare. There’s a mischievous glint in Paige's eye that she doesn't trust. “So, are you letting me out or what?”

Paige keeps smiling widely at her, not moving or saying anything.

“Paige.”

Azzi watches Paige nod her head towards the front of the house, and Azzi follows the motion to see Curry and Stewie poking their heads through the curtains, their barks echoing off the window. Azzi shakes her head and glances back at Paige. “What is it?”

Paige shrugs, bringing her hands up to rest on the wheel again. “You gotta at least let me see my kids, Azzi.”

“Are you inviting yourself inside my house?” Azzi feels her eye twitching.

“Please,” Paige begs, and then she honest to God pouts at Azzi. “Think I’m due a visitation.”

“You are actually so annoying.” Azzi leans her head against the cool glass of the car window, closing her eyes.

“Is that a yes?” Paige asks, her voice lifting excitedly.

“It will be if you unlock this.” Azzi pulls on the door handle repeatedly.

“Ha, let’s go!” Paige exclaims, pressing the "unlock" button immediately and sprinting out of the car. She’s on the front porch and jumping in place before Azzi even has the chance to close the car door behind her.

“Alright, chill out,” Azzi mutters, brushing past her and turning the key into the lock. Paige pushes the door open the rest of the way and stumbles through the doorframe, kicking her shoes off. She makes it about five feet into the house before she drops to her knees and starts petting and hugging the two dogs racing around her.

Azzi locks the door behind her, and she can’t help the smile that overtakes her face when she sees Paige laid out on the ground, Stewie and Curry clambering over her to lick her face.

“My kids,” Paige coos, cradling Stewie in one arm and scratching Curry’s chin with her other hand. “Don’t worry, Daddy’s home now.”

Shaking her head, Azzi tears her eyes away from the scene and flops onto the couch. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and makes herself comfortable.

Paige stands up after a few minutes and stretches her arms above her head, groaning dramatically. Azzi catches a glimpse of her shirt riding up and her boxers peeking out before she pulls her phone closer to her face, fighting the heat creeping up on her cheeks. Paige doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she luckily doesn’t say anything about it. She moves to peek her head in the kitchen and the hallway before she reenters the living room.

“Nobody home?” Paige asks, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Azzi grabs a throw pillow off the couch and hurls it at her, but Paige catches it easily. “Stop. They went to a family holiday party thing I think.”

“And how the hell did you get outta goin’ to that?” Azzi feels the couch shake as Paige hops over the back of it and settles in across from her.

She puts her phone down and looks at Paige more fully then. “Like you said, no one can say no to this,” she explains, flashing her signature dimpled smile and pointing at it with both hands.

“I was jokin’ when I said that,” Azzi thinks she hears Paige grumble as she hugs the pillow she’s still holding to her chest.

Azzi goes back to scrolling on her phone, and she sees Paige throw the pillow up in the air and catch it a few times in her periphery.

She hears a heavy sigh, but she ignores it, opting to respond to a few texts from her teammates instead.

Then there’s another sigh, somehow more emphatic than the last, and the push of a foot against her own.

“Azzi.”

Maybe if I ignore her for long enough, she’ll stop, Azzi considers.

“Azzi.”

Just pretend you don’t hear her.

“Azzi Fudd.”

When has that ever actually worked, though?

“Azzi, please.”

Oh my fucking God, why did I let her in my house?

She clicks her phone off and drops it at her side, glaring daggers at Paige. “What?”

“Dude, I’m bored,” Paige complains.

“Dude, you literally do not have to be here,” Azzi points out.

“Entertain me, please.” Paige is practically begging now. “Aren’t you supposed to do that for your guests?”

Azzi closes her eyes and throws an arm over her face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re extremely annoying?”

“Yeah, you. Multiple times today, actually.”

“I was so right about that.”

“Okay, but can we do somethin’?” Paige asks again, kicking at her foot. Azzi kicks back, sliding her arm off her face.

“2K?” she suggests, gesturing to the controllers on the coffee table.

Paige’s eyes light up and she’s up in a flash, grabbing the remote to turn the TV on. “Fuck yes. Imma be the Lynx, though.”

“Whatever you want.”

*****

“Damn, you letting me win now, Paige?”

“Bro, ‘course not.”

“What’s your excuse this time?”

“Not my fault you keep distractin’ me, Az.”

“Not my fault you can’t keep your eyes off me, P.”

“Shut up. One more, I swear. Then we can quit.”

“Only if you win though, right?”

“Bro, just play.”

“Fine.”

*****

It’s many, many, games later—the clock on the wall having ticked over to the A.M. hours long ago—before Azzi has to tap out, eyes bleary and energy drained.

“Alright, I’m done,” Azzi sighs, tossing the controller on the coffee table and standing up slowly to stretch her back.

“Finally givin’ up?” Paige challenges, raising her eyebrows at her. Amazingly, somehow, she doesn’t look tired in the slightest.

“No, I’m not 'giving up.' I’ll literally fall asleep if we play one more.”

“If you say so.”

“Paige,” Azzi whines, pouting at her. “I just want to go to bed.”

“Aight, let’s be done then,” Paige agrees, setting her controller aside and standing up to stretch out.

“Are you awake enough to drive home?” Azzi questions.

“Me? Imma be just fine,” Paige assures her, moving toward the door. She bends down to pick up her shoes and pulls the curtain aside with a finger to peer outside. “Yeah, it’s no problem—oh, shit.”

Azzi strides over, reaching for the curtain to open it. “What is it?”

“Uh, well,” Paige starts, voice slightly muffled behind the thick fabric. “There’s a—”

Azzi grabs hold of the curtains, yanking them away to reveal the scene outside. Her jaw drops.

“—blizzard,” Paige finishes.

A fresh layer of snow, several inches deep, covers the ground. The wind lifts it up, blowing it around wildly, creating near whiteout conditions. Azzi can barely see Paige’s car parked in the driveway, a mere ten feet away.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Azzi mutters, staring disbelievingly out the window.

Paige furrows her brow, seeming to think something over for a minute. “Nah, I’ll still drive home.” She sits down on the recliner, untying the laces on her shoe.

“Like hell you will,” Azzi scoffs.

Paige looks up at her, pausing her movements. “Bro, chill. It’s, like, a couple blocks.”

But Azzi is persistent, moving to guard the door, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not letting you go out in that.”

“I can drive slow.”

“I don’t think you’re capable of that,” Azzi retorts, readjusting her arms. “Just stay, please. It’s too dangerous.”

“If you’re sure,” Paige concedes, tossing her sneakers behind her.

“I am.”

“Cool,” Paige stands, stretching her arms again. “I got the couch then.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, punches Paige’s shoulder playfully. “Don’t be stupid, P.”

Paige brings up a hand to rub at the spot Azzi hit, wincing in mock hurt. “Ow. Stupid ‘bout what?”

“You can just sleep in my bed. You are a guest after all,” Azzi points out, referring back to what Paige had said earlier.

Paige wiggles her eyebrows for the second time tonight, and Azzi considers punching her again, harder this time. “You want me that bad, huh?”

“Oh my God, stop. Look, I’ll take the couch, you take the bed? That fine?” Azzi offers, rubbing at her eyes.

“That’s dumb. You’re not gonna sleep in your own bed?”

Azzi throws her arms up in the air exasperatedly. “What do you suggest then?”

“I’on see why we can’t both just sleep in the bed,” Paige shrugs, not really meeting Azzi’s eyes.

How the hell did we get here?

“Whatever, sure,” Azzi relents, even though every fiber of her being is urging her to do the exact opposite. “I’m too tired for this. My family is gonna be home soon and I wanna sleep at least a little before they barge in.” She turns away and starts dragging her feet down the hallway to her room, hearing Paige padding quietly behind her. She pushes the door open with her shoulder and immediately goes to her closet, searching for something more comfortable to change into.

In the corner of her eye she spots Paige, shuffling about the room, eyes roaming over her pink bed sheets, the assortment of unicorn stuffed animals on her desk, the rainbow decals on her mirror. “Haven’t really changed much, huh?

Azzi grabs a pair of fleece pajama pants and a T-shirt, chuckling. “I don’t exactly live here anymore.”

“Good point.” Paige nods her head, running a finger along Azzi’s trophy shelf. Her eyes spot one item in particular and she takes it off the shelf. She flips the medal over to study the engraving on the back. “‘2018 Minnesota State Tournament: Class AAAA Champions’,” she reads with a scowl on her face. “Still can’t believe you guys beat us.”

Azzi walks up to her and snatches the medal from her, setting it back in its place. “Still can’t believe you’re not over it. This was, like, five years ago.”

“Aw, c’mon now. That last foul call was bullshit and you know it,” Paige grumbles.

“I think you’re just mad I dropped 30 points on your ass,” Azzi teases.

Paige frowns, crossing her arms. “No one was helpin’ me on defense.”

“Uh huh. Look, I’m gonna get dressed and stuff,” Azzi calls over her shoulder on her way to the bathroom. She pauses in the doorway and points a finger at Paige accusingly. “No touching anything else.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Paige promises with a mock salute.

Azzi changes into her pajamas and gets ready for bed as quickly as her fatigued body will allow, which is to say not very quickly at all. By the time she’s done, she’s so drained that she’s sluggishly dragging her body back to her room.

She’s rounding the corner into her room, dirty clothes from the party in hand, when she happens to look up. She chokes on air, clothing falling out of her hands, and stumbles to regain her balance.

Paige is sprawled out on her bed, hair splaying across her pillows, the light of her phone screen lighting up her face.

But none of that is the issue here.

The issue here is that Paige is wearing a sports bra and pair of boxers and that’s it.

The lines of her hips are visible, her abs pulled taut, and Azzi suddenly feels like she needs to cover her eyes, unless she wants to start choking on air again. “What the fuck are you doing?” she squeaks out, hands covering her face.

She hears Paige laugh. “It’s hot as hell in here. I’on know why you keep the temp at, like, 75 degrees all the time.”

“So you had to take your clothes off?”

“It’s nothin’ you haven’t seen before anyways.”

“Paige.”

“Azzi.”

Azzi leans against the wall, dropping her hands from her face but keeping her eyes screwed tightly shut. “Can you—God, can you at least put a shirt on or something?”

I’m not sleeping a wink tonight if she doesn’t.

She hears the bed creak slightly and assumes Paige must be sitting up now. “If I gotta.”

Azzi takes that as agreement and blindly feels her way to her closet, searching for the closest T-shirt she can find and pulling it off the hanger. She tosses it behind her in the direction of the bed.

“Okay, Imma get ready too then, I guess,” Paige is saying, the sound of her footsteps becoming more distant as she exits the room.

Azzi expels all the air out of her lungs, finally allowing herself to open her eyes. With shaky legs she makes her way to the bed, tucking herself under the covers. She takes a few more steadying breaths.

Pull it together, Fudd.

Paige is back sooner than Azzi is ready for her to be, but she stops a few feet into the room and gestures at her shirt. “This funny to you or somethin’?”

Azzi takes a moment to actually look at the shirt she unknowingly picked out for Paige and barks out a laugh, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

The shirt has "St. John’s – State Champs" written across the chest in bold letters, her old high school’s logo below it.

“Okay, I promise I didn’t mean to pick that one,” Azzi swears, unable to contain her laughter.

“I’on believe you,” Paige grunts, sliding into the empty side of the bed. “You know I’d get beat up if anyone saw me wearin’ this, right?”

“Good thing it’s just me then, huh?”

“Guess so,” Paige grumbles, pulling the sheets up to her chin.

“Don’t worry,” Azzi says, smirking. “Your secret is safe with me, Cadet.”

Paige glares at her before rolling over and turning her back to Azzi. “I’m actually done talkin’ to you. Night.”

Azzi turns her bedside lamp off, encasing the room in darkness, save for a few bands of a dim streetlight poking through her blinds. “Night,” she echoes, settling to lay on her back.

She wills herself to sleep then, waiting for the exhaustion she’s been feeling for the past few hours to finally take over.

It doesn’t come.

It shouldn’t be this difficult.

But Azzi’s mind is racing, all thoughts on her former best friend stretched out beside her. Paige, lying in her childhood bed, clad in one of Azzi’s old basketball T-shirts and a pair of boxers, the warmth radiating from her enough to scorch Azzi’s skin even from half a foot away.

“Hey, P?” Azzi whispers, her gaze still glued to the ceiling.

She sees movement in her periphery, Paige angling her head back slightly in her direction. “Hm?”

Azzi swallows hard, attempting to dislodge the lump forming in her throat.

There’s been one question turning itself over and over in her mind all day. A thought that wouldn’t leave her head no matter how hard she tried to shake it out.

God, this is such a bad idea.

“Did you have a New Year’s kiss this year?” she hears herself ask.

Everything is silent then, and Azzi can’t think of many other times in her life where she’s felt as vulnerable as she does now.

The quietness stretches on for an agonizingly long amount of time. It lasts for so long, in fact, that part of Azzi begins to wonder if Paige might have fallen asleep.

“Nah,” Paige mumbles, breaking the silence. She turns fully back onto her side to face Azzi, resting her hands together underneath her head. Azzi feels her heavy stare piercing through the darkness and shivers. “You?”

Azzi shakes her head, sighs, “Me neither.”

She moves to face Paige, mirroring her position, her heartbeat thumping wildly in her ears.

Azzi wets her lips, locks her eyes onto Paige’s.

Fuck it.

“Did you want to have one?” she breathes out.

She doesn’t know what she’s expecting. Maybe for Paige to shove her playfully or smile at her or something like that.

But Paige brings her bottom lip into her mouth, waits a beat, then nods her head.

Oh.

She wants this, too.

Azzi isn’t sure which of them is leaning in, but suddenly Paige’s face is just inches from her own, her breath warm against Azzi’s lips.

“Are you sure?” Paige whispers.

Am I sure I want this?

Absolutely.

Am I sure we should be doing this?

Well...

Despite her doubts, Azzi swallows and nods her head.

Paige is the one to close the gap between them, hesitant, at first, and gentle, just the soft press of her lips against Azzi’s own. A tentative reunion, two aching souls finally coming back home to each other.

And then the kiss turns needy, hungry, and Paige is bringing a hand up to cup her face, sliding the other down to Azzi’s waist. Azzi does the same, tugs slightly to bring Paige to hover slightly over her. Paige is kissing her hard now, pressing her into the bed, exhaling heavily, making Azzi’s heart flutter uncontrollably.

Azzi makes a decision then, pulls back just slightly and uses her tongue to part Paige’s lips, shivering when she feels Paige sigh against her mouth. The action seems to spur Paige on further because she’s shifting again, slipping her leg in between Azzi’s, applying just a hint of pressure, building up a low heat there.

Paige is relentless, kissing her with such fervor that it makes her head spin. Azzi feels a thumb dip below the waistband of her pants, caressing against her hip, and for some reason that snaps Azzi out of the dizzy haze she's found herself trapped in.

Azzi breaks the kiss, lightheaded, because if she doesn't do it now she thinks they might never stop.

Paige rests their foreheads together for a moment. She leans back, shifts her body off Azzi’s, her pupils blown out and her chest heaving.

“There,” Azzi hears herself say, breath uneven. “Happy New Year.” Then she rolls away from Paige, heartbeat still erratic in her ears, shaking hands pulling the covers back over herself.

She feels the bed shift a minute later as Paige wordlessly turns away from her.

Azzi brings her fingers up to touch her mouth, the sensation still lingering there.

It’s hours before sleep finally finds her.

*****

Azzi wakes to the afternoon sunlight hitting her square in the face, and she pulls a pillow over her head to block it out. Groaning, she blindly sticks an arm out beside her, feeling for a warm body next to her to shake awake.

Her hand comes up empty.

She shoots up in her bed, panic swarming her as she scans across the empty room. Her chest tightens, her throat constricts.

Fuck, she’s gone.

Tears are just starting to prick at the corner of her eyes when the sound of boisterous laughter bounces off the walls of the hallway.

Curious, Azzi follows the sound, finding its source relatively quickly.

The sight is strange enough to raise Azzi’s eyebrows—her dad and Paige, seated on opposite sides of the dining table, laughing over empty breakfast plates.

Paige notices her first, nodding her chin towards her in acknowledgement. “Hey, Az.” She pats the chair next to her. “Sit.”

Azzi doesn’t move, eyes moving skeptically between her dad and Paige. “Hi. What are you guys talking about?”

“Oh, it’s nothin’,” her dad says, but the snickering between the two of them afterwards is saying something completely different.

“This.” Azzi points a finger back and forth between the two of them. “This I don’t like.”

“C’mon, we’re just messin’,” Paige assures, still grinning devilishly.

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Azzi responds sarcastically, opening the fridge door and sticking her head in it, searching for something to settle her rumbling stomach. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Packing, I guess?” Paige replies.

Azzi picks her head up at that and closes the fridge. “Huh, why?”

“Got a flight to Connecticut in the mornin',” Paige shrugs, and Azzi’s heart drops to her stomach.

“You do?” she asks, failing to keep the sadness from creeping into her voice.

Paige looks apologetic, casting her eyes downward. “Yeah. I’m sorry. Forgot to mention it. Speakin’ of, I should head on out soon.” She stands, putting her dishes in the sink before clapping Azzi’s dad on the back. “Good to see you as always, Tim.”

He smiles up at her fondly. “You too, Paige.”

“Imma grab my stuff,” Paige says, brushing past Azzi into the living room. Azzi moves on autopilot, trailing behind her.

It takes Paige all of three seconds to get ready, having only really come here with her phone and the clothes she wore yesterday, which she must have changed back into at some point. Azzi watches her pull her sneakers on, shrug into her jacket.

“Guess this it then,” Paige starts, eyes looking anywhere but at Azzi.

Azzi wrings her hands together, trying to figure out where to go from here. “Well, uh, I guess I’ll see you around then, P.”

Azzi is going to leave it at that, moving her arms to give Paige a quick hug, but then Paige is grabbing her arm and pulling her in closer, lowering her voice. “Don't we need to talk 'bout somethin'?”

“Last time you said that you broke up with me.” Azzi pries Paige’s fingers off her arm.

Paige bristles at that, rubbing at the back of her neck nervously. “Okay, but still. We need to talk.”

“About?” Azzi asks, even though she already knows where this conversation is going. She looks at Paige expectantly.

“We kissed, Azzi. You don’t think we should talk ‘bout that?” There’s a crease between her eyebrows. “I mean, like, what does it mean, you know?”

There are two ways Azzi can play this. She can be honest, tell Paige that she lost hours of sleep over it, that it’s the only thing she’s thought about since she woke up, that it shifted her world off its axis. Can tell her that all those feelings she tried to push down have risen rapidly back to the surface, demanding all of her attention. Can lay it all out in front of them, knowing it could be months before the next time they see each other again.

And then there’s a second option.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Azzi is saying, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

Maybe it's time for the ball to be in Paige's court now.

Paige shakes her head exaggeratedly, her face screwed up in utter confusion. “It doesn’t?”

“Not unless we want it to,” Azzi continues, making her expression as unreadable as possible.

“Well, do you?”

Azzi hums noncommittally, looking down at her nails. “Probably easier if we just forget about it, right? I mean, it was only one kiss.”

There’s conflict painted clear across Paige’s face, her mouth opening and closing several times like she can’t quite figure out how she’s supposed to respond to that. She bites her lip hard, so hard that Azzi is a little concerned that she’s about to draw blood.

“I—I, uh,” she stutters, and Azzi can’t remember the last time she saw her look this flustered. “No, yeah. For sure. Just a kiss.” She nods her head once, like she’s trying to convince herself.

“Good, I’m glad we agree,” Azzi replies, even if she doesn’t really mean it.

Paige scratches at the back of her neck again, clearly not anticipating the conversation to go like this. “Yeah. So...maybe I’ll see you in March or somethin’?” She offers a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

Azzi shrugs. “Maybe you will.”

*****

She doesn’t.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #paige x azzi #pazzi #pazzi fics #lwb fic #i really hope you guys enjoy this one :)#inbox open tell me whatchu think

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lowkeyhollland · 2 days ago

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bed chem

peter parker x reader heeeaaaavily inspired by 'The Room Incident' by lemonsandlimes on ao3 you & peter are roommates, but the absolute complete opposite of each other. or are you? chapter one -> chapter two

You put the finishing touches on your makeup, giving yourself one last look in the mirror to approve your appearance. Slipping into a mini black dress, you paired it with black knee-high boots and grabbed your oversized jean jacket. Checking the pockets to make sure you had everything, you turned off the lights in your room and headed out.

“I’m going out tonight, Peter!” you told your roommate as you walked toward the front door, passing the living room. He and his friends were having a movie night, most of them focused on the screen.

“Okay, be safe,” he said, not taking his eyes off the movie.

“I’ll share my location with you.” You opened your phone to the Find My Friends app, hitting the 'Share Until the End of Day' feature with Peter.

“Sounds good,” Peter responded, feeling bad if he didn’t say anything. You glanced back one last time before heading out, hearing one of his friends ask, “Who was that?” as you left.

You had just moved into this new apartment about three weeks ago, right before the start of a new school year. Last semester, your previous roommate decided to drop out of school and move back home, leaving you both roommate-less and homeless. One of your friends had told you about Peter and how he was looking for a roommate since his apartment was getting a bit pricey for him. After a few weeks of getting to know each other, it seemed like you both would be a great fit as roommates, even though you were quite the opposite of each other.

You had fallen in love with the nightlife of New York during your first year of college, never turning down the chance to go out and party. Meanwhile, your roommate, Peter, stayed in more often or had work. Actually, you didn’t know much about him; tonight was the first time you had seen him with his friends. You felt bad because you had already had a few sleepovers with your best friend to break in the new place.

Locking up the door behind you, you made your way out into the city that never sleeps and to your friend’s apartment to pregame.

The night was still young, but you were a shot too deep. Stumbling along the sidewalk, your friends helped guide you home. It was definitely one way to kick off the new school year.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” your best friend, Kiara, asked. You nodded and hugged her in thanks as she helped you up to your floor.

The jingle of your keys echoed softly through the hallway, but you made sure to unlock the door quietly in case Peter was awake. The main lights were off, leaving the kitchen dimly lit by the glow of the cabinet underlights. On the counter, something caught your eye—a glass of water, a couple of painkillers, and a sticky note.

Hope ur not too drunk! Drink this and take some painkillers before u sleep. Trust. — Peter :P

You smiled to yourself, fiddling with the corner of the note. Taking the painkillers, you downed the water and already started to feel a little better. Back in your room, you stuck the sticky note on your wall, adding it to a collage of film pictures, posters, and other notes from friends.

After rushing through your night routine, you finally crawled into your cozy bed, turned on your heated blanket, and fell asleep in seconds.

Thump!

You jolted awake at the sound of something hitting the wooden floor. Heart pounding, you grabbed your phone and turned on the flashlight—only to find yourself staring at someone dressed in red spandex lying on your floor.

“...Ow,” the stranger groaned.

Frozen in place, you weren’t sure what to do. The masked figure sat up, glancing around your room, taking in the pink sheets and fairy lights.

“Um... Spider-Man?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“Sorry, miss. I, uh, must’ve made a—ow—mistake,” he mumbled, his voice low.

Your flashlight moved lower, revealing rips in his suit and blood gushing out of his side.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” you panicked, stumbling out of bed and helping him prop himself against it. “Let me grab the first-aid kit!”

“No, it’s okay. Just... just give me a minute,” Spider-Man tried to reassure you, but by the time he glanced up, your door was wide open, your bed empty.

Moments later, you returned with the kit and some towels. “Okay, here we go. I’m not an expert or anything, but—wow, that’s a lot of blood. Um...” You fumbled with an alcohol swab and started cleaning his wound.

Spider-Man winced, small groans escaping as you worked. Trying not to freak out, you avoided looking directly at the blood.

“Here—just, um—” He grabbed your hand, pressing it and the towel against his side. “Apply pressure. That should stop the bleeding.”

“Got it,” you whispered, focusing intently.

“How’s your night going?” he asked, his voice lighter now despite the pain.

“It’s... alright. Drank a little more than I should’ve, but my roommate is the sweetest—he left water and Advil for me. Definitely had a night.”

“I can tell,” he chuckled, “by the smudged mascara.” Your face flushed with embarrassment as you let your hair fall forward to hide it. Spider-Man reached out, gently tucking your hair behind your ear.“Sorry—not in a bad way. You still look beautiful.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” you stammered, caught off guard. “You’re, uh, pretty cool too. I think. I mean, you probably are, but I’ve only known you for, like, an hour—so I’m gonna stop talking now.”

“You’re cute when you ramble,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair.

After bandaging him up, Spider-Man stood, steadying himself. “This has been fun,” he said, stepping toward the window. “i’m gonna go now, it was nice meeting you…”

“y/n,” you finished his sentence. he repeated your name under his breath, hearing how it sounds from his mouth. He thanked you once again for fixing him up.

“Will I see you again, Spidey?” you asked as he hesitated on the fire escape. He paused, the mask hiding his expression.

“Anything for you, beautiful. Goodnight.” And with that, he swung into the night, disappearing into the darkness. You curled back into bed, unsure if the night’s events were real, and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

The morning sun woke you, and to your relief, you didn’t have a hangover. Slipping into your slippers and university hoodie, you headed to the kitchen.

“Morning,” Peter greeted you.

“Good morning,” you replied, grabbing iced coffee from the fridge. You mixed it with creamer and ice, savoring the start of your day. “I had the weirdest night.”

“Oh yeah?” Peter raised an eyebrow as he served you a plate of eggs.

“Yeah. I might’ve been way too drunk... or Spider-Man paid me a visit last night.” You thought you heard Peter choke on his coffee, but you were too focused on your plate to notice.

“Must’ve been a wild night,” he said.

“Yeah... for sure,” you replied, unsure how to interpret his reaction.

The rest of the morning passed in small talk—shows Peter was watching, what you and your friends did last night. But as the day went on, you couldn’t shake the thought of the masked hero.

-> chapter two

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #spiderman #college!peterparker #roommates au

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spaded-ace · 1 day ago

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thought of this idea for a while (JJK Drabble)

DrillSergentToji! who has had his eye on you since the moment he found out that you were going to be in his unit. As one of the few girls, he already had committed you to memory.

DrillSergentToji! pushed you past your limits during training. “Is that all ya’ got, princess? Get ya’ chest on the ground, this isn’t gym class!” He barked while pressing the tip of his boot into your back. It never stopped there; he’s command you run an extra lap, bark at you any chance he got, and he watched as you pulled yourself on the bars despite being worn out. Your drive and stamina was Toji’s biggest turn on peeve when it came to you.

DrillSergentToji! couldn’t help but let you catch his eyes all hours of the day — during roll call, drills, lunch, break time — whenever. He swore to himself it was nothing, yet he caught himself staring at you more times when he should’ve been doing anything else.

DrillSergentToji! nearly loses himself when he sees you in your official uniform during duties. You’re outside, sweating while working on a repair. Your moss green uniform shirt stuck to your skin, making the outline of your sports bra visible while the camouflage pants cling to you like a second skin in the heat. The way the material encased you was enough to nearly make Toji lose the small semblance of self-control he kept for this long.

DrillSergentToji! insists on escorting you to the medical ward upon hearing reports that you’ve injured yourself during one of your duties. After all, it’s the least he can do for such a driven rookie of his.

DrillSergentToji! makes sure to check in with you over the next few days upon learning you tore a small muscle in your shoulder during one of your duties. “I take it your almost well enough to get back to morning drill, yeah?” He still maintains the same stoic posture and “don’t-give-a-fuck-about-you” attitude in an attempt to seem like he doesn’t care, but he can’t it when he has a “small” interest in you.

DrillSergentToji! who insists on you coming to his room after drills the following morning to ensure that “your shoulder is still holding up” from the intensity. “Just a little precaution. Can’t have ya’ ending up in the medical ward again” Little do you realize, he has other plans.

DrillSergentToji! has you come to his room to “practice” the drills again from that morning only for you to end up with a mouthful of his cock while he corrects you in your push-up form. “Fuck…Loosen those shoulders, princess, just like ya’ —fuck— loosened ya’ mouth…” His hands weaved into your hair, signaling you when to move up and down. Your shoulder was burning like fire but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop when he tasted this good.

DrillSergentToji! made sure to make a mess all over your face when he finished. It wouldn’t be a training session without a little humiliation, wouldn’t it? “Look at you, rookie; all pretty when ya’ painted with my cum. This should be a fun story to tell the commanders.” His hands pulled your face closer to his cock, making sure you got every spurt on your skin before he pulled away.

DrillSergentToji! knows that you’re aching. His hand was already at your waist the moment you dropped the push up position and he made you sit in his lap. “She needs me, doesn’t she?” He smirked, undoing the belt to your pants before slipping his hand underneath the waistband to feel the growing wetness. He couldn’t help but smirk when he felt you on his fingers. “She’s standing at attention.”. He couldn’t wait any longer before sinking you onto his “private”. Boy, was he about to have some fun. By the end of the night, he was going to make sure you were screaming “Yes, Sergeant!” at the top of your lungs…

#jjk toji #jjk smut #poc! writer #jjk #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk drabbles #toji x reader smut

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loverboysturn · 2 days ago

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. ݁₊ ⊹part one of two | starcrossed!chris & starcrossed!reader have their first fight !

this is part ONE of TWO! it got too long so i had to split it, hope that's okay :)

find all writings for starcrossed!chris & starcrossed reader here and find everything else for them here.

you sit down at the dinner table, the sound of clatter of plates and utensils filling the air, your father sitting at the head of the table, while your brother was directly opposite you, leaning back in his chair, face fixed with a mixture of boredom and defiance, as usual. your mother, calm and collected, glancing between you all as she pours herself a glass of wine.

“where did you go last night? i heard you come in after midnight” your father asks your brother, breaking the silence. “one of the guys at golf today told me there was a party at the beach that the police had to shut down, did you go?”

your brother leans back in his chair, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips. “nah, i didn’t go” he chuckles, “but one of my boys did, and get this, he told me that chris sturniolo was there with another new girl, the daughter of the owners of that expensive car dealership in town, dunno how long they’ve been a thing but everyone’s talking about it, they’re saying she looked like she was already head over heels for him apparently.”

the words hit you like a punch to the gut, a sharp sudden pain erupting in your chest, but you keep your face still, you couldn’t let your family see how the news your brother had dropped could so easily tear you apart, especially not after everything you and chris had worked so hard to hide.

for months now, you had been sneaking around, what had started as an intense spark between you at a halloween party, had turned into something reckless and dangerous but it had completely consumed the two of you, you had stolen each other’s hearts in a way neither of you expected. you were so in love with him, truly and you thought he loved you too.

your brothers voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts. “it’s pathetic, really, he can’t keep his eyes off the next pretty face, probably just another one of his games he’s playing and the poor girl has probably fallen for it”

your thoughts race as you sat there, the weight of your brothers words pressing down on you, you thought you completely trusted chris, you never imagined you’d be in a situation where you were questioning everything all so suddenly, the last time you saw him, only yesterday, you were lost in each others arms, wrapped up in the heat of his car in the quiet, early hours of the night, i love you’s whispered between kisses. why didn’t he mention he was going to a party then? why hadn’t he told you about it when you were together? was he planning on meeting her there? did matt and nick know about her? and nate? were they there? your friends. your mind was screaming for answers, but all you could do was sit there, heart sinking in your seat whilst trying to remain normal.

your eyes flick to your brothers, you were trying so hard to remain unaffected, but the ache in your chest was unbearable, the daughter of the dealership? really?

all you could think of right now was the stolen kisses shared between you and chris, the secret touches, the quiet mornings when he’d slip away, leaving a note for you to wake up to, after you had spent the night tangled up in each other beneath the sheets, as if nothing else mattered, you felt like you were going insane. had it all been a lie?

the room now felt like it was closing in around you, your heart pounding, and the rush of all different emotions—anger, heartbreak, confusion—all mixed together as one. you steal a glance at your housekeeper, who had been quietly clearing the dishes by the window, the older woman’s gaze met with yours, she gave you a quiet, knowing look, like she could see right through you and she knew all the emotions you were trying to hide.

your hands were shaking as you tried to pick up your fork, but you had suddenly lost your appetite and had to get out of there. “i’m not feeling well, please can i be excused? i think i just need to lay down.” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper, you didn’t wait for anyone to respond, you stand up pushing your chair back, the sound of the chair scraping across the floor interrupting your brother and father’s conversation which had coincidentally enough still been about the sturniolo’s.

your mother looks up at you for the first time tonight, concern spreading across her face. “darling? are you alright?”

but you couldn’t speak, you couldn’t explain the hurt floating inside of you, and the confusion, the way your world felt like it was falling apart with every word that had been said tonight at this very table.

“i’m fine” you say, voice cracking slightly but without another word, you leave the room, footsteps unsteady as you hurry up the stairs.

your heart was racing as you finally reach your room heading straight to the balcony for some fresh air, you lean against the bannister, tears already threatening to spill, but you swallow them down, just trying to force yourself to breathe.

you find yourself a few minutes later pacing your bedroom, the conversation at dinner replaying in your mind. you couldn’t shake the thought of chris with someone else out of your mind, you were due to sneak out and meet him later that night but the thought of seeing him in the mess you were in right now just sounded like a bad idea.

normally, whenever you needed to speak to chris, you would text him through nate’s phone. this is the way you’d been communicating since you started seeing each other, never texting directly, always through nate, being extra careful not to raise any suspicion, so you reach for your phone which was on the side charging, scrolling down to nate’s number, quickly typing out a message.

20:08 hey, please can you tell chris i can’t meet him tonight?

you hovered over the send button because, of course, you wanted to see chris tonight, to hear his voice and be in the comfort of his presence, but the thought of facing him, of seeing him with all these doubts in your mind right now, you knew you shouldn’t do it. not tonight.

with a heavy sigh, you hit send.

almost seconds later, your phone buzzes. nate’s name flashing on the screen.

20:08 1 new message from nate it’s chris, why not tonight? what’s going on baby?

you could almost hear the tone of his voice through the message, soft, like he always with you, but laced with confusion, you knew he would sense instantly that something was off, but his question was something you felt like you weren’t sure you could answer.

20:08 everything’s fine, just need some time.

you knew a message like that would worry him, your heart feeling heavy with guilt, knowing you were automatically pushing him away as your defence mechanism to the gossip you’d heard. part of you hated yourself for it, but the other part of you was terrified. terrified because you couldn’t deny how deeply in love with chris you were now, the thought of having to face that kind of vulnerability with him made you feel like you were just handing him the power to hurt you.

as soon as you hit send, instantly another message pings back.

20:08 1 new message from nate did i do something wrong? tell me what’s going on?

the moment you read his message, your heart sinks. he had no idea that you’ve heard the gossip that everyone else already supposedly knew, he has no clue what this is all doing to you.

#. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁starcrossed!chris x starcrossed!reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo x you #sturniolo triplets

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aggieharkness · 20 hours ago

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Forever and Always

Pairing: Lilia Calderu x reader

Summary: No one warns you about how dark the abyss at the cliff's edge can be, how hard it would be to hold on to the rocks as they kept falling around you, the weight on your shoulders nearly too much for you. No one ever does, yet she never failed at saving you from dying under it all, her warm embrace like a protection spell.

Warnings: overworked reader, burnt out, screaming, swearing, self-harm. I don't think I need to add anything else here.

Authors note: I read your post @madamspellmans-met-tet and I thought of writing this. I hope that it is what you had in mind and that it helps your friend find comfort :) If there is anything at all that you don't like, tell me and I'll change it, I wouldn't want to write something hurtful. I hope you like it.

Forever and Always

Rereading the message that had popped up on your phone you just couldn’t believe it. The bright light shone inside the cabin of Lilia’s old car, which she allowed you to borrow so you could get to work and your classes, your eyes going over the words three times before you let your head fall onto the steering wheel nearly making the horn go off. You could feel the tension increasing in every single muscle of your body, the pressure that had been inside your sinuses and the dull nausea that you had carried all day suddenly feeling as if they could wipe you out, frustration filling up every cell down to atomic levels, but you just couldn’t let it pass, it had to be finished tonight, no matter what. Unlocking your phone, you answered Amanda and told her that it was fine, that you could finish her part of the project and send it before twelve tomorrow, but in your mind you were cursing her and her ancestors and her ancestors’ ancestors and beyond. You knew she wasn’t sick, a friend you had in common had told you that she was going down to a party in New York and she would stay there for like three days or so. You could have told her to go and fuck herself but she hadn’t done shit in the past month, and the project needed to be handed out the next day, so you had to stay up all night now, maybe even beg your teacher to let you hand in the assignment one day late and pray that he didn’t deduct points because of it. And on top of that you had to do a double shift down at the coffee shop tomorrow because one of the girls had to have emergency surgery after a skiing accident and you were even more short staffed.

Your fingers were twitching when you picked up your bag from the passenger’s seat, throwing it over your shoulder as you pushed the door open and stepped out into the cold night, your breath steaming up in puffs that twirled up in the air as you locked the car. Your body ached, every bone seemed to hurt, and your throat itched so bad that you had had like three gulps of cough syrups and at least one Tylenol about six hours ago to try and get rid of it, to no avail. Resting your back against the car you closed your eyes for a moment. You were not ready for the disappointed look that Lilia was going to give you the instant you stepped into the shop, but your manager had practically ordered you to lock up tonight and you had had to label also the new arrival of milks and cookies in the freezer, which turned the extra hour into two and a half. You had been supposed to get home at seven and it was now close to ten, and you had hardly been able to tell her that you were going to be late, just a single message that’s she had left on read. With a heavy sigh you crossed the street from the car to the front door, pulling out your keys and pushing the glass open until the warmth of the heating system embraced you, but it didn’t relax you as much as you had expected, you still felt as if you were absolutely freezing. Noises were coming from the back, the clutter of dishes you thought, stopping for a moment when the bell that hung from the ceiling rung melodiously before they returned, unbothered by your entrance it seemed.

In normal circumstances you would have thrown your bag next to the door, not giving two shits, but you needed the books and notes that you had in there, so with heavy steps you made your way to the beady curtain, gently moving it aside, finally arriving home. Lilia was washing the dishes, her back to you. Seeing her body moving as she scrubbed hard, her shoulders square and obviously tense as she worked you wondered if maybe she was mad at you, but there wasn’t really anything you could do when you had to stay late, it was that or unemployment, and you needed the money to pay for college, so there really was no reason why she should be angry. At least you had bothered to warn her this time. But even if she was pissed at you she was far too alluring, and your eyes could not stop watching the way those veiny hands held onto the sponge and plate hard, knuckles nearly white, the way her gown held onto her curves gently as her robe had been discarded over the back of a chair, the flowy material swaying around her bare feet as she rinsed and left the plate on the drying rack. In the air a salty smell lingered, your stomach rumbling at it but the nausea that was still clinging to your insides seeming to disagree with how hungry you felt, the thought of food both appealing and at the same time a horrible idea, though your train of thought derailed when you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket, the quiet moment you were having shattered. Fucking Amanda again you saw, a new text telling you that she was very sorry and that she would make it up to you which you knew was bullshit, followed by a new message saying that Tom, another person you were doing this assignment with, could not finish his part either as he was sick with the same thing she had. Was that code for I’m taking him to New York to fuck him? She had to be kidding.

You were quick to respond, eyebrows furrowed as you typed an answer, telling her that you weren’t sure if you could handle it all, but she retorted that Tom would end up in the hospital if he did any work. Was she for real? Did she think you lived under a fucking rock or something, that you didn’t talk to people? Apparently so, because she finished by saying that she was going to be sick from all that talking and went offline. You hadn’t noticed how Lilia had turned around and was staring at you, drying her hands with a tea towel, the frown that had adorned her forehead turning into worry when she saw your pissed off face as you furiously typed. She hadn’t noticed how pale you were looking, or how deep the bags under your eyes were, but then again you applied so much make up in the morning that it was nearly impossible for her to have noticed when she woke up, perhaps five minutes before you were due to leave for work. She had seen you sick several times in all the time you had been together, but she had never seen you look so run down before, and that worried her. The frustration you were feeling was reaching a breaking point, but you could not afford a bad mark to taint your record, you needed to be a straight A student otherwise you would not get scholarships to investigate, just like you had always dreamt of, you had to push through. You would rest when all this was over, you thought, a little white lie that you had been telling yourself for years now.

Dumping your bag on the kitchen table you hadn’t even looked up to meet Lilia’s eyes, you were far too focused on getting the work done before you collapsed, pulling out several thick books you had borrowed from the library along with the close to four hundred pages worth of notes you had been taking since the beginning of the year, photocopies, schemes and drawings included. Lilia had not moved from her spot, not even an inch, her head following your frame as you headed for the drawers next to the TV and pulled out an old laptop you had been gifted like three years ago, turning back to the table only to lock eyes with her. She looked so beautiful tonight, why did she look so pretty? It wasn’t your anniversary or her birthday, maybe it wasn’t a special occasion, maybe she looked like that always and you had only noticed now, after not having properly looked at her in over a week. There was pang of guilt in your heart, but you couldn’t waste more time, and yet breaking her gaze was such a hard task, she seemed to be pulling you into her arms simply by raising her eyebrows ever so slightly, almost in a questioning manner, but you looked away and sat down. You were actively avoiding talking to her? She felt as if you were pushing her aside, away from you with this behaviour, hurt and anger mingling in her chest, fury glazing her vision as she bent to open the oven. It took the computer a few minutes to unlock, but once the wallpaper and icons were staring back at you, a picture of you and Lilia during a weekend trip to the Grand Canyon, you quickly clicked on the Word document titled “Ontogeny in Ammonoids”, the twenty pages you had written greeting you.

You loved your degree, but you hated it at the same time, scrolling through the pictures and diagrams you had both taken from books and done yourself with the information collected and provided by your teacher. You had loved it when you had first started it, but now you had to add at least twenty more pages, and you didn’t even know where to begin, your head resting on your hands for an instant, closing your eyes as you felt a heavy headache forming. What were you supposed to write? God, you had no fucking clue what their parts were, it was as if your brain had turned to sudden mush and you could not even comprehend a basic sentence, let alone carry on with this bloody project. Suddenly there was a loud bang right next to the computer, your head jerking up so fast that a whipping feeling hit your neck, rendering you immobile for a few moments, eyes looking at an oven tray that had landed on top of your notes, the dark sauce of a rotisserie chicken splattered over the words, staining and making some of the ink run.

-Lilia! What the hell?! – you pushed the tray hurriedly to the side, inspecting the damage done as anger rose in your veins. Looking up briefly at her you saw an angry smirk on her lips, hands on her hips. So now she wanted to be a bitch, great, as if you needed more people testing your patience.

-Oh, you are home, I didn’t see you there.

-What the fuck?!

-Don’t curse at me Y/N!

-What the hell do you expect when you’ve ruined my notes?!

-I expect you to look at me when you come home, for you to give me an explanation as to why you its ten and you’ve just only arrived!

-I can’t say no to my manager Lilia, you know this! – some of the words were unintelligible, impossible to fix unless you redid the entire page, front and back, anger spiking to the point that you feared anything at all could make it burst. And to top it all you were wasting time! You had deadlines and you need to be at the coffee shop at seven! You were going to have to pull an all-nighter– Fuck, I’m going to have to redo this.

-As if you do anything else.

You glared up at her, but the anger subsided when suddenly you had a coughing fit, turning your face away from her and covering your mouth with your hand. Lilia had turned around at the speed of light upon hearing you, bending her body over the kitchen table to check on you, worry painting her features. All the fight had left your body after that, the exhaustion slamming onto your body without mercy, as you let it fall back onto the chair. Lilia was still upset with you, but after what she had just seen it was obvious that you weren’t just tired, no, you were getting sick, and yet you turned your attention back to the computer, sighing deeply when you looked at your notes and then back at the screen. She felt quite guilty about what she had done, thinking that perhaps it had been rather childish form her part, so in an attempt to fix it she moved the tray away to plate some of the chicken along with the sauce, putting it aside while she went to grab a glass of water, adding a bit of lemon and a hint of honey, a little remedy she had been using for centuries now. Once that was done, she turned and rounded one of the corners of the table to sit on the only chair that laid facing you, but your eyes were glued to the screen, typing and then deleting only to type again, and you still didn’t like what you were writing. The touch of Lilia’s soft skin on your hand made you pause, turning your blurry eyes in her direction. Maybe you had been rude, but you had spent a lot of time working on those notes, rewriting them would take a couple of hours for sure.

-Tell me the truth Y/N, are you okay?

-I’m fine, I’m just tired.

-I’ve seen you tired, and you are never like this.

-I’m sorry, but what you did was really shitty.

-I know, I’m sorry. I was angry; you’ve never come home like this, without even saying a word. Maybe you need to stop and sleep.

-I would love to, but I can’t. Amanda and Tom bailed on me, and we have to upload this to the net tomorrow and there’s so much work left.

-Can’t you talk with your teacher, get an extension?

-He’s an ass, he won’t do it, he doesn’t care. I just need to finish this, Lilia. I promise I’ll rest when I’m done.

-I’m giving you one hour, if you are not done in an hour, I’m sorry, but you are not finishing it, I’m dragging you to bed.

-Fine. Just… let me get on with it.

-Alright. You have dinner behind your computer, and don’t tell me that you are not hungry because I know that you haven’t had a bite to eat since lunch time, if you’ve had lunch. Just eat, okay?

You nodded without much effort, knowing perfectly well that you were not really going to have much of the chicken, but you did grab the water, the warm liquid soothing your sore throat slightly. Lilia could feel the way you were melting, the way your resolution was slipping, but she also knew that you were not going to really stop, you were unable to, she had to let you get to a certain point, she just hoped that she didn’t accidentally let you go past said point. With a quiet sigh she stood and kissed your forehead, heading back to tidy the dishes and clean the sink as you poured yourself back into the assignment. Word after word you seemed to be filling up pages, adding pictures and moving in between the text and the references, but your body was giving up on you. You could feel the way your fingers were heavy over the keyboard, how your eyesight was becoming blurry, the paragraphs you had written dancing before you, coughing every few minutes into the crook of your elbow and yet you did not stop, you couldn’t stop. Lilia’s alarms were going off every time she heard you, but she had promised you an hour, though it was becoming harder and harder to keep her promise when her eyes could see from her spot on the couch how you were getting progressively worse, to the point that half of your precious notes had slipped down to the floor and you hadn’t even noticed.

She should have stopped you then, a mistake from her part, she had simply thought it a slip up, but when she heard you curse under your breath and beginning to delete like a maniac, a frustrated huff escaping your lips before you banged your head on the kitchen table, she knew she had stop you right away. It had not even been thirty minutes, but she just couldn’t let you carry on, pushing herself off the couch and walking towards your spot with quick steps. The wood dug onto your forehead, but you didn’t care about it much, not when you had spent three whole pages writing about the wrong group of cephalopods and your whole head throbbed as your headache worsened, a pulsating feeling behind your eyes that increased the pressure on your sinuses as well. You felt like utter shit, actually that might not even cover it, your face squashed against the table, your arms hanging from your sides like ropes that seemed to weight as if they were lead, so heavy that you just couldn’t lift them back onto the table. Sitting once again on the chair that was facing you, Lilia took your face in between her hands and pushed you up until you were resting against the back of the chair, cradling your cheeks, noticing that your eyes were glassy, your face slightly clammy to the touch, cheeks blushing but it wasn’t due to something cheeky she had said, no, Lilia could feel how hot your skin felt against her palm. That’s it, she thought.

-You are done, darling. – her voice was quiet, nearly a whisper, but it boomed against the bones of your skull.

-What? No, I still have at least six other points that I need to address.

-I don’t care Y/N. You are sick, you need to sleep.

-No, I don’t! – you pushed her touch from you, missing the coolness of her hands against your skin the instant they left you even though they were still holding onto your hands, fingers intertwined, but you needed to carry on. She had said an hour, and it had only been twenty minutes, you could push through, you could do it. – I need to get this done or I will fail.

-Then fail.

-What? – there was the anger again, rising and bubbling inside your chest as you pushed her hands off your body completely, sitting properly back in front of the computer while still looking at Lilia utterly dumbfounded at her words. - You know how important this is for me!

-Yes, but I’m not going to let it practically kill you!

-Wow, that’s just being overdramatic, don’t you think?

-Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?! You are two seconds away from collapsing on me Y/N!

-I’m perfectly fine, I’m just tired! Honestly, I make a mistake and get frustrated and suddenly I’m an instant away from laying in a coffin?!

-If you don’t stop you might! Just leave it, it’s not that important Y/N.

-It might not be to you! Can’t you understand that if I finish this and I get an A I will have a perfect record?! I will get scholarships and job offers!

-So some job in a boring office is more important than your health?!

-Don’t act so surprised, as if you didn’t know that I’ve done it before. I will rest when I’m done, so please Lilia, let me finish the fucking thing!

-Don’t curse Y/N. And no, you are very much done. – without warning she closed up the laptop and grabbed it, your hands far too slow to hold on to it before she could actually remove it from the table, the thick book you had resting next to it closing with a loud thud. She had stood and moved away from the kitchen area into the living room, rounding the couch and muttering something under her breath so that an instant later two thick yellow chains appeared wrapping themselves around the computer, letting it rest on top of the coffee table. She had to be fucking kidding; you thought she would understand! Lifting yourself from the chair had been a harder task than you had anticipated, the world around you faintly, but you still stood on slightly shaky legs and headed her way, fury seeping from every pore in your body as you knelt over the carpet.

-Don’t play with me Lilia! Open it!

-No. I don’t like using my magic like this, but if it’s the only way to get you stop, I will.

-DON’T DO THIS TO ME LILIA! OPEN IT!

-Don’t scream at me! I won’t tolerate it! I’m doing this for your own good.

-Please Lilia, I need to finish this, please!

-I’m sorry, I can’t.

-You are such a bitch!

-Excuse me?!

-You heard me! You are being a bitch! – the temperature in the room was absolutely scorching, your jacket coming off, your hands throwing it onto the couch without you even noticing, as if your movements were on autopilot, nails trying to pry the laptop open, but it didn’t do any good, it was perfectly shut. In anger you turned your head to look at her, tears stinging your eyes. - What do you want?! All my attention, that’s why you are trying to ruin my life?!

-NO! Can’t you see what all this is doing to you?! I want you to stop killing yourself! You don’t deserve it Y/N.

-I’m doing what I’ve always done, Lilia, I can’t afford a slip up like this!

-And I can’t let you carry on. You need to stop, you are sick, you’ve overworked yourself so much that you’ve made yourself sick. Why can’t you understand that?

-Why can’t YOU understand that if I can’t stop! I’ve never stopped, I don’t know how to!

The tears were running down your cheeks now, burning your skin as if they were molten lava, leaving streaks on your clammy flesh as they fell drop by drop onto your lap, your hands letting go of the laptop in defeat as your body dropped onto the carpet, back resting on the couch. How did one stop, how could anyone stop what they’ve only known for their entire life? You had never done anything but work and study, you had never simply sat down to do nothing for whole weeks at a time, there was always some shift at the coffee shop, some assignment, some presentation that needed to be done for the next day. You only knew how to work yourself down to the bone and beyond and you knew that it was reaching a breaking point, but you just didn’t know what to do. Lilia saw you crumbling in front of her eyes, rushing and kneeling next to you to gather your shaking frame in her arms, swaying back and forth in a soothing motion. She had expected this to happen since she had seen you come in, and yet she felt so unprepared, unsure of what to say but if there was one thing she was sure about was that you needed her, and she would be there. Her eyes were looking at nothing, zoned out as every fibre of her being concentrated on you and the way your tears soaked her dress, your face pressed against her chest.

She might have been rude, cruel even, but you needed to hear it, needed to realise just how fucked up it was for people to overwork you like this, until you were so burnt out that you couldn’t even keep your immune system healthy and strong. You could not help being like this, doing the only thing you knew, but that didn’t mean Lilia could not help you see beyond, after all that was her thing as a divination witch. Looking down at you she could not help noticing some purple marks that painted the skin of your forearms, squinting to try and get a better look, distinguishing the blistered skin and burnt flesh surrounding each circular mark. They didn’t seem to be fresh, as if they had happened today or the day before, but they were certainly not old wounds. Carefully she pushed you away from her body, your eyes blinking through the tears in confusion, feeling how she took your wrist gently with one hand and pushed your sleeve up so she could take a better look. Oh, crap, you had totally forgotten about them.

-Y/N? – you turned your head towards the floor, unable to hold her gaze, those deep eyes watching you with worry, but she took hold of your chin and tenderly lifted your head. – What happened?

-I swear I didn’t do it on purpose… the first time. – you felt so ashamed about it all, how had you let your life become this… this sea of torment just to get the life you thought you were supposed to have. This wasn’t the way to do it, it couldn’t be. Your hand had travelled up to your mouth out of its on accord, the nail of your thumb in between your teeth as if the motion could make you feel less of the embarrassment that was coursing through your limbs. – I was at the shop, and I bumped into Jerry out in the terrace and his cigarette hit my arm. It was an accident but then… I bought a packet and… did it myself.

-You’ve been hurting yourself? Why?

-I… I’m not sure. When Jerry’s cigarette hit my skin, I felt… something and…

-And what?

-The pain somehow helped me push through, carry on with everything. I wanted that. I needed it.

-Darling.

-I know what you are going to say. I should have been more careful; I shouldn’t have continued.

-No, love, you should have asked for help.

-Help?

-All this is too much for you, you can’t do it all, you are only human. – it was so tenderly the way she cradled your face in her hands again, her fingers twirling your hair in between them as her thumbs wiped the tears that were still falling. -You can’t hurt yourself so that the adrenaline helps you carry on. You can’t hide the exhaustion and the frustration behind a veil of pain Y/N.

-How do I stop Lilia?

-By saying no. People take advantage of you, they think that since you are efficient, they can simply tell you to do it all, but you can’t let them do that. Learning how to say no will help you in the long run, trust me.

-So, I simply fail?

-You tell your teacher what happened and if he doesn’t like it, I will personally talk with him and request an extension. But it won’t be tomorrow; I was not kidding when I said that you were sick, you are running a temperature, darling. You are closing your books for today and going to sleep.

-And work? I have a double shift tomorrow.

-You’ve got sick days, use them. Let me carry what you can’t, Y/N.

She always knew what to say, what to do to make you feel like the world wasn’t crushing you under its weight when you very much felt as if it were, and with your hands holding onto the neckline of her gown you pushed yourself against her chest to hide your tears back into the warmth of her soft bosom. You had wanted nothing more than to cross the threshold of the beady curtain and let your exhausted body fall into her embrace, the silence of the room broken only by her sweet words, whispered lovingly in your ear as you both fell on the couch, the coolness of her skin comforting the tears that had gathered in your eyes. Those same tears that you were now crying as you let your walls crumble around you. Lilia wrapped her arms around your form, letting you break, fall apart. You had been holding on for far too long, you had been dangling from the top of a building with only on finger to keep you there for years now, you had to let yourself fall, you had to let your body step away from all that was destroying you and simply feel gravity pulling you down onto the ground, because once you reached it there would be no blood, no bones breaking over the pavement, only the soft gentle touch of Lilia keeping you safe and nestle in her arms. Both of you swayed back and forth on the floor, the carpet digging on Lilia’s knees, but she would not move, not until you were ready, and by the way you were holding onto her it would be a long time before she would part from you. With a kiss to the top of your head she pressed her cheek to your soft locks, her fingers rubbing your back and drawing lazy patterns over your t-shirt.

-Promise me one thing Y/N.

-What? – your voice was muffled by her chest, the vibrations reverberating through her body, but she still understood you, a small smile painting her lips for a moment.

-You will never hurt yourself again.

-I promise.

-And please, if you need help, if you need me, tell me. I’m always here for you, darling. Always.

#lilia calderu #lilia x reader #patti lupone #avis amberg #avis amberg x reader #patti lupone x reader #agatha all along #we thank miss lupone simply for existing

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