#and yet somehow those two were always together

[ultravi0lence14]

Flower Crowns

dean winchester x bimbo!reader

1.5k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: dean had lived his life as self-reclusive and stoic as possible. who knew one girl in tiny skirts with glossed lips could make him completely whipped?

dean winchester grew up in an environment that most people would widen their eyes at. mouths agape in shock as dean and his brother recount all the times their dad treated them like soldiers instead of children.

that lifestyle is what made dean who he was today; and most people would find it encouraging that he and sam didn’t turn out like complete asshole’s.

unlike his younger brother, dean was always the troublemaker between the two. yeah, sam had a knack for defying john’s orders, but dean always found himself in forms of trouble that landed him in boy’s homes.

all he wanted was to appeal his father. be tough for sammy and protect the people who he cared about. all that squished together made him into the hard shell of a man he is today; and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

that’s what drew you into dean in the first place. he was so languid in his actions. already knowing the exact way to push people out of his life when they got too close. having the tough guy act down to the final line. but you saw beneath it. you saw the man who cared so deeply about the people he actually allowed himself to hold close, and that interested you even more.

dean first saw you when he was on a case down in your hometown. and instantly, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

bobby had directed sam and dean to one of his hunter friends who lived in town. telling the boys that if they ever needed help, this guy was the one to call.

that man ended up being your father, and dean was thoroughly surprised that someone like you grew up around a hunter.

you answered the door wearing a baby pink sundress, thigh high stockings pulled up as high as possible with black heels on your feet. when you turned around, dean noticed the delicate ribbon placed in your curled hair, and he suddenly had the urge to pull it loose and use it on you for something else completely.

the whole time dean was at your house, he found himself thinking those unsolicited thoughts. you reached into your purse to reapply your lip gloss, dean wondered how it would taste on his lips. you tossed your hair over your shoulder to get it out of your face, dean wondered what it would be like to grab it in his fist.

each time he found himself alone with you, he couldn’t help the easy flirtations that fell from his lips. you almost dragged him upstairs to your bedroom when he called you a ‘good girl’ for finding a key detail in the case.

when it was time for him and sam to leave, dean slipped his phone number in the back pocket of your jeans. he disguised the action in the hug he gave you. . . while also lightly grabbing your ass.

he was scared you would smack him across the face for that last part. but the light kiss on his cheek that left a glossy residue in it’s wake had him thinking differently.

after months of talking — and establishing some form of relationship after multiple phone calls, dean asked if you wanted to live with him and sam in their 1950’s bunker. normal people would be immediately turned off and say no, but you weren’t normal people. and by the next weekend, you had your room packed up and ready to move in with dean.

every day you lived with dean was bringing you two closer together. your aesthetics varied so greatly, yet that somehow made you two even more compatible.

dean found himself falling even more in love with you as time moved forward. the evening he knew he loved you was when he walked into the kitchen, watching you attempt to make an apple pie. you were dressed in the shortest skirt imaginable, and dean almost passed out when you bent over to put the pie in the oven and he got a nice view of your lace panties.

he had come up behind you, wrapping his arm around your middle and dragging you back into his chest. whispering a soft “what are you doing” in your ear, dean went on to carry you back to your shared room, eclipsing your body with his own as you laid underneath him on your bed. he had whispered a soft and sensual, “let me show you how much i love you, baby,” and the rest was a story that dean still smirked about when he thought of it.

today was different. the weather in kansas was gloomy, and dean found himself wanting to stay in bed all day and cuddle with his girl. though for some reason, he couldn’t find you anywhere in the bunker.

he looked everywhere. every room and any place that he could think of you being. dean started to worry when sam told him that he saw you go outside a couple of minutes ago. so with the clambering of his boots, synchronizing with the patter of rain falling behind the door, dean ventured out to find you.

to dean’s surprise, he found you rather quickly. though, it wasn’t the fact that you were scaling the side of the bunker that surprised him. it was the fact that you could incorporate pink into any outfit and any weather condition imaginable.

a soft pink rain coat was covering your white tank top and pleated black skirt. a pink and black striped umbrella was perched over your head, and dean noticed how it was meticulously covering the pink uggs you wore with your classic white, knee high socks.

dean wanted to coo at your hunched figure. you looked adorable as you grumbled in frustration at your umbrella, legs bent at the knees as you searched for something dean couldn’t quite see.

“what’cha doin’ sugar, it’s pouring out here.” his voice startled you, your head whipping around to notice dean standing by the railing at the entrance.

tightly clutched in your hand was different types of small flowers, seemingly growing around the bunkers edges. dean craned his head like a confused puppy as he noticed the assorted flowers in your palms.

huffing slightly, you stood to your full hight as dean stared on at you, a massive grin on his face as he watched you dust off your clothing. “i’m trying to collect flowers dean, what does it look like i’m doing?”

the man couldn’t help but laugh at your matter of fact attitude. you looked so adorable standing there, covered head to toe in pink as you clutched pretty flowers in one hand and a comically large umbrella in the other.

with a shake of his head, dean approached you and grabbed the umbrella out of your hand, holding it over the both of you as he placed his free palm on the small of your back, leading you inside. “yeah, i can see that sweets, but why?”

you held up the assortment of flowers to give dean a closer look, allowing him to notice all the pretty pink’s, white’s, and purple’s you had grabbed. “i want to make you and i matching flower crowns, that’s why.”

dean stopped in his tracks as the two of you made it to the railing over looking the war room. never in his life had someone catered something so sweet towards him. yes, flower crowns were something dean would definitely not gravitate towards, but it was going to be made by you, and there was nothing better than a gift from his sweet girl.

“you are one of a kind, you know that baby?” he had rested your umbrella by the door, moving so he could wrap his arms around your waist and pull you closer to his body. with a soft smile on your face, you placed your arms around his shoulders, the flowers tickling the side of his neck as he rubbed your back up and down. “yeah, you’ve told me once or twice.”

the rest of your day was spent as dean had intended when he woke up; in his arms. you both laid on your bed, dean’s back against the head board as you rested in between his spread legs and against his back.

you concentrated on weaving the flowers stems together, not noticing dean’s eyes on you the entire time. his hands rested on the tops of your thighs, moving from there to your hips every once in a while as he silently watched you work.

he couldn’t help himself sometimes and he would lean down and place a kiss on either your cheek or the crown of your head. when you turned around, placing the finished product on his head; you rocking your own of the same colour’s, dean left a lingering kiss on your lips, mumbling who beautiful you looked in his relaxed state.

you were his flower. his beautiful peony that grew the love in his heart. as you rested against his back again, fingers fiddling with the the pretty pink ribbon you were attaching to the back of your crown, dean wondered if the flowers and ribbon were going to be how you decorated your wedding veil one day.

because dean knew one thing for certain; if he didn’t marry you, he would be the dumbest man alive.

[sttoru]

𝝑𝑒 synopsis. tired of the continuous bullying you’re receiving from the other concubines, you finally decide to stand up for yourself. the tension dulls when lord sukuna breaks the fight up.

tags. true form!ryomen sukuna x concubine!reader. sfw - angst kinda, little suggestive. mentions of bullying. violence. fighting. vile language. reader gets referred to as a ‘bitch, slut, whore’ by the concubines. reader gets referred to as ‘brat, woman’ by sukuna. not beta read bcs im sleepy. @ohimsummer, thank you for the idea LOL

you’re tired. tired of being treated like less by the others in sukuna’s harem. they’re salty—jealous—because of the shameless favoritism sukuna shows. you’re his favorite, the one he can’t seem to get enough of.

that’s exactly why you’re on the floor right now. you’ve fallen to your knees after tripping over a concubine’s foot. you were passing by to go to your headquarters, though apparently such a mundane thing can’t happen in this place without some woman interfering in the worst way possible.

“oops,” the blonde one laughs as she sees you on the wooden floor. you’re covered in food and some. . . gooey beverage. you don’t know what it is, but it’s making everything feel uncomfortably sticky. your clothes, your fingers, your skin. it’s starting to itch.

“should’ve looked where you were going,” another girl chimes in. the brunette. she feigns pity and throws a handkerchief in your face, causing the other concubines to giggle. there are three of them in total. they always stick together to bully you.

the one with green eyes speaks up as well, “now now, don’t be so harsh to the poor slut! she’s got no brain to use after all.”

the other two laugh as you try your best to stay calm. you’re always telling yourself to be the bigger person in difficult situations. you’re clenching your hands into fists, your body basically trembling in anger. you want to swing. to show them that you’re worthy of respect.

“aww, she’s gonna cry,” the blonde one pouts—a mocking pout that gets on your nerves. the laughs sounding from the trio are like nails on a chalkboard. you want to make it stop. you’re tired of keeping it civil, when they have never tried doing the same.

your eyes land on the serving tray next to your hands. the one they emptied on your head ‘by accident’. you take a deep breath and try to remind yourself that it’s probably best to go wash up. they desperately want a reaction out of you and you refuse to give it to them.

despite it all, you’re mad. you’ve gone through enough of this. all because of sukuna’s favoritsm. all because you’re you.

they’re salty that they can never be you. you’ve seen their pathetic attempts to put you down yet simultaneously try and copy your entire existence. thinking that would somehow get them in your position as sukuna’s favorite.

you’re sick and tired of it. today’s the day you show them exactly that. you’re going to show those women that you can and will beat some sense into them.

“oy, dumb slut, answ—” the blonde is interupted before she could finish her sentence. a loud bang reverberates through the hallway and everyone falls silent.

she’s the one on the floor now instead of you. you’re up, the wooden tray in your hands, the one you just used to smack the life out of her. she’s whimpering and holding her red cheek. a nasty bruise is sure to form on her skin; deserved.

“i’ll answer you, alright,” you mumble under your breath. you’re panting as the adrenaline keeps pumping. you stand over her and lift up the serving platter in the air once more—bringing it down over and over against her head, which she’s trying to shield with her hands.

the other two concubines are frozen in pure shock. you’re not thinking anymore. you’re on autopilot. the woman’s yelps and screeches are music to your ears. “hah. you sound as ugly as you look,” you spit on her, watching the blood trickle down the corner of her mouth. you lift your arms up to bring the wooden platter down on her body again, but you’re stopped.

the green eyed concubine had moved first. she grabs your wrists with one hand and smacks you across the face with the other. “have you lost your mind?!” she yells and raises her hand to slap you again. the disrespect you’re showing clearly was not expected nor is it welcomed.

“don’t you fucking touch me,” you kiss your teeth. you’re glaring at her with pure hatred. you push and slap her right back. you’re sure the blonde won’t be up for a while now—she’s done for.

you don’t know if you went a bit overboard with it, considering she’s barely conscious anymore, but you couldn’t care less at the moment.

you’re surprised when the third concubine yanks your hair. “oh, you little bitch!” the brunette grabs a bunch of your hair with both hands and tugs at it to drag you down on the floor. you wince in pain but quickly pull at her own brown locks. you struggle to keep your balance and your scalp aches.

you hate it when women go for your hair when fighting, though luckily you know your way out of it. you take a deep breath and bring her head down, lifting your left leg up at the same time. her forehead comes crashing down on your knee and she loosens her grip on your hair.

“disgusting,” you huff and take the opportunity to push her fragile body aside, making her trip over the blonde girl on the floor. you can’t help but think that your current state is quite similar to a certain someone.

the violence. the seething anger. you’ve seen this scene way too many times before. you’ve learnt it from him.

your thoughts are interrupted by someone pulling the back of your hair, causing you to stumble backwards. “a whore like you needs to be taught some manners,” the green eyed concubine sniffs and keeps a tight grip on your hair. she delivers a few punches to your face, which you actually struggle to block for a second.

the force hitting your nose makes it bleed. that only angers you further. you gather some saliva in your mouth before spitting it out right in the girl’s eyes. you take your chance and grab her hair, smashing her head against the nearby fusuma. the thin plaster the sliding doors are made out of breaks, and she falls right through into the other room.

“i think you all need to be taught how to act,” you pant and wipe the blood dripping down your chin with the back of your hand. you walk through the opening you made in the frail door, kicking the concubine right in the face as revenge for the nosebleed she gave you.

you crouch down, your fingers tangling into her hair. you yank her head up and stare her right in the eyes. there’s an eerie, dark look in yours. “why can’t you just accept that you’re nothing but trash in your lord’s eyes?” you sneer. you are pitying them instead of the other way around, like how it usually would be.

and they despise it.

“you fucking—” “bitch? slut? whore?” you finish her sentence for her with an exasperated sigh. you’ve heard those insults a thousand times before. it’s nothing new. it’s always the same nasty and repetitive comments. you slap the concubine in front of you again for good measure before standing up, “you should come up with something new. it’s getting boring.”

you walk over to the other two, who are still recovering. you add to your last comment with a shrug, trying to hit them where it hurts, “your repetitiveness explains why lord sukuna rarely calls for you at night. i bet your severe lack of creativity shows even in bed.”

“you’re just a boring and hopeless bunch,” you’re out for blood. the blonde and brunette are looking up at you with fear and the sight excites you for some reason. they’re crawling away, trying to go find someone who would save them. the servants are nowhere to be found. nor is uraume, who usually stops the petty arguments.

they’re terrified by how you’re acting right now. they’re clearly seeing sukuna in you. in your eyes and the aura you’re emitting.

you’re mirroring him, his merciless personality and all included. he’s subconsciously taking over your mind and it’s terrifying them.

your steps are heavy as you walk towards the concubines. you don’t pay attention to the blood trickling down your chin, nor do you care about the ache in your scalp from the earlier hair pulling. all you care about is getting revenge for yourself.

you could complain to sukuna and have him punish them in your place, but that wouldn’t be enough. you’re going to make sure that they don’t try you again any time soon. you grab the blonde by her arm, lifting your fist to punch her—

“oi, brat.”

your eyes widen and you snap out of your mad daze. sukuna’s voice shakes the floors with how loud it is. you whip your head to the side and see his tall figure standing at the end of the hallway—uraume being right behind him. it looks like they were the one that rushed to inform sukuna of the ruckus.

you drop the other concubine and look at the mess. the broken fusuma. the blood splatter on the wooden flooring. your disheveled hair and clothes. your bleeding nose. the crimson stained plate and spilt food that got everywhere.

it’s a complete mess.

sukuna doesn’t utter a word. he just glares right at you. you’re not sure if it’s because of your irresponsible behaviour or the mess you created. or both. he marches over to you and grabs you by the back of your collar with one big hand.

“m-my lord,” you whimper, nearly choking as you’re held up in the air like you weigh nothing, like one would do to a cat’s nape. one of sukuna’s hands keeps you up whilst the others hang limply by his side. his red eyes scan your body, moving up and then back down.

you don’t know what to say. you surely have overstepped a boundary - or multiple - with what you’ve done today. you’ve disturbed the peace in the estate and have caused damage to sukuna’s property. both to his women and the interior of his palace.

you cough up a bit of blood that was stuck in the back of your throat. you’re uncertain of how you should explain yourself. “i’m sorry, my lord. i didn’t know what came over me,” you apologise and look down at the floor below your feet. you’re too embarrassed to look the king of curses in the eyes.

sukuna stays silent. it’s nerve wracking since you have no idea what he’ll do in response to your outburst. his facial expression is blank, so you aren’t able to guess what’s going on in his head. it’s a complete mystery.

however, the tall man is secretly more amused than anything. what you’ve just done, is one of the most interesting things he has seen a human do. sukuna witnessed everything from the beginning to the end and thoroughly enjoyed it. from the way you used that serving plate as a weapon to the way you managed to get out of those concubines’ grasps each time.

it’s strange to sukuna; he felt something when he saw you in action like that.

pride? perhaps that’s it. sukuna can’t pinpoint the exact emotion, though if he were to describe it, the closest word would be indeed pride. he is proud to have discovered and witnessed that untamed side of yours. you’re always full of pleasant surprises that keep even a dangerous curse like him on his toes.

it’s why he will never get bored of you. he wishes to unleash your full potential one day.

sukuna finally breaks the silence with an amused snicker. one of his hands move to wipe the blood from your nose. you cringe when he slowly licks the red liquid from his fingers afterwards—clearly ravishing the metallic taste.

“y’ finally did something, huh?” sukuna grins wickedly. he knows of the harassment you’ve been going through and he couldn’t wait to see you snap like this one day.

it’s sickening that he allows the bullying to continue just for the sake of creating drama, but it’s also worth it to him, since he’s got to unlock a side of you he knew you had buried deep inside. sukuna is a selfish bastard. you know that much, yet you like it when he looks at you with a prideful gaze and grin.

it’s so obvious that sukuna took pleasure in what he’s witnessed. he couldn’t believe how much you actually resembled him in a way.

if he were to be honest: it turned him on like crazy. seeing how you fought back against those women and how nearly deranged you became. the degrading words you spewed. . . sukuna cannot get enough of it. if it were up to him, he’d have let you continue. but for your own sake, he decided against it.

as much as he loves that untamed side of yours, sukuna knew that he couldn’t let you go too far. not because he wants to defend those other women, but because he still needs you to stay sane. going down that path of violence surely will do you more damage than good.

he’ll fully corrupt you - your body and mind - one day. just not today.

sukuna lets you back on your feet after you nearly fail to breathe. he cocks his head to the side, still having a menacing smirk on his face. he roughly pinches your cheek, “it was entertaining, i’ll give you that, woman.”

you wince as sukuna pinches the exact cheek you had a bruise on. he’s never done so before, therefore you don’t have a clue about the meaning behind that gesture. though the compliment told you that he was pleased by the ruckus more than he was annoyed by it.

sukuna still hasn’t bat an eye to the other concubines. they are waiting for their lord to punish you for hurting them, but it all seems to be in vain. they know better than to speak up about that to him. they’re easily replaceable. they know that by now. it’s as clear as day.

you’ve drilled that into their head today.

the king of curses pushes your small body towards uraume and you nearly bump against their chest with how easily he moved you around. uraume catches you in time and helps you stand straight, awaiting their master’s orders.

sukuna checks you out one more time in that disheveled state, before you go back to your formal and reserved self. his interest in you has been piqued by today’s events and he wonders when he can experience that side of yours again. he nods at uraume, “make sure she’s properly taken care of.”

uraume doesn’t waste a single second after being given an order. “understood,” they reply curtly and keep you steady so you could walk with them towards the physician’s quarters.

you look up at sukuna, trying to catch a glimpse of him before you’re taken away. he’s staring right back at you, the corners of his lips twitching into another subtle grin. he’s surprisingly pleased and content with your actions.

however it’s also not so surprising, considering that he loves it when you show any hint of resistance or stubbornness. whether it’d be to him or to his concubines.

sukuna’s facial expression turns cold the moment you’re gone and he’s left with the mess. “she took the words right out of my mouth,” he stares down at the three women on the floor who’re still unable to stand. he’s not helping them up—that’s their own problem, “y’re a pathetic bunch.”

the concubines flinch as they hear the inevitable from their own lord. hearing it from you was frustrating, but hearing it directly from the man that’s taken them in is heartbreaking. they don’t dare look up at him in such pitiful states.

“all three of you,” sukuna addresses them sharply. his arms cross over his chest, a ruthless tone to his voice. the concubines tremble in his presence, though it’s partially still because of the fear you’ve implemented in their systems.

he would’ve killed them off right then and there, though you’ve done enough damage to them both physically and mentally for now.

sukuna however, still couldn’t care less about their wellbeing. their wounds and bruises are something they’ll need to fix on their own.

he points at the floor and broken door with his head before turning around to leave the miserable trio. sukuna leaves them with an order that’s usually left to the servants;

“clean up the damn mess you caused. it better be taken care of before i return. ‘nd i don’t wanna hear a single squeak from any of you about this.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Cat boy lads things

Rafayel is the type of car boy who’d occupy your lap more often than not and will become pouty when your attention isn’t fully on him, so much so to the point where he’ll act like you’ve been neglecting him. (This is a false statement)

He’s the king of the side eye. He’s judging you but he’s not silent about it either and he will move to the other side of the room, however he’ll think that you’ll come after him and get pouty when you don’t.

He’s sending all kinds of signals and all of them contradict the other and yet he still expects you to know what he was conveying…for someone who hates cats he shares a lot more in common with them then he’d like to admit.

Zayne is the type of cat boy who is secretly obsessed with you and would do just about anything you’d ask of him.

He’s more than willing to wait on hand and foot for you, all the while reminding you of his loyalty and fondness for you when in close proximity of you. It’s extremely intimate with how close your faces were from each other, feeling his breath fan across your face.

He’s the calmest out of all of the cat boys and the most well behaved as he can be found next to you, casually grooming his tail and ears while chaos ensues throughout the room. He’s kinda low maintenance but you give him attention and affection regardless just to see him smile and purr against your lips.

Xavier the little freak is the kind of cat boy who will be calm with the hand dealt with him but thrives off of you touching his ears and tail, regardless of how sensitive both of them were, he just likes the feel of your hands touching him while he becomes a little warm under the collar.

However he’s also the type to be found fast asleep in some weird places and in weird situations. He sleeps like he’s dead and it concerns you greatly as you spend the next ten minutes trying to wake him up, internally freaking out, only for him to wake up completely unbothered.

He kneads your chest…a lot…that is all. The little freak. (Affectionate)

Sylus is a gentlemanly cat boy who always had a pension for mischief either the way it glimmered in his eyes as he presses a kiss to the back of your hand.

He uses his tail to grasp your wrist or even brush again your waist as he’s walking past, his ears pricking up at the sound of your little hitches of breath, and a knowing smile is stretched across his lips as he raises a brow at you.

You hated him for making you feel like this but you didn’t at the same time.

He will rub his scent on you if he smells another cat boy on you, not out of possessiveness or overprotectiveness, he just really doesn’t want you smelling like other cat boys. However this isn’t much of a problem when his scent away them away anyway from you anyway.

Bonus cat boys;

Kieran and Luke are the two shits who makes life infinitely harder.

They will think it’s funny to knock shit over, while your watching them do so no less, and or start biting and tugging at your clothes relentlessly until you threaten to spray water on them for being little shits.

Somehow they get their tails knotted together…how you don’t bother to ask as it’s already a headache with them saying that while they’re twins, they rather liked have their own independence separate form the other.

There the type lie their bodies across your body while you sleep, making you wonder what the fuck is that unnecessary weight coming from, only to open your eyes and see these two dummies smiling back at you with matching Cheshire grins. That or use their tails to tickle your nose as a prank or even rest their heads close to you so you could feel the twitching of their ears at every subtle sound.

They have to sleep on either side of you, those are the rules and you have to abide by them if you don’t want them being little shits.

[deathbxnny]

hey I need you SO BAD to do like an arcane reaction where they’re drunk and what they do/say while it and btw I love your writing

What Arcane characters are like when drunk. | Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Ekko, Sevika x Gn!Reader

So this may have become a little too angsty for some of them, so uh... don't mind me-

Also, thank you so much! I'm glad you love my writing. It means a lot to me!<33

Content: Alcohol obviously, some potential heavy angst, Pit fighter Vi, established romantic relationships, some toxic behavior, this has been written by someone who has never drank a sip of alcohol in their life so I'm sorry if this is unrealistic, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not fully proofread))

》VI

Her being drunk wasn't unusual, and in fact, it has become the norm for her at this point. It was the only way for her to numb the agony she was going through every day, and there was no stopping the cycle she was in. If she wasn't drunk, then she was fighting. But even the line that was drawn between those two states she was constantly in was becoming blurry and unintelligible. Things were getting out of hand, and so was her aggression towards everything that moved, anything that cared for her.

But at least you were still here with her, trying your best to keep her together and intact when she refused to be.

She can be cruel and unfocused whilst drunk, often either yelling or punching things to express her frustrations, and yet she never dared hurt you. You were the only light she had left, and she'd be damned if she snuffed you out, too. But this doesn't mean that she can control her words at times. She says things she regrets all the time, insults that cut deep or accusations that made no sense were common. Yet you stayed, you always stayed.

A part of her knows you deserve better, but until Jinx showed up, she refused to wane off the bottle that kept her even partially functioning daily. In a different life, she'd put the bottle down, however, and just finally hug you instead.

》CAITLYN

She doesn't drink much, and when she does, it's in strict moderation. She has a reputation to keep up and can't let her sharp senses falter at any time, especially once she becomes the commander of Piltover. But when it's just the two of you attempting to relax after an impossibly stressful day, the alcohol helps her relax and become more open with her troubles. Her grief had manifested into an uncontrollable force she shyed away from every speaking on, but in drunken moments like these, she'll allow herself to find melancholy in your arms, her flushed face pressed into your shoulder as she did so.

She may cry or laugh of the worries of the day, maybe break down from the guilt and frustrations, let the anger quell over but only still hesitantly even with her judgment clouded. This is a very rare state to see her in after the loss of her mother, and she trusts you to keep this vulnerable part of her safe and sound in your heart behind locked lips.

With that said, knowing how emotional she can get whilst drunk, she tries avoiding drinking too much during functions in case things get too much out of hand. She'd rather not make a fool of herself infront of everyone after all.

》JINX

She doesn't typically drink. But the few times she does with you at her side, she somehow becomes extremely calm and lazy. She'll practically lay in the chair she was sitting in, eyes squinting at a far away point on the wall, whilst she seemingly contemplates life. Most would think that the alcohol would enable her crazy tendencies even more, but alas, it simply turns her mostly docile.

I say mostly, as she usually mentally comes up with the craziest plans instead, all of which are questionably more unethical than the last. She'll eventually lose herself in those thoughts and become either unresponsive or mutter the silliest, incomprehensible things known to man. And there is certainly no in-between.

With that said, she will probably eventually snap out of it and begin rapidly speaking about all these thoughts to you without a single care in the world. Drunk Jinx is somehow less miserable and yet absolutely doesn't like the feeling of it afterward. Sure, it makes her mind stop thinking about her issues and past, but it still feels wrong, hence why it's rare to see her drunk.

Her terrible hangovers alone also cause her to stay away from alcohol in general. It's definitely not worth that pain to her.

》EKKO

Another person who doesn't drink often at all, albeit out of his responsibility as a leader. He has to be a good role model for everyone and only drinks when the occasion calls for it, like a festival or get together with friends and you. That's when he lets loose a little and allows himself to drink more than he probably should, resulting in a very clingy and loving Ekko.

His alcohol tolerance is embarrassingly low, and he always tells himself that he should know better than to down so many glasses at once... yet it's hard to keep count after about 2 and a half of them. Or so he'd say after he sobers up in the morning, much to your amusement. During the time he's fully hammered, though, he'll always have a hand in you and slur his words rather heavily, whilst he practically near proclaims his love for you for everyone to hear. This often results in you having to slap a hand over his mouth before he embarrasses himself further... which is somehow he hates.

He gets teased by the others all the time for it and glares when they mock his loving tone of voice that he only uses when he's in that impaired state with you. This alone makes him abstain from even a singular drop of alcohol... until the next festival roles around and he forgets to keep count again.

But hey, maybe he'll remember next time because you sure as hell won't remind him.

》SEVIKA

She drinks at bars all the time with you, although it's rare to see her ever get completely drunk. She has an extremely high tolerance to alcohol and it shows when there is barely a difference in her behavior. The only thing that may indicate something influencing her would be a slight slur in her voice and her being unwilling to get up or move around much at all. She'll just want to relax and play poker in peace, even if it starts getting hard to see the cards after a while.

Another way to tell that she may be getting drunk is by her sudden overprotectiveness. Sure, it was always there and never left, despite you being able to handle yourself alone. But when she's drunk, anyone that looks at you for too long in a way she doesn't like will either be punched in the face or yelled at to keep it moving.

She also definitely always denys being drunk or even tipsy when you ask her. Whether out of pride or stubbornness, you'll never know, but she will never admit to it. It doesn't matter if she denies it whilst being unable to walk straight either.

[ellecdc]

Peace & Quiet [& Sirius]

Regulus Black x mute!reader [gn] who speaks with Regulus for the first time

request: Regulus Black x mute reader and she's quiet so she can talk, and her speech is excellent, she just chooses not to talk until maybe one day studying she let's it slip and he heard by @simps-for-to-many-people

CW: selective mutism

Regulus Black was a very self-serving person, and he was more than happy to admit that.

Nothing that Regulus did was coincidental, accidental, or unplanned; he had a motive for every action he took, and there was meaning behind everything that he did. 

Like now, for example; he was very pointedly not sitting with his friends in the middle of the library, but rather in a far secluded corner near a fireplace and a bookshelf containing tomes on the reproductive patterns of frost snails.

In essence, no one was coming back here for books or otherwise.

But that wasn’t why he was sitting back here.

It was likely why you were sitting back here, which was decidedly why Regulus was, too. 

He’d asked first, of course; he was a gentleman afterall. And you’d offered him half a smile and a quick nod before quickly returning to your notes.

Regulus liked that about you.

You were a quiet sort - and not only because you didn’t talk, because Regulus was certain that even if you did make a habit of speaking, you’d likely be nearly just as quiet.

It didn’t appear to him that you couldn’t speak, but rather just that you didn’t. 

And Regulus couldn’t blame you, there weren’t very many people in this castle worth conversing with anyways.

That didn’t stop him from trying to converse with you, however.

He made sure to say hello when he saw you, and always asked if your day was going well, or if you were finding class difficult; the likes.

He never got more than a nod or a smile, and that was enough.

So, here he was sitting in the farthest, darkest corner of the library with the quietest seat partner as he enjoyed the view.

And if it wasn’t clear by now, the view Regulus so enjoyed was you. 

You’d not shared more than a smile and nod with him in the years of classes you shared together, yet somehow Regulus seemed to find a kindred spirit in you.

A soul aching for solitude and silence, for patience and understanding, for space and peace.

He certainly found those things with you.

He hoped that you felt the same about him, or perhaps that you could bring yourself to find the same in him.

For now, though, Regulus was happy to reap the benefits of your presence for as long as you were willing to share them with him. 

“There you are, Reggie! My favourite brother!” Regulus heard the unmistakable sound of Sirius’ voice as it permeated his (and, rather unfortunately, your) quiet sanctuary.

Regulus could kill him. 

“I’m your only brother, you sod.” Regulus hissed as Sirius plopped himself down on the bench beside him, either ignorant to or in spite of the lack of enthusiasm at his arrival. 

“And I’m your only brother, don’t you think you ought to be nicer to me? Hi, L/N.” Sirius replied, greeting you quickly as he turned back to his brother. “Listen, I need a favour.”

“No.”

“Reggie.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Please.” 

“I said no.” Regulus bit out.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.” Sirius pouted, resulting in an awkwardly long staring match between the two brother’s before Regulus finally sighed.

“What?”

“I need the password to the Slytherin dungeons.”

“Are you out of your sodding mind!?”

“You don’t know what it’s for!” Sirius argued.

“It’s for a prank.” Regulus responded resolutely, causing Sirius’ expression to fall just as he was about to start another sales pitch.

“Okay, so maybe you do know what it's for, but that’s not the point!”

"That's exactly the point."

"But-"

“I’m not giving you the password to my common room, Sirius.” Regulus stated with finality as Sirius groaned and let his head fall to the table in front of him with a thump. 

“You’re mean, you know that? He’s mean; why do you hang out with him, L/N? You could do so much better.”

“What? Like you?” You responded quickly, not bothering to look up from your notebook to see the absolute astounded faces of both Regulus and Sirius Black, and the satisfied smirk on Remus Lupin’s face as he sidled up behind the two brothers. 

“I knew I liked you, L/N.” Remus said as he shot you a wink and placed a conciliatory hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “So, you failed to get the password and had your arse handed to you?”

Sirius harrumphed as Regulus let out a very uncharacteristic bark of laughter.

Neither Sirius nor Remus missed the satisfied smile that graced your lips at the sound. 

“That’s alright, Pads; there’s always plan B.”

“What’s plan B?” Regulus asked cautiously. 

“That’s for us to know and you to find out, dear brother.” Sirius announced as he stood and ruffled Regulus’ curls before turning to stalk away from the table, throwing a hasty ‘nice chatting, L/N’ over his shoulder before he disappeared around the corner.

“But…” Remus continued once he knew Sirius was out of ear shot. “Maybe don’t eat breakfast tomorrow at the Slytherin table.”

“Thanks Lupin.” Regulus grumbled, equal parts exhausted by his brother’s antics and grateful for Remus’ warning. 

“Later Black, L/N.” He called as he followed after Sirius. 

Regulus turned back towards the table to see you staring intently at your notes, though you seemed to be doing little more than fiddling with your quill. 

“That was impressive; it’s usually impossible to shut my brother up like that.” He offered carefully, hopefully, eagerly.

Gods, he was a mess. 

You smiled and looked up at him through your lashes. “He was killing our vibes.” You replied in barely a whisper.

Regulus chuckled disbelievingly; not only did you feel comfortable enough to speak to him or in front of him, but that comfort seemed to extend to the likes of his brother and his brother’s boyfriend. 

And you felt like the two of you had vibes, and that Sirius was a threat to those vibes.

Surely he was dreaming? Hallucinating? This couldn’t be real?

But there you were, sitting across from him as you so often were, looking at him shyly and hopefully and very much real; Regulus felt as though the two of you were on the brink of something.

“I agree; I enjoy your company very much, if I’m being honest."

You smiled at him again -  and it was a more open smile this time, less hopeful and more grateful, less shy and more confident - quickly signing what Regulus knew to be the BSL sign for ‘me too’. 

Feeling quite vindicated, Regulus finally pulled his gaze away from you and smiled down at his notebook. “That’s great to hear, because I may need to keep you on standby for the next time my brother starts harassing me.”

And Regulus was certain he’d be hearing the sound of your laughter in all of his sweetest dreams going forward. 

[fastandcarlos]

Kisses For You : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: 2.6k of the fluffiest early morning with lando

A faint groan escaped from you as a change in colour disturbed your sheet. Lando couldn’t help but chuckle as the shutter then went down.

“You’re an idiot, you mumbled, pulling the duvet up tighter around your body, hoping somehow that the morning hadn’t arrived just yet.

“Yeah…but I’m your idiot,” Lando couldn’t help but tease, a quiet snigger coming from him as you pushed further into the pillow. “You looked too cute.”

Lando continued to hold his phone tight in his hand as he studied your features quietly. Your eyes were still shut, but the corners of your mouth had turned up, no matter how annoyed you wanted to be at Lando for disturbing your sleep, you could never truly stay made at him for long. His hand comes up, brushing through your hair, tucking the loose strands behind your ear.

“I love seeing you when you’re like this.”

“Like what?” You asked in confusion, shuffling your frame closer to where Lando laid, hissing slightly at the change in temperature across your bed. Your spot was toasty, but now you found yourself laying in the cold. Lando reacts straight away, placing his hand against your waist to try and squeeze you just a couple of centimetres closer towards where he was.

“So sleepy.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, Lando presses his first kiss of the day to the top of your head, feeling his heart quicken slightly.

You could only chuckle, “yep, you’re still an idiot.”

Lando knew you never meant it as you tucked your head into his chest, you loved to tease him and try and wind him up. He was happy though, he didn’t care what you were doing, it was just nice for him to be home. He loved being able to wake up with all of his comforts around him, but most of all he loved waking up knowing that his best friend was right beside him. Those moments were the ones he loved to capture, the ones when you were at your most comfortable, a side to you that no one else in the world got to see, because no one else made you feel like Lando did.

That was the moment when Lando was reminded of your previous night, the passion and relief mixed perfectly together as the two of you reunited.

Your touch was always what Lando craved the most whenever the two of you were apart. The feeling of your fingertips desperately digging into his arm, fearful that he would go again, or how you called out his name and threw your head back, giving him the satisfaction that he was the reason you felt so good. Lando struggled to believe sometimes that the two of you still had so much lust and attraction after so many years, but the feeling of making you feel as if you were the top of the world was something that he would never tire of. Where you found yourselves was an entirely different moment from last night, but that didn’t stop you still sending Lando’s mind into overdrive. If he was honest, his mind was always filled with thoughts of you, those moments he captured in his memory, the ones he treasured forever.

He was lost in his own little world at that point, entirely unaware of the trail of kisses that you had left across his collarbone, still smelling the effects of last night as your nose tickled his bare skin.

Lando was hungrier than ever last night.

Soon enough Lando rejoins you in the room, letting you know as he reciprocates your kisses, pressing several to your forehead, poking his finger gently against the side of your arm.

It was lazy. It was comfortable. It was everything that the two of you enjoyed together.

“You’re so beautiful,” Lando whispered against the top of your head, “how did I ever get so lucky?” He then asks, following up with yet another kiss.

“It’s too early for you to be this cheesy,” you laughed, relaxing your hand over the top of his heart.

“It’s true,” Lando argued in reply, “you’re funny, smart, caring, trusting, selfless, considerate, and pretty damn good in bed, I could go on and on,” he added, breaking each word with a kiss, hearing you laugh at his last words. His voice was sincere, Lando was incredibly fond of you and over the years he had made sure to be more and more vocal about the effect that you had on him.

As much as you want to tease him, you can’t. A shiver runs down your spine, knowing full well that your cheeks were a dark crimson once Lando had finished talking. You felt like you were floating on a cloud, if Lando wasn’t there holding onto you, you were sure that you would roll off the bed in a fit of giggles and excitement. He somehow had the control, knowing you weren’t particularly happy about being woken up, he’d soon turned things around and wrapped you around his finger again.

At last, Lando watched as you opened up your eyes, eyelids fluttering at the bright light. “You’re the best.”

Your hand on his chest pushed gently against him, the exhaustion in your expression was clear to Lando as you moved lazily opposite him.

“You’re just the best human ever.”

“I don’t think many would agree,” you laughed, “but luckily for me, your opinion means the most.”

“And yours does to me.” Lando responded.

“Really? I wasn’t expecting that,” you admitted, with how many people Lando had to impress day to day, you always thought you were low on that list, you were powerless compared to some.

“It’s always you.”

And that was the moment where Lando crumbled.

He suddenly found himself unable to speak, barely able to look at you as his sudden confession turned him into a weak mess beside you too.

Deep down your opinion meant the world to him, he always wanted to do right by you and know that you always had a smile on your face.

“I love you,” he spoke, so quiet you could barely hear him as he pressed a kiss again to the top of your head to be able to hide his own embarrassment. “I love everything about you.”

“I know,” you replied, your voice quiet too, “you told me that plenty of times last night you know.”

“And I meant it too.”

Every single last word spoken, Lando had meant.

“I’ll always mean it, I never will quite understood how I managed to find someone like you.”

A comfortable silence descended upon the two of you, your hand tracing on Lando and his arm shaking around your waist managed to do all the talking for you both.

“I mean I always knew that true love existed, but I never imagined that love would feel this good, it still overwhelms me, still leaves me wanting more of you every second of every day.”

A shaky breath escapes from Lando as he gives himself a moment to find his composure again, knowing you’re holding onto his every word.

“I wish I knew your secrets, try to understand why you make me feel this way. All I ever want to do is protect you, make you feel as loved as you deserve to be.” Your head tilted back as Lando spoke, moving your hand up to cup the side of his face, feeling him press a kiss to your fingertips. “Everything about you just drives me crazy.”

You couldn’t quite believe what you were hearing from Lando, although he had a tendency to be sentimental with you, this morning someone had opened up the floodgates.

It always seemed to be the way, once the two of you came down from your high the previous night, Lando would fill you back up with loving reminders again.

“You know there are no secrets to share, I’m just me…just happy…with you,” you whispered, brushing the pad of your thumb against his cheek.

For the first time in a while, Lando met your eyes. His heart swelled as the wide smile on your face suddenly took his breath away.

“How do you always manage to find the right thing to say?” Lando enquired, shaking his head at you.

“Surprisingly sweet for someone broken from their sleep a few minutes ago, right?” You joked.

You wished there was more to it, but being honest, you often found yourself pondering the same thing.

“You can get some more sleep if you want, I don’t mind.”

Lando took a hold of your hand and tried to tuck it back into the duvet so that you could snuggle back down to sleep again, but you were having none of it. You were wide awake now, admiring the view that had finally returned before you after so long being there all alone.

“Do you think you’ll ever stop?” You then asked as Lando took your hand and pressed several kisses to the back of it. “You’re not out of kisses?”

His head shook proudly, “for you? There’s no such thing I’m afraid.”

As much as he wanted to mess with you, Lando admittedly was quite concerned by your lack of sleep, the two of you had barely slept the night before, too busy reminding one another of what you had missed out on.

“I bet you can’t keep on doing this forever Lan.”

“Is that a challenge for me?” He pushed, attacking your cheek with several feather-like kisses. “Because I can guarantee you that I’ll never tire of kissing you y/n.”

Your eyebrows raised as Lando seemed to throw down the gauntlet, not that you ever doubted him.

“Sorry? I can’t quite hear an answer from you babe.”

“Shut up will you,” you smiled innocently, “I love you.”

Those three words were still special to Lando, and as he heard them for the first time that day, his body froze in delight.

As his smile grew, you reached behind you and picked up your own phone from your bedside table, opening up the camera. You leant back slightly so that Lando was in full view of your shot, snapping the moment his smile was at his widest, knowing that photo would come in handy next time he went away. As the shutter went down, Lando came forwards, tickling against your waist.

“That’s not fair,” he laughed, a wave of euphoria running down his spine as he heard your laughter echo around the room.

Lando carried on for a few moments, knowing to stop as soon as heard you calling out his name, struggling to catch your breath.

The smirk on his face made you want to hit against him, curse him for being so cocky when it came to his ability to tease you. But you couldn’t. Because deep down you loved it. You loved when he pushed your buttons and tried to tip you over the edge.

His proud smile was impossible though.

You hated him for it.

You hated how well he knew you.

How much he loved to love you.

But opposite you, you knew that Lando felt the exact same way.

“Aren’t you the cutest!”

“Go away,” you scoffed as Lando clasped his arms around your frame to pull you back into him.

His head shook in response to your request.

“You don’t want me to leave,” he argued.

Could you respond? No. Was Lando correct? Absolutely. You wanted him to stay more than anything and never leave you again. You wanted him as he was right now, playing with your hair and showering you with all kinds of affection, the affection that you missed and craved so badly when he was off and racing around the world. Feeling the warmth of his frame beside you felt like home, the safe space you were desperate for.

Your brief moment was broken by Lando capturing your lips, telling by your eyes you were losing yourself pretty deep.

“I love being yours.”

It felt like you found yourself in one of those cheesy romcoms, the type that you watched when you were a child and dreamt of one day hopefully having a relationship like it. Although now, it was your reality. Everything that you’d dreamed of as a child was now coming true, and that was all thanks to Lando. Thanks to the man who stared at you with such adoration you felt weak at the knees.

“I’m sure there are many people around the world who would disagree with that,” you chimed.

Lando pouted in response to your words, “they’re all liars, the only person in the world that I want to be with…is you.”

Your hand returned to the side of his face, “I bet none of them miss you like I do.”

“And I bet that however much you missed me, I missed you so much more,” he couldn’t help but tease, ignoring the shakes of your head as you tried to argue against him.

You want to speak, but Lando shuts you, pressing a kiss to your parted lips before anything escapes.

“You’re impossible,” you whisper against his lips as Lando pulls away ever so slightly. “How am I ever supposed to win against you when this is how you treat me?”

Lando shrugged, he didn’t want you to win, not when him winning resulted in peppering kisses all over your body and face.

“I love you,” he found himself announcing again.

Some could be forgiven for being intimidated by the closeness of Lando, but you knew him better, you knew how much he needed you close by.

“I know, and I love you too,” you reminded him, not that Lando ever doubted you for a second.

“Everything about you is perfect,” Lando spoke, coming back at you, trailing his finger tips alongside either side of your body, feeling the goosebumps against your skin.

“Lando, stop.”

He pondered for a moment, but eventually Lando did as you asked. “Stop what?” He asked, opting for the innocent choice.

“We can’t do this again.”

As much as you wanted to push Lando away, still feeling the effects from last night, he was like an irresistible force beside you who you could never avoid for long.

He had known you long enough to know exactly how to get you where he wants you for his own satisfaction, and mostly, how to get exactly what he wants from you too.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you told him, reading Lando like a book. “I promise, later, I just can’t right now.”

“I get it,” Lando assured you, never wanting to push you to anything. “We can do kisses now, and maybe other things can wait until later.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, “I don’t mean to disappoint or anything.”

You were doing anything but, if Lando was anything, he was understanding, he knew where the line was and never overstepped it.

“You could never do such a thing y/n.”

Lando gave you a moment to settle again, smiling widely as you chose to settle against his chest, draping your arm across his frame as his wrapped around your own.

“Y/n,” Lando whispered as you both found yourselves staring up at the ceiling.

“Yeah Lan?”

“Let’s stay here today, right in this spot.”

“You mean all day?”

“Yeah,” Lando cheered, keen to savour as much of the time he had with you as possible. “This is where I want to be with you.”

“Let’s do it,” you chimed, much to Lando’s delight. “A lazy day in bed with you sounds like a dream right now.”

Lando squeezes you tighter against his chest.

“Don’t forget all those kisses too.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[hannieehaee]

18+ / mdi

content: newbf!mingyu, afab reader, first time having sex together, smut, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 1714

a/n: not proofread and written within fifteen mins if there's continuity errors no there's not</3

masterlist

"you're such a coward."

"you haven't had sex yet? you!?"

"i can't believe you're pussywhipped but without the pussy."

these were only some of the many insults and quips mingyu's friends had thrown at him in the past month or so since he began dating you.

after grueling months of finding himself stuck in the friendzone (which, admittedly, he knew was simply a social construct created to– anyways), he finally grew the balls to ask you to go on a date with him. that date became two and three and four and very soon after it became an official relationship.

surprisingly to all those who knew mingyu, he was treating this relationship differently than his usual relationships. he believed this to be the real deal, which was something he was quite vocal about. sure, he was young, but he never would've broken up the friendship he had struck up with you at the beginning of the semester if he wasn't sure of how strongly he felt about you. and god, did he feel very strongly about you.

mingyu was unable to pinpoint exactly what it was about you that had driven (and continued to drive) him so crazy. and by this he meant that he could not pick one singular thing about you – there were just far too many things that made you the perfect girl.

so, yes. mingyu did not rush things as he usually did. he also did not treat this relationship casually in any way as he had previously done with former girlfriends. he saw a future with you, which terrified him – and by association, you terrified him.

that was really the crux of the issue.

his fear of scaring you away or fucking things up led him to feeling paranoid about his every move. was it too much when he sent you good morning messages every day? did it bother you how often he hugged you? did you feel put off by the fact that he had already told his family about you? and then the most worrisome of all ...

was he moving too fast or too slow when it came to your sex life together?

the two of you had shared a few kisses already, with some occasionally growing a bit too steamy for mingyu to consider innocent. however, mingyu always somehow managed to put a stop to it before it went too far, being far too scared of you feeling pressured by him. you never showed any displeasure or annoyance at him pulling away, so he assumed that he was doing the right thing in preventing things from going further.

unbeknownst to mingyu, you were going just as insane as he was, but for entirely different reasons. what he believed to be lack of annoyance or displeasure was actually you putting up a fake front as your boyfriend denied you yet again.

at first it didn't make you feel bad. you understood why he'd want to take things slow. this relationship was perfect in all regards thus far, so taking things slow only made sense. however, after the tenth time of mingyu physically pulling you off his lap and muttering something about his mom calling him, – despite no ringing nor vibrating from his phone – you were starting to feel quite insecure.

you knew mingyu to have had extensive sexual experience before meeting you, so you knew the issue didn't lie in his libido. it must've been a you issue.

did he not want you? was he rethinking the relationship? was it weird for him to transition from friends to more? you were out of answers and simply just frustrated.

unfortunately, a girl could only take so much, leading you to an ultimatum.

you had orchestrated a plan for tonight. if mingyu pushed you away once more, you'd finally confront him about it, and if not, you'd be happily fucked by him. either outcome would leave you satisfied.

~

"hey, how was schoo- hmph!"

okay, maybe you hadn't truly orchestrated any plan. your planning had begun and ended at the thought of simply jumping mingyu as soon as he opened the door, which was exactly what you did.

his arms wrapped around you, taking him a few moments but ultimately letting himself be consumed by your kiss. surprisingly, he even pressed you up against the door upon closing it after your entrance, large frame taking over your own.

you managed to make him zone out for a good five minutes before he eventually pulled away with a gasp, having barely realized where he had put his hands and what his hips were beginning to do against your own.

"fuck, wait, i- i'm sorry, i shouldnt have-"

"but why not?", you groaned at the interruption. okay, not your greatest moment.

"i, what? i don't want to pressure you. we don't have to-"

"but what if i want it? why would you think i feel pressured when- when i'm the one who keeps throwing herself at you?"

he blinked at you, dumbfounded, "i- you- you want to- to have sex? it's only been a month, i didn't want you to feel like you had to, you know, and it was just easier to pull away before i got too into it. fuck, i'm sorry."

you felt beyond embarrassed by how forward you'd been only to end up at rejection once more. but you felt even more embarrassed at the quick effect mingyu's consideration towards you had on you.

"no, god. you don't have to apologize. i should've asked, i should've-"

"no, baby, stop," he decreased the distance between you once again, "i should've asked you instead of pushing you away. did i make you feel like i didn't want you? fuck, that was the last thing i wanted. i want you. so embarrassingly bad. the guys keep calling me pussywhipped for how much i talk about you, uh, even how much i thirst after you," he finished his short speech with a more bashful tone.

"really?", you giggled, "pussywhipped?"

"baby, don't mock me right now," he groaned.

"no, i just mean ... how can you be pussywhipped if you haven't even had my pussy?", you leaned up and whispered against his lips.

"i- that's what jeonghan said, actually-"

"you wanna think about hannie right now?"

he shook his head dumbly, "no, no, keep talking."

"how about we stop talking and you go back to kissing me?"

he needed no further instruction, locking your lips once more, with even more passion than before. this time around his hands were not shy in their feeling up of your body, nor were his hips in their humping against yours.

things moved quite fast after your short-lived confessions, leading to mingyu carrying you over to the couch and sitting you down on the cushions, lips making their way down your body as his hands undressed you bit by bit.

"you want me pussywhipped, baby? just wait ...", he practically growled when you were finally down to your tank top and panties, licking you through the thin fabric before pushing it to the side and allowing his tongue to plunge in.

"g-gyu ... fuck, just like that ...", you sighed as your hands went down to his hair, pulling at it as he licked into you.

he kissed and licked and sucked until your eyes rolled back and your hips lost control of themselves, grinding into his face with apologetic whines of his name.

"no, baby, keep going. you can grind on my face, pretty. use me however you want," he mumbled as he kissed at your upper thighs, head burying itself back in hour cunt immediately after.

"tastes so fucking good, baby. prettiest fucking cunt ... can't believe i waited so long to have this tasty pussy," he groaned between licks.

mingyu was insatiable in the way he ate you out, moaning against you as if he were the receiver of the pleasure. his hands aided your hips in grinding against his face, creating a rhythm that followed his own. this was how he got you to your high embarrassingly quick, encouraging your cries of his name with his own groans of delight into your cunt.

it took you a few moments to catch your breath, feeling completely exhausted at the way in which mingyu had quite literally snatched your soul along with your orgasm. in the meantime, mingyu got up and undressed himself, leaving his boxers and your tank top as the only articles of clothing remaining. you took care of that issue yourself, throwing off your top as you stared up at him while he stood in front of you, cock almost at eye level with you.

making grabby hands at him, you dragged him down, allowing him to lay you down and hover over you on the couch, cock immediately humping against your cunt while his lips found a home on your tits.

his constant praise of your body and cunt was quite colorful, making you feel far too affected by his words and feeding into his compliments.

"you're the prettiest thing. do you even know how badly i've wanted you? it was so hard holding back every time you'd kiss me," he pouted whilst repositioning himself, pushing his boxers down his legs, "always wanted to just lose myself in you and never come back."

"baby, can i?", he asked once his cock was free and lining up against your swollen cunt. a simple nod was all it took for him to finally push his way inside, groaning into your neck at the feeling.

the intrusion felt delicious, making you throw your head back in utmost pleasure and cry his name in a way that had him mumbling something about how you must've wanted him to cum immediately.

finding your g spot almost immediately, mingyu took full advantage, gripping your thighs tightly in order to ensure hitting that spot until he had you dragging your nails down his back.

"are you almost there, baby? fuck, need you to cum with me, angel, okay?", he murmured into your ear, speed of his hips losing all finesse.

"i'm there, g-gyu. just ... my clit? please?", you pleaded.

mingyu made the grave mistake of listening to your pleas, hand coming down to rub at your clit without realizing the tightness of your cunt would only destroy him even further. but despite that, mingyu persisted in his task to make you cum, bringing you to your high just moments before claiming his own.

he settled against you on the couch once you were finished, pecking your lips softly before nuzzling against you.

"are you pussywhipped yet?", you asked as you turned to cuddle into his chest.

"oh, baby, so damn pussywhipped its embarrassing."

[nepenthendline]

a/n: todoroki feeling horny for the first time, no smut but can do a pt 2?

Todoroki had been much clingier than usual today, like a cat somehow always slinking his was close to you. Most of your day was spent cuddling on his couch watching documentaries, and his grip on you was tight. Whenever you shuffled or got up to grab a drink or snack, you could see the little pout on his lips as he held his arms out to you and asked where you were going. He was so cute like this, but it was a little different than usual.

"You ok, baby?" You ask, cupping his cheeks in your hands once you settled back into his arms. He pondered for a moment,

'Yes, I think, but I feel a little...off,' his response was quiet, and his fingers continued to brush over your waist. Your head tilted slightly, looking over him for any obvious signs of pain or sickness,

"In what way?" His eyes looked off to the side - you could almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he tried to put his feelings into words.

"I feel... warmer than usual, my muscles feel tense, sometimes it feels like I'm struggling to breathe, and there's a...weird feeling in my stomach. Perhaps I'm getting sick," you let put an exaggerated pout as you combed your fingers through his hair before kissing his forehead - he did feel quite warm, but there was no fever.

"My poor baby," you stroked his cheeks in urge to comfort him, however, his face tensed under your touch, and he let out a hum.

"That..." he muttered, more to himself than to you. He brought one hand to his chin in thought, " I thought resting today with you would help my symptoms, but they seem to be getting worse," your brows furrowed at his words, but your urged him to continue. "Well, worse, but also better. The symptoms are stronger, but having you close makes me feel relieved in a way." You couldn't help but smile. Even whilst sick, he was still adorable. What he said next, however, surprised you.

"Feel like...I need you, even though you're already here. Feels like you're not close enough,' he murmured into his hand, still looking away.

Oh-OH. You started giggling in response - the two of you had been together for a few months, but you knew Shoto hadn't had any relationships before you. In fact, he often reminded you that you were the first person to ever make him feel the way he does.

His eyes darted back to you with confusion taking over his face. "Have you felt like this before?" You question with a grin. His eyes wavered, before nodding.

"Yes, although the symptoms weren't as strong as now. Like when you were cooking the other day in those cute pajamas, or on our date last week, and when you kiss me," he was clueless. He thought he was sick and yet every memory included you. Your giggles continued.

"Yeah? Well, I can tell you that you're not sick," his eyes widened slightly, nodding for you to continue, "you're horny, my love." He let out a quiet ah and sat in silence for a moment before speaking up.

"Like Mineta..." his deapan voice made you cackle, even though you knew he was trying to gauge his feelings by comparing them to something else. "Except, I only feel like this with you," your cheeks warmed at his words. He's always been a charmer, mostly by accident. He speaks what is on his mind so bluntly, and yet it never ceases to fluster you. You lean forward and press a soft kiss on his lips.

"I can make you feel better if you'd like?" His eyes burned into yours as he rested his forehead against yours. After a few moments, he spoke,

"Yes, please."

[st0ryf1lms]

is it really you? ➳ ken sato

pairing: ken sato x reader

word count: 866

genre/warnings: fluff, sort of a crack fic, 3+1 things, wrote this with a sarcastic tone LMAO, a bit of profanity, grammatical errors most likely (wrote this at 1AM), reader uses fem pronouns

synopsis: the 3 times kenji sato swore he saw you, and the 1 time he actually saw you.

a/n: yes, i'm finally giving in to the kenji sato brainrot HUHUHUH if i had known he was the reason my writer's block would disappear, would've watched the movie sooner i'm ngl edit: AAAAAA WHAT 600+ NOTES??? U GUYS ARE INSANEEE I LOVE YOU ALL this is now up on my ao3!!

At the New Tokyo Dome at his first game as a Giants player

Maybe he was just dreaming, maybe it was the fatigue actually catching up to him ever since he hopped off that plane, or maybe he did actually see you in that stadium amongst the crowd cheering his name. You, as in his childhood best friend, arguably one of the best parts of his childhood in Japan before leaving for LA. You, as in the childhood best friend he never got to say a proper goodbye to. You, as in the childhood best friend whom he always missed and cried to his mom about whenever he'd get homesick. (You, as in the childhood best friend he'd harbored a secret crush on as a kid. As an adult? Psh, what sane person gets hung up on a person who must've forgotten him all those years ago. Not Ken Sato, for sure, yeah, uh-huh.) He'd never know for certain, of course, because as he was about to stop and look, a Kaiju crashed a KDF plane into the ceiling of the stadium.

KAIJU ALERT, his watch blared in an angry red face. He sighed, making his way to the nearest stadium exit and heading towards the dimly-lit part of the street by the stadium. Not without stopping for a split second because he thought he saw your silhouette. Silhouette, really? My God, Kenji, pull yourself together, he told himself. Of course, that wouldn’t be your silhouette because he definitely doesn’t know what you look like anymore, what food you like, what your job is, how you held up after he left for LA. Of course, he doesn’t know that.

Shaking off any more thoughts of you, Kenji turned into his giant alter-ego to fight off the Kaiju wreaking havoc on the streets of Tokyo. (a distraction, really, as Mina would say.)

2. On a grocery run looking exhausted as hell.

It had been two weeks since he took in the baby kaiju in his basement and Kenji Sato has never been more exhausted. If you ask him, exhausted would be an understatement. Nevertheless, his mind was actually alive (much to Mina's surprise) because he swears this time, that he actually saw you. With his own two eyes. As if locked in a daze, he secretly followed you like a lost puppy with a push cart in the grocery store before realizing you were heading for the exit. He stopped in his tracks as the doors opened for you, realizing the items he got weren't paid for yet.

Begrudgingly, he went back inside the grocery and got the rest of the items he needed before going back to his house.

Next time, I swear, I'll talk to her, Kenji said to himself as he drove back to his place.

3. During Emi's acid reflux rampage.

Shit, shit, shit, he cursed to himself like a mantra as he zoomed across the streets of Tokyo on his bike, trying to chase after the pink baby kaiju that somehow escaped his basement that he explicitly placed under the care of Mina (in case you couldn’t tell, he's definitely glaring at his AI assistant). Looking at the construction site beside him as he sat in traffic, an idea popped in his head. He could use that to give him a boost to quickly get to the baby. He rode up the makeshift ramp and turned into his giant alter-ego, catching his bike in time.

"Holy shit." He froze. Goddammit, had he really been that careless? Changing in front of a civilian? Nervously chuckling, he turned around to face the owner of the voice, mentally preparing his response [read: excuse] only to be wide-eyed and speechless. The owner of the voice was you. You, as in his childhood best friend, whom he's been trying to catch up with ever since he landed in Japan.

"What the fuck! Ultraman is Ke-" You exclaimed before you got rudely interrupted by the giant superhero. "Hey, shhh! Can we, like, stay quiet on this matter? I know I don't have an NDA right now but my bike will suffice, I guess. I'll get it back from you, I swear, I just really have to take care of this right now. Treat you to our usual spot? Thanks!" He said frantically before running away to take care of his huge baby problem.

Not really the best way to reconnect with your childhood best friend.

+1. After the battle at sea with the KDF.

"Hey, sorry for being late, had to take care of something." He apologized as he jogged up to you on your usual hang-out spot when you were children. You reassured him, saying that you had just arrived, too. "I didn't know what kinda stuff you eat now as an athlete superstar so I just went for the safest convenience store options." You said sheepishly, holding up the plastic bags with a weary smile. "I don't mind, I actually like convenience store snacks." He beamed on how you still remember what he used to like as a kid.

"So, Ken Sato, gonna explain?"

"Oh, you're gonna want to sit down for this."

[anantaru]

DAY 9 — THREESOME

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — neuvillette & wriothesley (together)

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, threesome, tit sucking, lots of teasing, i think their dynamic works so well for this, they're a little jealous and want you to themselves, some bickering from wriothesley's side but neuvillette really doesn't give a damn

taking on a lustful shape over your spread out body, wriothesley watches you eagerly when you wince out the first time neuvillette outlines your walls with his large cock, a breathless and flirtatious snicker resounding like deep, impactful strikes from the duke's throat— he cannot fathom that this was happening right now, and neither could you, but here you were being pleasured by two strong, threatening men touching your skin and awakening an emotion like fiery steel on your flesh and spirit.

"you do realize, dear iudex." wriothesley suddenly speaks out, a masculine voice entering your system as he stops in midst his slurred sentencing, secretly wanting to be the one who's rushing his shaft into you instead because— you can feel it then, immediately notice that the man fully needed you on his own, carnally, couldn't help himself but desire you, lasciviously.

"—that there should always be enough preparation before doing that." he doesn't even look at the man while overflowing with cocky attitude, instead leaning his head to your chest while you desperately gripped and tightened your legs around neuvillette's waist to somehow manage to take his blows the right way, but you're almost holding him hostage this way, fuck and it only serves to make him dizzy.

following your doings, a ravaging whine ripples through your body as the piercing thrusts on your dripping core never stop as neuvillette rides out everything with his swelling erection, barely being able to restrain himself until he was allowed to stick up your pussy with copious amounts of white ropes of creamy cum splattering all over your walls— and of course, his thrusts are slow, precise, the dragging of a thick shaft touching your silken insides for what felt like a sweet, blissful eternity.

neuvillette hums back at the duke, the noise forming an absent response on its own before he decides to follow up the silence departing from his throat, "you do not need to lecture me about this." he drawls back before immediately turning his attention back to you, controlling the buck of his hips but adding enough strength that your ass jiggles from the contact, "but i do appreciate it." and still, considerably he pulls out his cock, yet despite leaving the tip in, the fat head separating your slit effortlessly that it felt like he never really pulled all those inches out of you in the first place.

"just making sure, y'know." wriothesley notices a little film of annoyance on neuvillette's facial expression and mentally applauds himself, a slow, cocky grin touching up his lips— whilst sloppy kisses were now located on your chest as he mouths wet spots on your exposed breasts.

you cannot help yourself and have to shoot your eyes down at him to see for yourself, simply feeling him suckle on your mounds wasn't enough anymore— and it's comfortable, soul crushing when his dark hair tickles your wet cheeks as he continues with his lovely intrigues, serving you dutifully to make you tremble underneath his large body menacing on top, placing soused, warm kisses on your breasts before targeting your nipples next, using your tit as he pleases with his tongue rolling out expertly, dragging the flat of his wet muscle around your sensitivity before noticing a shudder on your chest.

his pink muscle was never faltering, not once, because he likes that you're unraveling way too fast, which, granted, wasn't a surprise to the duke because bare in mind, he knows what you need— specifically how you wanted your tits to be played with before he was grabbing the flesh of your mounds and putting one in his sweltering mouth, every lick and suck biting your core and rising the temperature on your sex.

at the present time, the persistent pleasure both of them fucked into you reaches your entire frame— for once, on your chest chasing the friction of wriothesley's rough tongue licking over the warmth, weighty tears magnifying around your eyes as your blurred psyche loses all rational thinking skills while your pussy was suddenly being spread apart again.

in the blink of an eye, neuvillette lands a harsh smack on your aching sex, following the sticky trail of his shaft being imbedded by your translucent arousal and throbbing between the slickness of your walls constricting around him all too well, and your moans— like a honeyed melody out of a perfect symphony, pillowing a scarlet red on his bristling cheeks.

the iudex doesn't need anyone to tell him how it's done— because behind wriothesley's back, there have been plenty encounters before where it had been just the two of you, encircled around each other, deep sighs entering the room as he rounds his heavy arms on your body, murmuring sweet nothing into your ears, his voice lowered and allied with gravel alike, rasping at a clear spot on your brain that was in control of your lascivious drive when you welcome his smoldering touch so helplessly it's almost embarrassing in hindsight.

while now, he sadly cannot have it the way he'd ultimately prefer it to be but that doesn't mean he wasn't enjoying the mess evolving in front of his ocean eyes picking up each of your shivers, storing them into the back of his brain so he could visualize it whenever he might require it.

what neuvillette wouldn't admit to anybody was that he does like seeing you being played with while it's him who has you entered, who has his cock locked deep inside your sweet, dripping cunt. besides, wriothesley does a good job, he has to admit, how you're whining and begging to feel release, or bliss— clenching your arms around the duke's head while he was lapping his tongue around your breast feverently, one hand sneakily finding the other to touch the hot skin while drool fills his mouth at your lewd noises, selfishly sucking more.

it's not all too bad, right? because neuvillette likes what he sees, and at least he can watch at your adorable face changing expressions and listen to your velvety moans rush across the humid embrace of the room, bumbling off the walls and vibrating around his large cock rocking forward, letting his girth roll itself against your wet warmth that he fucks his way into your little entrance with enough motivation that will keep him satiated for days— and at last, he needs to relish in it again, meaning the sounds, those final tunes of you, or the ones of raw skin on skin rippling around you, ultimately making him go faster and faster, better and finer the louder they would get.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[dubina-dawkins]

DEAN WINCHESTER | NSFW HEADCANONS

pairing: dean winchester x fem!reader

warnings/notes: smut! minors dni, oral (m&f receiving), unprotected (done by professionals don't try this at home), p in v, dean is switch, marking kink, praise kink, some dirty talk as well, gentle sex but not vanilla, like LOVEmaking even, just a lot of smutty stuff from my head, english is not my first language sorry if there's some mistakes

REPOSTS WILL BE APPRECIATED

> let's just say. you're different

> it's strange, but somehow dean just couldn't bear a thought of fucking you before all of your relationship thing started

> that "storgy" thing where you were friends for half your life before you started dating

> and even after you did became his girlfriend dean just... was scared to think about something spicy with you?

> until one day he was too tired to care, when your kisses became hotter and he couldn't bring himself to hold back as usual

> like, really too tired. everything that going on is kinda exhausting him. but you're always there to help!

> your first time together? even though dean couldn't hold back anymore, it doesn't mean he was fast and rough

> no, he's one of the gentle kind

> kisses all over your body and very long foreplay

> but at one point you just get tired of these idle kisses and just

> "quit the talking, please"

> man, he's completely screwed at that point

> marking works both ways, actually

> no, really, dean adores the sight of you in his marks. hickeys, lovebites

> it intoxicates him better than any whiskey

> he pays extra attention to your neck. and to your breasts, too

> but sometimes when it sam's turn on doing the laundry, he sees there some of dean's flannels

> and their collars are stained with dark traces of lipstick...

> when dean feels your waxy lips on his skin, he knows it would leave a mark. knows he'll need to shower those off

> but from the way you look at him, when your lipstick is smeared over his lips, cheeks, neck and all the way down

> he'd rather never take a shower to keep these

> your lovebites and nibbles drive him crazy

> to the point he whimpers your name. and you're not even starting!

> scratches too. he gets teased about these. a lot. by nearly anyone who sees them

> he's not intense kind, - not all the time at least

> but it feels too good for you not to leave a mark of your nails on his back

> "did you take the tiger in fight?"

> "sammy, shut it."

> he'd like to do it nearly everywhere, it's just you who keeps him on track

> he'd slip his hands under your jacket the very second you leave witness' house, being in fbi undercover

> "good suit, agent carol kay... seriously, you couldn't come up with a better name?"

> "agent joey kramer says"

> for you the height of extreme is the back seat of the Baby, especially when she's standing at Bobby's

> dean would never admit it, but he's a sucker for you in charge

> you don't need much to get him turned on

> one "good boy" is enough

> and he's so worked out about it

> you tease him, kiss him, touch him, and he already needs to bite on his lip

> especially when you get to his chest. he didn't joke about his nipples being hypersensitive

> there's no words that can describe thst heavenly sound he makes when you tease his sensitive tip, when your fingers work on the entire length

> he whines your name, stroking your hair. his sounds are purely animalistic when you finally take him all in your mouth

> dean's not huge, but he's bigger than average. and it definitely is enough to make you moan his name, sometimes in a really pornographic way

> "please, baby... let me c-"

> "not yet, pretty boy" you whisper, letting his hardened cock put of your mouth with a wet pop

> it's like a tradition. when you two have an extra-time, you prepare each other. you sucking him off, him eating you out. swings of gentle dominance and comfort submission.

> dean, unlike his brother, is not a puppy-look person... but when he's between your thighs, kissing and nibbling on the skin, and his gaze rises to your face, begging to go further..

> then he really looks like an obedient dog.

> extra attention to your clit. sucking, licking, sucking again. dean adores the sounds you make at these

> but most of the time it's just a stress relief after tough hunts

> or when sam goes out to get some food

> quick and needy

> and you fucking adore seeing your always tough man being needy for at least your hand in his hair

> at very least.

a/n: love him. my man. my boy. my everything. god im obsessed, hyperfixated and ovulated. the unlohy trinity.

[helen-with-an-a]

could you possibly do r who's always cold and is always seen or found hugging alessia?

Hiiiiiiii - I hope you enjoy <3<3<3. I know that this is being posted on a Saturday rather than the usual Friday night, but that's because of the Lionesses playing yesterday and yeah.

Body Temperature

Alessia Russo x Reader

Description: R is always cold; good thing Alessia is her personal heater

You and Alessia were polar opposites. You were brunette, with dark, unruly curls that framed your face, often falling into your eyes during an intense game. She was blonde, her straight, golden hair always perfectly tucked behind her ears, never a strand out of place. You were short and muscular, your compact frame built for strength and resilience, the kind of defender who could hold your ground against anyone. She was tall and lanky, her long legs giving her an advantage in speed and reach, allowing her to glide across the field with a grace that seemed effortless.

You were a defender, always on the lookout, analysing every play, ready to intercept and protect your team from any threat. Alessia was a striker, always pushing forward, with a hunger for goals that was insatiable. You were the wall; she was the arrow. Your styles clashed, yet they complemented each other, like two pieces of a puzzle that fit together perfectly on the field.

Off the field, the differences were just as stark. You preferred quiet nights in, curled up with a book or watching a movie, while she thrived in social settings, always surrounded by friends, her laughter the loudest in the room. She was often described as the nicest person you would ever meet, a ray of sunshine that brightened even the gloomiest of days. Her kindness was effortless, her smile contagious, drawing people to her like moths to a flame. You were a little prickly around the edges, often sporting your signature frown, a protective layer that kept the world at bay. You weren’t unfriendly, but you had a way of keeping people at arm’s length, your guarded nature making you seem distant at times. Where Alessia opened her heart freely, you held yours close, only letting a select few see past the exterior. You were permanently cold, always bundling up in layers, seeking out the warmth of a blanket or a hot drink. She was perpetually warm, often walking around in just a T-shirt, her skin always radiating heat like a personal furnace.

You shouldn’t have worked. But you did. She helped guide you out of your comfort zone, coaxing you into experiences you might have otherwise avoided. Alessia had a way of pulling you into her world, where things were bright, vibrant, and full of life. She’d drag you to social gatherings, your hand in hers, reassuring you with a smile that everything would be fine. And somehow, it always was. When you were with her, the noise and chaos of the world felt manageable, even enjoyable. You found yourself laughing more, relaxing into the spontaneity that she brought to your life.

She, in turn, found a quiet refuge in you. Alessia loved how you grounded her, your steady presence a balm to her often hectic life. When the world got too loud, too overwhelming, she would come to you, seeking the comfort of your quiet nights in. You became her safe space, the person she could be completely herself with, without any pretence. In those moments, when it was just the two of you, she didn’t need to be the life of the party. She could be Lessi – not Alessia Russo, just Lessi, your Lessi – cuddled up on the couch with you, your head resting on her shoulder as you both watched a movie in comfortable silence.

Your relationship was a balance of contrasts. She was your warmth, melting the iciness of your reserve, and you were her calm, tempering the fiery energy she carried with her. There was a beautiful synchronicity in how you fit together, your differences creating a bond that was stronger because of them. You would catch her looking at you with that soft, knowing smile of hers, the one that said she saw past your tough exterior to the heart you kept hidden, and it made your chest tighten with a warmth you couldn’t quite put into words.

She had a way of knocking down your walls, bit by bit, with a patience that was as unwavering as her bright smile. It wasn’t that she forced her way in – no, Alessia had a gentler touch than that. It was more like she quietly dismantled your defences, one soft word or teasing joke at a time. She would catch you off guard with a playful nudge, or an unexpected compliment, and before you knew it, those walls you’d spent years building up were crumbling, leaving you exposed in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

The fans had grown to love their broody defender. Your harsh lines and intense stares, once intimidating, had become rather endearing to them. They saw the fire in your eyes, the way you commanded the back line with an unwavering focus that bordered on obsession. But they also saw the softer moments, the way your expression would soften when Alessia was near, how the corners of your mouth would twitch upward in what could almost be called a smile when she whispered something in your ear before a match. It was these glimpses of the real you – the you beneath the tough exterior – that made the fans adore you even more.

You had always been the one they looked to in those tense moments when the game was on the line. Your no-nonsense attitude, your fierce determination, and your refusal to back down from any challenge had made you a fan favourite, even if you didn’t show much emotion on the field. But Alessia brought out something different in you, something softer that only those who paid close attention could see. The way you would glance over at her after a particularly hard tackle, checking to see her reaction, or the way your shoulders would relax just a fraction when she flashed you that bright, reassuring smile from across the pitch.

She was your opposite in so many ways, and yet, in her presence, you found a sense of ease you hadn’t known you needed. The fans noticed it too – how you seemed less broody, less distant, when Alessia was by your side. They loved the dynamic between you, the contrast of her sunshine to your storm, the way she seemed to bring out the best in you without even trying.

Off the pitch, the fans had started to notice the little things – the way you would stand just a bit closer to her during interviews, or how you would share a look that spoke volumes without a single word being said. Social media was full of clips of those moments: Alessia playfully bumping into you, trying to get you to crack a smile, and your eventual, reluctant grin that always seemed to light up your entire face, even if just for a second.

They saw how, despite your tough exterior, you had a soft spot for her. Whether it was the way you held her hand when you thought no one was looking, or how you’d let her drag you into fan interactions that you normally would have avoided, the fans ate it up. They loved seeing this side of you, the side that Alessia had uncovered, and it only made them root for you both even harder.

Alessia had this incredible ability to draw out the warmth in you, to make you feel like it was okay to let your guard down, even in front of the cameras and the fans. And in doing so, she didn’t just knock down your walls – she showed you that it was okay to be seen, to be known, and to be loved for exactly who you were, broody demeanour and all. The fans could see that transformation, and they adored you for it, seeing not just a fierce defender, but a person who had found something, or rather someone, worth opening up for.

And perhaps the most surprising part was how much you had come to appreciate it too. Alessia’s relentless warmth, her light that seemed to shine even in your darkest moments, had done more than just knock down your walls – it had made you believe that maybe, just maybe, you were deserving of all the love that was now coming your way. And that, more than anything, was something you would be eternally grateful for.

It wasn’t until a cold December day when they saw just how different you were since Alessia had entered your life. It was an open training session – the final one before a spell of Champions League and international commitments – fans had come in their droves to see the Arsenal practice, braving the frigid temperatures to catch a glimpse of their favourite players.

You were perpetually cold. It was something you had learned to live with – always bundled up in layers, your hands tucked deep into your pockets, your breath visible in the frigid air. The cold had never really bothered you, or at least, that’s what you told yourself. It was just another discomfort, like an old injury that ached in bad weather, something you endured without complaint.

That day, however, something shifted. The winter chill had settled in, the kind that made your bones ache and your breath hitch in your chest. You were dressed in your usual layers, wrapped up tight against the cold, but somehow, it wasn’t enough. The biting wind cut through you, leaving you shivering on the sidelines as you watched the team’s practice. Normally, you would have toughed it out, gritted your teeth, and pushed through, but Alessia noticed the way you were tensing up, saw the faint blue tinge to your lips.

Without a word, she jogged over to where you stood, her breath forming little puffs of steam in the cold air. She was only in a long-sleeve shirt and shorts, as usual, somehow unaffected by the biting cold. Before you could protest, she peeled off her jacket and draped it over your shoulders, wrapping you up in the warmth she seemed to carry with her everywhere she went.

"Lessi, you’re going to freeze," you protested, trying to shrug off the jacket, but she just shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips.

"I’m fine," she said, her voice soft but firm. "You need it more than I do."

There was a stubbornness in her eyes that you knew all too well, the same look she got when she decided she was going to score no matter what. It was pointless to argue, so you reluctantly pulled the jacket tighter around yourself, feeling the warmth seep into your skin. But it wasn’t just the jacket that made the cold bearable – it was the gesture itself, the way Alessia always seemed to know exactly what you needed, even when you didn’t realise it yourself.

The fans watching from the stands saw the whole exchange, their eyes widening in surprise. They were used to seeing you as the tough, broody defender, the one who never let anything get to you, not even the cold. But here you were, accepting help, letting someone take care of you, and that someone was Alessia. It was such a simple moment, but it spoke volumes about how much you had changed, how much you had softened in her presence

Small interactions like that continued throughout the season. It wasn’t unusual for people to see you wrapping your arms around Alessia prior to warm-ups before matches. It had become almost a ritual – a moment of quiet connection before the chaos of the game. At first, the team teased you both about it, calling it your “pre-game cuddle,” but eventually, it just became part of the routine, another thing that made you and Alessia who you were.

Before the whistles blew and the warmups officially began, you’d find her, no matter where she was on the field. She’d turn toward you, a knowing smile already on her lips, and you’d wrap your arms around her, pulling her close. The warmth of her body against yours was a comfort, a reassurance that, no matter what happened on the pitch, you had each other’s backs. It wasn’t just about the physical warmth anymore – it was about the unspoken bond that had grown between you, the way she calmed the storm that always seemed to be brewing inside you.

The fans loved it. Social media was flooded with pictures and videos of your pre-game embraces, fans commenting on how your relationship had become one of the highlights of the season. They’d post about how your once-intimidating presence had softened, how Alessia’s light seemed to have melted the ice that surrounded you. There were even memes of you two, your broody demeanour contrasted with her sunny disposition, the captions celebrating the way opposites had truly attracted.

And it wasn’t just the fans who noticed. Your teammates did too. They’d smile when they saw you two together, the way you’d linger just a bit longer in each other’s embrace before breaking apart and getting down to business. They saw how Alessia had become your anchor, how her presence made you more focused, more at ease. Even your coach, who was known for being all business, couldn’t help but comment on how your partnership on and off the field had made you a stronger player, a stronger person.

But it wasn’t just about the games or the practices. Those small interactions carried over into your everyday lives. Whether it was Alessia slipping her hand into yours as you walked down the street, or you tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear when you thought no one was watching, there was a quiet intimacy that had become second nature to you both. You’d find yourself waiting for her after training, holding her water bottle or her bag, just so you could walk out together. And she, in turn, made sure you never had to face the cold alone, always finding a way to share her warmth with you, whether it was a quick hug or a gentle squeeze of your hand.

As the season progressed, your bond only grew stronger. You started to see Alessia as more than just your girlfriend; she was your partner in every sense of the word. She was there for you after tough matches, when the weight of a loss threatened to pull you under, her voice soothing you, reminding you that you were never alone. And you were there for her, cheering her on after every goal, celebrating her victories as if they were your own, because in a way, they were.

The team had come to rely on your connection too. They saw how you two balanced each other, how your differences made you a better unit, both on and off the field. You weren’t just the broody defender anymore – you were part of something bigger, something that made you proud in a way you hadn’t anticipated. Alessia had shown you that vulnerability wasn’t a weakness, and you, in turn, had given her a sense of stability, a grounding force that she hadn’t realised she needed.

By the end of the season, it was clear to everyone that you and Alessia were more than just a couple. You were a team within the team, a partnership that had strengthened not just your bond, but the bond of everyone around you. And as you looked forward to what the future held, you knew one thing for sure: no matter where life took you, as long as you had Alessia by your side, you could face anything. Together, you had found something rare and beautiful, a love that was as strong as it was gentle, and that, more than anything, was what made you truly unstoppable.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 2

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

Bashing of like...every IC member? I think Rhys gets the worst though, kinda depression?, isolation, Cassian is an idiot, slut-shaming?, discussion of SA

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

Azriel kept showing up. 

And Zahra kept letting him in. 

She had no fucking clue what possessed her. 

And yet every time Azriel showed up at her doorstep…she let him in without protest. 

He always brought food or he cooked. Always something to eat. And he always stayed until she had consumed an entire serving in front of her. 

She should tell him to stop. She should tell him to leave her alone.

But Zahra never said a word. 

Zahra couldn’t manage that. 

It wasn’t like she had had many private conversations with Azriel before. And she did get t to see a side of him that…she never seen before. The kind, gentle side with a biting sense of humour. She could be as bitter and cutting with him as she wanted to be and he gave back just as sharply…but it never got personal. They never hurt each other.

And she got to know him. Not the spymaster, not Rhysand’s most trusted spy….but Azriel. The male. Not the Illyrian warrior, not the fae…but just him. as a person. Azriel who loved good food and good books. Azriel who smiled and who was gentle and kind…and coaxed mice back outside with never-ending patience. 

It was strange, how easy it was to talk to him. How easy and relaxed it felt to spend time with him. How natural it was that he was there. 

As if it had always been the two of them cooking together. 

She shouldn’t get too used to it. It wasn’t going to last. Zahra knew it wouldn’t. But she allowed herself to bask in it. Just for a little bit longer. 

Bask in the feeling of…having at least one person in this new life that…dare she say it? Was like a friend to her.

A friend. When was the last time she had had one of those? 

She didn’t want to think about that.

Just like she didn’t want to think about it, when Azriel started showing up earlier, reports in hand and joined her in working at the rickety old kitchen table.

Zahra worked on the ledgers, sorting through the numbers. And he sat right across from her, reading through his reports, quietly sipping his tea. 

(He had brought better tea with him.)

Zahra had thought that he would annoy her… but they were utterly content with ignoring each other for hours at a time. No need for words or unnecessary conversation. Just the comfortable silence of each other’s presence. It was oddly…pleasant. 

And somehow his presence…it lit something inside her. When she dropped off the account ledgers the next time, she made a quick detour to a cheap antique store just a few doors down.

Zahra browsed through the shelves on the inside. 

It was a tiny shop, filled up to the brim with old stuff and odd trinkets from the past. And then she found something that made her pause. 

An absolutely ugly, oversized armchair with the most horrible plaid pattern…but it looked like it was made for wings. The one chair in her kitchen worked for Azriel because the back was narrow enough to slot through the middle of his wings, while the one she preferred wouldn’t have worked in a million years…but the couch she had…that was another story. No way that couch was comfortable for him. 

But this armchair….

It was perfect, if you were willing to overlook the absolutely hideous pattern. But Zahra kind of grew to like it with each second that passed. So she pulled on her best haggling skills and bought that monstrosity. 

And then Zahra had the seething hot realisation that she needed to get it home somehow. She felt a tug at the hem of her skirt and stared down to find a tendril of shadows tugging at her.

One of Azriel’s. She just knew it.

The same shadows that liked prowling through her rooms and pruning the sad basil plant on her windowsill… She was also quite sure that they had started to oil the hinges on her door, but she hadn’t yet caught them in the act.

“You don’t to be able to bring that home for me, do you?” She asked them drily. The shadows coiled in a way that made her assume that they were laughing at her. Or at least having fun. It was honestly hard to tell. But another tendril popped into existence as if to say ‚Yes, I can do that!‘ 

A moment later, the chair had disappeared.

Zahra just hoped it actually had been Azriel’s shadows and not another bunch that liked stealing stuff. The thought that she had just given a chair away to some random shadows for free was a slightly concerning one. Oh well. Hopefully, it would arrive at her house soon enough and not at some random place. She had just paid for a pretty decent sum of money for that monstrosity after all. 

She bought other stuff too. Like actual spices, so Azriel wouldn't need to keep bringing all of that with him every time...another couple of plates...A blanket for the living room...

She didn’t even know what possessed her to do that. It was like something inside of her just…woke back up again. She had been dead in more ways than one. But Azriel was slowly coaxing her back to life. 

She felt more alive than she’d done in a long time. She could actually feel her heart beating. Her blood rushing in her veins. She could…feel again. And it was such an odd sensation. 

To her surprise, the armchair stood in the middle of her living room when Zahra arrived home.

A little shadow wrapped itself around her wrist as she gaped at the monstrosity sitting in her living room. The shadow seemed proud of itself.

"Thank you," Zara said politely and the shadow ruffled up as it preened. It was honestly kind of cute. And it was odd to see it like this. A small little bit of…personality. So different from what she’d always thought the shadows would be like. 

Then the shadow disappeared again and she was left with…the armchair. Which was now placed right in the middle of her living room.

Damn it. She forgot about how absolutely ugly it was. 

But oh well. It fit right in with some of the flaking of paint in the rest of her house...and the rotting floorboards in one corner.

At least that armchair was comfortable. She had to admit it. There was something oddly charming about that ugly old chair. 

She sighed, ignoring the chair for the moment as she organised her spices in the kitchen and then went back to work.

Azriel showed up in the evening that day, blinking twice at the chair.

“Where’d you get that eyesore?” he simply asked in greeting. 

"Antique shop," Zahra gave back drily. "And I bought it for your wings, thank you very much."

That made him blink in surprise. "For my wings?" he echoed and his eyebrows shot up.  "You bought an armchair for me?" 

There was something about the absolute surprise in his voice that made her want to laugh. "Yes, I did, Shadowsinger," she confirmed. "And just for you, I will ignore that horrendous plaid pattern that is covering every inch of that hideous thing." 

His lips curved into a smile, something like fond amusement playing in his eyes. "What a kind thing of you," he returned with equal amounts of dryness. "To give me such a wonderful eyesore to keep my wings company." 

He dropped down into the chair and she had to admit that it was perfect for his wings. They slotted through the gap in the back and seat without problem and he looked like he melted into the cushions. 

"It may be the ugliest thing I have ever seen, but it is the most comfortable too," he admitted with a sigh.

A small smirk edged up her lips. "I know," she simply said. "So you are stuck with it now. Consider it as a present for all the food that you give me." 

He snorted in amusement.

His head dropped back and he looked up at her, his hazel eyes glinting in the dim light. His wings were flared all over the back of that chair and she couldn’t help but notice how damn huge they were. 

He was big. She knew he was, of course, but it was easy to forget when she saw him next to Cassian. But Azriel was broad and muscular all on his own…and his wings flared all over her living room really emphasised it. 

And for some damn reason, she had the sudden mental image of his wings wrapped around her. The thought was absolutely ludicrous and completely inappropriate. 

She firmly squashed the mental image and instead just focused on the fact that Azriel was still looking at her through half-lidded eyes. There was an amused, almost fond smirk on his lips. 

"Where do I get paint from?" she blurted out.

That made his eyebrows raise. "Paint? Why do you need paint?" he inquired as he sat forward and his wings folded back against his body. 

"I should probably do something against the flaking-off paint around here," she admitted with a shrug.

He pursed his lips in thought. “And I assume you’ll try to do this all by yourself.” That wasn’t a question. He sounded pretty damn certain what her answer would be. 

"Have you talked to your landlord?" he asked her. "Are you allowed to do that? I mean, whoever it is is probably going to be happy that you do something...to stop this whole house from falling apart, but still.” 

She rolled her eyes at him. "You know, this house is mine," she gave back drily. "I can do whatever I want with it."

Azriel’s brows shot up at that, an amused surprise in his eyes. “You own this place?” he echoed, clearly not having expected that. 

"I won it in a game of cards," she admitted drily. "The guy I won it from inherited it and wanted to get rid of it. Nobody wants it because it's out of the way, but I like it."

Her one and only time in a tavern had left her with the house. She should probably consider that beginner’s luck. 

“You won it in a game of cards…?” he repeated again, a note of genuine surprise in his voice. “Are you joking?” 

Her lips curled into a smirk. “Nope,” she said with great amusement. “Nine men's morris to be exact. The idiot lost it fair and square.” 

He was looking at her in a sort of disbelief, yet there was something like respect in his eyes. “Remind me never to play cards with you,” he said drily. 

She just shrugged. "It was just once," Zahra said with a sigh. "I went to one of the taverns...decided to get utterly wasted," she snorted. "I don't think becoming an alcoholic is for me, because I spent 3 days afterwards throwing up."

“The hangover must’ve been brutal,” Azriel commented dryly. "So you won a house in a game of cards."

She just gave a nod. “Pretty much, as ridiculous as it sounds. I do think it needs some paint though."

Azriel just snorted. "I think it needs more than paint," he said drily. "It probably needs to be demolished and built up again."

“It’s not that bad,” she protested, but even to her, that sounded weak. The place was a dump. It was a literal dump. "It has character," Zahra said, her resolve growing. "Just because it's a little broken, doesn't make it garbage," she whispered.

There was something sad in her voice and Azriel just looked at her, a certain quiet understanding in his eyes. And she cursed him inwardly, because he saw too much. 

He always saw too much. Saw through her defences and the walls that she’d built up. 

"You are right," he agreed. "It's a little bit broken. But I am sure can be fixed."

A sharp pang flared up in her chest at his words, as if that gentle acceptance and quiet understanding from him hurt. She pushed it down, refusing to examine the feeling too closely. 

"And there a few different shops in Velaris that sell...paint...and other...things to...improve a house."

"You mean to stop it from falling down onto my head?" she asked him wryly

“Exactly,” he responded with an amused smile as he folded his wings again. “And stop the drafty windows from letting in a constant, cold breeze.” 

Damn it…she had been hoping he hadn’t noticed that. But of course, he had, because he was observant. Far too observant. 

“And you know, maybe put in a proper lock at the door,” he continued drily. “And fix the leaking tap in the bathroom…”

Zahra rolled her eyes at that. “I like that dripping sound, it’s very melodic,” she said with sarcasm drizzling from her voice. 

It made him chuckle lowly. The shadows around him rippled and coiled in response to their master’s amusement.  “You have a strange concept of melodious sound, if you find dripping water to be in any way pleasing,” he told her drily. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, should I be swooning over the sound of a harp or the violin?” she rebutted with a sharp little snort. 

“Not necessarily,” Azriel replied with an amused smirk. “Any other sound would be better than that constant drip…Though I have been known to enjoy the symphony on occasion," he admitted to her. "Or even some of the taverns."

A snort of laughter left her lips at that, despite herself. “I can’t imagine you in a tavern,” she told him honestly. 

He shot her a dry look at that. “Why not?” he asked, raising a single eyebrow at her. 

“It just doesn’t fit,” she gave back bluntly. “You in your leathers, standing in the middle of rowdy drunks. Just seems so odd.” 

He rolled his eyes at that. “I know how to dress down,” he rebuked her drily. “And I also know how to blend in.” 

“You’d stick out like a sore thumb, even if you wore absolutely normal clothes,” she retorted. “Your muscles betray you, Shadowsinger.” 

He huffed at that and then leaned back into the armchair, arms folded. “Now you’re just being insulting,” he groused and she snorted. 

“Oh, did your ego get bruised, Shadowsinger? How terrible,” Zahra dead-panned, making him roll his eyes again. 

"Let's just see if I bother making dessert, for you if you continue that," he groused at her. "I got all the makings of caramel pudding."

“What?! No, wait.” She leaned forward, something like panic on her face. “You cannot dangle that in front of me and then not give in! I even bought you an armchair!" she told him, making him snort.

“It’s a hideous armchair,” he pointed out with a smirk on his lips. “You really think it’s a gift?” 

“Hey! You agreed that it was comfortable,” she protested. “And you can’t deny that your wings like it too.” 

He snorted as he stood up and walked into her kitchen.

She did get caramel pudding in the end. Of course, she did. Even Azriel wasn’t immune to some good old puppy eyes. 

***

Zahra bought him a chair. He wasn't quite sure what to do with that knowledge. 

The fact that she had thought of him enough to buy one for him…it was something he was still trying to process in his mind. 

With the idea that she had spent her own money not on something to make herself uncomfortable...with the fact that her own bed was a mattress on the floor...but she had made sure that the next major piece of furniture she bought hadn't been a proper bed...but instead an armchair for him.

The fact that she had deliberately put his comfort above her own…yeah, he still didn’t know what to do with that information. 

He also didn't know what to do with the information that he actually...he actually really liked her.

Maybe it had been there since the beginning and he just hadn’t noticed it. But the more time he spent with her, more she made him laugh or argue or just…talk. The more he started to like her and appreciate her company. 

She was quick-witted and smart...and so quick to bloom if anybody paid her any attention. And when it was just the two of them at her house...well, then it was...it was so easy. So comfortable.

He forgot to remember to make sure to not give her any reason to be scared of him because she never was. She didn't even blink twice if he came home with the carcass of a deer slung over his shoulder, only cleaned off the table so that she could help strip it.

She asked questions about what he was doing and genuinely seemed interested. Never judged or looked at him weirdly, because she just seemed to get it. Just took him being the spymaster in stride, because that was who he was. Accepted it almost like she accepted his shadows.

He didn't think he would even need to hide the blood that coated his hands, because Zahra didn't seem to care one way or another.

She didn’t even ask him where he had been during the day or what he did. She just accepted the blood and dirt that came with it. 

And quite frankly…if he did his work at her dining table or locked into his room at the House of Wind…who cared?

That dilapidated cottage at least had better company than his own brooding one.

And it never felt felt he was intruding on Zahra when she used him as free labour for whatever redecorating she was doing that day.

They replaced the floorboards…he helped paint the door…

In fact, he was willingly going to her house every night, like it was the most normal thing in the world to do. It probably wasn’t, but he didn’t care. Every evening, when Azriel was done with his duties, he simply dropped into her house. 

They cooked together. Illyrian recipes that he knew…then some that he didn’t know that he had asked his mother for, who had answered into a sprawling letter…recipes that Zahra knew from her human years…and then he brought a cookbook from the library in the House Of Wind and they did that too.

The one thing the two of them did agree on though, was that no dinner was complete without dessert.

They both had a horrible sweet tooth.

Unspokenly, Zahra was the one who lit the fire of the fireplace and the oven…who put food in the oven and pulled it out again.

Zahra didn’t say a word about it. She just did it.

He didn’t even think about who was doing what if he was being honest. He just enjoyed having a shared dinner and the easy conversations that were taking place. It became as routine as breathing, just being in her house and spending the evening with her. 

He tended to linger too. Kept staying with her. So that he doesn’t need to return to the House of Wind, try and fail to sleep and listen to Cassian’s and Nesta's enthusiastic lovemaking.

That was why he stayed. He really needed to avoid the lovebirds at all costs, because they were…just too damn loud. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so damn annoying. 

“If you want and ruin your back on my couch, be my guest,” Zahra said one evening and he froze, staring at her.

She had gained some weight. It looked good on her. No longer a back of skin and bones as she had been, but her cheeks were fuller, Her clothing filled out more.

His gaze briefly flicked up to the couch and the frown on his face grew. “Honestly, that thing is probably the worst place to sleep,” he muttered. “But…I think I prefer it over listening to my brother and his mate going at it.” 

“Nice,” Zahra said with a snort, seemingly unbothered by the comment. “Seems like they know what it means to respect your need for sleep.”

Azriel snorted at that too. “Not quite,” he retorted with dry amusement. “They just don’t care.” It was the damn truth. Cassian and Nesta didn’t even bother putting up any kind of noise-mutting spell to spare his already poor sleep. 

Still…if he stayed there…” Aren’t you worried that I…” he trailed off.

“What? Ravish me?” Zahra drawled. “You had every chance at it for weeks and you haven’t touched me. So no, not really, Azriel.”

“I simply don't want to overstep my boundaries,” he found himself saying quietly. "I wouldn’t force myself on you," he continued with a quiet severity in his voice. "Not ever." I am not a brute," he added firmly. 

“Oh trust me, I don’t think you're a brute,” Zahra told him dryly. “If you wanted to force yourself on me, then you would have done it weeks ago.” 

He nearly flinched at the matter-of-fact way she said that. 

“I would never do that,” he choked out. 

“You are a good man,” Zara said quietly.

Something in his chest flared at that. A mix of shame and guilt, because he was so far away from being a good man. “I don’t want to give you any reason to fear me,” he said quietly, the words tumbling out of him before he could even stop them. 

Her expression softened at that and he held his breath. His shadows coiled, as if they were holding their inhale as well, waiting for her response. 

“It’s funny…” she began quietly and he had to forcibly keep himself from leaning in. “You have never given me a reason. Never.” He blinked at that, a small sense of surprise flaring up in his chest. 

“I…have never once been scared of you,” she told him bluntly and he stared at her incredulously. Because how could she ever say that? How could anyone not be scared of the spymaster of the Night Court? The male who was rumoured to be the spawn of nightmares and death? 

“Don’t look so surprised,” she deadpanned at the sight of his undoubtedly shocked face. “Honestly, you’re the biggest softie I’ve ever met.” 

“I am not a softie,” he protested with a sharp frown on his face. “I am a literal Shadowsinger. I am anything but soft.” He told her firmly. 

“Sure…” she said with a sarcastic roll of her eyes, clearly not believing a word he said. “You are a terrifying man for sure, Shadowsinger.” He bristled at her cheeky tone. “That’s why you come over here every night and feed me.”

“I-” he paused, not knowing what to rebut with that statement. It was true. He came over every, single night to share dinner with her, to…just spend time with her. 

Zahra just laughed, patting his cheek and then disappeared into her bedroom. “Good Night!”

Azriel let out a long breath and just shook his head at her retreating back. Sometimes he had no idea what to do with her.

But he also couldn’t resist the smile that tugged on his lips and he moved over to the couch, curling up on it and trying to make himself comfortable as much as possible. 

Even when it was a far cry from a massive bed in the House of Wind…it was the best night of sleep he had in ages.

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he fell asleep fairly quickly. And even his shadows seemed to rest easy, coiling around his body and the couch like a cocoon. 

And for the first time in a long time, his dreams weren’t plagued by nightmares. 

He was awake before dawn, stocking up the fireplace and moving silently across the cottage so that Zahra could still sleep a few hours.

And then he winnowed to the House of Wind for a quick breakfast. He was out there preparing the training rings before anybody else.

It also meant that the shadows were happily trembling around him.

Which was good, because he still had a question to ask them.

“How high are the chances that you cheated at cards so that Zahra would get that house?” He asked the shadows drily.

There was a tendril of shadows assigned to each family member. Only so that Azriel would know where they were at every given moment. He never asked the shadows for more, he respected everybody’s privacy as well as he could…but…But this hadn’t let him go for weeks.

No answer.

He hadn’t expected one.

“Of course,” he said with a sigh. “You like her.” It wasn’t a question.

We do! The shadows answered brightly. She treats Master well!

His lips curled up into a slight smirk at that. They were right. She did treat him well. She never treated him like an intimidating male…she just treated him like any other person. With respect. With kindness. 

Teasing him.

He chuckled to himself at the memories of her teasing him, the way they bickered as if that was the most usual thing in the world. 

She isn’t scared of us like the other ones, the shadows whispered softly.

It was clear who they meant with that comment. Elain and Mor both. Zahra seemed to find the shadows more fascinating than anything. Talking to them even sometimes. In response, the shadows doted on her. Happy for once not to be ignored and outright feared.

He hummed his agreement at that. She wasn't scared of them…and they were growing quite fond of her. Which…he wasn't quite sure how he felt about that. 

She’s pretty too, Master, the shadows commented quietly.

Azriel paused in his work at those words. Yes, she was pretty. With her tawny skin and dark brown hair…and green eyes….Her skin seemed to bloom with health. The way her body had filled out, her hips gaining more curves, her face getting softer. 

Though it did surprise him that the shadows made that comment. They had never done something similar about any other female…even females he had bedded.

That was certainly a surprise. He had to pause and think about it for a few moments. The shadows had never made any sort of comment like that on another female. On any female in fact. Yet they thought her pretty. That…was a thought he filed away for later. 

She doesn’t have a mate either…she’s free of…romantic entanglements, the shadows continued quietly. If you wanted her….

He froze at that. “Are you trying to convince me to pursue her?” He spoke out loud to the shadows. 

You like her. She would make you happy, the shadows responded. What’s the harm? 

“There is no harm,” he mumbled to them quietly, his fingers curling tighter around the handle of the spear that he was holding. “Nothing except that she would likely not be interested.” 

And he was done with that. Done with being turned down. Done with never being a choice.

If he just stayed her friend…he got to spend time with her…he got to listen to her laughs and giggles. He got to be treated by her with kindness and respect. Why destroy that?

It would be cruel and selfish to ruin the friendship he had gained by trying to turn that into anything else. She trusted him. She treated him like a person. And he wanted to keep it like that. 

And Zahra deserved better than him still being half hung up over Elain. Her sister.

Though to be quite honest…he had let that go. Elain had chosen Lucien and that was that. Azriel was more pissed off about how Rhysand was treating him than anything.

Though he never showed it, he was quietly furious at how Rhysand was treating him. After he had agreed to back off…he had hoped Rhysand would stop acting like an overprotective mother hen. 

He didn't.

And then Mor's Mating Bond with Emerie had snapped and apparently that meant that Rhys was now waiting for Azriel to have a meltdown.

Which he wasn't going to have, thank you very much.

He could think that how Mor had treated him had been utterly unfair...and he could still wish her nothing but the best.

The only thing that he had wished for had been a single conversation with his friend. But she didn't seem to want to have that and so Azriel hadn't pushed. Maybe it was better that way.

It was better that way, he was sure of that. The…closeness they had once shared was gone. Maybe forever. But he was more or less alright with that.

They could all leave him in peace and he would do the same for them.

He made that calculation without Cassian, who came bounding into the training ring with all the energy that Azriel was never quite sure where his brother got it from.

He had barely even put down his spear that Cassian bounded into the training rings, his face split into a broad grin. It was clear that his…morning activities with Nesta had been enjoyable as usual. 

“There you are,” Cassian said with a boisterous grin, clearly not noticing the rather sour mood that Azriel was in. “You look....surprisingly well rested," Cassian said, cocking his head to the side.

“I slept well,” Azriel answered simply, pointedly avoiding eye contact with his brother. He knew damn well what Cassian was going to be asking. 

“You slept well,” Cassian repeated, drawing out every word and making it clear that he was not going to let that go. “Care to specify where?” He asked point blank and Azriel’s jaw tensed. 

Azriel could not suppress the low growl that came from him at that. He was not in the mood to be teased by his brother. And he was also not in the mood to listen to another innuendo-filled conversation about Cassian and Nesta’s sex life. 

“Not one word about that,” he told his brother firmly and Cassian just laughed. 

“Oh come one.” He drawled. “I have to get my fun somewhere. Everyone else is mated already. I have to bother someone!” 

It wasn't supposed to hurt him. He didn't think so. But it still did. It cut. Sharp and deep.

The words cut deep, much deeper than Azriel would have wanted to admit. His jaw tensed and his hand clenched around the spear so hard that it might have creaked. He knew it was a joke…but it didn’t change the fact that it had stung. 

And Cassian didn't seem to notice that at all. "Come on, give me details!"

“There are no details to be given,” Azriel said simply, his voice carefully neutral. “Just because I am not spending the night and listening to the two of you going at it like rabbits, does not mean I have someone in my bedroom.” The words were harsher than he had intended. 

“Don’t tell me you do it in some grimy back alley with a random wench?” His brother teased him and Azriel’s temper flared. The Shadows curled and snarled around him, his temper snapping. 

“I would thank you for not speaking about females that way, and no I am not ‘doing it in a back alley’”, he retorted with a low growl in his voice.  “You should stop talking before you piss me off,” he warned his brother through gritted teeth.  It took all his willpower to make sure that no shadows lashed out. This was Cassian. His brother. 

“Whoa whoa whoa,” Cassian raised his hands, clearly seeing how his words had affected his brother. “I was only teasing. You can be so damn tense about some things. You need to relax,” he said and Azriel had to resist the very real urge to throttle him. 

[heohl-art]

I DREAMT THIS (and I HAD TO draw it and share it with the world😭✨)! Get ready to C-R-Y!

• Sleep Dearie Sleep, 1916 •

I'm ✨SO PROUD✨ of this one!😭🩷

Attention: ANGST!

World War I.

Anthony J. Crowley leaves to fight in France. After a year, he is wounded and ends up in the infirmary. There he meets the field doctor Aziraphale Fell, who heals his wounds and somehow manages to warm his heart. He falls in love with him, but he's unable to tell him anything. So, every night in the trenches - when it rains water, fire or mud - he writes letters. Letters and letters that will never arrive.

The war becomes more and more violent, as do his feelings. He steals Aziraphale's fountain pen, then his photograph from the infirmary tent. He puts it in his wallet, to keep it close to his heart.

Each day he advances on the battlefield, he vows to deliver those letters to Aziraphale's caring and gentle hands, but each time he returns, he fails to keep his oath.

One day, the last time he sees the sun touch the ground, he loses his life. In his last moments, the only thing he cares about is not letting blood stain Aziraphale's photograph.

The last thing he sees, just before drifting off to eternal sleep, is Aziraphale's smile.

Two days later, a corporal reaches the medical tent and hands Aziraphale Crowley's last item.

Crowley always thought his love was unrequited, but Aziraphale fell in love with him too, a year earlier, the first time he saw Crowley, playing with a stray kitten and a tender smile.

🩷

That's what happens when I rewatch 1917, War Horse and All Quiet on the Western Front all in one day.

(I had this dream, it was so vivid, I HAD TO put into an artwork. I have no regrets✨)

Bonus: ✨details✨

1. Crowley stole Aziraphale's fountain pen (it has his surname engraved) to write him letters.

2. He keep those letters into his wallet, close to his heart.

3.He also stole Aziraphale's photograph (it's the last thing he saw).

4. Once it's returned to him (together with the letters) Aziraphale sees behind his photo, Crowley's last promise. The one he couldn't keep.

5. Crowley always thought his love was one-sided.

6. But Aziraphale actually fell for him first, after seeing him playing with a cat, a long time before.

✨

HERE THE FULL LETTER💌✨:

Nov 2, 1916

My dear Angel,

As I sit here in the cold embrace of this ditch, the distant echoes of battle remind me of how fleeting moments are. Each day feels like a cruel gift, and yet your sight warms me against the chill. I find solace in thoughts of your gentle hards, the way they skillfully mend wounds while my heart aches for a different kind of healing.

You may never know the depth of my devotion admiration, how your laughter dances through my mind like sunlight breaking through storm clouds.

In this world torn apart by war, you are a fragile thread connecting me to something beautiful.

Should fate be unkind and silence fall upon me, remember that affect friendshi love can bloom even in the darkest fields.

If I do not return today, carry with you the knowledge that you were my light amidst shadows, a truth I cherished silently but deeply.

Yours always,

Anthony

[shdysders]

a cold table II

pairing: vada cavell & female reader

summary: in which vada deals with the consequences of actions she barely remembers performing.

word count: 5.9k

author’s note: this is the first imagine i ever actually planned to write a part two for.

You didn't show up to school the next day.

Vada had woken up to a pounding headache and an uneasy feeling in her gut, remnants of last night's reckless decisions swirling in her mind.

The dim light filtering through her curtains had felt like daggers against her eyelids, and she winced as she recalled fragments of the evening—smoke-filled laughter, Mia's playful teasing, and that moment when everything blurred into a haze.

The first thing she did was open up her phone, hoping to find a familiar good morning message from you, like you always sent.

Instead, all she found were old messages from yesterday that she didn't remember receiving.

You had asked where she was, if she was coming home soon, and reminded her that you loved her.

There was also a message from her mother, ordering her to go to school and stating that she didn't care how much fun Vada had the night before.

And the last part threw Vada off guard; her mother didn't know about Mia or that she had spent most of her evenings with her.

What was she getting at?

For a second she just laid there, the pounding in her head mirroring the whirlwind in her thoughts.

Flashes of the night before invaded her mind—giggling with Mia, the thrill of sneaking away, the haze of smoke, and the way everything spun around her.

Each memory felt like a dagger, twisting deeper as the weight of her actions settled heavily on her chest.

What had she been thinking?

She had always prided herself on being honest and loyal, and yet, here she was—betraying you in the worst way possible.

A glance at her phone brought no comfort. The screen flickered to life with your unanswered messages.

where are you?

are you coming home soon?

i love you.

Her stomach twisted at the thought of you, probably worried and upset, wondering why she hadn't answered. The idea made the heaviness in her chest even more suffocating.

She had to talk to you, but what would she even say? How could she explain what had happened without sounding like a fool?

Would you even want to hear her side? How could she make you understand what she barely remembered herself?

But the more she thought about it, the clearer those memories became. Each flashback hit her harder than the last—the laughter, the reckless decisions, and then Mia.

She had crossed a line, one she never thought she'd cross, and now the shame of it burned in her gut. The realization of what she'd done twisted her insides, making her feel sick.

Vada knew she hadn't been the nicest to you lately.

She had pushed you away more times than she could count, snapping at you when you were only trying to help.

But in her mind, you understood. After everything she'd been through, it felt like she had a free pass to be rude, to shut you out whenever the weight of her emotions got too heavy. You were patient, and she thought you'd always stay.

Now, Vada could picture your face in front of her before she even told you. The hurt, the confusion, the way your eyes would search hers for an explanation she didn't have. It made her stomach turn, imagining the disappointment you'd feel once you knew what she'd done.

Vada felt the panic creeping up again, thinking about how she'd have to come clean. How she'd have to tell you something she could barely admit to herself.

With a deep breath, she rolled over and forced herself out of bed, her legs shaky as if the weight of what she'd done was pulling her down.

She had no choice but to face the day, to face what she had done no matter how much she wanted to hide.

Going to school was unavoidable—especially if she had any hope of seeing you. She needed to talk to you, to explain, to somehow piece together the mess she had made.

She didn't know how she would do it, but she had to try. Seeing you was the only way forward, even if it terrified her.

___

As Vada walked into school, the usual hum of morning chatter felt distant, like it was coming from another world she wasn't a part of.

She kept her head down, her feet moving automatically down the familiar halls, but nothing about today felt right. Her nerves were buzzing, a constant reminder of the mess she'd created.

Mia wasn't here. She wouldn't be for a while—her dads had given her the option to switch to online school, something Mia had been all too eager to take. Vada couldn't help but feel a little jealous; Mia got to avoid all of it.

But you weren't there either.

Vada stopped by your locker, her eyes scanning the hallway, hoping to see your familiar face among the crowd. But there was nothing. No sign of you. Anxiety twisted in her chest, tight and unforgiving. You were always here by now. Where were you?

The absence of both you and Mia only made the weight of everything heavier, sinking deeper into her gut. You had to be here somewhere, right? Maybe you were just late... Or maybe you'd heard something. Maybe you didn't want to face her either.

The thought made her stomach churn even more. She'd been holding onto the slim hope that talking to you would help her make sense of what happened, but now, with you gone, all she had were her racing thoughts.

Vada stood there for a moment, frozen. Everything around her moved in a blur, but inside, she was stuck, unsure what to do next.

She was so deep in her own thoughts that she didn't even notice Nick coming up behind her until he practically jumped into her space.

"Vada!" His voice made her jump, her heart pounding from the suddenness of it. She whipped around to find him grinning, clearly amused by her reaction.

"Fuck," she groaned, clutching her chest, "Could you not?"

"Sorry, sorry," he said, holding his hands up, though the smirk on his face said otherwise. "Just thought I'd say hi since, you know, I didn't see you at all yesterday. Figured you were busy."

Vada blinked, her mind still trying to catch up. "Yesterday?" she repeated, her brow furrowing as she tried to recall what he was talking about. She hadn't been at school, sure, but what did that have to do with anything?

Nick nodded, clearly expecting her to pick up on something she wasn't. When she didn't, his expression shifted slightly, and he glanced away like he was trying to think of a way to backtrack.

"Yeah, you know," he shrugged, scratching the back of his neck as he muttered, "Thought you had some plans or something. So, uh, how was... you know, whatever you were up to?"

Vada felt a flicker of confusion, but she brushed it off. There was no way Nick could know she'd been with Mia last night.

Her head was already pounding with everything else, and she wasn't ready to unpack whatever Nick was hinting at.

Vada hesitated, her mind blank. The truth of what she'd actually been doing last night was a tangled mess she wasn't about to dive into with Nick. Not here, not now.

"It was... fine," she said, trying to sound casual, though even she could hear the strain in her voice. Her stomach twisted at the thought of what really happened.

Nick seemed to sense the shift, his smile fading just a little. "You good?"

Vada forced a shrug, not wanting to get into everything. "Yeah, just... tired, I guess."

Nick gave her a knowing look. "Right. Late night?"

She nodded, not offering much more. "Something like that."

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, his tone casual but curious. "So... you did have fun?"

At first, Vada didn't catch the weight of his question. She glanced over at him, squinting slightly. "What do you mean?"

Nick blinked, caught off guard. "You know... last night? Thought maybe you were out doing something special."

The confusion on Vada's face was clear now, and Nick quickly backtracked, not wanting to press further. "Ah, forget it. I probably got the wrong idea," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Maybe it was nothing."

Vada frowned, her stomach knotting up tighter. What was he talking about?

Her thoughts kept drifting back to you as they began moving through the crowded hallway, her phone in hand, checking for any messages that weren't there. You were always the first to text in the morning, but today, there was nothing.

"Hey, uh," she began, glancing up at Nick, "Do you know where Y/n is? Is she sick or something? She didn't text me."

Nick frowned slightly, his confusion deepening. "Wait, she didn't text you?"

Vada shook her head, pulling her phone out and glancing at the empty screen as if it might somehow change. "Yeah, nothing."

He scratched the back of his head, clearly thrown off. "Weird. I thought you guys were, like, together yesterday."

Vada's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean together?"

Nick hesitated, his eyes flicking between her and the hallway ahead. "I don't know, I just assumed. You guys are always together. Figured she'd be with you or something. Guess I got it wrong."

Vada felt her chest tighten. There was something about the way Nick said it that left her even more uneasy. He didn't seem to be making sense, and the idea that you could've been anywhere near her last night without her remembering hit her like a wave of panic.

"Oh," she muttered, trying to brush it off, "Yeah, no, I haven't seen her."

Nick glanced at her, his confusion lingering, but he didn't press it further. The silence stretched between them as they continued down the hall, but Vada's mind was spinning. If Nick thought you had been with her... then what had she forgotten?

"I wouldn't worry too much. She'll probably show up." Nick added, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah," Vada muttered, but her mind was racing with worry. What if something had happened? Or worse, what if you knew about it? About what she'd done.

Before the class started and the teacher began talking, Vada quickly pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed out a message to you.

sorry i didn't answer yesterday. i'm at school rn though. are you not coming?

She stared at the screen for a moment, her thumb hovering over the send button before finally pressing it.

By the time she got home, she found herself curled up on the couch in her family's living room, her phone still in her hand. Throughout the day, she had sent you a few more messages, each one more desperate than the last.

are you sick?

or are you sleeping?

why aren't you answering?

i'm really sorry for not texting you back. please talk to me.

do you want me to come over?

Her fingers hovered over the screen, the guilt gnawing at her. She kept typing out new messages, only to delete them again, unsure of what else she could say. Nothing felt like enough, and the silence on your end was only making things worse.

At first, when you didn't answer in the morning, Vada had convinced herself that you were just asleep, hoping that was the reason for your silence.

But now, with the time creeping closer to four o'clock, that thought wasn't offering much comfort anymore. Her hope was fading fast, replaced by a gnawing pit of anxiety that only seemed to grow with each passing hour.

Finally, she typed out one last message, her heart racing as she pressed send.

have you heard anything?

It was vague, but it was all she could manage. She didn't want to admit the fear that had settled in—fear that you might have heard something about her night with Mia.

She didn't even know from whom you could have possibly heard it, but the thought of you being upset gnawed at her.

The TV flickered to life in the background, the news anchor's voice blending into a monotonous hum as he rambled on about the weather.

Vada barely registered his words; her mind was elsewhere. She had tuned out once the shooting had happened, the memories still raw and haunting.

It wouldn't surprise her if they were still covering it weeks later, discussing the fallout and the victims. The world felt heavy with tragedy, and she couldn't shake the feeling that her own turmoil was just another layer on top of it all.

Amelia was sitting next to her, a little further down the couch but still close enough that Vada could feel her presence.

Surprisingly, Amelia seemed to be paying attention to the news, her eyes fixed on the screen while playing with her hair, probably just trying to figure out what the weather would be like tomorrow so she could plan her outfit.

Every few minutes, though, Amelia would glance over at Vada, a hopeful and excited look crossing her face, like she was waiting for Vada to say something—something she didn't know yet.

Vada could sense the anticipation in her sister, as if Amelia was expecting to be let in on a secret, her eyes practically begging for some kind of revelation. But Vada had nothing to say, nothing to offer.

So when she realized Vada wasn't going to say anything, she couldn't hold it in any longer. Practically bouncing in her seat, a wide grin spread across her face as she blurted out, "Did she give you a gift?"

Her voice was filled with excitement, the kind of eagerness that only Amelia could manage, her tone bright and full of energy.

It was like she couldn't contain her curiosity, and her entire expression lit up with that signature look of hers—one that always made Vada feel like Amelia was living vicariously through her.

Her whole face lit up with a smile, as if she was already imagining the details in her head, too giddy to sit still.

Vada turned to Amelia, her brow furrowing in confusion, eyes narrowing slightly as she tried to make sense of her sister's words. "What are you talking about?"

Amelia's grin faltered for a moment, her excitement dimming as she sat up straighter, turning fully toward Vada. Her brows lifted, like she was waiting for something to click. "You know, a gift," she repeated slowly, her voice a little more deliberate now, as if she thought Vada was joking or trying to mess with her.

Vada's face remained blank, still not catching on, and Amelia's smile wavered again. She leaned in a little, her expression shifting from playful to confused, the eagerness fading just a bit.

"For your anniversary?" Amelia's voice softened, her tone almost hesitant now, as if she was starting to wonder if she'd gotten it wrong.

Vada blinked, her confusion deepening, and it must've shown on her face because Amelia's smile disappeared entirely, replaced by a puzzled frown.

Amelia's frown deepened, her brows knitting together as she tilted her head slightly, studying Vada's blank expression. "Wait... you guys had that dinner yesterday, right? For your anniversary?"

Vada blinked again, her stomach sinking as she felt a wave of unease wash over her. She could see Amelia searching her face, looking for confirmation, but Vada had no idea what she was talking about.

"Anniversary dinner?" Vada repeated, her voice uncertain, as she tried to piece together what she had clearly missed. Her mind raced, flipping through the events of the past day, but all she could recall was being with Mia.

Vada's heart slammed against her chest, panic creeping in as she grabbed her phone with shaky hands. Her mind raced as she unlocked it, her gaze locking onto the date.

November 23rd.

Her breath hitched. Yesterday.

November 22nd—the date that should've meant everything.

Three years ago, on that day, she had asked you to be her girlfriend. Three years.

Her stomach churned as guilt surged through her, heavy and unrelenting. How could she have forgotten something so important? The realization hit her like a punch to the gut, stealing the air from her lungs. Her thoughts spiraled, tangled in disbelief and regret.

She'd missed your three-year anniversary.

The thought sent a shiver down her spine; you two always found a way to celebrate your love, no matter how many years passed.

It was a tradition that reminded you both of the bond you'd nurtured since the beginning—a promise that, no matter what life threw your way, you'd always have each other.

Her fingers tightened around the phone, warmth creeping to her cheeks as shame took hold. She hadn't just failed to text you back; she'd failed to honor the day that had meant so much to both of you.

With each shallow breath, the weight of her mistake deepened, twisting in her gut like a knot that wouldn't untangle. How could she have been so careless?

When she finally tore her eyes away from her phone and looked back at Amelia, her sister's hopeful expression had dimmed slightly, her confusion evident. But Vada couldn't focus on that now.

Instead her thoughts spiraled back to last night, who she had been with. She could picture the laughter, the warmth of the moment shared with Mia, how effortlessly they had fallen into each other's company. They had talked for hours, their conversation weaving a tapestry of familiarity and intimacy that felt so right during the haze.

But that only deepened the ache in her chest now. The joy of being with someone else, the carefree way they had spent the evening together, felt like a betrayal in the light of what she had neglected with you.

Vada recalled every smile, every touch that had drawn her into that bubble of happiness, yet it was overshadowed by the guilt of not being present for the one person who actually mattered.

How could she have forgotten the significance of that day, when you had been there all along, waiting for her to acknowledge it?

Vada's heart raced as the weight of her realization crashed down on her.

Everything made sense now—the way Nick had been acting at school, the way he'd looked at her with that questioning gaze.

And her mother's text echoed in her mind. "I don't care how much fun you had yesterday." It hit her like a ton of bricks.

She was supposed to come home that night, to be with you. You had planned something special, something to celebrate.

But Vada couldn't remember seeing you when she got home. She couldn't even recall what time she had stumbled through the door.

Had you given up and arrived home before she did? The thought made her stomach twist painfully.

"Oh my God." Her voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper. Panic surged through her, and she jumped to her feet, almost stumbling over the couch in her haste.

Without a second thought, she sprinted into the hall, her mind a blur. She fumbled with her shoes, barely bothering to tie them as she slipped them on. Amelia's voice echoed from the living room, filled with confusion and concern. "Vada! Where are you going?"

But Vada couldn't focus on her question. All she could think about was you, the hurt she had caused, and the urgency to make things right.

The front door swung open, and she bolted outside, her breath coming in sharp gasps as she raced down the path, adrenaline propelling her forward.

Vada ran, her heart pounding in sync with her frantic steps. She barely registered the freezing autumn air cutting through her skin, the chill seeping into her bones as she dashed through the streets in her basketball shorts.

The cold didn't matter; nothing mattered except getting to you.

Each stride felt like an act of desperation, a desperate push against the guilt weighing heavily on her heart.

She knew she had to see you, to face you, to tell you everything. The thought of what she had done loomed over her like a dark cloud—she had slept with someone else, and it had been on your anniversary.

The weight of that betrayal twisted in her gut, and she felt sick with the knowledge that she had shattered something precious between you.

She couldn't go another second without telling you what had happened, without laying bare the truth that had been eating away at her. 

But the second she stood outside your house, knocking on your door with a trembling fist, the weight of her guilt crushed down on her.

When the door swung open, revealing you on the other side—your worn T-shirt clinging to your frame, messy hair catching the light in just the right way—her throat tightened, and she felt like her mouth was sealed shut.

You looked so effortlessly beautiful, as you always did, and the sight of you made her heart ache even more.

The words she had rehearsed over and over vanished from her mind on the way there, replaced by an overwhelming rush of emotion.

All she could do was stare at you, her heart pounding loudly in her ears, the enormity of the moment leaving her frozen in place.

You tried to give her a tired smile as you stood by the door, the familiar warmth of her presence mixing with the cool evening air.

"Hey," you said, your voice gentle yet tinged with exhaustion. But Vada couldn't reply. She just stood there, her eyes wide, taking in the sight of you.

The way your hair fell softly around your face, how your expression shifted from surprise to concern—it all hit her like a tidal wave.

You were her girl, the one she had almost forgotten in the chaos of the past weeks.

In that moment, everything else faded away—the frigid autumn air, the urgency of her earlier thoughts—all that mattered was you.

Yet, as the silence stretched between you, the weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air. Vada trembled, her heart racing as she searched your face, desperate for understanding.

With each passing second, the realization of her mistake clawed at her insides.

The memories of last night flooded back, the laughter, the thrill, and the way she had betrayed you—all of it crashed down like a storm. She felt a lump rise in her throat, and finally, the words slipped out, barely audible. "I'm sorry."

Tears began to pool in her eyes, glimmering like shattered glass in the dim light, each one a testament to the guilt and regret that had been building up inside her.

She wanted to explain, to tell you everything about what happened with Mia, but the truth felt lodged deep within her, impossible to express. All she could do was stand there, shaking, waiting for your response, wishing she could take it all back.

Your eyes searched hers, reflecting confusion and hurt, and she felt her heart break at the sight. The silence hung like a thick fog, and in that moment, she realized just how much she had risked.

The fear of losing you washed over her, and she fought back the tears, wishing more than anything that you could understand how truly sorry she was.

You looked at her, brow furrowing in confusion. "Sorry for what?" you asked, but you knew exactly what she was talking about.

Still, you needed her to say it. You wanted to hear the truth come from her lips, to know she was ready to face what she had done.

The silence stretched out between you, charged with unspoken feelings. As she trembled, tears pooling in her eyes, your heart ached for her, for the pain that had driven her to this moment.

You needed her to confront it, to acknowledge the hurt—not just for you, but for herself, too.

So you watched her, waiting for the truth you already knew she was fighting against.

Vada didn't want to tell you. Her mind screamed at her to keep it inside, to bury it somewhere deep where neither of you would have to face it.

But her mouth—the one that always said too much, the one that never knew when to stop—was on the verge of betraying her again.

She shook her head, her hands trembling as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest, trying to hold it all in.

But the words pushed at the back of her throat, her lips quivering as she tried to bite them back. Her thoughts were racing, tumbling over each other.

Don't say it. Don't. You'll lose her. You can't say it.

But the more she tried to keep it in, the harder it got. Vada felt her chest tighten, like there was no room left for her guilt, her shame, or her fear. Her too-big mouth, always moving when it shouldn't, was about to undo her.

"I—" She stammered, her voice breaking. "I didn't mean to... I didn't..." She could feel the truth clawing its way out, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop it. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision as she looked at you, her heart in her throat.

"I'm sorry I forgot. I wanted to be with you, I swear. I was... I don't know, I just... I don't know what happened." Vada's voice cracked as she rambled, words spilling out before she could stop them.

Her hands shook, and she ran them through her hair, her breathing uneven. "I didn't mean to forget. I don't even know how I did, but I did, and I'm sorry."

She looked at you, her eyes wide with panic, like she was searching for a way to fix something she knew she couldn't. "I should've been with you, I know that. I just... I don't know what happened."

There was no real excuse, and she knew that. She wasn't just talking about forgetting the anniversary anymore, and the weight of that realization pressed down on her chest.

Her words tumbled out in a shaky rush, her breath catching between sentences as she struggled to form coherent thoughts. She looked frantic, her hands tugging at her hair as if trying to pull herself back to the present, back to you.

"I wanted to be with you," she repeated, her voice barely above a whisper now, almost like she was pleading with herself as much as with you.

Her gaze flicked from your face to the ground, then back to your eyes, searching for any sign that she could make this right, that somehow she hadn't ruined everything.

But the more she tried to explain, the more lost she seemed to become, her mind spinning in circles she couldn't escape.

Vada's heart thudded loudly in her ears as she braced herself for your reaction, her mind running wild with what was about to happen.

She tried to prepare for the look on your face—the anger, the hurt, maybe even the disgust she thought she deserved. Would you yell? Walk away? She didn't know what was coming, but she felt like she had it coming, something heavy, something unbearable.

Her throat tightened as she tried to continue, the words sticking like they didn't want to come out. Her hands clenched into fists by her sides as she stammered,

"I was with—"

But before she could finish, you interrupted, your voice calm but firm. "I know."

The simple statement stopped her in her tracks. Her breath caught in her chest, and she froze, staring up at you in shock.

Her heart pounded, her mind scrambling for words that wouldn't make things worse, but nothing came.

How could you possibly know?

She had barely been able to admit it to herself, let alone think of how to explain it to you. Her hands fidgeted nervously at her sides, and she felt a knot forming in her stomach, waiting for your answer, dreading it just as much.

"How?" Her lips trembled, and she couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from yours.

Confusion and guilt churned in her chest, making her feel even more trapped in this moment she couldn't escape.

Your lips twitched into something that almost resembled a smile, but there was no joy behind it. It was more of a bitter acknowledgment, the kind of smile that comes when things hurt too much to be angry. "You really don't remember?"

Vada's panic surged as the reality of the situation settled in. What did you mean by that? she thought, her mind racing with uncertainty.

Had she really messed up so badly that you knew something she didn't?

Did Mia tell you? Her stomach churned at the thought. She racked her brain, trying to piece together the night before. Had she called you?

Was there something she had said that she couldn't remember? The more she tried to recall, the more her memories slipped through her fingers like sand.

She felt lightheaded, the cold autumn air biting at her skin, but she barely noticed. All she could focus on was the fear that clawed at her insides.

What if you knew everything? She couldn't face that possibility. Her heart raced, and she searched your face desperately for clues, wondering if you were hiding something from her or if you were simply waiting for her to spill the truth.

What do you know? The thought screamed inside her, but she couldn't say it.

Instead, she blinked, her voice barely audible as she stammered, "What... what do you mean?"

You watched her closely, gauging the reaction that flickered across her face. "You were with Mia," you said, your voice steady.

"You guys got drunk, smoked weed, and then you fucked.. I mean, that's what you told me last night, but was there something else?"

Vada's eyes widened in disbelief, the reality of your words crashing over her like a cold wave.

She could hardly breathe, the weight of her actions crashing down upon her. "No... I..." she started, her voice shaky as she tried to piece together the fragments of her memory.

She felt exposed, vulnerable under your gaze, like she was standing naked before you. She knew what she had done, but hearing it laid out so plainly made it feel more real, more unforgivable.

The fear of what she had lost clawed at her insides, and she felt tears prick at her eyes as she searched for the right words. How could she explain it? How could she make you understand?

Her heart raced as she struggled to form the words, each syllable heavier than the last. "I'm so sorry," she stammered, desperation lacing her voice. "I was drunk... I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I swear, I only want you."

She took a shaky breath, trying to gather herself, but the emotions swirled inside her like a storm.

"You're the one I care about, the one I want to be with. I messed up, and I get that, but please... please don't think that it means I don't love you." Her hands trembled at her sides as she met your eyes, searching for a glimmer of understanding amidst the chaos she had created.

"I just... I was caught up in the moment and didn't think about anything else. But you—you're everything to me, and I don't want to lose you." The panic surged through her again, threatening to swallow her whole, and she felt the sting of tears welling up as she awaited your response, hoping against hope that it wouldn't be the end.

You didn't even look mad as you stood there, shifting the weight to your other leg. Your expression calm, almost resigned, as you simply said, “It's fine, Vada."

But it's anything but fine. The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she felt her heart drop even further. She didn't want you to be fine with it.

She wanted you to react, to feel the same rage and hurt that churned inside her.

Vada wished you would hit her, punch her, push her, or spit in her face—anything but brush it off like it didn't matter.

Your calmness made everything feel worse. But you continued, your voice steady but laced with a sadness that made her stomach twist. "I get that you're going through a lot right now."

But then, the air around her grew heavy as you added, "I just... I think it's best if we spend some time apart."

The finality of your words crashed over her, and Vada felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her.

Time seemed to stand still as she processed what you'd just said, the reality of the situation sinking in.

Every part of her screamed for you to reconsider, to understand how much she needs you, but she couldn't find the words.

Panic flooded her senses as she stared at you, her heart racing. "No, please don't say that," she said desperately, wanting to reach out, wanting to beg you not to walk away.

But she felt a heavy weight settle in her chest as she realized there was nothing else she could do. Nothing she could say would change what you wanted. And nothing she could do would change what she'd done.

When you made your mind up about something, it was like hitting a brick wall—there was no going back, no changing your decision. She always admired your resolve, but now that same strength felt suffocating, leaving her totally and utterly powerless.

She watched helplessly as a faint smile crossed your lips, though it didn't reach your eyes. "I'll see you at school, Vada," you said softly, the finality of your words echoing in her mind.

The urge to scream your name was building inside her, to fall to her knees and beg for your forgiveness. Every fiber of her being wanted to cry out, to make you see how much she needed you, how sorry she was.

But for once, her mouth was sealed shut. She couldn't force the words out.

If she tried to speak, she feared she'd either throw up from the overwhelming guilt, or worse—say something that would ruin everything beyond repair. So she stood there, paralyzed, as you offered that faint, distant smile.

Before she could respond, you turned and closed the door, leaving her standing alone on the porch, a whirlwind of emotions crashing around her.

As the door clicked shut, the finality of it echoed in Vada's ears, louder than the pounding in her chest. She stared at the door, half-expecting you to open it again, to tell her you were just angry, that things would be okay. But the silence was deafening, and the cold night air wrapped around her like a vice.

For a moment, she stood there, frozen in place, waiting for something—anything—that wouldn't come.

And then, finally, the weight of it all hit her. Her legs gave out, and she sank onto the porch steps, burying her face in her hands as hot tears spilled down her cheeks. There was nothing she could do now, nothing left to say. You were gone, and she was the one who had driven you away.

Her body shook with sobs, and the world felt emptier than it ever had.

[capitanology]

hsr men and their love !

— or how they show their love towards you + the little moments you have with them | including. . .aventurine, dr ratio, jing yuan, dan heng

content warning: nothing, all fluff!

word count: 1.9k

AVENTURINE WHO. . .

yes, will shower you with lavish gifts and makes sure that only the finest of silks adorns your body because you deserve only the best of everything. it makes his heart swell with fondness each time his eyes catches sight of you covered in his love, that being the items he procured without much effort yet still remained thoughtful all the same.

but aventurine also loves the downtime that comes after the end of a mission, when he stumbles through the doorway of both yours and his home in the middle of the night, searching for your familiar presence. and when he opens the bedroom door, his gaze falling on you in the middle of it all, he welcomes the sight of you sleeping in between the sheets of his blanket, figure curling around his soft pillow you claimed will help you sleep well when he's not around.

the smallest of smiles graced his lips and for the first time since his mission started, his body was able to relax, his shoulders sagging down with the weight of his tiredness as the tension leaves. walking over to you, he gently positions himself on the side of the bed, eyes never once straying away from your form. his hand reaches out to lightly cup your cheek before he presses a light kiss to your forehead.

"mm...aven?"

the feather touch made you stir from your sleep, despite aventurine trying his best to not wake you up. a quiet chuckle left his lips at your (very adorable, might he add) display, not able to hold back from giving you another kiss to your cheek.

"yes, my love. i'm back. shall we rest together now?"

DR. RATIO WHO. . .

tends to express his love for you in a rather roundabout manner. somehow, his upfront attitude that most are familiar with disappears when it comes to any little thing that concerns you.

it was glaringly obvious, you think, with the way he lends his assistance whenever you struggle with your work under the guise of it being 'unpleasant to see a capable scholar floundering about, no less his own partner'. it might sound a bit harsh to others, but you knew of his affection, with the way his features would always soften whenever he spoke those words to you. besides, him offering to aid you is already enough of an indication of his endearment.

though sometimes, there are moments where he would instead let his actions speak for him his thoughts.

the grandfather clock's ticking resounded within ratio's office, the two of you bathing in each other's company as you worked on your own set of papers while he busies himself with another thesis of his. this isn't a rare sight; rather, it was a routine that you kept up with him, often ending the day by each other's side while trying to finish the remaining tasks.

it was during these times that ratio lets his gaze travel to you, who usually remained absorbed in your work. it was no different this time, his eyes catching sight of you being deeply concentrated in solving the particular problem you were stuck on.

ratio rarely gets distracted from his tasks, but as you sit there across from him, he could only let his mind run rampant with thoughts of you and only you. of how endearing it is to see you frown in frustration, lips raw from how many times you bit it as you struggle to solve the damn problem.

observing how the stack of papers on your side of the desk still remained tall, ratio sets aside his finished papers before silently taking half of your paper stack, which didn't go unnoticed by you.

"what are you doing?" you rose a brow, seeing how he had already started to scribble along the surface of your papers.

"what do you think i'm doing?" he replied without missing a beat, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

the sight of your confused expression nearly made him chuckle but he held it back, not wanting to let his thoughts show.

"well..." you drawled out, a small smile building itself on your lips when you catch on what he's doing. "i think you're helping me. isn't that right, dr ratio?"

the use of his formal title made him huff slightly, preferring you to call him only by his name. yet as his eyes flitted over to you, seeing your fond gaze as you leaned back against the chair, ratio could only return your teasing words with his own.

"seeing as to how you're struggling to complete your tasks, it seems that you need a helping hand lest you remain here all night long," he refuted, lips quirking up. "though i would not mind doing so with you."

JING YUAN WHO. . .

lives for the idle touches and fleeting gazes whenever you pass him by during work hours. known for his lackadaisical nature when it comes to his duties as a general, there was also another part of him that is often talked about; that is his utter admiration for you. hence the moment those conversing with him for official duties notice you walk into the room, they have already prepared themselves for what is to come next.

"yes, general. from the patrol guards' inspection, it was deduced that..."

the guard's voice trailed off in the middle of his daily report to jing yuan when he noticed you entering the general's personal office, gathering both his and jing yuan's attention. almost instantly, he can see jing yuan's slumped figure straighten, eyes brighter than a moment ago when he was listening to him recalling the day's events. knowing there is nothing that can pull away the general's focus once it settled on you, the guard gave him his goodbyes and left promptly at jing yuan's dismissive nod.

you rose a brow at the exchange, not able to even voice out your questions about it when his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you close to his side of the table. lifting your palm close to his face, jing yuan begins to pepper light kisses all over the skin, reveling in your warmth.

"what's this about? so clingy," you teased, though such clinginess was not out of the ordinary.

you knew that if he could, he would stick by your side throughout the entire day.

"is it wrong for me to shower my lovely partner with affection?" his lips quirked up at the sound of your voice, head tilting back to look at your face.

"of course not," you returned his grin with one of your own, now tugging on his hand instead. "well, i was wondering if my lovely partner would want to relax with me in the garden today? it's nearing lunch time anyways."

"anything you desire, my dear."

as much as he loves to spend his free time (or official hours) laying around under the tree's shade, letting the sun shine down on his face, nothing beats the comfort that embraces his entire being when his head is on your lap and he's basking in your warmth instead.

DAN HENG WHO. . .

adores you silently, quietly, with small actions and soft touches; making your coffee in the mornings just the way you like it, covering you with his comfort blanket each time you fall asleep when digging through the archives with him, offering his aid when you're swamped with too many work on the astral express.

for those without a keen eye, perhaps he may come off as a passionless lover, but when you look closely, you notice the way his eyes light up the moment he catches you across the room, and the delicate hold he has on your hand as you walk through the crowded streets. and with every little thing that he does with love behind them, you can only take them with an open heart and a fond smile, knowing that they were only for you to understand and know.

but there are times when his love for you grabs him by the chokehold, and all he could do was profess his affection for you in the most random of manner.

it was silent aboard the astral express, march and the rest of the members currently sleeping in their own rooms. you however, was not in your own room.

curled up beside dan heng, in your hands was a thick book filled with various kinds of information relevant to your upcoming mission to a new planet. the pages were the thickest you had ever seen, and you were barely halfway through the content when your eyes started to droop heavily with sleep.

"you should go ahead and rest," dan heng's voice woke you up from the nth time you had dozed off, and immediately you shook your head, trying to will away the tiredness.

"nooo, i still have a lot to go through," your words almost sounded like a whine with how you drawled them out, hands rubbing your eyes.

"there's still enough time for you to finish it. your mission is in the next few days right?"

"yeah, but i doubt that i can finish this much in a short amount of time," you pushed the book into his sight, and he could only chuckle at your actions.

"it's fine. you'll finish it," dan heng sighed softly, flicking your forehead gently. "so stop being stubborn and just sleep. i can already see the dark circles forming under your pretty eyes."

ignoring how his sudden compliment made your cheeks burn, you took his advice and closed the book, setting it to the corner before snuggling into dan heng's side, sighing at the warmth.

it was funny how light his heart felt at the sight, the endearment almost consuming him whole. if this is what it feels like to love another, to the point that he was able to suffocate within it, then dan heng thought that perhaps he would willingly die loving you. the idea of it was overwhelming and taken in by the way your figure wrapped around him so comfortably, his lips moved on their own.

"i love you."

the atmosphere stills with his sudden confession, the words hanging in the air. your head had whipped up to look at him, confusion swirling in your eyes before quiet giggles left you when you notice the perplexed expression on his face.

"why do you look so confused?" your voice shook with amusement, loving the way his gaze avert yours, cheeks flushing a deep red. "you've said it many times before, didn't you?"

"of course," dan heng coughed, trying to will away the slight embarassment he feels at suddenly proclaiming his love.

it wasn't that he hate it, that is the act of speaking such words to you. it was the thought of being vulnerable, an unfamiliar action for him who has had to steel his heart and harden his resolve with the life he had lived so far. to speak of his love as easily as he did loving you, it was difficult; which is why he would rather shower you in it, with all the things that he does.

but then he looks at you now, eyes glinting in the light with lips curled up into that pretty smile he loves seeing from just his words and he thinks that perhaps it isn't so hard for him to profess his love to you every now and again as he did moments ago.

"...you still haven't say it back."

"yes, yes. i love you too."

a/n: i think i got carried away with ratio and dan heng...also! might make a part two of this with other characters