#best part of the event was the trio
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if they only wanted to have kisses for the brothers in this event it should have just been beel and belphie since they're the box UR cards. instead it's just giving 2021 event with how it treats the other dateables :/
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Best Friends Brother ⊹ . + °
| Charlie Weasley x fem!reader
summary: You are Fred & George’s best friend, and meet their mysterious older brother, Charlie, at a product launch at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.
cw: MDNI 18+ smut with basically zero plot. charlie has an absolutely filthy mouth. no war (or light war? idk, everyone is alive)
an: this was supposed to be a casual hook up when I initally planned it, but the dick was so good they fell in love ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
> Part Two
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +
Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes had a line around the building, hopeful witches and wizards desperate to get a glimpse of the Weasley twin’s newest product. You strolled past them in your mini dress and tights, more than a little chuffed by their jealous glares.
The doors were locked, blocked off with enchanted rope, but when Fred spotted you through the window, he ran to unlock the doors.
“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it. Georgie, looks who’s here!” Fred slung an arm over your shoulders and ushered you into the store. It was the cleanest you’d ever seen it, with streamers and lights strung everywhere, and a long table loaded with food and drink.
“Y/n!” George shouted, popping up from behind the register. Both of them were dressed in freshly pressed brown suits, looking exceptionally dapper. He came aroud the counter and pulled you into a hug. “Thanks for coming out.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” you grinned up at them, pride filling your chest. You’d been close with the twins for years, a friendship that started in school and only grew in adulthood, since you worked a few doors down at Honeydukes.
“Come, you have to meet our family!” They ushered you upstairs, where a dozen or so people waited, several faces were familiar, some were not.
“You remember Harry, Ron, and Ginny,” George said, and you greeted them all with a wave.
“And our parents, Molly and Arthur,” Fred continued.
“Oh, y/n! How lovely to see you!” Molly cooed, pulling you into a rib-cracking hug. “My, what a beautiful young lady you’ve grown into.” She pinched you cheek, and heat scorched your face.
“And this is our older brother’s Percy, Charlie, and Bill. And Bill’s wife, Fleur.”
You turned to the trio of men hovering by the bookcases, and nearly tripped over your heels. Percy, you remembered from school, Fleur as well, and Bill was too busy gazing down at her blonde head to glance your way. But Charlie. He stared straight through you, his dark eyes swallowing you whole.
“Pleasure,” Charlie said, his voice honeyed and deep. He was shorter that Percy beside him, but muscular enough that the maroon blazer he wore seemed a little stretched at the shoulders. His white button down shirt beneath it was tailored perfectly to fit across his wide chest and taper at his defined waist. Freckles kissed his cheeks and forehead, his skin a shade tanner than his siblings, though he shared their ginger hair, mid-length and wavy.
“Hello,” you managed, giving him a small smile. But before you could engage further, George whisked you away.
“It’s tiiiime!” Fred shouted, waving his wand, and the doors burst open.
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +
As the event raged on, you found yourself drawn to Charlie’s orbit, watching as he mingled with guests and chatted with his family. He seemed to draw a lot of attention, what with his rugged good looks and the fact that he was a dragon trainer. It seemed everyone wanted a sliver of Charlie Weasley’s attention.
So you admired him from a far, and tried to help Fred and George as best you could.
You chatted with customers, explaining the new product the best you could, but you kept feeling the tug of someone’s attention at the nape of your neck, distracting you. When the customer finally moved on, you glanced towards the direction of the feeling, and caught Charlie watching you over the rim of his fire whiskey, ignoring the gentleman attempting to talk to him entirely.
The air froze in your lungs, you heart tripping over itself. His gaze was scorching, and if looks could burn…you were certain your clothes would be rendered to ash.
Desire pooled in your lower belly, heating your blood to an uncomfortable degree. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears, you missed George approach.
“Hey, y/n, enjoying yourself?” He asked, offering you a glass of champagne with a candy snitch floating in it.
You accepted with a smile. “I am, thank you. You guys have done an incredible job.”
George beamed, clinking your glasses together before loping off to sell to another customer.
“So, how long have you known my brothers?” A low voice murmured in your ear, and you whirled around, nearly spilling champagne all over Charlie’s front. He caught your elbow with a steady hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Easy, love,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“Oh, uh, f-five years? I think,” you stuttered, looking anywhere but his smoldering eyes.
“Then how have we never met? I’d certainly remember you.”
You shrugged a shoulder, taking what you hoped was a casual sip of wine. “Seems you haven’t been paying much attention,” you teased, finally meeting his eyes.
His smirk grew into a soft smile. “What a grave error on my part.”
“Are you in town for the event, or…?” You could feel heat climbing up your neck, but you willed yourself to keep a level head. You knew how to flirt, had done so with plenty of blokes in your time, but none as handsome and disarming as Charlie.
“I thought so, but evidently the Gods had other ideas.”
You knees nearly buckled. “Like?” You coyly tilted your head, allowing your eyes to trail across his broad shoulders, down his chest. Was this guy seriously flirting with you? You knew you weren’t unattractive, but Charlie was…phew.
“Like…” He flushed a little, betraying his suave demeanor, and your heart slipped a little further into his hands. “Meeting the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
“Ever?” You teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth.
“In this life and probably the next.” He took a sip of his whiskey, letting his eyes wander over you the same way yours did him. And based on the way they darkened, his pupils widening just a fraction, he liked what he saw as much as you did.
“Does that line always work for you?”
“Well, considering I’ve never tried it, why don’t you tell me?”
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +
Charlie slammed the door shut behind you before crowding you against it, his lips colliding with yours. He tasted like whiskey and pumpkin, with a tinge of cigarette smoke that went straight to your head, and you eagerly tangled your tongue with his, pushing his blazer off his shoulders.
“Colloportus,” he murmured against your mouth, and you heard the lock schick into place. He shrugged his blazer off, tossing it somewhere in the dark storage closet, and his hands were on you again, one sliding into your hair, the other on your lower back, drawing you closer.
“Charlie?” You gasped as his lips traveled down your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his short beard a rough contrast to the suppleness of his kiss.
“Yeah, honey?” he panted, lifting his head to meet your eyes.
“I don’t usually…” you trailed off, nerves suddenly closing your throat.
His hand slid from your hair to cup your cheek, his callouses rough against your heated skin. “Me neither,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “We can do whatever you want, love. I’ll take you to the nicest restaurant in London, or on Dragon-back to the Swiss Alps, or on a cruise ship to the Americas—”
You cut him off with a kiss, throwing your arms around his neck. “And if I want you to fuck me?” you said between pecks, tugging at the roots of his hair.
He smiled and scooped you up by the meat of your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist so your skirt pushed up over your hips. “Then I’ll fuck you as often as ya’ like.” He turned and dropped you onto some kind of work bench, sending the papers and junk flying with a sweep of his arm.
“The twin’s are going to be pissed,” you giggled, leaning back onto the wood so he could continue his previous assault on your neck.
“Fuck ‘em,” he muttered, nipping at your collarbones. His hands gripped your thighs with dizzying strength, the same hands that handled massive, fire-breathing beasts, and spread you open for his hungry gaze. “Seven fucking hells,” he breathed, running his hands down your inner thighs. “You’re perfect.”
In a swift motion, he ripped your tights at the seam, the sound sending a pulse of arousal to your already dripping pussy, a sharp gasp forcing it’s way from your throat. His fingers glided over your wet panties, so delicate compared to the force he’d used heartbeat before.
Your hips lifted slightly, chasing his gentle touch. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this desperate for someone to touch you, your entire body tuned to his every breath, every twitch of his muscles. He looked so fucking good leaning over you, his previously tidy shirt rumpled, his hair in copper waves around his face, his lips a little red from your fevered kisses.
With his ring finger, her drew your panties to the side, his middle fingers gliding through your slit and circling your clit twice. “Already so wet for me, honey. What did I do to deserve such a warm welcome?” he purred, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.
Your brain couldn’t formulate a response, his touch mind-numbing. Pleasure radiated form his fingers, syrupy and languid, with none of the frenetic energy from before. A moan slipped past your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as he coaxed your pussy to bloom for him.
“And such pretty sounds.” He rolled up his shirt sleeve with his free hand, exposing the muscles and veins along his thick forearm. Slowly, he slipped his middle finger inside of you, large enough to stretch you slightly.
“Fuck, Charlie,” you whined, raising yourself onto your elbows so you could watch him play with you.
“I suppose I shouldn’t stretch this out too long, someone might come looking for us,” he mused. “But I could spend a fucking eternity spoiling this greedy little pussy.” He slipped another finger into you channel, pumping them a few times just to feel your cunt suck him back in. “Would you like that, love?” He tilted your chin up with his free hand, an unspoken request for an answer.
“Y-yes, Charlie. Please,” you panted, stretching up to steal a quick peck. He deepened the kiss, shifting his weight to press you back down onto the desk as his tongue flirted with yours. His hand picked up the pace, fucking you steadily as he devoured your mouth, teeth skating along your swollen flesh before sucking lightly on your tongue.
You don’t know what God blessed him with such a skilled tongue, but you needed to make an offering in thanks stat.
But since you couldn’t do that…
“Charlie?” You asked, reaching around to touch his wrist between your legs.
He immediately stopped, withdrawing his hand completely. “What’s wrong?” He searched your face for signs of discomfort, his brows drawn together.
You pressed a kiss to his bearded cheek before sliding off the desk. He watched you, confused and concerned, then you lowered yourself to your knees and his jaw went slack.
“Honey, you don’t have to—”
“Please, Charlie?” You batted your lashes up at him, tugging lightly on his belt.
“Merlin’s fucking—I can’t say no to you when you look at me like that, sweetheart.”
“Then don’t,” you teased, undoing his belt and zipper. You could see the outline of his cock against his black boxers, thick and throbbing as you glided your fingers over it.
He sucked in a breath, gripping the edge of the table with one of his hands. Encouraged, you dragged the flat of your tongue over the fabric, feeling the heat of him, the wetness collecting by the swollen head.
“I must have died in the dragon pit and gone to heaven. My god, woman,” he rasped, running his fingers through his hair to keep it from blocking the sight.
You giggled, licking a few more stripes before reaching up to free him. His cock sprung out, veiny and flushed pink. And, to your absolute shock and delight, even his cock was freckled.
“You have the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen,” you praised, and his cheeks flushed pink. You laved your tongue along the thickest vein, earning a throaty groan. You sucked the head into your mouth, lapping up the precum pearling from his slit.
Charlie’s head fell back, one of his hands sliding into your hair. He didn’t add any pressure, just held you as you started to suck him, moving a little further down each time. You wrapped your hand around the base, there was no way you’d fit the entire thing in your mouth, and started pumping him, matching the motions with your mouth. His skin was like velvet, soft and smooth, and you loved feeling him pulse against your tongue with every dip of your head.
“You are too damn good at that. So fucking pretty swallowing my cock.” His thumb stroked your cheek while he gazed down at you, stars in his eyes. “You like sucking me off, honey?”
You nodded as best you could, flicking your tongue at the groove just beneath the head. His hips lurched forward, a grunt escaping through his teeth.
“Fuck, sorry, love. I’m trying to stay still for ya’, but feels so fucking good.”
You reached up and guided his hand into your hair, then used it to push your head down, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.
He smirked, his hand fisting in your hair. “Whatever you say, gorgeous.” He started moving your head along his shaft, rocking his hips in time with the movements. He went easy at first, but as drool began to track down your chin, your eyes rolling back in bliss, he picked up the pace. But he only fucked your mouth for a few, punishing strokes before lifting you off of him. He slammed his mouth to yours, a harsh, hungry kiss that had you seeing stars.
You whined in protest, but he shushed you by lifting you into the air and setting you on the table once more.
“If you thought I wasn’t going to fuck you, you’re mad,” he gruffed, dragging the hot head of his cock through your pussy lips. “That is, if you still want me to?”
“Yes, fuck, now, Charlie. Please.” You spread your legs a little wider for him,
“Anything for you, love.” He leaned down and kissed you again, sliding his cock into your depths at the same time. The feeling of being filled by him bordered on divine, silken and hot. He was stretching you just enough to leave you with that delicious ache between your legs. You moaned into each other’s mouths, the sounds caught up by his tongue parting your lips and caressing yours.
He drew his hips back, agonizingly slow, letting you feel every inch of one another, before he slammed back in, knocking the air from your lungs. It seemed he was at the end of his control, his grip on your hips bruising as he fucked you hard, jostling the desk beneath you and making the shelves along the walls rock.
“Fuck, Charlie. Feels so good,” you cried, trying and failing to keep yourself quiet as he railed you, every thrust like a lightning strike of pleasure through your body.
“Yeah? You take my cock so well, baby. Wet little pussy squeezing the life outta’ me,” he groaned, his hair tickling your face. “So good f’me, honey. Like you were made for me.”
Your muscles tightened, veering closer and closer to your peak, his praise sending little pulses of bliss your clit.
“You like being praised, baby? Hearing how perfect you are for me? Fuck, I can feel how much you like that, squeezing me so hard.” His hand slipped between you, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing tight circles over you puffy clit. “Come for me, y/n. I know you can. I want to feel you fall apart around me. That’s a good girl—”
Your cry drowned out his praise as your peak crashed over you, visceral and exquisite. The world vanished, blown apart by the burst of starlight in your chest as you came for him. Pulses of pleasure made your body shake and buck, your eyes squeezing shut as he fucked you through it.
“That’s it, honey. Such a good fucking girl. Merlin, you’re gonna make me come.” He rested on his forearms, braced on either side of your head, hitting an entirely new angle as you came back into your body.
“Charlie,” you whimpered, clinging to him. ”I’ve got ya’, love. Don’t worry. Just a little longer—fuck.” A strangled groan broke from his throat and you felt his cock swell, then kick against your walls, the first hot stream of release painting your insides.
He rested his head on your shoulder as he muscles trembled, his hips pressed flush to yours. You wrapped you arms around his shoulders, still weak from that soul-shaking orgasm. His lips passed over your shoulder, your clavicle, up your neck, before finally ghosting of your lips, soft and breathless.
You remained like that for longer than you probably should have, enraptured with one another. You'd been complete strangers a few hours ago, but this wasn't a hook up akin to a one night stand. This was the reunification of two beings, the re-raveling of a soul tie.
“Y/n,” he murmured, kissing your forehead, your temple. “Y/n, y/n, y/n…” He held you like he'd die if he let go.
“Charlie,” you exhaled, nuzzling behind his ear.
“Can I take you to Romania with me?” He whispered, a joke, you presumed, but there was no humor in his voice.
“I've never seen a dragon before—”
The door knob jiggled, and someone pressed against it, the wood groaning.
“Shit.” Charlie jumped backwards, scrambling to right your dress and smooth your hair.
“Hey, Freddie! This doors locked for some reason.”
“Charlie, your dick,” you snickered while he wiped away a smudge of your lipstick.
“Fuck, right.”
“Alohamor—”
“COLLOPORTUS,” Charlie barked out, snatching his wand from his boot.
“Charlie?” George called, knocking on the door.
Charlie tucked you behind him and undid the spell, peeking the door open. “If you say another word, you're dragon food,” he growled, and you had to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing.
“You got a girl in there, mate?” George asked, and you could hear the shit-eating grin on his face.
“George,” Charlie warned.
“Fine, fine. You've got ten minutes before I actually need to get in there.” George knocked once more then strode away, his footsteps disappearing down the hall.
Charlie sagged against the door, exhaling. “I'm sorry, love,” he said, turning to you.
You pecked his cheek. “Don't be sorry, that was the best lay of my life.” You tried to reassure him, despite the curdling sadness in your chest.
A shy smile broke through his serious expression. “Yeah?”
You nodded. “I can only imagine how good it would be when we had all the time in the world,” you murmured against his ear, a shiver rolling down his spine. It was better to leave it like this, flirty, casual, than with whatever…that was.
“I mean, we’ve got ten minutes…”
You patted his chest and slipped out of the door, finding George waiting at the end of the hall, arms crossed.
His jaw dropped. “Y/n!”
Charlie ran out behind you. “I swear to God, George—”
“Are all Weasley's this dramatic?” You closed George's mouth with a finger under his chin.
“Where did—when did—how?” George stuttered, looking back and forth between the two of you.
Charlie smirked, shrugging back on his blazer. “I'll explain when you're older,” Charlie teased. “Would you like a drink, y/n?”
“I'd love one.“ You threaded your arm through his, and together returned to the party.
> Part Two
+ ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . + ° . ๑・° ⊹ . +
Thanks for reading!
If you enjoyed, please check out my published work here.
Much love,
Allie
#harry potter fanfiction#charlie weasley#charlie weasley x reader#charlie weasley x you#charlie weasley x y/n#charlie weasley fanfiction#the weasleys#charlie weasley smut#harry potter smut#harry potter fandom#weasley twins#smut no plot#weasley twins x reader#weasley twins fanfiction
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INTERMEDIATE - LN
╭──╯ . . . . . the five times max tried to set his best friends up, and the one time it actually worked. . . . . . ╰──╮
PART TWO FOR ROOKIE (can be read as standalone)
warnings: none really, swearing, mentions of alcohol consumption and minor sickness
this was so highly requested hehe! im glad you all loved rookie :) lemme know what you think! ✧ my inbox is open ✧
masterlist the playlist
Ⅰ
max fewtrell had been plotting for weeks. the annual karting gala was fast approaching, and he had the perfect plan to set up his two best friends. max managed to get himself a date and orchestrated the perfect excuse for y/n to accompany lando as his date, knowing that he was invited but y/n, not being a karter, wasn't. since the trio were somewhat inseparable, it made sense.
and it had worked - the three of them headed to the gala together, max’s date meeting them there, the atmosphere buzzing with music, laughter, and the clinking of champagne glasses. the drinks flowed freely, and the dance floor was packed. lando and y/n however, in their boredom of black-tie events, decided to see who could drink the most. much to max’s dismay, the two of them could never back down from a challenge, and seemingly formed a crowd of people to see them take on this challenge - which resulted in the two of them finding new dance partners for the evening.
this wasn’t max’s plan - he needed them to dance together, not with other people.
but then, y/n had left the dance floor, stumbling over to lando whilst holding her dress up as to not trip over it.
“lando?" she said, her voice shaky, and her eyes widening as she looked up at him.
this is it. they're going to kiss max had thought to himself, watching from only a few metres a way.
but instead, y/n's expression changed to one of distress. "i think im going to be sick."
or not, max thought, quickly springing into action.
lando immediately took charge, his hand sliding around her waist and guiding her towards the nearest bathroom with max following close behind. they managed to get her to a stall just in time. lando held her hair back, his touch gentle and reassuring as she emptied her stomach.
"im so sorry," y/n mumbled, her voice weak and apologetic. "i’ve ruined the night."
lando shook his head, his tone soft and caring. "don't worry about it. it’s ok. you’re ok."
meanwhile, max was on the phone, trying to get hold of y/n’s mum. "hi, it's max. im with y/n - she’s ok, but she’s had a bit too much to drink. could you come pick her up?"
as they waited for her mum to arrive, lando stayed by her side, stroking her hair softly as he poured water into her mouth less than graciously. max watched them, frustrated his plan had failed, but his heart warming by the way lando cared for y/n.
Ⅱ
max was determined. the karting gala might not have gone as planned, but he saw another opportunity to set up his two best friends at a house party. he thought a good game of truth or dare would be the perfect catalyst.
the party was in full swing when the group gathered in the living room, max quickly suggested playing truth or dare to which everyone agreed. the game started with light-hearted questions and dares. when it was lando's turn, max seized his moment.
"i dare you to kiss the person next to you," max said with a smirk, confident in his plan since y/n was seated to one side of Lando.
lando, however, had other ideas. his head looked to y/n besides him for a moment and then at niran on his other side, as though he was weighing up his options. then, he turned and pressed a light kiss to niran's forehead, catching everyone off guard. max’s jaw dropped in disbelief, while the rest of the group burst into laughter.
"that doesn't count!" someone shouted, still laughing.
"max didn't specify where," lando retorted, grinning cheekily, holding his hands up in defence.
“lando! how could you not kiss me? im heartbroken," she teased, holding her chest dramatically, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
when the game finally ended, max excused himself to the kitchen, shaking his head at how his plan had backfired yet again. niran, sensing an opportunity for some fun, followed him into the kitchen.
"you know," he said, leaning against the counter, "next time, maybe we should play seven minutes in heaven?"
max looked up, intrigued but sceptical, "you think that'll work?"
"it's worth a shot. at least then lando can't dodge the dare by kissing my forehead," niran shrugged, a playful grin on his face.
in the living room, lando and y/n were chatting and laughing, completely oblivious to max and niran's conversation. and as the night wore on, max’s determination remained undeterred. their bond was undeniable and he would go to any lengths for his efforts to pay off.
Ⅲ
lando decided to host a game night at his house - max was convinced that without being the host, he couldn't plan any elaborate setups. the evening kicked off with enthusiasm, everyone excited for a night of fun and games, with lando eventually suggesting they play drunk twister.
"…and every time you lose, you drink," he explained with a mischievous grin.
the game started off well, with everyone mostly sober. lando was winning, especially since his strength helped him keep his body in place. however, as the drinks kept flowing, max saw his opportunity. once they were all sufficiently tipsy, he took over spinning the twister board, calling out positions for lando and y/n.
at one point, max managed to have y/n essentially straddling lando’s waist, her legs balancing precariously on either side of him. this is perfect, max thought with satisfaction. he then told lando to move his leg, and when it was y/n’s turn, her hand slipped. the sudden loss of balance caused lando's leg to jolt out, causing y/n to tumble fully, twisting her ankle and hitting her head on the coffee table.
"who put that table there?" lando groaned in frustration as he rushed to assess the source of blood streaming down her face.
"erm… that would be you?" max snorted, trying to suppress his laughter but quickly becoming serious about y/n’s condition, deciding that hospital was probably the best call of action.
“lando, you should call her mum. i had to do it last time,” he whispered, as y/n slept next to them, the painkillers they had given her had wiped her out completely.
lando groaned as he dialled the number. it was 2am, so he wasn’t surprised when he got her voicemail.
"hi y/m/n, it’s lando - just letting you know y/n is in the hospital, but she’s fine. probably,” he added before hanging up.
“probably?” y/n called out groggily, still waking up, “she’s gonna worry more now you idiot.”
“im so sorry for hurting you," he said hurriedly, grabbing her hand and gently stroking his thumb along her skin.
"it’s ok, lan - i promise. as you said, im fine," y/n insisted with a small smile, "just remember to move the table next time."
“next time?”
“it was fun until i…you know,” she trailed off, using her free hand to gesture to her body laying in the hospital bed.
max watched the exchange with a resigned smile. despite his failed attempts and the chaos that ensued, it was clear how much lando cared for her. maybe, just maybe, things would eventually fall into place naturally.
Ⅳ
with an upcoming quadrant project, max found himself with the responsibility of finding accommodation for the team. he found a cosy airbnb and meticulously assigned the rooms, ensuring that everyone had their own space, other than y/n and lando - though neither of them minded. they’d been friends for so long that sharing a bed didn’t seem like a big issue.
when the team arrived at the airbnb, they were greeted by the chilly winter air, before max led them through the house, pointing out their rooms. to his surprise, and annoyance, lando and y/n’s room actually had two single beds, not the anticipated double bed.
nevertheless, max was determined to see his plan through, quietly turned off the heating, hoping the cold would drive lando and y/n to share a bed for warmth. the evening progressed, with everyone started commenting on how cold the house was.
“i am freezing my tits off,” y/n announced as she walked into the room, throwing herself down on the sofa next to lando.
"if it gets too cold tonight, we can always cuddle up together,” lando said, nudging y/n with a grin.
finally, max thought to himself, a plan was finally working.
“as much as i want to have you snoring directly in my face all night, and trust me i do - my dad taught me a bit about plumbing when i was younger. let me see if i can fix the heating,” she announced, to which the group felt elated to hear, fearing they would freeze to death in their sleep.
max’s heart sank as he watched y/n head to the heating system, fiddling with it for a few minutes before triumphantly declaring, "got it! it doesn’t seem like it was broken, just turned off. maybe the airbnb hosts turn it off between guests to save money?"
“guess we won’t get to spoon tonight after all,” she added, looking at lando with fake sadness.
max had never hated her competent parents more than he did at this very moment.
later that night, as the group gathered in the living room, warmed by the now functional heating, lando and y/n were nestled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket together as they usually did.
lando leaned over to y/n, his mouth settling near her ear as he whispered, "watching max sabotage his own plans is funny - we should do this more often.”
y/n giggled, adding, "maybe next time we can teach him how to actually break the heating."
“it's my favourite sport, right after driving,” lando added, laughing softly before sitting up again.
max was beginning to realise that his plans weren’t working because he was trying to make them fall in love with each other. they were already in love, he just needed to make them talk about it.
Ⅴ
determined to help them confront their emotions, he devised a master plan. so, when he moved into his new house, he invited them over to help build furniture.
as they assembled pieces in one of the rooms, y/n soon realised she needed a specific sized screwdriver but she couldn’t find it anywhere.
“well it hasn’t just grown legs has it?” lando teased, though helping her lift boxes to see if it had fallen beneath them.
"it might be downstairs. ill go have a look," he said, casually closing the door behind him. he knew it was downstairs - he had intentionally left it downstairs after loosening the screws on the door.
the moment the door shut, the handle fell out, leaving y/n and lando trapped inside - max was convinced that forcing them into close proximity would make them talk about their feelings.
“shit, sorry guys - bare with me whilst i try and fix it!” he called out, smiling to himself thinking about how great his plan was and how it couldn’t possibly go wrong.
however, he had forgotten one crucial detail - y/n was scared of being locked in small confined spaces. they had discovered this fact following a unfortunate attempt at seven minutes in heaven.
the reality of their situation set in, and y/n began to panic - her chest tightening as her breathing became fast and heavy.
"hey, it's okay. we're not stuck forever. we'll get out of here," he said softly, opening a window to let in some fresh air and sitting beside her. his arm wrapped around her instinctively, pulling her into his side as his hand found her hip, drawing patterns into her jeans with his fingers in attempt to ground her.
both of them were angry at max, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. they had somewhat discussed being together before, but lando’s busy career made things complicated. and now, he had gone too far, forgetting y/n’s anxiety in a bid to get his own plan to work.
"deep breaths," Lando murmured, holding her hand and gently stroking her back. "that’s it. max didn’t mean any harm. he just wants to see us happy."
y/n nodded, her breathing slowing as she leaned into lando, his hand coming up to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
“i know. i just hate being trapped, and i know he means well but i wish he’d just chill out," she breathed out, her voice still wobbly as she tried to regulate her emotions.
they both sat quietly for a moment, looking at each other deeply, her anxiety dissipating, unspoken feelings lingering in the air. lando’s head moved closer to hers first, tentatively pressing his lips to hers. he wasn’t surprised when she kissed him back, her hands moving to his shoulders to lift herself up slightly as he deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping her lower lip gently.
"almost got it!" max called out quickly from behind the door, interrupting the two.
lando and y/n quickly pulled apart, managing to compose themselves just as max opened the door and rushed in.
"im so sorry y/n. i really didn't mean t- i don’t even know ho-,” he stuttered, moving down to hug her quickly.
y/n forced a smile, her heart still racing.
"it's okay, max. i’m fine, i promise,” she reassured him, her arms moving to hug him back.
♧
it wasn’t rare for lando, max and y/n to constantly be in each others houses. any free time they had at least two of them were together, and it had been the same for the entire time they had known each other. that week, they had all taken residence at max’s house to finish the final touches to the new quadrant video before posting it.
the early morning sun was shining through the kitchen windows as y/n rummaged through the cabinets, looking for a mug for her morning tea. noticing her struggle, lando walked over to stand behind her, his chest brushing against her back as he stretched to reach the mug from the top shelf.
"here you go, short-arse," he said, handing it to her with a smile, before moving across the counter to flick the kettle on.
"thanks," y/n replied, ignoring his nicknaming, "want some breakfast?"
"depends what you’re making," lando said, his eyes twinkling, “i would love some pancakes right now.”
“tough shit - im making cereal,” she responded bluntly, smiling sarcastically at him, before moving to grab the box of cornflakes from the cupboard.
“from scratch? that’s impress- OW,” he yelped, feeling the box of cereal hit him in the face.
“can we not use my cereal as a weapon please?” max announced as he walked into the room, rubbing the grogginess from his eyes.
“sorry dad,” y/n replied jokingly, sticking her tongue out at lando when max moved to open the fridge. she turned to start making breakfast, but in her movement she ended up knocking a spoon off the counter.
“fuck,” she muttered as she bent down to pick it up, lando watching on before quickly placing his hand on the corner of the counter, preventing her from hitting her head on the way up.
"careful," he murmured softly, as her forehead made contact with his hand.
later in the day, lando found himself sat on the sofa, scrolling through the comments on quadrants new video, where he had taught y/n how to kart.
y/n walked in, sighing deeply as she plopped down on the sofa next to him, her head finding a comfortable spot on his lap. lando didn't miss a beat - instinctively he began to stroke her hair, his fingers moving gently through the strands.
"you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.
y/n closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. "just tired," she whispered.
max walked into the room soon after, though stopping in his tracks as he saw the two of them. he shook his head with a bemused smile.
“you wanna read the comments?” lando asked as max took a seat on the chair opposite them.
the two of them nodded in unison, y/n shuffling around to sit up as lando’s arm rested on the back of the sofa behind her. they sat quietly, reading through the comments as max scrolled through them on his own phone.
they were accustomed to reading feedback from fans, but this time, something caught them off guard. the comments were filled with remarks about how good lando and y/n would be as a couple and how fans couldn't believe they weren't already together.
lando glanced at y/n, both of them slightly amused - they were sort of used to this, but every comment seemed to mention it.
"are you seeing these comments?" lando asked, raising an eyebrow.
“i know! i can't believe how many people want us to be together."
“you know, they're not wrong. we would be great together,” he replied, entirely unfazed.
"absolutely. it makes sense i guess," she nodded in agreement, shrugging casually.
“well that’s established then,” lando stated before moving the conversation, “should we get pizza?”
“up to you,” y/n responded with a smile, before resting back into the sofa, lando’s arm thrown over her shoulders.
max sat still, watching the whole interaction in utter bewilderment.
"what have i just witnessed?” he started, eyes darting between the two quickly, “seventeen years of seeing you two interact, and you just casually decided you're together and then sorted out what you're having for dinner?"
"yeah, pretty much,” y/n laughs, leaning into lando’s side as she shoots a grin at max, who’s jaw just dropped in disbelief.
"are you serious right now?" he continued. lando leaned back, crossing his arms with a confident grin.
"it's not like we’ve not kissed before," lando added, still grinning.
"YOU'VE KISSED?" max shouted, his eyes widening further.
y/n and lando exchanged a knowing look, both bursting into laughter at max's reaction, their casual approach to this new development was seemingly more surprising than the news itself.
“we probably would’ve gone further if you hadn’t fixed that door,” y/n added, still laughing as max smiled to himself.
“you’re plan finally worked mate,” lando laughed out, watching max’s face contort into shock.
“my pla-? when did you work it out?”
“sometime between you turning off the heating and the time you pretended to be sick so we had to go to dinner just the two of us.”
“yeah the table for two and the candles was a big giveaway.”
“i need to lay in a cold dark room please - excuse me,” max said finally, picking his jaw up from the floor before walking out in complete silence.
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris smut#lando x reader#lando smut#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#formula 1#mclaren f1#mclaren#lando norris fluff#propertyofwicked
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Hey lovely, can I please have a butter tart with a coffee and whatever's on the house served by Lestappen?🤍
bakery menu
please request your own! there's ton of items on the menu for you to pick! (with more coming in the near future!!). *quiet voice* thank you lovely anon. basically i wanted to do a lestappen & reader three-way rivalry that would make me lose it. this order is on the house for doing me a solid, please come back another time and order again!
butter tart ("let's ruin ourselves for anyone else.") + coffee (rivals au) + on the house (aftercare) served by max verstappen & charles leclerc (formula one)!
cw: smut/pwp, lestappen, threesome, rivals au, dirty talk, aftercare, teasing, hot stuff (!!), various sexual acts mentioned
the sun, the moon and the stars.
the trio that ended formula one the same time. from three different parts of the world, three different past experiences and histories, but all with the same goal.
you all wanted to win. simple as that.
on camera, it felt like the three of you were in a league of your own. to settle scores that were etched into your psyche during your karting youth. max would get a little too close to charles, charles would make a snide comment before the final race, and you'd vague post about them online.
all to fuel this insatiable hunger that the media had to watch the three of you tear each other apart. a rivalry between the three celestial bodies that would tear the universe (or this case, formula one apart).
the rumours followed the three of you since you became in each other's orbit. over the past few years more images have resurfaced that only added to the "conspiracy" of your secret relationship. it was honestly quite fun to watch.
"someone tried to create a timeline in tiktok." charles shook his phone at you and max. you were both honestly impressed by how much the internet could cobble together.
a personal favourite photo of yours was a poorly saturated photo of charles and max at a club together. they both looked painfully drunk in the seats they were in. while that itself wasn't striking, what made it a favourite was that their faces were covered in kiss marks. all the way to the collar of their shirt.
this was often paired online with a few photos of you wearing the same shade of lipstick to events around the same time. it was a rich plum colour from what you remembered and you remembered that the marks didn't end at the collar of their shirts.
you had a bruise the size of a golf ball when you and charles ended up in a cramped bathroom stall.
you were thankful that some of the photos were lost to time. or rather an old hard drive on a laptop you kept buried in your apartment for fear of people finding the photos and videos. you didn't even trust a hammer to get rid of the evidence.
there was one file that was on your current phone however, that you painstakingly transferred. it was a video, you three at around twenty four, right after max's first champion win.
charles was between his legs, his mouth on max's cock while you standing beside them, filming the sexual scene while max's fingers were stuffed in your pussy. and that was one of the more tamer ones.
however, well into your racing careers. the rivalry still went strong. and sometimes, after a race. it all boiled over.
your teammate, george looked at you as he caught you leaving your hotel room. a small knapsack was filled to the brim with stuff. he sighed, "not this again. what, you're going to catch an uber and go see them?"
the relationship between you and the two other men was the worse open kept secret. you shrugged, "it's the dutch grand prix and max didn't completely fuck it up, you know how it goes."
not fucking it up meant that max won. but you couldn't give him the benefit of knowing that you lost. so, max just did well.
george replied, "just be smart... be safe, i guess. i don't know. i don't want drama because you three couldn't get along or be safe."
you replied with your best press smile, "aw, c'mon russell! the three of us are always at the center of drama. you're not new to this." he watched you turn away and head to the elevators.
at the hotel occupied by ferrari and red bull, you ended up at max's room. you bounced on your feet for a moment as you knocked. then waited for him to open the door. you then tapped your foot and almost called something before the door opened and max pulled you into the room.
he pushed you up against the back of the door once he was shut. he grabbed you by the face and pulled you into a searing kiss. you sometimes forgot how big his hands were until you had become painfully aware.
"where's charlie?" you asked when max pulled away from the kiss. you held onto his wrist for a moment.
"i want you to guess where he is." max replied.
"the fan girls swarming him."
"he was getting us some wine too." max made a face.
you replied, "well, i guess we can start without him." then started to strip when max let go of you. the two of you got naked quickly and onto the massive bed. max's hands were allover your naked body, the blankets provided some comfort against the air conditioned room.
you felt like you knew max's body as well as your own. you had touched it in so many ways over the years. you pressed yourself up against him and kissed him gently.
it really was the moon and the stars right now. but, they wouldn't be alone forever as a knock at the hotel room door pulled you away from one another. max got out of bed and answered the door.
"hey ma- why are you naked?" charles voice could be heard before he steeped in. he was pulled in by max. you moved a little bit to see through the doorway to the main room where the men were.
charles was holding a bottle of wine and smiled when he saw you. he said, "are you starting without me?" then turned to max, "you sent me out for wine so you could have first pick, right?"
"i would never! she just doesn't have the dedicated fan base you have." then headed back to the bedroom. charles followed closely behind him and was stripping his clothes. his shirt ended up with max's on the couch and his jeans were draped over some chair.
you got out from under the covers and charles almost choked on air at the sight of your naked body. not because it was horrible, but because it was just as beautiful as ever.
the sexual history between the three of you was a messy web. it felt like anyone who tried to get with one of you always failed. because if one of you tried to step out, the string that kept you tethered to one another always brought you back.
the two men got into bed with you and started to kiss at you warm skin. you felt a shudder run through you at the feeling of their lips on your skin.
"you fuckin' freaks." you purred as you giggled at the touches. you felt goosebumps across your skin as you rubbed your thighs together.
"ah what, are you mad that you came in sixth today?"
you looked over your shoulder at charles and said, "i should've ran you off the track, mister third."
max pulled your attention to him and said, "and what about me?" he chuckled as he held you jaw.
you held onto the other's shoulders and said, "ugh, i was hoping that something would come flying off. halfway through the race."
the men pressed against you even harder, their touches were getting harder. charles said, "i can't believe she said that about us. after everything we've done for her."
"i know. so ungrateful."
charles pulled your head back and pulled you in for a hot kiss. you felt both their erections up against your back which made you whine softly.
max chuckled, "i'm curious about what colours she'll end up wearing. when she is cheering from the sidelines."
you shuddered, "shut up, both of you. i'm not changing my last name and i'm sure as hell not marrying either of you." you tried to squirm out of their grasps.
but it only tightened and both men looked at each other. they could barely compose themselves and both of them started to howl in laughter, like you said the highlight of a comedy show.
"we're serious." charles said, low in your ear.
max chuckled lowly, "she'd be too stubborn, even if one of us got her pregnant, she'd give that kid her last name."
you looked at max, "yeah, exactly." and tensed up when max's finger dragged across your achy slit.
"verstappen is always available." max then pulled you in for another searing kiss and charles' voice was in your ear, the combination made your core throb. you hated how they knew all your weaknesses.
"i was thinking leclerc. i mean we'd still have this little arrangement. but i'm thinking a nice wedding in monaco, the whole thing. your team, my team, your family, my family. max."
he pulled away and said, "thanks." his tone was flat.
"no problem." he smiled at his rival before he went back to you and added, "i think it would be a lovely wedding. i think leclerc seems less... harsh than verstappen."
max rested his chin on your shoulder to look at charles, "to be good on the grid, you need a strong name." their eyes met and charles went in to kiss the other man.
you were perfectly sandwiched between them as they kissed. when they parted charles said, "don't worry, max. you can have my last name too."
you tapped your chin for a moment and said, "lovely offers you two, but i think i'm just going to stick with the last name i've had for my entire life. i don't need either of you to boost my legacy."
"right, right. it's not like you're going to marry anyone else outside of this." max said.
"oh yeah, most likely. i think we've entered the let's ruin ourselves for anyone else territory."
charles kissed the side of your neck, "don't say it like it's a bad thing."
you looked over your shoulder at him and raised your eyebrows, "i would like a husband at some point."
"then marry me." both men said in unison.
eventually the three of you got into position. your face buried in charles' lap while on your elbows and knees with max behind you. you looked up at charles who had his hand in your hair.
"you look good like this."
"next time." you said, "you're eating me out." your voice was pointed as if you weren't practically salivating at the chance to suck him off.
"there's no higher honour." he said as he held the back of your head before you started to kiss at his cock.
both men were impressive in size, not too crazy. nothing that would painfully scare someone or leave you with internal bruising.
"ready for me?" max asked.
you nodded as you continued to kiss at charles' cock. your hands on either side of his waist for leverage as you really sank your mouth down on it. you did arch your back and moan when max pushed his cock inside of you.
"neuken."
charles chuckled, he's heard that more than a few times in his life. with his hands tangled in your hair, he looked to the other man and said, "she still feels amazing."
"afraid you have competition, charles?" max replied, as if you hadn't spent time watching the two of them go after one another in the bedroom from time to time.
he made a face before he looked down to you and started to gently roll his hips. you knew exactly how to make these men squirm as you eagerly pleasured them.
max's thrusts were strong, but not fast. he was savouring his time inside of you. the tight heat of your pussy that he only found himself craving more as time went on.
you knew if the press even got a whiff of this, it would be such a media circus that you were certain that one of you would kill a reporter. that was why you still had that laptop, because the fear of the files being restored somehow even after a good wipe of the hard drive, was very real.
there were nudes of you, of max and of charles, sometimes all three of you together. there was one when the three of you were in amsterdam where it was you smoking a cigarette, presumably after sex and max was fast asleep and you were using his back to hold the hotel ashtray.
you knew there was a video of max waking charles up by putting his pussy slick covered fingers (thanks to you) in front of the man's face and whistling to him like a dog. the funny part was that it worked.
it would be a treasure trove of debauchery if anyone got their hands on it. the three of you were stupid little sex freaks, in a way you still were. except now with heftier pay checks and nice homes in expensive real estate.
you closed your eyes and let yourself just be fucked by the other two men. they were never truly mean. no slapping or hair pulling, and certainly no bruising.
you and max spent a whole season in the rumours section of gossip rags because of the amount of hickies that were seen on your neck. max even went as far as to leave one on the inner part of your wrist. charles thought that fiasco was funny, mostly because he wasn't in it.
"you feel so good." charles groaned.
max wrapped both of his strong arms around you and leaned over you, pressing you further into the bed. he rutted against you and kissed the back of you neck while you throat was full of charles' cock.
"she feels so fucking good." max said, "i think we've really lucked out. as good in the bedroom as she is on the grid."
charles chuckled, "if she was that good on the grid, she would've easily passed you today."
max kissed the side of your neck and shoved his cock as deep as it could go, "true, true." he kissed the side of your face,
the three of you moved together. the sounds of sex filled the hotel room, you had felt over the years since this started you have become more mature in your sexual proclivities. it wasn't a quick, messy fuck in some hall closet or a blow job in a car in an empty parking lot.
you three could take the time with each other. the three of you panted, moaned and groaned. you were wrapped up in the hot euphoria of sex.
the three of you were interlinked in ways that couldn't be fully explained. while it made for titillating headlines, there was a deeper under current of your relationship.
while most feuds between the two of you would be solved either through conversation or the heated moments of sex. there was a need for the three of you to push to your absolute limit.
while there were seventeen other drivers on the track, and you did have your feuds with them. you were tied to charles and max just as they were tied to you and each other.
a perfect triangle. in a strange reality where two of you were on the same team, it would be a clean sweep for the team. it was good that the three of you were on three different teams.
in all fairness, george, sergio and lewis probably would prefer the three of you somehow were on the same team. at least it would contain the bitching. (you knew they had their own group chat to figure out what the hell was going on between the three of you)
but it was hard to bitch when the three of you were in the bedroom.
both men were starting to lose steam, in all fairness, so were you. you could feel the head rush as you continued to charles' cock with max's cock hitting against your sensitive areas. you gripped the bed under you and kept it together long enough to orgasm.
charles was the first to finish, that was usually what happened. he ran so hot when he had sex that it clouded his mind and he easily finished down your throat, almost coming a second time when he saw how easily you swallowed it all up. he slumped against the headboard of the bed watched max continue to fuck you.
you were the second to cum, you gripped onto the bed wit your nose up in charles' pubic hair as you panted heavily. it was a throb in your body only made worse by max's persistent thrusting.
max watched both of his partners of a sexual bliss and continued to rut against you. he had been holding himself off to make sure that you two finished before he did. that was sort of what he did. but the sight of both of you was enough to send him over the end. and he finished inside of you with a last hard thrust.
"holy fuck." he panted as he felt the fight leave his body.
you felt a bit of your jaw ache as you laid there with your head on charles' thigh. max pulled out and got comfortable beside the other man.
charles play with your hair and said, "i think she's been spoiled."
max chuckled, "i think she's spoiled us. that was her plan all along."
you cracked an eye open at max before you leaned over to kiss him. right before you did, you said, "yeah max. it's been my evil plan for almost ten years."
max kissed you and charles' continued to play with your hair. the sun, the moon and the stars. the three celestial bodies of formula one. curled up in bed together.
-
both men laid in bed and shared a smoke while you cleaned yourself up. you always ran so painfully hot. while you got your hair out of your eyes after you dried it, you noticed that max's red bull shirt and charles' ferrari shirt were both left over the couch.
you heard both men talking in french, with the occasional sound of kissing. but your focus were on the shirts on the couch. a thought crossed your mind and you picked up your phone from the sink counter and snapped a picture.
you stared down at your phone for a moment. you should've probably pondered your options a little more before you uploaded the photo to your instagram story. "a stallion and a bull. yeah right." with a rolling eyes emoji. you posted it to your story then put your phone on silence before you headed back to the bedroom.
the fallout from that would be tomorrow's problem. <3
#bunny writes#the bakery#lestappen x reader#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc smut#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen smut#max smut#charles smut#formula 1 smut#formula one smut#formula one imagine#formula one fanfiction#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1#f1 smut#f1 rpf#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#charles leclerc#max verstappen
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a boxers heart.
chapter one
Kim Geonwoo x Fem!Reader
Summary: one day was enough to change your lifes forever. Geonwoo is your best friend, you help his mother with her coffee shop and became part of a legendary trio with Geonwoo and Woojin. However.. nothing will ever be the same again after the Smile Company entered your lifes.
wc: 2.1k
an: the story will follow the dramas events. Adjustments were made to include our character into the storyline.. other then that.. watch the two characters fall in love with each other ✨️
Enjoy
______________________________________________
He strikes again! Kim Geon-woo landed a fatal blow on Hong Woo-jins side! Sending him directly on the floor once more!
Will he stand up again just like he did earlier? It definetly does not look like this.
And three! two! one!
We have our winner! Kim Geon-woo won the tournament with an outstanding performance!
This year was truly something else. The pandemic hitting us out from the blue, causing for endless troubles.. These young men however proved us that the struggles we faced, still wanting to organize this grand show off, all of our hard work for making it work.. everything payed off!
We are proud to announce this years winner and to honor every other contestant who took part.
And let's not forget Hong Woo-jin! This finale was special because both of these young men went over their limits to decide the title of this years winner!
Now, have fun and enjoy your time!
Ladies and Gentleman, we'll hopefully meet again on the next years tournament!
The commentators praised the two while the cameraman focused on sharing close ups of the said fighters.
"He won! My Geonwoo won!"
His mothers melodic voice ringed through her small coffee shop, the small Samsung screen showing the broadcast.
"He's the best!"
You joined her cheering, engulfing her into a hug since she awaited you with open arms.
"I'm so proud of him!!"
His mother was the biggest sweetheart anyone could imagine. She truly loved her son and did everything in her power to ensure him a safer future.
You helped her once when she was cleaning up her store on her own.
Other then Geonwoo sometimes, she has no employees helping her to run the shop.. so you decided to offer your help.
It wasn't something you felt obliged to do, you just did it because you enjoyed helping others in general.
Ever since then, you decided to head over her shop to help her with everything, you didn't take money since you were payed well from another job you did sometimes.
With art.
Commissions payed you great.. this was more then enough for you to work for her for free.
"Do you want to head over? I can take over the shift until you return"
You offered but she was quick to decline.
"Thank you but I will stay here, what about you going to see him? I'm sure that it'd make him happy"
She offered you a warm smile.
... should I?
"Are you sure?"
His mother quikly nodded and pointed at the door.
"Enjoy his win together, make this day even more special as it already is!"
You were pushed out of the coffee shop with a gentle push.
She smiled at you as you waved her goodbye.
Now... where would he go after such a big win..
...
Time passed and you decided to just call him, finding him would be impossible otherwise.
'Hey y/n!'
"Congrats woo! You did it!!!"
'Thank you!'
You could hear his chuckle from the other side of the line, but there was another voice
'Hey who is that?'
The second voice was the one of a male, he had company..
"Am I interrupting right now...?"
'No, why? Did something happen?'
'Geonwoo who is this? Is this a girl??'
'Damnit Woojin!'
He whisper yelled that but you had to admit that it was funny.
"No, no don't worry everything is fine.. I just thought of meeting up with you to celebrate your win.. but I don't want to eh.."
'aaaa now I get why you asked me if you were interrupting earlier- No no, do not worry over this, I actually want to introduce you to someone! I'll send you our location, we'd be very happy to celebrate it together, with you!'
You could literally visually imagine his smile as he spoke. Your heart fluttered whenever he spoke.. whenever he smiled.. whenever he talked with you
He may be a boxer, but oh was he pure hearted. If politeness was a person, it'd be him. You need help? He's there. You need a shoulder to lean on? He'll stay by your side until the worst is over.
I'd love to meet him! I'll hurry over!!!
'Whoa whoa! That smil-'
Geonwoo hung up and you made your way to the location he had sent you.
They were eating. Perfect. You'd kill for a good meal now.
-
"Who was this?? Ohhh man you looked so happy!"
Geonwoo brought his hand to his forehead, resting it while he fought the urge of gifting him a second experience of their fight earlier today.
"A good friend of mine"
But Woojin didn't buy that.. not that easily.
"Yeah yeah.. let's believe that"
He smirked at him while taking the claw to turn the meat around.
Geonwoo was quick to snap it out of his hand.
"Not yet"
Woojin was left confused.
"... what? Hey I'm older, show me some respect"
"But they are not ready"
"I'm hungry."
"They need another minute. At least."
The hungry man wanted to say something but the doors bell interrupted his thoughts.
A girl entered the scene. She looked over the desks until her eyes met his.
"It's her.. from the call?"
Geonwoo nodded. He waved her over as he stood up to greet her and she sprinted towards him.
"Look who showed u-"
"Congrats to our champion!!!"
You jumped at him and hugged him real tight. He was taken aback but swung his arms around you immediately. He chuckled at your action and tightened his grip on you, spinning you around while thanking you. He put you on the ground again after the final spin and that was when you spotted the other man.
Wasn't he his opponent..?
"Let me introduce you to Woojin. Woojin, this is y/n and y/n this is Hong Woojin. We fought earlier at the arena"
You greeted him and complimented him on his fighting skills aswell.
"It's a pleasure to meet you y/n, and thank you"
Geonwoo and you sat down and looked at the meat.
"I think it's ready, you could turn it around no?"
Geonwoo took the claw again and turned the meat, leaving Woojin speechless.
"You disobeyed me when I asked you to do it!"
"It wasn't ready earlier"
"It was!"
"No"
"But-"
"It still needed some time, you see there is a me-"
"That's not fair!"
"It is"
"Okay, cut them now!"
"No"
"Why?!"
"They're not ready yet"
"They are!"
You sat there trying not to laugh, it was funny enough that that Woojin guy tried to make Geonwoo serve that meat while it was clearly not ready.
The trio sat there in silence until you spoke up.
"I think you can cut it now"
"Oh yes it's perfect"
Geonwoo took the scissor and cut the pieces.
Woojin.. well he let his head fall dramatically on the desk, whining that his marine comrad ignored him.
"The world has got to be kidding me"
".. is honesty really that bad?"
Woojin shot his head up and looked at Geonwoos eyes.
"You know what. Let's move on."
You and Geonwoo erupted into a heartfilled laughter and Woojin joined you soon enough.
"Let's raise a toast to the best boxers!!"
"Thank you!"
Said the two in unison as everyone prepared their bites to enjoy their meal after the great day.
"How did you actually meet? Was it after the tournament or during it?"
You were curious, Geonwoo never mentioned Woojin before after all.
"He waited at the hall asking each of his victims to go and eat with him."
Woojin said, side eyeing your friend.
"I thought that he was fooling me at first but he was serious about that" "Ahh yes that sounds like him"
You looked over and lightly hit Geonwoos shoulder.
"I'm glad you asked him, he seems like a fun guy"
Woojin felt a sense of pride as your words left your mouth, grinning widely.
"How did you actually meet Geonwoo?
"Well.. I came across his mother's coffee shop and I help her out ever since then. He happened to enter the shop while I was refilling something. Which was kinda funny because he thought that I was stealing something and oh did he get mad"
"He? Mad??"
Woojin may have only met him today but that.. that guy was more then honest and polite throughout the whole day.. him and mad didn't feel right in the same sentence.
"Oh yes."
You stood up, took a stable stance and mimicked Geonwoos face.
"Who the hell are you?"
Geonwoos eyes widened. Your voice was lower, you did something with your face that did not look like him at all.
"It wasn't that ba-"
"Answer now or I'll call the police"
Woojin nearly choked on his glass of water when you tried to copy his voice.
"Okay but be honest! How would you've reacted if a stranger was roaming freely in your mothers shop?!"
Geonwoo stood up for his defense, attacking your sides while he tickled the hell out of you.
"Wait wait w- sto-op!"
Your laughter filled the place as you tried to free yourself of his attack.
"No."
"Geonwoo!"
He continued his merciless attack until you were both gasping for air. He because he couldn't get over his laughter and you because of the tickling.
"I am feeling like a third wheeler right now"
Woojin put a fake pout and you literally became breathless.
"Woo please-"
"Okay, you shall be forgiven"
"Thank you for your mercy, your majesty"
This is how the whole afternoon went by, you three bonding with each other, exchanging stories and experiences while the restaurants owner regretted their life's choices.
What nobody of you all knew was the sudden visitor.. a man dressed in a suit.. visiting Geonwoos mothers coffee shop to offer her a deal.
It seemed too good to be good, a startup company offering to help the ones in need?
"Thank you so much sir"
"She signed the paper and gave it to the man."
"I have to thank you miss"
.
"Woojin.. are these original?"
Geonwoo pointed at Woojins shoes, your gaze followed his finger as you spotted the said shoe.
But.. it does look fake.. no?
"Yes. 1.2 Million won"
Geonwoos eyes widened at this.
"What?! That's the rent of our coffee shop!"
Woojin chuckled and shook his head. Your friend looked at you in disbelief.
"Did you hear that??"
You nodded but waited for Woojin to say something..
"Bro.. these are fake"
Thank god.
Geonwoo was relieved upon hearing that.
"It's obvious if you look at the cap, it's shinier. The true ones don't.."
Their voices blended with your surroundings as you took in the scene.
Late night walks weren't rare but this one.. this was somehow special.
The two continued their talk until they realized that you were walking behind them.
"Hey y/n!"
They took a few steps back and swung their arms around you, holding you in their middle.
"You're so small.. we nearly lost you"
Woojin said and you jokingly punched him.
"I'm sorry Mt. Everest"
The three of you continued the chatter as you walked through the streets.
Woojin went to his home at some point leaving you with Geonwoo alone, on your way to the shop.
"Today was quite a handful huh"
You joked, but you had a point.
He won the match, he found a new friend, your trio got created and the restaurant owner now knows about the marines divisions.
"Haha yes.. thank you"
He turned to you, locking your gazes.
"You coming over after the match. It meant alot to me"
"Well.. you're my best friend after all, I'll always be there to support you"
Geonwoo was speechless but his smile was priceless.
"Now let us surprise your mother, I bet she's thrilled to congratulate you on your big day champ"
He nodded and you two arrived at the shop where his mother was. "My Geonwoo! You did it!!"
She sprinted to him and hugged him, really proud of her son. Her eyes then shifted to yours and a warms smile appeared on her face.
"Did you celebrate the win?"
"Yes!! The other fighter.. Hong Woojin was also with us. It was real fun!!"
"I'm glad! Now let's go home everybody"
You three closed the shop and made you way to the apartments.
A black car drove past you as you walked further into the street.
Geonwoo and you looked back at it but the plate was unknown to the both of you.
You turned around again, joining the topic his mother was talking about.
But little did you know that this day would change your life's forever.
#woo do hwan#kim geunwoo#hong woo jin#bloodhounds kdrama#bloodhounds#geonwoo x reader#dohwan x reader#woodohwan x reader#bloodhounds x reader
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Practice On Me — Part Six — Azriel x Reader
Note — Tumblr still isn’t allowing me to tag some of you. I’ll keep trying but if you haven’t already, make sure you check in settings that your username is able to be searched/tagged! Mwah 💕
Summary: Reader seeks comfort after the events in Fenlaros. Lines are crossed that can’t be uncrossed. Actions come with consequences.
Word Count: 6.9k
Warnings: Some violence. Things get fiiiilthy. 18+, NSFW, smut, minors dni.
It’s not clear who punches who first, because fists are flying left and right. The male in front of you lands a harsh hit on your cheek, the metal of a ring catching your skin, but there’s no chance to register the burst of pain, because you’re being shoved, and you’re shoving back, and your knuckles are pummelling into another male’s face while his friend sends a punch straight into your gut.
It’s that impact that winds you too much to move. You’re doubling over, trying to draw breath while the fight continues around you. The same male goes to hit you a second time.
But he doesn’t have a chance as Rhys comes lunging at him and knocks him to the floor. Your friend is as flawless with his fists as he is with steel. The Fenlaros male doesn’t stand a chance against him.
This is…this is bad. If you can somehow round your friends up and get out of there before it gets any worse, you may be able to escape the repercussions. A fight like this between two camps could carry a punishment anywhere from revoked privileges to an outright flogging. You’d really rather not face a disgruntled Lord of Windhaven upon your return.
Through the brawl, you’re searching for both Azriel and Cassian. You’ve lost sight of them both completely. And you know they can hold their own, that they’re some of the best fighters in all of Illyria, but the four of you are vastly outnumbered. Even the trio of your closest friends have limits, and being dogpiled by a group of males out for blood surely brings them close to theirs.
Someone grabs the back of your shirt, and with your breath having returned to you somewhat, you round on them, ready to defend yourself once more. However, it’s Cassian who looms over you, hair tousled and shirt wrinkled.
He yells at you over the noise, “This is getting out of hand! We need to get out of here!”
Thank gods he’s choosing to be sensible for once. You suppose even Cass knows when a fight is worth having.
“I’m trying to find Az!” You shout back. “I don’t know where he—”
“Kaeda already pulled him out. Let’s grab Rhys and go!”
Now is a really, really inappropriate time to feel jealous.
And yet jealous, you are.
And maybe even a little hurt, too. Did Az even try to find you before making an exit with Kaeda?
You banish the thoughts, allowing Cassian to wrench you through the people and mostly avoid getting hurt, besides the odd wayward fist that isn’t intended for you. The second he spots Rhys, still fighting with the male who winded you, he’s grabbing him firmly by the collar of his shirt and leaving no room for protest.
“We’re getting out of here before this turns really bloody.” He tells him loudly.
Rhys doesn’t put up a fight. He nods, straight on board with the exit strategy. His wild, alert gaze swivels to study you. “You’re alright?”
“Fine.” You nod. “Let’s go.”
It turns out the exit strategy is to just shove through hordes of people until you find a way out. Rhys is keeping hold of Cassian and you’re keeping hold of Rhys, and the three of you create an aggressive little train that wends through the chaos until cold air washes over you, and you’re spilling out onto the front path. You can hear the distant whoosh and thwack of the Fenlaros lot having no choice but to turn on each other.
“Y/N!”
You turn, just in time to see Az pushing away from a wall, Kaeda in tow. She carries a bloodied dish rag that she was clearly using to dab at his bust lip, but she falls back as Az strides over to you.
“I was looking for you everywhere.” He grabs your chin in his hand, turning your head to the side. “Your cheek is cut.”
You stare back at him, waiting for him to say something — something that even vaguely resembles an explanation as to why he started all of this.
“We should really get out of here—”
“Does it hurt?” He interrupts Rhysand’s interjection, his touch gentle despite the ferocity in his gaze. His thumb brushes over your cheek.
You’re too pissed off to care about his concern.
“I’ll live.” You snap, shoving him away from you. “Azriel, what the fuck?”
“My sentiments entirely.” Cass mumbles.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You continue. “You were the one who said coming here was nothing to be worried about, and then you start that? Have you totally lost your mind?”
“My sentiments entirely.” Rhys echoes.
A muscle in Azriel’s jaw ticks. He takes a step back, swallowing hard. “Sorry for being protective—”
“Possessive, more like—”
“It’s my fault.”
Both your heads snap round as Kaeda steps closer. She stares between you, wide-eyed. Doe-eyed. Looking like she stole the last slice of cake and has a litany of evidence stacked against her.
“He was being protective over me.” She says, and you freeze. She angles herself towards Azriel. “I shouldn’t have mentioned that Thedis and I have history. I don’t know why I did. I’m sorry, I—I didn’t think you’d react like that.”
Oh.
Oh.
That’s—that’s not what you thought was happening.
Clearly, you and Kaeda have two very different understandings of what went down.
You study Az closely, waiting for his reaction — to see if Kaeda is right, and it wasn’t you he was starting a fight over at all.
He stares at her like she’s spoken in a foreign tongue. He opens his mouth.
“Shit.” Kaeda swears suddenly, looking past him. “Shit, that’s my father.”
Each of you swivels around to see the colossal male striding down the path towards you, two slightly — very slightly — smaller males flanking either side of him. His long hair falls about his head in unruly waves, and there’s something ruggedly handsome about his face that kind of makes you want him to smother you with his ridiculously huge bicep. Everything about him is dark. His eyes and his beard and the whorls of Illyrian tattoos that cover the expanse of his neck.
This…this is a male who could snuff out a family of six just by looking in their direction. And his gaze zeroes in entirely on Azriel.
Cassian yanks you closer by the back of your shirt. “Let’s go—”
“He’s going to want to speak with you.” Kaeda turns to Azriel. “You’re the only shadowsinger around here. He knows who you are. He’s intrigued by your power.”
Az continues to watch his approach. And then he squares his shoulders. “Fine.” He doesn’t even glance your way as he says, “I’ll see the rest of you back in Windhaven.”
You don’t like this. Not one bit. Who knows what the male might do to Azriel? You want to say something, to protest—
But Kaeda links her arm through his, and you know there’s no point. This isn’t your fight.
“Don’t get yourself into even deeper shit.” Cassian says, lifting you into his arms.
Kaeda doesn’t seem worried. She rolls her eyes at that. “He’s not going to hurt him.”
You can’t help staring at her. She seems so sure, so unbothered. Not just by what her father might have in store, but by the entire situation. She seems almost…smug.
Az did start an entire fucking brawl over her, after all.
You can’t meet his gaze as you cling to Cassian. Too much has happened in a short space of time. It makes you feel…full. Uncomfortable. You need some space from Az to process what exactly just occurred.
And it seems like your wish will be granted. It’s clear, as he steps closer, that Kaeda’s father has no interest in the rest of you. His cat-like eyes follow a shadow that coils around your friend, and you could swear his lips want to smirk. Like there’s some inside joke the rest of you aren’t privy to.
“Go.” Azriel says, and neither Rhys nor Cass need telling twice. They don’t seem particularly concerned.
Your gaze snags on Az just as Cassian’s arms tighten around you, and he shoots into the skies with an unpleasantly steep climb. Rhys does the same.
And as Kaeda and Azriel become smaller the higher you go, you’re just able to glimpse Kaeda’s father stopping before him and shaking his hand. It’s then that you look away.
This isn’t for you to worry about. It’s—
It’s between him and Kaeda.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
The thing about flying — or, in your case, being flown — is that it’s invaluable for moments of pensiveness. There’s no better time to face your thoughts than when the clarity of the sky stretches all around you.
But that can also be really fucking dangerous. Because you think. And then you think some more. And then suddenly, you’re thinking about anything and everything all at once, thinking about ifs, buts, maybes, thinking yourself into a bad mood.
And that is precisely what you do.
You are pissed the fuck off.
So pissed off, you want to scream into the void, at the shifting landscape below. You’re pissed off with Azriel, with his actions, with your entire situation.
He has never been as stupid, as reckless, as he has been recently. Never did you think you’d see a day where Cassian was the more sensible of the two. You’re used to Az being the mediator, to always approaching situations with a rational mind.
And yet these days, he’s a ticking time bomb. You don’t know who he might have a problem with, and clearly you don’t know why, given that you so wrongly assumed his protectiveness — possessiveness — flared up over you.
Of course it was Kaeda. How stupid you are.
Lust is one hell of a blinding light.
Every few seconds, you tell yourself you’re not going to think about it. And then a few seconds after that, you’re straight back to that constant screech of AZRIELANDKAEDAAZRIELANDKAEDAAZRIELANDKAEDA.
If this is who he’s becoming because of her…you’re not sure that’s a good thing.
By the time Cassian is setting you down in front of the cottage, your mood is absolutely foul. You feel sobered by the situation. You may as well have not had a drop of alcohol at all.
Rhys doesn’t stick around. He tells you and Cass that he’s going to Velaris — he wants to explain what happened in Fenlaros to his father before the High Lord can hear it from anyone else. And so it’s just you and Cassian traipsing into the cottage, freezing cold and fed up that the night went how it did. Your stomach is starting to ache where the male punched you, the cut on your cheek starting to sting.
You head straight for the kitchen and begin turfing through the cabinets, looking for a half-empty bottle of whiskey or a snack or something. You slam each cabinet door closed, but it does nothing to alleviate your irritation.
Cassian lights a fire, his eyes watching you closely. Perhaps he can sense that something is brewing in your veins. And he’d be right about that — you’re just not sure what it is.
Finally, you sit up on the kitchen counter and settle on biting into a stale bread roll. It’s dry and tasteless, but it occupies your mouth and stops a scream from escaping.
“I want to clean that cut on your cheek.” Cass strides over to the kitchen, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”
Only in your heart. “No.” You lie.
He nods, and just like the other night, he begins gathering medical supplies. He’s getting good at this. You kind of want to tell him not to bother, to just let the cut sting, but you’re brooding too much to get the words out.
You swallow down your last, dry bite of bread, and you comment, “I knew going to Fenlaros was a fucking terrible idea.”
Cassian chuckles. There isn’t much that fazes him. “In hindsight, I don’t know what we were thinking.”
“With your cocks, probably.”
He quirks an eyebrow at you, and then his hands are on your knees, parting your legs so he can slot himself in between. You don’t protest; he’ll only start a mother hen routine and threaten to bring you to a healer instead.
He wets a rag and begins to gently dab the gash on your cheek. It hurts, but not enough. Not bad enough to drown out the thoughts of the night’s events. You go through them from start to finish, and you have to suck in a deep breath just to stop yourself from punching something.
Why had Kaeda suggested such a stupid fucking thing?
And okay, you can’t put the blame entirely on her; it’s mostly your jealousy that stokes your anger. You, Azriel, Cassian and Rhys are all fully autonomous adults. Any of you could have shot the idea down and refused to go.
But it just…it just sits funny with you, weird in your chest. Something about it feels…gross.
Again — probably your jealousy talking.
But the entire thing had been a shit show from start to finish. You should have known, from the self-loathing thoughts that were pelting you on the way there, that you should never have gone. And your failure to listen to your gut only worsens your mood.
“You push that brain to think any harder and it’ll explode.” Cassian murmurs, his warm breath fanning your face. “You can share, if you like. I may even be able to dredge up some wisdom to impart.”
You bite down on your lower lip. “Why would Kaeda’s father want to speak with Az?”
It surprises you that the question makes him smile. “I wouldn’t worry over that.” He says. “I imagine he’s more interested in speaking to Az because he’s fucking his daughter than because he came to a rival camp.”
You almost flinch at the words.
Of course, you know that by now, Azriel and Kaeda have probably taken that leap and slept together. But torturing yourself with your thoughts is different to hearing it said aloud, and by someone so close to Az, too.
It hurts. And you want to scratch away at the feeling. It might just be what tips you over.
Cass studies you for a moment, reading the change, the tightening, in your expression. He knows there’s something — but thank the gods he doesn’t know what.
He turns his attention to your hand — your knuckles must have split when you threw a couple of good punches — and he begins to clean it gently.
“Here I am again, eh? Playing healer. I should get myself an apron.”
He’s trying to make you laugh, but you can barely force your lips to twitch upwards. He drinks in your pathetic attempt with a sympathy that you can’t stand. And, sensing that humour isn’t going to be enough tonight, he tries a different approach.
“Talk to me, Y/N.” He pleads softly, dabbing gently at your hand. “Please…”
You frown. You’re thinking and feeling too many things at once to make sense of them. Running through the entire night over and over. You’re not sure which of those feelings will rear its ugly head when you try to speak.
But you open your mouth, and the words just spill out.
“I really fucking hated myself tonight.”
Cassian pauses momentarily. And then he continues his treatment to your wounds. “Y/N, fights break out every other hour—”
“No. Not because of the fight. It wasn’t that.” You swallow a lump down. “It was the flying.”
“…the flying?”
“Being carried by Rhys while the rest of you flew so freely. Knowing I’ll never be able to do that. I’m Illyrian, and yet I’m always going to be confined to the ground. I hated myself—”
“Y/N—”
“I really fucking hated myself, Cass. And to be confronted by that fact every damn time I take my shirt off…to see the fucking hideous remains of my wings—”
Your words are cut short when Cassian’s huge hands grab your face and force you to look at him. It stings the cut on your cheek, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he stares at you fiercely.
“No. Cut that out right now.” A muscle in his jaw moves. You’re looking back at a lesser-spotted serious Cassian. “There is no part of you — not one part — that comes even close to being hideous, scars or no scars. You’re brilliant. Inside and out. You’re fucking beautiful, and I love you, and I won’t have you hating yourself. Particularly not at the hands of your piece of shit father.”
For a moment, you’re so stunned by the impassioned speech that you don’t know what to say. Thanking him wouldn’t be enough. And you think you might want to cry, but tonight, crying wouldn’t be enough, either. Nor would screaming. You just…want to feel something different. Something good.
Something worth feeling.
You stare back at Cassian, and your throat bobs.
And it might be against your better judgement, but you cover his hands with yours, and you haul your mouth to his.
You can’t exactly explain it, but he has a mouth as rugged as his general appearance, something rough and untamed and just…Cassian. It’s exactly what you need in that moment. You kiss him as if you’ve kissed him a thousand times before.
You feel the moment’s hesitation on his end. It’s rare that anything is able to knock him silent, but this most certainly does. After a pause, he rips his mouth away from yours, and he stares at you, wide-eyed and flushed, reading your face as if in search of an answer to an unspoken question.
But his internal battle isn’t a long one. He seems satisfied with whatever conclusion he comes to. And then he’s surging forward and kissing you back, hard.
What follows is not slow nor tentative.
You and Cassian love each other dearly, but there are no illusions that this is anything but needed pleasure. He’s not reciprocating because he’s spent hours daydreaming about this, or because you mean more to him than any other female.
Cassian would fuck a tree if a stirred branch waved in his general direction.
And that is absolutely fine. That is exactly what you need.
He wrenches your legs further apart and yanks you to the very edge of the counter, just so he can get closer, kiss you harder. His hand snakes up the nape of your neck and bunches in your hair, strands of it tangling around his fingers, and he tips your head back, his mouth scorching hot and hungry on yours.
This is not something you’ve ever thought about, because he is just Cassian. He’s the male who pisses you off by leaving weapons lying around under couch cushions, who sings loudly at the top of his voice first thing in the morning, who fights like fighting is going out of fashion. Since the first day you’d met him, when his eleven-year-old self had looked you up and down and challenged you to an arm wrestle, he’s always just been Cassian.
You’ve always needed him in some impulsive, temperamental way — someone who keeps you on your toes, even if you complain about it sometimes. But now, you need him in a different way.
You part your mouth from his, just long enough to rip your shirt off and chuck it vaguely over his shoulder. Cass watches as you unclasp the bandeau that covers your breasts, and that’s being thrown away, too, and now your top half is naked, and Cassian is growling. It’s not even that he hasn’t seen these parts of you before, but you’d think it was the first ever time, going by the way his eyes darken, and a thousand sinful thoughts flit over his face.
“Fuck.” His voice is deeper. Both of his hands cup your breasts, and he kisses you again. “I love these.”
You smile, and you lock your legs around his waist, and you both groan as you yank him as close as he can get, and you’re grinding the centre of you over the bulge in his breeches. That, alone, feels too good — the length of him pushing through the barrier of your clothing. It’s not enough. You need more. You need him inside you.
Cass seems to echo the sentiment as he growls and finally yanks you fully off the counter. “No screwing around.” He says through gritted teeth. “I need to fuck you.”
His hands are at your breeches, and he’s ripping them open, and you’re so wet between your legs that you have to rub your thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction. Cassian notices, of course, and one side of his mouth tips up into a smirk.
“Turn around.”
You do.
You’re happy to be commanded. You don’t want to be in charge, don’t want to teach.
You want to be taken, and you want to be taught.
His rough hands shove your breeches all the way down, and then he’s seeing to his, ripping at the buttons and stays just enough to pull the hard length of him out. You turn your head to drink in the sight, but he doesn’t allow it.
He slams your front against that counter, and then he’s at your back, the head of his cock brushing against you as he murmurs into your ear, “How do you want it?”
You think your mouth might be watering. “Hard.”
“Hard?”
“Hard.”
“Brace yourself, then, sweetpea.” He grabs your hands, plants them firmly on the counter, calluses biting into your skin. His teeth graze the shell of your ear as he asks, “Are you ready for me?”
You couldn’t be more ready if you tried. You moan, pushing your ass back against him. His chuckle is felt through every inch of you.
He moves one hand down, drags it down your body, slots it between your legs. Your hips give a little jerk as he mops up some of your wetness with his fingers.
“Oh, yeah, you’re ready for me.” There’s a smirk in his voice. His fingers land on your clit, and he nips your ear again. “Good girl.”
You open your mouth — to say something, or to beg, you’re not sure. But there’s no chance.
The head of Cassian’s cock is guided to your entrance. You gasp at the mere feeling of it bumping against you, teasing the opening.
And then he fucking thrusts all the way in, hard enough that you slam once again against the counter. Medical supplies go flying onto the floor.
And gods, it feels too good.
There’s a tiny bite of pain, yes, but it’s pleasurable — more a feeling of fullness. He’s pushed all the way in to the hilt, and the guttural noise that leaves him might just be enough to make you come. It’s animalistic, the way he groans, almost a snarl.
“Hard?” He repeats, withdrawing slightly.
You gasp, your head tipping back. “Hard.”
“Thank the Mother.”
You yelp as his hand suddenly smacks against your ass cheek, and then he’s spreading you open and thrusting in again.
He is not gentle.
He is not soft or tentative or even kind.
This is how Cassian — the much-feared Illyrian — fucks.
And you like it, want it, need it. You push back against him to remind him he doesn’t need to be gentle. Forget about the fact that you’ve always known each other, that you have a fondness for each other.
Fuck me, you communicate silently. Ruin me, and make me forget who I am.
He growls, as if those very thoughts reached him mind-to-mind. And fuck you, he does.
You’re slammed again and again against the counter, hard enough to bruise and leave marks. His balls slap against your skin as he damn near rams into you at an unstoppable force. He’s grunting and snarling and panting. His hands suddenly clasp both of your arms, and he pulls them behind your back, holding onto them and thrusting faster.
“Fucking knew,” he growls, “that your cunt would feel like this. That you’d squeeze my cock like this.”
He slows just slightly — just enough to roll his hips and make sure you feel every single inch of him stroking the inside of you. The shout that leaves you doesn’t even sound like you.
“You like that, sweetpea?” He chuckles darkly. He pushes in to the hilt again, and you moan — a mistake that comes with a penalty. His hips still. “Give me your words, sweetheart. I want to know how much you need my cock.”
“Cassian.” You grit your teeth. “Fuck me.”
He withdraws. Slams into you again. And then the rhythm picks up, the pace fast and raw and unbeatable. Gripping onto your arms gives Cass the perfect leverage to take you exactly as you want him to take you, as he wants to take you. He can’t possibly go any faster, reach any deeper.
Heat coils in your lower belly. You meet every one of his thrusts by bucking against him, and it spurs your body on. You can feel something brilliant building beneath your skin and firing through your veins.
And when he lets go of one of your arms and dips his hand between your legs, his fingers immediately finding your clit, you’re not at all sure that you won’t just explode.
As you feel the head of his cock hit deep inside you, unable to go any further, as the pads of his fingers circle your clit, the noise that leaves you is unlike any other noise you’ve ever made. You’re vaguely aware of a sudden surge of wetness between your legs that drips down your thighs. Cassian made you squirt.
He half-laughs-half-groans, and his teeth nip your ear. “Sweetpea,” he bites out, “who knew you were such a filthy girl? Is this what I’ve been missing out on?”
You can’t speak — words fail you. You’re utterly incapable of doing anything but making your breathy little noises, your fractured moans, as Cassian pounds into you. His ministrations at your clit don’t even falter, even as he lets out a noise that hints at his own release being close.
“Come for me again.” Your wetness still drenches his hand, you know, but it’s not enough — he wants more. His finger presses down hard on your clit, and at the exact same moment, he lands a harsh kiss on your neck that turns into a suck. He slams into you so hard that you have to grip the counter to stop yourself being winded for the second time that night. And you erupt.
You hear the exact moment the walls of your cunt clamp around Cassian’s length. The noise he makes is one that you need to commit to memory, keep for a cold, lonely night when it’s just you and your hand. You’ve never heard anything like it. You never imagined he could make a sound like it.
“Oh, gods, yes,” He damn near whines. His hand is suddenly at your back, and he pushes you down, bends you over until your cheek is pressed to the countertop. He fastens that hand at your shoulder, the other at your hip, and then he’s on the homestretch. “Oh, fuck!”
He thrusts, and he thrusts, and he thrusts — and then he goes still, his cock exploding inside you.
He grunts through every spurt, his fingers biting into your skin. You’re not sure you can move as your cunt continues to contract around him, draining him of every last drop. The counter and Cassian’s hands are the only things holding you up. If he steps away now, your legs may just buckle and drag you to the floor.
So in contrast to the wicked noises you were both just making, near-silence sweeps in, broken only by you both gasping for breath. You close your eyes, your brow furrowing. Press your forehead against the surface you’re currently slumped over. You can’t remember how to…how to exist outside of pleasure.
You are well and truly fucked out.
You’re almost content to just stay there, gripping onto the counter for dear life. But then Cassian finally slides out of you, pulling his seed with him. It drips down your legs, into your underwear. A shudder leaves you.
“Shit, that was—” Cass breathes a laugh. “Gods. Why have we never done that before?”
You manage your own weak, sated chuckle, and finally try to stand up straight. “Because friends aren’t supposed to fuck friends senseless.”
“No,” he agrees. Pauses. “But, like…it doesn’t have to make things awkward, does it? We’re both adults. Capable of sharing pleasure and…and carrying on as normal…”
Oh, bless his heart.
Non-committal Cass is now worried that a casual rearranging of your organs might turn into you falling in love.
“It’s not going to be awkward, Cass.” You snort softly. “I’m just not sure I can move.”
He stares at you. And you stare at him.
The laughter hits you both at the same time. It’s laughter of both relief and release. An acknowledgement that you both feel a darn sight better now than you did when you first walked in. The night isn’t weighing on you so heavily, now.
Is that bad? Perhaps.
But you can fuck people, too. Why…why should you regret it?
“Here.” Tucking himself back into his breeches, Cassian yanks his shirt off, handing it to you. “You can use this to clean yourself up. I’ll run you a bath.”
He turns, but you’re stopping him with a hand on his arm. “I don’t want special treatment just because we fucked. Just…be normal.”
One eyebrow quirks up. “I planned to run you a bath after I cleaned your cheek. We just got a bit…sidetracked. I’m looking after you, Y/N — as your friend.”
You study his face. He’s open, sincere — not pitying. Good.
“Okay.” You tug your hand away. “Thank you.”
He dips his chin, and then he’s strolling away again. He stops at the bottom of the stairs, turning back to look at you.
“I love you.” He says. “Just…don’t ever doubt that.”
You’re not sure you ever could. He’s one of the few constants in your life.
You nod, suddenly not sure you can make eye contact. “I know. I love you, too.”
He, too, nods. And then he disappears, and you’re listening to his boots thudding against each step of the stairs.
You wipe yourself down, tug your breeches up. Slump back against the counter. Drag a hand over your face.
You kind of just want to sleep, be unconscious, before the weighty thoughts begin to shove their way in again.
✧: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚✧・゚: *✧・゚
The summons comes early the next morning, before the sun has even arisen.
One of Lord Devlon’s cronies comes to pluck you and Cassian from the cottage, lead you to the Camp Lord’s study. Azriel is already there when you arrive.
You meet his gaze as you sit down, trying to look for some clue as to what might have occurred in Fenlaros after you’d left. All he seems interested in is checking you over, surveying you for what injuries you have as a result of the night before.
You’re not all too sure if your stomach is tender because of the punch you received to your gut, or because of how thoroughly Cassian fucked you against the kitchen counter.
Probably best not to linger on that thought for too long.
You’re sandwiched between your two friends, waiting for Lord Devlon to actually grace you with his presence. Where Rhysand is, you can only imagine — probably dealing with his father’s wrath.
You glance down at a slight, sudden pressure you feel at your leg. Azriel presses his thigh into yours, and you lift your gaze to meet his.
“You’re not too hurt?” He speaks quietly.
You shake your head. “You?”
“I’m fine. All good, Cass?”
With his typical, swaggering nonchalance that will most certainly land him in deeper shit, Cass grins and stretches his arms above his head. “Just peachy.”
“Az.” You coax the shadowsinger’s gaze back to yours. “What happened with Kaeda’s father?”
Perhaps you’re being a tad dramatic, but you’d lain awake pretty much all night, brooding on the fact that you’d fucked Cass whilst Az was being subjected to the gods knew what. Your thoughts had snowballed into preparing you for Az to return beaten black and blue — or not return at all.
But he looks…fine. A little roughed up from the brawl, but otherwise fine.
He opens his mouth, leaning closer, and that’s when the door flies open.
The three of you stand up immediately. Tuck your hands behind your backs. Bow your heads.
Lord Devlon saunters into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. His footsteps are loud and purposed as he strides to his chair.
“Sit.” He says coldly.
You take your seats once more. The Lord’s eyes skate over the three of you for a pensive few moments, before settling entirely on you. It makes you uncomfortable.
“So.” He sits back. “Who wants to take a stab at why I’m not very happy this morning?”
The three of you keep your mouths clamped shut.
“I’ll give you a clue. It’s not so much to do with a piss-poor night’s sleep, as it is to do with the fact that three of my fucking soldiers,” his lip curls as he looks you up and down, “and their little plaything,snuck off to a rival camp and picked a fight.”
“She’s not our—”
“Did I give you permission to speak, Azriel?”
The ticking in Az’s jaw is slight, but it’s there, as he stares forward. “No, my lord.”
“Then keep your fucking mouth shut until I do.”
Your friend bows his head once more.
“Can any one of you explain why, exactly, you not only travelled to a rival camp without my orders, but why you then decided to stoke tensions between our two camps? Because, you know, that’s their territory. They were well within their rights to defend themselves and not one of them is being punished for it.”
None of you are sure whether he actually wants an answer. It’s best to just…keep your mouth shut.
“None of you have anything to say?” Devlon’s eyebrows flick up. “Fine. How about I offer you my theory? Because I’m seeing a running theme, here.”
You can feel his hard, intense stare bounce from Azriel, to you, to Cassian. Back and forth and back and forth.
But it always returns to you.
It might be in that moment that you realise there’s another layer to this, that you stupidly hadn’t considered. One that’s really going to get Devlon and his cronies grinding their teeth.
You’re female.
And it’s bad enough for males, his soldiers, to behave like this. But you? A mere, docile female? Someone who should be focused on housekeeping and finding someone to breed with?
A female stepping outside of her place is more or less considered a crime by Illyrians. And you don’t have a Camp Lord father to get you out of that very deep shit.
“It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” Lord Devlon addresses you. He knows your name. He’s a cat playing with a mouse.
You meet his gaze and nod. “Yes, my lord.”
“The blacksmith’s daughter.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Hm. The thing is, Y/N, I am here to raise armies. To oversee the training of their soldiers. As Camp Lord, that is my duty.”
You grit your teeth, bite your tongue. You hate the condescending tone that is so fucking typical of Illyrian males. It’s patronising. Offensive. He’s stating blatant facts and explaining them to you as though you are a child.
But you simply dip your chin in acknowledgment, because playing your part is the only way the three of you are getting out of here with a slap on the wrist.
“I cannot afford for my soldiers to be distracted from their training, or be seduced into making trouble for themselves.” The way he looks you up and down, in that moment, makes you feel oily. “I need my soldiers to be prepared. If war came tomorrow, do you honestly think I could send these two out onto a battlefield?”
These two. He says it with such dismissal, such contempt, that you find yourself balling your fists at your sides. He’s always singled your friends out, tried to break them. He may have to tolerate Rhysand — his father being the High Lord and all — but the tiny slither of acceptance he has for Rhys does not hold up for Azriel or Cassian. He sees them as useless. As nobodies. He’s waiting for them to lose their lives in training or combat so he can be rid of them for good.
It boils your blood.
Before you can stop yourself, your lip curls. “I think they’re two of the best soldiers in Illyria, and you’re damn well lucky to have them.”
Devlon sneers back at you. “I’m sure you would say that. If only to keep them in your bed.”
Beside you, the arms of Cassian’s chair creak as he squeezes them hard. “My Lord—”
“If either one of you speaks without my permission again, I will string you up by your balls. Understood?”
There’s a pause. And then both Cass and Az are sitting back in their seats. Offering quiet, affirmative responses.
“So.” Devlon focuses on you once more. Anger mottles his cheeks a reddish hue. “Considering every time these two land themselves in shit, you are at the centre of it, I see only one appropriate course of action. I will not have you leading them astray. Be it pointless fighting or the absolute colossal fuck up of last night, you are always the common denominator. That stops today. This instant.”
You stare at him. You’re not entirely sure what he’s getting at, but something lurches in your stomach. You swallow down a lump in your throat and grip hard onto your chair.
“As soldiers under my command,” Devlon’s eyes flit between Cassian and Azriel, “I forbid you — and Rhysand — from having any more involvement with her. You will not spend time with her. You will not speak to her in passing. You won’t even look at her. If I find out you do, you’ll regret it.”
All three of you shoot up in your seats, alarmed looks passing your faces. “You can’t do this.” You’re the first to spit.
“Oh?” Devlon cocks an eyebrow. “This is Camp Windhaven, is it not?”
“Yes, but—”
“I am Lord of Camp Windhaven, am I not?”
“Obviously—”
“Then I absolutely have the authority to give such orders, and thus, consider them given. Starting today, your involvement with my soldiers ends.”
“My Lord,” Azriel’s tone is pinched, panicked, “you don’t understand — she’s living with us right now. Her father kicked her out of his home. She has nowhere else to go.”
“Do you think I give a shit about her domestic situation, Shadowsinger?” The Lord snaps at him. “I’m here to oversee the training of Windhaven’s soldiers. Not to get involved in pointless family drama.”
“But where am I supposed to go?” You can’t help it — you slam your fist against the arm of your chair. “What am I supposed to do?”
“That isn’t my problem.” Devlon shrugs. He stands up, planting his hands on the desk between you. He leans over with a glower. “But you better run home with your tail between your legs and begin mending relations with your father, because if I detect that there’s even a hint of involvement with you and my soldiers, I will make you regret it, girl. Do not cross me.”
He tucks — no, slams — his chair under the table. It’s a dismissal. You’re not allowed to respond.
You’re silent, too stunned to think, speak, breathe, as Devlon strides to the door and rips it open.
“Get the fuck out, all three of you.” He orders, and you stand numbly from your chair. “You two,” he directs his attention to your friends, “I want your asses in the training ring immediately. Go.”
They don’t want to, you can tell. They hesitate, but ultimately, there’s no other choice. They have no authority. They’re mere soldiers in training. This is their career, their life’s work, on the line. They can’t meet your gaze as they file out of the door, and you don’t blame them.
“And you?” Devlon stops you as you try to follow, gripping onto your shoulder hard. He may as well pick you up by the scruff of your neck like a boisterous pup. “You’d better heed my warning, Y/N the blacksmith’s daughter.”
He shoves you out of the room. You throw your hands out before you slam into the wall.
“Stay. The fuck. Away.”
azriel tag list: @hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @jjlevin @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @spikertrash @kindagoldylocks @barbiezambie @kht1998 @soupghoul @nyctophiliawitch @gracie1234567891011 @gaymistakeboi @luvmxo @rinalouu @microwaveallthedemons @starlightshowdown
#azriel#azriel x reader#azriel shadowsinger#azriel shadowsinger x reader#shadowsinger x reader#azriel acotar#azriel x you#azriel fic#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar fandom#acotar x reader#acotar writing#acotar fanfic#acotar headcanon#acotar smut#acotar series#azriel fanfiction#azriel fanfic#reader insert#Illyrians
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최한솔 // Chwe Hansol [Vernon] Fic Recsᡣ𐭩 Part II
나와 하루만 심장 바꿔 줄 사람 어디도 없나~
Main Recs Masterlist
➣Part I // Part II
MINORS DNI!!!!!!!
Please like and reblog the fics to show the creators love and support~
“A Picture Of You” by @mr-cha-n
Fem!reader || regency au, fluff, angst, smut || W.C: 22.2k
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・Three years away was meant to quell a decade of unrequited love, but your family home appears not to be the only thing you are returning to.
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✮
“Can’t Run Away” by @the-boy-meets-evil
Afab!reader || sci-fi au, angst, fluff || W.C: 15.6k
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・running is the only life you've ever known. running away from your home planet, running away from anyone that gets too close, running away from officials, running from other smugglers. it's not easy but it's better than the pain that comes with staying in place and definitely better than getting caught. everyone has heard of you but nobody actually knows you. the last thing you want is to take on a passenger, especially when that passenger is a robot from one of the most popular groups in the universe. why would you let him stay when nobody else ever has?
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✮
“The Cat-Parent Trap” by @bluehoodiewoozi
Gender unspecified || Romance, fluff || W.C: 8.3k
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・You start feeding what appears to be a pair of neighbourhood cats. Turns out they belong to the cute guy living in the rooftop apartment.
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✮
“Sweetest Thing” by @dokries
Gn!reader || uni au, strangers/classmates to lovers, fluff || W.C: 7.5k
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・when you finally find out the name of the cute regular who never buys anything, you don’t expect to get to know him better…or for him to be so sweet.
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✮
“Remember When” by @multi-kpop-fanfics
Fem!reader || 70s au, childhood friends to lovers to exes, fluff, comedy, angst, suggestive || W.C: 10.5k
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・growing up in the suburbs of Athens during the seventies was turbulent to say the least - but is it turbulent enough to break the backyard trio friendship? only time could tell.
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✮
“Guilty As Sin” by @heechwe
Fem!reader || coworker au, friends to lovers, semi-unrequited love, smut || W.C: 7.5k
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・Never in a million years did you think you would have a crush on your friend and best friend's boyfriend. But sometimes what is in your heart springs up at the worst times.
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✮
“Hit” by @smileysuh
Afab!reader || frat au, friends to lovers, love triangle, smut || W.C: 9.1k
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・You might not be great at taking the large bong your frat friends pass around at parties, but Vernon has at least one pipe you can handle ;)
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✮
“Or, Would You Rather It Be Me?” by @thepixelelf
Uni au, soulmate au, romance || W.C: 7.9k
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・A detested soulmark, a friendship over a decade in the making, and an unexpected proposal from one friend to another... what could possibly go wrong?
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✮
“Divorce Child” by @lovelyhan
Exes to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, smut || W.C: 9.2k
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・you like to think that your most recent breakup with vernon ended on relatively good terms. there’s only one issue left to sort out: who’s getting custody of the cat you got together?
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✮
“Buy A Boyfriend” by @sluttywoozi
[Series] || Gn!reader || camboy au, smut, fluff || Parts: 4 || Total W.C: ~16.7k
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・Being a professional boyfriend on SVTHub is great - all Vernon has to do is respond to a few texts, send out a couple selfies, do a stream every now and then, and he makes enough to cover tuition. Things get a little tricky when he finds himself wishing he actually was your boyfriend.
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✮
“Hello, Darling” by @sailorrhansol
Afab!reader || friends to lovers, supernatural, thriller, smut, angst || W.C: 21.5k
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・Vernon has been one of your best friends for years. Shy, quiet and calm, he’s always been a steady rock for you. He has no idea you’re in love with him, but that’s neither here nor there. After a strange series of events on Halloween night, Vernon seems a little… different, and the new version of him both terrifies and thrills you.
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✮
“Vernon And The Beastly Heir” by @bitchlessdino
Afab!reader || beauty and the beast au, fantasy, angst, smut || W.C: 9.5k
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・Everyone knows the story of beauty and the beast. Well, that was your parents and now you're attending college with the son of Gaston of all people. You're ready to start fresh with him but it seems like all he wants to do is kill you.
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✮
“Connect” by @chocosvt
Future au, angst, heavy fluff, mutual pining, elements of futuristic/dystopian society || W.C: 6.5k
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・hansol is the first cyborg you’ve ever met. he seems human enough, but clearly a little damaged on the inside, and you wonder if he’s ever known what it’s like to be loved.
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✮
“Emotionally Unavailable” by @dkisms
Afab!reader || brother's best friend, fluff, smut, light angst || W.C: 8.4k
✮ ⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✩⋆ ˚。𖦹 ⋆。°✮
“Fleeing Feelings” by @diamonddaze01
Fem!reader || uni au, best friends/idiots to lovers || W.C: 9.6k
⋆.ೃ࿔*:・so you might have told vernon you loved him while drunk – now all you have to do is avoid him. forever.
Please let me know if the links have any problems~
#skye's recsᡣ𐭩#seventeen fic recs#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#hansol vernon chwe#hansol x reader#vernon x reader#vernon fluff#vernon angst#vernon smut#vernon fanfic#seventeen fics#hansol fic recs#vernon fic recs#chwe hansol x reader#seventeen fluff#seventeen angst#seventeen smut
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title: to rebuild a home pairing: kuroo x f! reader genre: angst / fluff, post timeskip! wc: 6.8k m.list
a/n: companion piece to the original love knows not its depth, from kuroo's perspective.
Kuroo Tetsuro is doing alright.
He’s deftly juggling the roles life has handed him. His tenth wedding anniversary is coming up. He’s gotten a nice pair of earrings and a reservation at Tokyo’s hottest omakase for you to celebrate. The girls are doing nicely at school - Aiko’s grades are excellent, and Fumiko’s not gotten into any schoolyard fights unlike Bokuto’s trio of sons. His bosses seem happy with him too, paving the way for him to climb the corporate ladder rung by rung. He’s earned each promotion by burning days in the office, nights in the izakayas schmoozing with his bosses, but it’s worth it, even if it admittedly comes at the expense of being with you and the girls.
It’s a sacrifice he has to make so he can provide you with the fairytale life he’s always promised you. Not that you’ve ever complained about the trade-off.
“She’s the best wife and mom I could’ve asked for”, he tells Kenma, when the former setter asks about you. “I don’t know how she does it.”
Kenma frowns. “You make her sound like a video game character.”
“That’s cos she’s amazing -”
“Kinda sucks that she pretty much has to juggle a full time job and the kids on her own most of the time.”
“She manages perfectly well”, Kuroo enthuses, oblivious to the barb in his friend’s words. “By the time I get home, the girls are in bed, the house is clean, and there’s even a lunch box packed for me each day. She’s a rockstar at work too - should be up for a promotion next financial year.”
“Huh”, Kenma sniffs. “I wonder when she gets a break.”
Kuroo’s too distracted by the round of beers that’s delivered to his table to think deeply about his best friend’s apprehension. When he stumbles through the front door that night, he finds you crouched over the coffee table, frantically typing at your laptop. As expected, the girls are in bed, there’s nothing out of place.
“All good?” he asks you in passing, his mind already filing the tasks on his plate for tomorrow - organising a publicity event jointly held by the JVA and Bouncing Ball Corporation to introduce new national team members, reviewing the proposed budget for this year’s international competitions, popping by the under-19 team to see if there are indeed any promising candidates - he’s already one foot in the bedroom, ready to call it a night.
He doesn’t notice the violets blooming under your eyes.
“Mm.” You don’t look up. “Have a good night.”
Kruoo Tetsuro thinks he’s doing alright.
Bokuto Kotaro, for some reason, doesn’t think so. “Mitsuki said you’re lucky you’re not married to her cos she’ll skin you alive”, he informs him, as if Kuroo shares his love for women capable of chomping his head off in one bite.
Maybe the Bokutos operate on a different metric - because yes, they’re the model of egalitarianism with Mitsuki the high powered general counsel for Kenma’s Bouncing Ball Corporation (based on his referral, he likes to add, cos’ it’s funny to watch Mitsuki growl) and Kotaro the part time coach, full time stay at home dad to his wolfpack of sons, but that doesn’t mean his marriage is on the rocks.
As a child, he was the unwitting witness to his parents’ fights, which culminated in his mother walking out of the door, his father crying over a thick stack of divorce papers. His grandparents took him in, gave him stability and love and comfort but he swore to himself he’s never going to put his daughters through that.
Sure, it’s been a while since you’ve had a night to yourself. The last time he remembers you taking time away from the girls was to go out for dinner with him to celebrate his latest promotion - his conscience stings a little that he can’t remember the last time you’ve taken a break from everything you’ve been doing for him and the girls, but he’ll make it up to you once he has time. You always understand.
Still, just to be sure, he checks in on you again.
“You alright?”, he reaches for your hand, when he climbs into bed that night.
You’re lying in bed. He should find it odd that you’re still awake at this time of the night, staring up at the ceiling as if there’s something to be found there, but he falls asleep in the slow seconds, doesn't hear your response. When he wakes, you’ve already taken the girls to school. He gets himself ready for work, loops his tie around his neck, grabs his briefcase and the bento you’ve so lovingly packed for him, and hops on the train. He runs through his routine like clockwork, but there’s a niggling feeling that he’s missed something important, possibly something to do with you.
Did you say something to him last night?
It doesn’t matter. He makes a mental note to purchase a spa day for you - but that’s promptly forgotten when he’s greeted by a flood of emails and an invitation from his boss to go out for drinks that night.
Kuroo still thinks he’s doing alright.
“You’re lucky”, his boss toasts him. “Your wife doesn’t complain like mine when I go out drinking, even though I tell her I need to do it for work.”
“She’s an angel”, Kuroo replies, quietly bursting with pride. “Never complains.”
“Lucky man”, his boss says. “My wife is such a nag.”
He misses the last train home that night, drops you a text not to wait up and stumbles around Shibuya trying to find a cab. It must be a busy night because by the time he manages to flag down one, it’s three a.m. and his head is pounding from the excess of alcohol and lack of solid food and water. He fumbles with his keys, almost falls through his front door when the lock gives way. “Tadaima”, he says out of habit, too-loudly, before his stomach lurches and he has to make a mad dash for the kitchen sink.
“Tetsuro?”
He wants to respond, but he’s too busy emptying out the contents of his stomach. He shouldn’t have woken you up. He shouldn’t greet you with a mess for you to clean up. He shouldn’t lean so heavily on you that you stagger beneath his weight.
He shouldn’t do all of that yet he does so anyway. You tuck him, a grown man, into bed.
Tomorrow, he’ll apologise. Tomorrow, he’ll make it up to you.
Tomorrow comes. He wakes up.
You’re gone.
Kuroo Tetsuro is not alright.
He’s ashamed to admit that he doesn’t even notice you’ve taken off until it’s way past lunch when your mother drops him a text to ask if he’s picking up the girls or if he intends to leave them with her overnight.
“What d’you mean?” he texts her, confused.
His heart stops when your mother responds to say you dropped off the girls at her place without much of an explanation, an overnight bag slung over your shoulder. You don’t pick up your phones, his calls going straight to voicemail. For the first time in forever, he sheepishly asks his boss for urgent leave from work so he can rush home to figure out what’s going on.
You always take your laptop with you, but it’s sitting at home. He knows it’s an invasion of privacy, but he types in your password (his birthday), and your web browser reveals a booking for a ryokan in Hakone, where the both of you honeymooned almost a decade ago. It’s an hour away by train, far too much time for him to sit and stew in his thoughts. He wonders if you’ve become sick of your life with him, whether you’ve found someone new, and by the time he’s reached the ryokan and charmed the receptionist to let him into your room, he’s teetering on the edge of giving into his frustration, entertaining thoughts about yelling at you for being so goddamned irresponsible, cos how could you just walk out on him and the girls -
Until you walk in, thankfully alone.
It strikes him that it’s the most refreshed he’s seen you look in a very, very long time. Your cheeks are glowing, your eyes sparkle, and there’s a spring in your step that he hasn’t seen since you’ve had the girls.
Still, he can’t help but remain a little peeved. “I’ve been calling you all afternoon”, he informs you. “I was worried.”
He immediately regrets his words as he watches the light die in your eyes.
“Were you?”, you ask, as if you were addressing a stranger. “Really?”
“Of course”, he frowns, slowly getting up to approach you, concerned when you start to sway. “You’re my wife and the mother of our girls, of course I care.”
Laughter spills from your lips, an undercurrent of bitterness and contempt that’s threatening to drag you under before his very eyes. “If you really cared, you’d have noticed that your wife is broken”, you tell him between gasps, your shoulders caving in. “I tried fixing myself with a break, but you can’t even give me that.”
He’s starting to realise that things aren’t alright at all. You flinch when he takes a step towards you, an action which stabs him clean through his heart because he’s your husband, your Tetsuro, your person. Tea, then, a neutral offering that manages to calm you down enough to take a seat, even if you’re still shaking, falling to pieces while laughing, laughing -
“Tell me what’s wrong”, he begs. “Tell me what I can do to fix you.”
You take a sip of tea. It’s hot enough to burn you, but you don’t seem to notice.
“I can’t do this anymore, Tetsuro.”
“Don’t say that”, he snaps, his inner child recoiling because he can’t bear to have his girls go through what he went through, wondering if it was his fault, his very existence that caused his parents to split up. “The girls and I need you -”
You don’t seem to hear him.
“Princess”, he falls back on his pet name for you, rusty from lack of use. “Come back to me.”
You’re unmoved, your eyes unseeing, deaf to his pleas. Sip after sip, you gulp down scalding tea, each action jerky, mechanical. Frozen, in an impenetrable placidness that he can’t read. You’re sitting right in front of him but you’re not really there at all.
“Let’s talk when you’re back home”, he finally says. “Have a good break.”
The immature little boy that still lives in his psyche is still unconvinced that it’s a bad idea to drag you back home with him posthaste, but you asked for a break, and it’s the least he can give to you.
You allow him to roll out your futon for you, to swaddle you in layers of blankets as if that would keep you from falling apart any further. As he kisses your forehead to bid you goodnight and goodbye, he feels the brittleness of your bones, the thinness of your skin beneath his palms and he spends the hour-long train ride home wondering how he managed to look away long enough for you to turn into a shadow of your past self.
He goes straight to your mother’s house to retrieve the girls. As penance, he stands at the front door, head bowed, letting your mother yell at him in front of the neighbours for being a useless husband and an irresponsible father. After all, he deserves every word she flings in his face. He’s just thankful that she doesn’t ream him out in front of the girls.
“Where’s mama?” Fumiko mumbles half asleep into his neck. “Want mama.”
He cradles her closer. “She’ll be home tomorrow”, he tells her, hoping with every fibre of his being that that does not turn out to be a lie. Aiko, older and wiser, just stays quiet, so he forces a smile on his face for her sake.
Kuroo Tetsuro is far from okay.
The strain of the day wears on him and he’s sure there are burning emails in his inbox for him to firefight, but there’s a long list of chores to be done in your absence. The girls’ school bags need to be packed (in the case of five year old Fumiko) or checked (for ten year old Aiko), their uniforms to be laid out, the laundry sorted and folded. He barely gets any sleep before he has to hop out of bed to throw together a cold breakfast of milk and cereal that makes Fumiko burst into tears and Aiko’s face droops. By the time he shuffles his two cranky children out of the house and into their respective schools, he’s late for work.
He meets Bokuto and Kenma for lunch since there’s no lunch bento waiting for him in the fridge, though he regrets the decision to leave the refuge of his work desk for the boardroom of Bouncing Ball Corporation when Mitsuki joins them and, sharp-eyed as ever, sinks her talons into him.
“You look like shit”, she says to him as a greeting.
“Thanks”, he grounds out. The girls demanded he work their hair into the neat braids they insisted you always do, so bedhead would have to do for him today.
“I’ve never seen you without hair gel before”, Bokuto marvels. “You look weird.”
“I had a crap morning, okay”, he snaps, biting the head off the karaage fish in his store bought bento, which he resents for tasting worse than those you usually make for him. “So I’m sorry if I look slightly less than presentable -”
“You look like a man whose wife just left him - “
Mitsuki’s just stepped right on the wound he’s tried to keep hidden, festering and bleeding beneath his skin, so like an animal lashing out when it’s hurt, Kuroo slaps the table with both palms and snarls.
“Don’t - don’t fucking say that, okay? She’s just taking a break. She’ll come home.”
He can’t stand to see the shock and pity on his closest friends’ faces. “She’s coming home today”, he repeats softly, almost to himself, as if he’s little Fumiko in need of reassurance that the person she needs most in the world hasn’t just abandoned her. “It’s gonna be okay.”
Perhaps it’s the maturity that comes with fatherhood, because Bokuto is the first to react. “That’s right, you’re gonna be okay”, he soothes, pulling Kuroo into his seat. “Kenma’s gonna call your boss and tell him that you’re gonna spend the rest of the afternoon here to plan some event - “
“Sponsorship for the Under-19 team, done”, Kenma snaps his phone shut.
“Guys, I’m fine - ”
“Pretending everything’s okay isn’t going to help.”
Kuroo deflates. “Thanks, Kenma.”
Shelving his worthless pride to lay bare the situation he’s found himself in, that by neglecting his duties as a husband and father, he’s forced you to the brink of a mental breakdown, bad enough that you’ve left him - temporarily, he hopes. In the span of a few hours, he’s already found himself at his wit’s end, struggling to handle both the demands of the kids and his job, something that he realises he’s left you to bear, alone.
“But I can’t figure out why she didn’t just tell me she was feeling overwhelmed”, he says, pulling at a fraying thread in his shirt. “I would’ve listened. I would’ve done better.”
“She shouldn’t have to tell you to do your part”, Mitsuki waves away Bokuto’s desperate gesture for her not to kick a man when he’s already down.
“But I didn’t know -”
“Y’know, I really can’t stand men like you. You guys are amazing at work, able to anticipate your bosses’ and clients’ needs. At this point, you don’t even need to be told by your bosses to jump, you don’t even ask your clients ‘how high’ - yet, for some reason, you manage to turn off your brain the minute you walk in through the front door at home.”
“Maybe I should ask her for a list of things I can help her with -”
Bokuto claps his hand over Mitsuki’s mouth. “Ehhh..you might not wanna finish your sentence or Mitsuki might really bite your head off.”
Kuroo winces, snapping his mouth shut.
“Maybe you can think of it in a different way”, Bokuto says. “Instead of ‘helping’ her - cos that’s just placing the mental burden on her - at least, I think that’s the term Mitsuki-chan used when she explained it to me -” the affronted lawyer nods begrudgingly, and beaming, he continues - “you gotta do your half of the work!”
“Level up”, Kenma provides, rather unhelpfully.
“Open your eyes and use your brain”, Mitsuki says bluntly, rolling her eyes, though her tone is less sharp.
“Where do I start?” Kuroo asks.
Step one.
He picks the girls up from his mother in law’s place, bears with the lecture that’s awaiting him, and sheepishly asks them what their mama usually feeds them for dinner and breakfast, making a mental note of it. Tonight, he’ll cheat by feeding them gyudon at Sukiya, but he drops by the supermarket to procure the ingredients he needs for tomorrow’s breakfast and a bouquet of pink roses, even though he knows it’s probably too little, too late. He counts himself lucky that Fumiko loves bathtime, only needing supervision to wash and dry her hair, and Aiko’s responsible enough to work through her homework without prompting, but he’s still exhausted by the time they both head to bed.
His job doesn’t end there. Running through the checklist Mitsuki begrudgingly allowed Bokuto to give him, he surveys the apartment, comparing it against the mental image of how everything was before you left it. Toys scattered, to be put back in place. Dust on floor, to be vacuumed up. A heap of laundry in the basket, to be hung, dried, ironed.
Just as he finishes all these tasks, the front door swing opens.
“Tadaima”, you call out, voice hushed.
He nearly trips over his feet in his haste to relieve you of your luggage, usher you into a seat by the kitchen counter. “Okaerie”, he breathes,
“The girls?” you ask.
He’ll buy Bokuto lunch next time. “I picked them up from your mom”, he responds. “Don’t wake them up, I just put them to bed.”
You peek into their rooms nonetheless. “Thanks”, you say, heading next to the fridge. “By the way, I’ll pay you back for the hotel room from my own money, don’t worry.”
That’s the last thing on his mind. Besides, his sin is being a neglectful husband, not a miser. “It’s fine, I’ll cover it”, he scratches his head, embarrassed that you’re even bringing it up. “I should’ve realised you needed a break.”
That makes you frown, but you accept anyway. He watches you stack bread, eggs, ham, cheese, and it strikes him that you’re already worrying about the girls’ breakfast when you look as if you haven’t even had your own dinner.
“You haven’t had dinner?” he asks.
You reply carelessly that you’ve had a bento on the train back. You don’t even bother to look at him.
“I’ll take the girls in the mornings from now”, he tells you. “Sleep in and take a break.”
That gets your attention.
“Really?”
He plasters a confident smirk on his face to reassure you that he’s got it all in hand.
“Oh”, you’re adorable when you’re confused, but he hates that he’s given you reason to doubt him. “Wake me up if you need my help?”
“I won’t”, he promises.
It’s time for him to level up.
Step two.
He’s not going to lie to himself that he finds it difficult to do even half of what you used to do. Taking over the responsibility of wrangling the girls out of bed and into school, coming home early enough for dinner with you, that requires him to have hard conversations with his boss about not being able to go out for drinks or come in early anymore which probably hurts his chances for his next promotion, forces him to give up an hour or two of sleep, but it’s worth it if it allows you to heal.
“Don’t expect a gold star for your efforts”, Mitsuki warned him. “It’s just what you should’ve been doing before, so it’s time for you to go above and beyond.”
He takes her words to heart. You deserve to go to work well-rested, to wind down at night with a hot bath. He’ll buy a robot vacuum and pour over its manual that’s thicker than a textbook, do laundry loads while hopping on and off conference calls, wrestle the iron to press down his own shirts.
You seem baffled by the sudden shift in the winds, but he just pretends everything is normal. Business as usual. Things are just as they should’ve been.
In his next push to right his wrongs, he organises a Saturday dinner date with you. The girls are packed off with your mother, he makes the reservation, books the cab, compliments your dress. He asks you about your work (tiring), your boss (a micro-manager), the books you’ve read recently (nada, zilch). In the uphill battle to keep the conversation from being stilted, he makes a fatal mistake.
“We can make it work if you want to quit your job and stay home full time with the children.”
In his mind, that was a reasonable suggestion to make since you seem to hate your job and boss with a fiery passion. But you stare at him wide-eyed, your initial confusion hardening into anger.
“Did the guys at work tell you it’s easier to have a housewife instead of a working wife? Are you saying this because you don’t think I’m a good enough mother to our girls?”
You don’t give him a chance to backpedal, shooting a sarcastic apology for being selfish enough to refuse to be reliant on him, so he just slumps back in his chair in defeat.
“I just want you to be happy”, he murmurs. “Forget I ever said that.”
Step three.
To figure out step three, he schedules an emergency lunch meeting on Monday. The troops convene in Kenma’s boardroom to listen to his sorry tale with Mitsuki in charge of the post–battle analysis.
“And remind me again, where did you two meet?”
His face lights up at the memory of his first meeting with you. “Finance 102”, he replies. “We used to be academic rivals turned teammates after I convinced her I was smart enough for her to work with on projects.”
“What made you fall in love with her?”
“As much as I hate it, I have to admit she’s probably smarter than me”, he says, though the fond smile that creeps onto his face betrays the fact that he loves that about you. “She’s just - her, she’s headstrong and funny. Did I tell you how she tried to stab me with her fork when I stole food off her plate -”
“Only a million times”, Kenma interjects.
“She’s always been independent and ambitious, with big dreams and an even bigger heart.”
“Well”, Mitsuki says, adopting the mildest tone she’s used on him this month. “Does that sound like a woman who’d choose to stay home and depend on her husband? Not that there’s anything wrong with being a stay-at-home parent - Koutaro makes my career possible, and I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have him as my husband.”
“Babyyyyy.” Bokuto bawls, looking at MItsuki as if she hangs the moon in the sky.
Gross. Kenma seems to agree. “Let’s get back to Kuroo’s failing marriage”,
“So I shouldn’t bring up the suggestion that she quit her job again?”
His three person council shake their heads in unison. “Just keep what you’re doing”, Bokuto pipes up. “Sounds like you’re already doing the right things! Just gotta keep making sure she’s not holding up the sky herself.”
He can do that.
“And maybe talk to her?”, Kenma offers.
That’s the suggestion that he wants to dismiss right off the bat because he’s too much of a coward to even face the possibility that you might leave him. He doesn’t want to become his dad so he resolves to keep his head down and continue pushing ahead with his efforts to prove to you that he can be the husband you deserve, so you won’t wake up one day and decide to walk out on him again.
But his subconscious fears force his nightmares into overdrive. Dreams of packed bags and stacks of divorce papers makes him yelp loud enough for you to roll over and shake him awake. He’s a terrible husband for disturbing your sleep, but in his sleep-dazed state of confusion he just sinks back into the pillow, exhaling a sigh of relief.
“Thank the gods you haven’t left.”
“Why would I leave?”, you mumble, turning away again. “It’s my home, isn’t it.”
He sits up, rubs the nightmares away from his eyes. “I was afraid you left me.”
The silence nearly suffocates him. The sudden need to know exactly where you stand eats away at him and he crawls towards you. “Are you going to leave me”, he asks, praying to all the gods in the universe that you’ll reassure him otherwise.
His heart breaks anew when he hears a small sob, buried in the bedclothes. “I don’t know, Tetsuro”, you finally say. “I’m tired of being alone in a marriage when it’s supposed to be us working together.”
“I’m sorry.” There’s nothing much he can say.
A broken whisper. “I’m tired”, you exhale. “I think I deserve better.”
“I’ll make it better”, he promises.
He will. He will.
Kuroo Tetsuro is trying his best.
He takes a cooking class on the weekends to learn how to prepare bento boxes that are nutritious and easy on the wallet. He takes over the ferrying of Fumiko to her swimming lessons, work on Aiko’s art projects with her. He hires a part time cleaner to pick up the deep cleaning, so you and he have time to take the girls out on weekend outings instead of spending all day on a week’s worth of cumulated chores. A dishwasher appears in the house. He makes it a game for he and the girls to load and unload dishware each night.
“There’s a networking wine night for finance next Wednesday”, he tells you casually. “I’ll make sure to be home so you can go, if you want.”
You goggle at him.
“Go schmooze so the world knows you’re as amazing as I know you are.”
You trust him enough to leave the girls behind in his care and go. He counts that as a win.
Some nights he still can’t get home in time for dinner, but he always makes sure he’s home in time for a bedtime story and a goodnight kiss. Aiko avers that at the grand old age of ten, she doesn’t need her papa to tuck her to bed anymore, but she sidles into Fumiko’s room everynight and sits in the corner of her little sister’s bed as the littler girl listens to his tall tales.
“I met a princess when I was eighteen”, he says with a grin when he notices you listening in. “Instead of a crown, she armed herself with a fork, ready to cut down anyone who’d cross her.”
His heart skips a beat when he hears your voice from the doorway. “Don’t be dramatic”, you interrupt, a small smile growing on your face. “You were trying to steal my food and didn’t stop ‘til I stabbed you.”
Fumiko huffs, unhappy that her story’s being interrupted, but he can’t seem to tear his gaze away from you. “You left it on the table, princess. I consider that fair game.”
“Let ‘to-san tell the story, ka’san.” Aiko grumbles.
He savours your laughter. It tastes better than the finest wine.
“I can’t believe I have to fly all the way to Italy just to meet Kageyama-kun”, he huffs. “At least Hinata is meeting us there, I’ll revolt if I had to go up to Brazil as well.”
“You know it can’t be helped”, you reply. “The promotional activities planned need your presence, and it’s only for a week.”
“Will you be okay when I’m gone?”
His fears melt away when you hand him his suitcase, a flask of his favourite tea. “I’ve always managed fine. Nothing’s changed.”
His little monsters, realising that he’s about to leave, decide to launch a synchronised attack on him. Aiko throws herself at him in a bear hug. Fumiko yanks at his sleeve demanding a thousand kisses.
“Yes, well. I’ll be home soon. Please wait for me” he says to you when the girls finally release him. The expression on your face is unreadable, but you don’t pull away when he takes the liberty of taking your hand in his.
He feels your heartbeat accelerates. You glance up at him, almost shy. “I’ll see you soon.”
He’s so tempted to call his boss and pretend that he’s too ill to get on that damned flight, but he’s pretty sure that would get him fired. Instead, he calls you and the girls every day, and brings home a luggage full of presents for all of you.
When he’s home, he celebrates by putting on the frilliest pink apron he’s ever seen (courtesy of Yaku, who sent it to him all the way from Moscow as a joke) and throwing an elaborate takoyaki party, replete with customised toppings - octopus, cheese and shrimp, which the girls enjoyed even if he burnt the first batch and had to call Fukunaga frantically for tips to rescue the rest. It turns out to be such a success that he makes it a weekly event. Okonomiyaki is next, which he flips with expert confidence on a hot plate to the applause of you and the girls.
“Itadakimasu”, you clap your hands together. “It tastes good.”
He nearly melts into his pan. “Thank you”, he replies. “It means a lot, coming from you.”
His nights are still plagued by nightmares.
Things are better with you, he likes to think. The violets beneath your eyes are replaced by roses in your cheeks. He hears you humming about the house again. You pick up reading again, the shelves in the house start to groan under the weight of books belonging to the girls and you. You’re as eager as the girls to go on the next adventure, whether it be a summer night out in the park with sparklers, or a nerf gun battle at home on rainy days.
Still, he doesn’t know for sure what he’s doing is enough for you and he’s too much of a coward to check. So he’ll wake up almost every night, fumble in the dark just to make sure you’re there.
You’re there, until you aren’t.
It’s three in the morning. The space beside him is cold and empty.
He throws off the blankets, trips on his bed slippers. He crashes through into the living room and oh, there you are - sitting at the dining table, typing furiously at your laptop while mouthing off to yourself about the ridiculous demands your client makes.
“What’s wrong?” you frown.
He walks towards you, trying to discern that you’re real, you’re there, not some trick of the light..
“You’re - you’re still here.”
You nod slowly, eyeing him strangely. “My boss called and asked me to send out an urgent email. I was just about to go back to bed.”
He exhales, tries to force his trembling heart back into his chest. He thinks he’s doing a good job trying to act nonchalant, smoothing back his frazzled mane of hair, but you see right through him as you always do.
“Tetsuro”, you say slowly. “Is everything alright?
The truth tumbles out of his mouth. “I thought you were gone.”
Then he hangs his head, looks at his feet, afraid that he’ll only see rejection in your eyes. He’s a pathetic failure of a husband who has a decade’s worth of sins to make up for, and there’s no justification for him to selfishly to seek your absolution.
It comes anyway, in the form of soft hands pulling him forward.
“I’m here”, you say, pulling him into your embrace, letting him rest his heavy head in your lap.
He doesn’t allow himself to sink into your warmth. “Are you happier now? Are things better for you?”
“Yes”, he hears you say. The tension he’s been carrying around these few months lifts. “Thank you, Tetsuro. I appreciate it. I really do. You don’t have to work yourself to death - that’s never what I was asking for. If you’re tired -”
He shakes his head at your suggestion. He’s got a long way yet before he earns any reprieve.
“Tetsuro -”
He sits up abruptly, takes your hands in his.
“Promise you won’t leave me”, he pleads. “I know you’ve had to carry what must’ve felt like the weight of the entire world on your own, and I don’t have any excuse for that.”
“You don’t”, you agree.
He accepts the blow but he takes comfort that you don’t pull away. “I know that now. I know now how fucking hard it was to do it all alone.”
“It was hard. It was so, so hard, Tetsuro. I became numb to the pain. I don’t think I was functioning, I haven’t been for a while. For a long, long while.”
“I’m sorry”, his voice cracks.
“I know.” You cup his face in your hands, offers him comfort he doesn’t deserve. “That’s a chapter of our marriage that’s past, that can’t be unwritten. But the past few months have been different. You’ve shown me that you’ve changed.”
The first glimmer of sunlight after a long, dark winter. Hope blooms with your smile.
“I think”, you say. “I think we can make this work again.”
He stares at you, dumbstruck. Then the fact that you’re giving him another chance dawns upon him, and he crashes forward to rest his head on your shoulder, unashamed to cry tears of relief.
“Thank you”, he exhales brokenly. “I won’t fuck this up again, I promise.”
You press a kiss to his forehead, curl up trustingly in his arms. “Don’t thank me”, you laugh. “Thank yourself for making me believe in you.”
He drinks up each drop of your affection, falls asleep in the cradle of your arms.
“Is this what flirting is like?”
He wakes up to Aiko’s impertinent question, her hands on hips looking distinctly unimpressed at finding her parents asleep on the sofa, entwined together.
“Who taught you that word?” Kuroo asks, aghast that his ten year old daughter even recognises the existence of the opposite gender.
Aiko sticks her tongue at him, and he’s too distracted by Fumiko taking a flying leap onto the sofa with them, chattering a thousand miles an hour about what’s for breakfast and whether they can go to the zoo this afternoon - though he pins his suspicions on Bokuto’s trio of sons.
“Monsters”, he says. “Can’t even give your to-san a break to snuggle up to your pretty ka’san.”
The girls shriek in dismay - Aiko, at being a witness to further gross displays of affection between her parents, Fumiko, at being called a monster despite being a self-proclaimed princess. You prod at the soft flesh between his ribs.
“Don’t be mean”, you admonish him.
He sniffs, taking the chance to draw you closer. “I’m cranky in the mornings unless I get a morning kiss.”
You snort, swatting at him. “You make it sound as if kisses contain caffeine.”
The girls giggle, but he protests.
“Full of nonsense”, you tease, but you kiss him, again and again and again.
Things settle into a steady, sustainable pace.
You refuse to allow him to bear the weight of the household on his back alone. There are frank conversations to be had about what each of you can realistically handle without burning out. He leads the charge in the mornings, whipping up breakfast with the aid of his two sous chefs, building an expertise in braiding and french twists that could possibly allow him to moonlight as a hairstylist. You, on the other hand, take charge of evening pick-ups, cooking dinners, supervising homework and art projects until he comes home and tags you out.
Chores are evenly split. He doesn’t allow you to assume the mental load of organising the household by yourself. “We both have a degree in business management”, he likes to remind you, because he now knows that remembering to run errands, scheduling appointments - all of this is work too.
You force him to take breaks. If you get to relax with your friends, so should he. “If you get too stressed, you’ll lose your hair and we can’t have that.” He yelps when he imagines himself bald and obediently complies when you call Kenma up, talk him into getting him and Bokuto and Akaashi (when he’s feeling less morose about his singlehood) to go for a round of pick up volleyball. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself”, you note wryly when he returns home crowing about how he stuffed an Olympic player with a kill block.
“I did”, he replies, catching your hips to pull you in, cheekily ignoring your complaints that he’s sweaty. “But I enjoy coming home to you even more.”
“Gross”, you grumble, but you seem content to remain in his arms.
It’s another small moment he treasures. Life, he learns, is made of moments, both big and small. He’d made the mistake of only focusing on the big ones - graduation, playing at nationals, the day he was lucky enough to marry you, each of his daughter’s birthdays. Now, though, he cherishes each moment, each second he has with you and the girls, no matter how little, no matter how small.
He likes to come into the bathroom each night, leaning his elbow on the edge of the bathtub as you chat to him about your day, luxuriating in the bath he drew for you. You and he take turns to complain about life’s inconveniences as you clear emails once the girls have gone off to bed- colleagues who shirk their work, bosses who nitpick overmuch, washing everything down with steaming cups of herbal tea.
“Are you happy?”, he asks you, night after night.
“Mm”, you say with an impish grin. “I’d be happier if you let me put my toes on your calves.”
“They’re freezing”, he groans but scoots over anyway. “Better?”
“Much better”, you hum, content. “Life is good.”
He’s not remiss in planning the big moments too.
A year passes quickly to your wedding anniversary. He packs your suitcase, books the train tickets and whisks you back to the ryokan in Hakone, though this time he upgrades you both to their largest suite. “I feel like a princess!” you exclaim, twirling about the room.
Your happiness is worth every yen he spent.
You spend the day strolling down avenues lined with cherry blossoms, Mount Fuji looming in the backdrop, the evening exchanging heated kisses in the private onsen he booked. You’re older now, with laughter lines creased into your forehead, grey streaks in your hair, but you’re still the same girl he fell in love with all those years ago.
“And you couldn’t wait ‘til we got back to our room?” you smack him.
He also loves how there’s fire burning bright in your eyes, the way it always used to. “You kissed me first!”
“You kissed me second!”
“I don’t hear you complaining”, he cackles.
You try to shush him, to no avail, as he draws the attention of everyone around him.
“What a happy couple”, an obaa-san remarks out loud. “They must be newlyweds.”
Well, she’s not wrong. You’re as radiant as you were fifteen years ago, his spring bride, but he’s an old man doddering on, hopefully with his edges sanded off with time. “Just your regular old, married couple”, he chortles when you’re safely back in the room.
“A happily married couple”, you reply, serenely sipping your tea. “That obaa-san definitely got that part right.”
There’s a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow. “Are you happy?” he manages to ask anyway.
“With you?” Your smile is warm, bright. Always.”
Both of you are doing alright.
a/n: it's been a while, hasn't it. i've been alright - how are you guys doing?
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Series: In Her Shadow, pt.2 (ft. main trio)
Part 1 | Part 2
Slowly but surely she replaced you in his heart.
Pairing: Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Rafayel x reader (seperate)
Tags: angst, hurt no comfort, reader is not MC, breakup
A/N: I recieved a lot of comments and request asking me to continue, so here we are! I've tried my best. Ty everyone, I appreciate every message, even if it would be hard to mention every single one of them in this post. Also, if you want to be tagged in future fics, let me know!
-`♡´- MASTERLIST -`♡´-
Rafayel
You began to notice that Rafayel was spending less and less time with you, choosing his bodyguard over you.
It wasn't obvious at first, yeah, but as time went on, everything became so noticeable that you couldn't ignore it anymore. Especially when he forgot about your plans with him and didn't even consider apologizing for it.
The smell of someone else's perfume in his studio, the way Rafayel would leave you at home and take her to all the important events because "you probably don't like spending time among journalists and annoying guests." It seems that he didn't even notice the moment when you were completely estranged from each other.
And all your attempts to talk to him about it ended with nothing.
"She's my bodyguard," he'd say. "No wonder I take her everywhere I go. Is there anything wrong with that?"
Yes, a lot of things were wrong.
But he was completely unwilling to notice it, and you were tired of collecting the shards of your broken heart from the floor day after day. Those warm feelings that brought a sense of lightness and happiness in your heart suddenly turned into pure torture.
You had to end it all, even if it'll hurt so much.
When you arrived at his studio this morning, you came face to face with "Ms. Bodyguard" herself. She was just about to leave, and didn't even hesitate to embrace your beloved. Right in front of you.
Maybe you would've exploded from all these negative emotions, if you had any strength left to be mad or to cry. But there was only emptiness in your heart.
You became strangers to each other.
"I'm breaking up with you," you said without any regret and pushed him away as he tried to hug you. "I don't want to be a second choice after your precious bodyguard."
"W-wait, why? What... But I didn't do anything!" he replied confused, apparently not realizing how much he's been hurting you all this time.
"Maybe that's the point. That you'd do anything for her, but not for me."
He looked at you with the same confusion in his eyes, trying to figure out if it was a joke, but you continued before leaving this place forever.
"You were everything to me, Rafayel. But for you, I was just a small episode of your life. I'm tired. You've been spending all your free time with her, like I didn't exist. It'll be better this way. Goodbye."
No matter how long he was calling your name, asking you to stop, to come back and talk with him, you didn't.
Zayne
Loving a cardiac surgeon with his busy schedule is hard.
But it's even harder when he no longer cares about your existence and spends a significant amount of time with his childhood friend.
After Zayne forgot about your reservation at the restaurant, making you feel like you were the last fool in this world, some more time has passed.
Yeah, he apologized. No, he didn't start spending less time with his "friend".
It's hard to count how many evenings you spent alone when he stayed late at work for her or was invited to a "friendly" dinner with her. But it happened often enough so finally your love turned into suffering.
At first you tried to convince yourself that you're too jealous and he's just happy to finally reunite with someone close to him from his youth. You care about your friends too, don't you?
But it only got worse.
All your plans were constantly adjusted to his friend's wishes. She wants to take him to a cafe at the same time you were planning to go to the cinema? "Sorry, love, let's reschedule our date for another day". You've made him his favorite dinner? Too bad, his friend already brought him dinner at work and he's not hungry.
Eventually you started feeling like he stopped enjoying your time together and just continued to exist in the same apartment with you out of habit.
Talking didn't get you anywhere, because Zayne didn't notice how much he was hurting you (or he simply didn't want to notice it) with his actions and only distanced himself from you even more.
At some point you felt like he put an ice wall around himself again.
He stayed late again this evening, completely forgetting his promise to spend time with you. You packed your things with tears in your eyes, ready to say goodbye to life with Zayne once and for all.
And he showed up at the doorstep of his apartment just as you were ready to leave.
"What's going on?" his voice didn't betray a shred of emotion. "Where are you going?"
"I'm going to leave you and your lovely friend together so I don't have to be an unwanted addition to your life."
Zayne was taken aback at this statement and was about to say something, but you interrupted him.
"You were the one who brought happiness and comfort into my life. You were the one who made me feel loved and wanted. But now I realize that I wasn't good enough for you. Goodbye."
You walked away and closed the door behind you, leaving him all alone.
Xavier
Before, you without a doubt would've said that your relationship with Xavier was the ultimate dream.
But now it wasn't actually true.
Yes, your beloved still showed care and attention every spare minute he had. Just not to you. It seemed as if his colleague started to occupy his every thought.
During dinner, on a walk, after missions. He was always talking about her, how strong she is, and how lucky he is that she chose him as her partner. His eyes were shining with delight you had never seen before.
You were happy for him, but only until it crossed the line. Only until you started to feel like he was in love with her, not with you.
One day you found yourself completely miserable. Xavier texted you that he would be late because they had "decided to celebrate another successful mission". Except that you were usually the one he shared his joy with. But things have changed.
Even though you were the brightest star in his world, you were inevitably lost behind the glow of the Moon.
You were trying to be better, to be more interesting. Trying to reach an unattainable ideal. But you couldn't. After all, maybe you were never meant to be together if it turned out like this. Maybe you weren't enough for him.
You couldn't remember the last day you didn't cry. Sometimes alone, sometimes locking yourself in the bathroom after another conversation about this "super-strong collegue". But Xavier didn't seem to notice it at all.
"I thought maybe you'd be interested to know what happens during missions," he said when you brought up this painful topic.
And, yes, you were interested. But all you heard was, "She took down that Wanderer so easily, I couldn't take my eyes off her." Or, "she's so good with her weapon, it's amazing."
He distanced himself from you so much that you hardly spent any time together.
He wasn't even home the day you left.
Xavier sent you a message saying he'd be late again. As usual, with her. Even though he promised to have a movie night and you had already prepared everything you needed for it.
Maybe it's even better if you don't see the look in his eyes the moment you tell him you're breaking up with him. You packed your things and left a note on the table, next to the snacks you bought.
"Maybe in another universe I would be worthy of you so you could look at me with the same adoration. I can see that you enjoy spending time with her much more. And we should break up so you don't torment my heart anymore. Goodbye."
You glanced around his apartment one last time before leaving it forever.
♡ tags: @skyowlz @prettytemis @aishasreality @randompersonwhoexist @kreishin @reni502 @moonyzstarz @chin-chii
#love and deepspace x reader#love and deepspace#love and deepspace xavier#love and deepspace zayne#love and deepspace rafayel#rafayel x reader#zayne x reader#xavier x reader
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Coachella Diaries
Description: Reader works for WWE and gets hurt during Wrestlemania, causing her to go on a months long break. She goes to Coachella Weekend 2 to support her girl.
WARNINGS: fluffy as shit, slightly suggestive at the end, reneechella (bc that's a warning itself)
Y/N stepped (as best as she could) off the plane and sighed at the California sun hitting her body.
Her body was exhausted. Wrestlemania was the 6th and 7th, she performed both nights and unfortunately had torn a couple of ligaments in her foot. She worked through the pain and helped make Wrestlemania record breaking. She had gotten surgery on the 16th, which meant she unfortunately missed the first weekend of her girlfriend playing Coachella.
Reneè was also understandably upset, not at Y/N, but at the fact that her girlfriend had to get surgery and she couldn't be there. Luckily for Reneè, Y/N had her fellow superstars keep the blonde updated. The doctor had cleared Y/N for travel on the 18th and she landed in LAX on the morning of the 19th.
Towa had been the one to help Y/N plan this out, picking her up from the airport. The musician smiled as Y/N hobbled towards her with her bag. "There's my favorite cripple! How's the foot?" Y/N smiled and hugged the girl. "It's definitely injured. I'll be out for a minute but honestly, I'm not mad, I need a break."
Towa laughed. "Ain't that the truth? If I have to hear Reneè freak out about every bump you take, I might've gone crazy." Y/N blushed. Reneè was always very protective of Y/N, not that her profession helped with that. The blonde loved and hated watching Y/N do her thing. Yes, Y/N looked hot but if Y/N had to take another spear from Roman Reigns or a stomp to the chest from Finn Balor, Reneè was going to commit murder.
This new era of WWE meant the return of inter-gender wrestling, with Y/N leading the charge. She had become the inaugural WWE World Heavyweight Champion, holding it for 316 days. She had been a part of the two biggest main events of Wrestlemania history, which is where she tore the ligaments in her foot. Never the less, she persisted and opened the next night of Mania, unfortunately she lost her title but the ovation she got when she got backstage was worth it.
She was thrilled to help Cody finish his story but also was happy that she could get a break. She saw the doctor who gave her the diagnosis and what doctor to see and she was on her way.
She had messaged Towa the night she found out and set the surprise up.
As the two ventured out of the airport, they caught up with each other, Towa informing Y/N of her love life and what not. The two reached the SUV and began the drive from the airport to the AirBnB they were renting for the festival. During the two hour car ride, Y/N had told Towa about some backstage drama happening as the Brit ate it up.
After 2 and a half hours, they finally made it to the house. Adam had been standing outside, waiting for them as they pulled up. The man helped Y/N out of the car and gave her a hug. "There's my favorite former champ! Congrats on the run. It was a rollercoaster." Y/N smiled and hugged the man back. "Thanks Adam! It was definitely a rollercoaster! A fun one though! So, where is my girl?"
Adam laughed. "She's out in the back with everyone else, they're pregaming before we go. Are you sure you can handle going out?" Y/N nodded. "I slept on the plane ride here. Perks of using the company jet." Adam nodded as Towa met up with them, handing Y/N her bag. The trio headed inside.
Adam and Towa headed to the back to distract everyone while Y/N slipped into the room Reneè was staying in. She took in a deep breath, breathing in the scent of Reneè. God, she missed it so much. She changed quickly, putting on the custom "Reneèchella made me gay" shirt and some shorts before getting the message from Towa to make her appearance.
She grabbed a beer from the fridge and headed out to the backyard. The group all did a "cheers" before taking the shots provided for them. Y/N decided to speak up. "Do I get a shot too?"
Everyone turned towards the new voice but no one turned quicker than Reneè. The blonde stood shocked at the sight of her girlfriend, boot and all, standing in front of her. "Holy fuck! Reneè ran to where Y/N was standing and hugged the girl tightly. Y/N laughed and kissed the blonde's head. "Hey superstar. I've missed you." Everyone was aww-ing at the scene, some clapping.
Reneè pulled away from the hug and pressed her lips to Y/N's, kissing her for the first time in weeks. The group cheered as the two kissed, causing Reneè to slip them off. After a minute, the two pulled away and Reneè began to scratch the back of Y/N's neck. "You're really here!" Y/N smiled and kissed her nose. "I am. Now I think it's time to have some fun." Reneè smiled and pulled Y/N over to her friends.
The group was watching Chappell Roan absolutely kill it when fans began to notice the couple being all cute.
@y/nisthechamp: GUYS! I'M AT COACHELLA WATCHING THE QUEEN CHAPPELL ROAN AND RENEÈ AND Y/N ARE LITERALLY 10 FEET AWAY FROM ME AND THEY ARE SO CUTE!! Y/N IS HUGGING RENEÈ FROM BEHIND AND THEY ARE SINGING AND DANCING!!
@/reneerappslut23: guys. i just saw a video of reneè and y/n all cozy at coachella and my heart 🥺
@y/nfan123: just saw a video of reneè grinding on y/n while they were watching t-pain. don't know who i wanna be more...
@/reneefan253: guys. reneè cannot keep her hands off y/n. she's always rubbing her back or the back of her head or her shoulder. WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN?!
The group made their way back to the house, all breaking off to their respective rooms, sleepily exchanging good nights. Reneè and Y/N made their way to Reneè's room. The two flopped on the bed, Reneè snuggling into Y/N's side. "I'm so glad you're here. I can't wait for you to see me perform." Y/N kissed the blonde's forehead. "Me too baby."
The next day was a lot of the same, more musicians sets, more drinking, etc. Sunday came a lot faster than Y/N expected and she found herself sitting in Reneè's trailer with her, the girl getting ready for her set. Reneè was looking on her phone as her hairstylist finished up her look. Y/N decided to take a stealthy picture and post it on her insta with the caption "coachella ready", tagging Reneè.
Comments started flooding in immediately. One that stood out to Y/N was from her not older sister Liv Morgan.
@/yaonlylivvonce: We are so excited to see her!! Drinks after?
Y/N smiled and responded to the girl. Adam poked his head in and informed Reneè she had five minutes. The blonde thanked him, took a deep breath and pulled Y/N with her to the wings of the stage. To Y/N and Reneè's surprise, Alyah was waiting for them. Reneè squealed, wrapping Alyah in a tight hug. Y/N smiled at the pair and took a picture of them hugging. Alyah pulled away and hugged Y/N too, scolding her about her injury and how she should've been more careful.
Reneè saved Y/N by pulling her away from Alyah, wrapping her arms around Y/N's waist and burying her face in her neck. Y/N rubbed the blonde's back. "You're gonna do amazing out there Reneè. Please remember to drink water though. Don't need you passing out on stage." Reneè chuckled as she heard her intro being played.
"Well, I guess that's me." Reneè pulled her head out of Y/N's neck, leaning up for a kiss. "I love you." Y/N smiled and pecked Reneè's lips. "I love you more. Now go kill it." And with a playful smack on the butt, Reneè went out on stage.
"Tasted the blood in my mouth, and left you there to bleed out.."
Y/N being there must have flipped a switch in Reneè because the girl was putting on a SHOW. Y/N had to keep herself from drooling watching her girlfriend do what she loved. Y/N's fav part do far had to be the Willow ass shake. For scientific reasons, of course. Y/N saw Towa getting her in-ears put in and grabbing her guitar. "Go kill it out there, Birdie." Towa winked playfully at Y/N and went out on her cue from the blonde.
The two were soon joined by Coco Jones as they performed "Tummy Hurts". Y/N smiled at hoe happy her girl looked. Watching Reneè perform was Y/N's favorite thing to do. She loved how confident Reneè was on stage and how carefree she looked.
After a beautiful rendition of "Snow Angel", Reneè gave her thanks to the crowd and jogged off stage. One of the crew guys poured a little bit of water on the back of Renee's neck, to cool her off, as the girl walked straight into Y/N's open arms, almost collapsing in the embrace.
"Fuck Reneè, I'm so fucking proud of you, superstar." Reneè blushed and hid her face in Y/N's neck. "I couldn't have done it without you here." Y/N laughed and kissed the blonde's temple. "You did it last weekend." Reneè pulled away from Y/N's neck and smiled at her. "Yeah, but it wasn't as fun." Y/N rolled her eyes and kissed Reneè, unaware of Towa taking a picture of them.
Everyone praised Reneè and her performance before they walked back to the area where her trailer was. Alyah spoke up. "So, what's the plan now?" Reneè smirked and looked at Y/N. "Well, Y/N and I are going to go back to the house to...catch up and we'll meet you guys later?" Towa and Alyah shared a knowing look before nodding and going to watch another set.
Y/N looked at Reneè confused. "Catch up?" The blonde nodded. "Mhhm. I'm planning on reclaiming my favorite seat..." Y/N caught on and blushed, allowing the blonde to pull her to the car waiting for them.
Yeah, Towa and Alyah would be fine on their own for a while...
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I was thinking about how fun it would be to do an It's A Wonderful Life type AU where postwar Draco, consumed by guilt, wishes he had never been born and thus realizes that actually his life mattered more than he thought. And as I was thinking about how a fic like that might play out I realized just how much might change and just how central to Harry's narrative Draco really is.
Draco is so intimately connected to so many things that happen in the story. If suddenly Draco doesn't exist, potentially Harry doesn't join the Quidditch team in book 1 and doesn't catch the snitch with his mouth or almost die from Voldemort cursing his broom. He still likes flying and might join the team later though, but he's no longer the youngest Seeker in a century.
Or in book 2 without Draco Harry doesn't speak Parseltongue in front of everyone because Draco isn't there to conjure a snake and consequently the whole school doesn't conclude that Harry is the heir of Slytherin. This also means that Ginny doesn't mention Harry's ability to diary!Tom and so Tom doesn't try to use her to lure Harry into the Chamber since he has no reason to think Harry would be able to open it. Hermione possibly also doesn't figure out how the voice that Harry's been hearing connects to everything and thus the golden trio may not ever realize that a basilisk is on the loose. Tom might end up deciding that the best way to learn about Harry is to fully possess Ginny or to drain her life force and permanently come out of the diary. Potentially she ends up dying and no one ever knows. Harry doesn't get the diary and thus isn't able to surprise Lucius enough that he unthinkingly tosses a sock in Dobby's direction, meaning Dobby is never freed. Dumbledore may not ever return to the school though probably he does and probably Lucius's threats to other school governors still get exposed.
In book 3 depending on whether Harry ever ends up joining the Quidditch team, the whole plot with the Firebolt in book 3 might never happen. Harry's head also doesn't get seen in Hogsmeade which means Snape doesn't drag him into his office and force him to turn out his pockets which means Lupin doesn't find out about the map and take it from Harry. Lupin consequently doesn't follow the Golden Trio into the shrieking shack in the end of the story. Ron and Harry might also notice Pettigrew on the map but they might not. Depending on how things go down in the shack Sirius might not get a chance to tell his story and prove his innocence. Snape might even attack him and hand him over to the Dementors. Potentially Peter doesn't set out to bring Voldemort back. Lupin still probably loses his job because of the curse, but he might not end up outed as a werewolf. Peter might also have been brought back to the castle and Sirius's name might have been cleared.
In book 4 without Draco, Rita doesn't have a secret source about Harry that lays the groundwork for attacks on his character in book 5.
Assuming Voldemort eventually comes back he no longer punishes Lucius through Draco. Instead he likely directly orders Snape to kill Dumbledore. Because Dumbledore is still dying Snape probably does. Harry has no path to getting mastery of the Elder Wand (assuming we go by the canon version of wandlore and we don't believe the wand actually chose Harry). If Harry makes it to the end of book 7 he dies in the forest. Narcissa probably sees no reason not to say he's still alive. Voldemort kills him for a second time and he stays dead. Though quite possibly Harry is immediately identified and killed at the Manor since Draco is not there to lie for him. Also, Dobby may never have been freed and might not be there to help save him.
Of course, lots of the canon events could still happen and things could just play out a bit differently. But this really highlights how critical a part of Harry's narrative Draco is. From a fic POV I think the most fun would come from exploring how much worse book 7 would have played out without Draco there.
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G.I Incorrect Quotes#111 LoserDuke in love-
Trying to Court You with the help of Chlorinde and Nadia help...they can only help so much along with the cellmates and officers who organized a new event in the fortress for you-
Wrio: We have jams!
Lyney: Jams?
Freminet: Jams?
Wrio: Yes, jams! Yam jams, fig jams!
Lynette*Who looks excited about the jams, unlike her brothers*Yam jams!
Wrio: And date jams. Seedless, delicious, exotic jams!-
Clorinde*whispers to him with a cringed-out smile*Move away from the jams
Wrio*Looks confused at her*...What?
Clorinde: We have jewels
Wrio: Jewels! We have them! And, uh, that! Over there, hidden for suspense. Hmm? Whew! Ta-da! Uh...
TeaOwner!Y/n:...It's a wheel?*looks at the object the some agents from nadia brought int*
Wrio: It's, uh, very expensive!~
TeaOwner!Y/n*Raises brow at the duke playfully*And what do you hope to buy with this expensive?~
Wrio: You!
Everyone in the room grew DEADLY quiet, Your smile dropped...The twins actually look at a loss for words...even the cellmates and police trio have to give the duke a "Really?..." glance...Wriosthesly sadly realized his mistake too late
Clorinde*Mentally face palms and bites tongue*...Wow
Wrio: No! No, no, no! A moment with you, a moment. That's not...*Looks at Clorinde and Nadia for help who only give him a crashing plane noise*
TeaOwner!Y/n: Are you suggesting I am for sale?*Raises brow and tries to give him another try, Calming their anger*
Wrio: Of course... *Looking at you with a lovesick gaze*
Cellmates & Police:
Wrio*Snaps out of trance and panics even more*-Not! No, of course not! No!
Criminal*Has been in prison for years, he has been in countless prison fights, has been beaten up even once by the duke yet somehow THIS is the most painful thing he has ever witnessed in his sentence*-It's cold and it's dark...in my cell But I prefer it to this...*Whispers at Guard with a tired...and disappointed tone*
Guard*Nodding beside him, cringed out face and shaking head*...Im with you
TeaOwner!Y/n: Please excuse me...I need to go and find some bread...*Turns around and heads up the stairs*
Freminet*Waves them off, following you* F-for the jams
Wrio: No! That's not what I meant. I...
Lynette: You did great!
Wrio: That's not what I meant!...
Nadia: Just leave them alone, You didn't do great...
Part 3 of:
I like loser wet Duke who has no idea how to woo you...Im sorry but Wriosthesley isn't a suave, bold, and assertive man...he is a calm, tea lover stepped up as a father who likes dad jokes man who has been hurt a lot-
#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x y/n#genshin#genshin x reader#genshin x y/n#genshin wriothesley#genshin clorinde#genshin nadia#genshin lyney#genshin lynette#lyney and lynette#genshin freminet#wriosthesley x reader#wriosthesley x y/n#the duke and their teashop heaven#tea owner y/n#genshin incorrect quotes#incorrect quotes
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° *₊ ° . ° .• MASTERLIST and WIPs •. ° . °₊* °
⋆ ★ Kyra Cooney Cross ★⋆
Missed You More | 2.4k It's your first camp back after your ACL injury, but you best friend Kyra's acting strange ↳ Favourite Pest | 3k You finally find out what's caused Kyra to act so weird Friend of a Friend Charli introduces you and Kyra, and the two of you end up getting along a bit too well [aiming to post it around late August] Forget About it After avoiding her for as long as possible you have to play against the girl who broke your heart so many years ago. [aiming to post it around late August]
-> ⋆ Kyra and Sunny Series ⋆
•.¸¸☆Sam Kerr☆¸¸.•
6ft 5 | 0.9k You're filming a tiktok and Sam wants everyone to know your hers. ↳ 5ft 8 After signing a contract extension with Chelsea, you can't help teasing Sam over a lie she tells in a video
✧ ✦ ✧ Caitlin Foord ✧ ✦ ✧
Caitlin x child!reader series (coming soon) Squirt You're meeting the Arsenal girls for the first time Popular You find yourself the center of attention when all the girls are fighting to be your favourite But you're my mumma? Caitlin starts spending more time with Katie and less time with you
•♬✧Leah Williamson✧♬•
Enchanted | 1.6k You write a song about England's captain after meeting her briefly at an event not expecting her to share your feelings ↳ You are in Love After back and forth messaging and a few dates you and Leah begin to go more public with your relationship causing the fans to go wild [posting date tbc] Waldosia | 2.8k a condition in which you keep scanning faces in a crowd looking for a specific person who would have no reason to be there, as if your brain is checking to see whether they're still in your life, subconsciously patting its emotional pockets before it leaves for the day. Maybe in Another Life | 3.3k You hadn't seen Leah since you'd broken up three years ago and now when you see her again you being to regret ever letting her go Buffet (18+) | 1.1k Leah can't resist an all you eat meal, especially when your the main course. baby fever | 1.6k you'd always heard your friends talk about how much they wanted kids but had never felt the same until now. Crossing Loyalties Leah's a red, you're a blue and you 'hate' each other. Well at least that's what the fans think.
⋆ ★ Katie McCabe ★⋆
Take a chance on me | 1.6k With the help of a karaoke machine and a good song, Katie finally confesses her feelings for you Snapchat Katie accidentally leaks your relationship on snapchat with all the fans [posting date tbc] St Patrick's Day You're first time meeting Katie's family is on Saint Patricks day and it's a bit overwhelming [posting date tbc]
∘₊✧ Lionesses ✧₊∘
Winners are Grinners You've just won your first major tournament with your country (teen reader) [posting date tbc]
•.¸¸☆ Matildas ☆¸¸.•
No 1 trio It's a fight to see who the better trio is - Macca, Alanna and Caitlin or You, Mini and Kyra [posting date tbc] Little Menaces You and your best friend Harper Gorry are bored and decide to annoy all your aunties. (part of the Caitlin Foord x child!reader series) [posting date tbc]
⋆ ★ Alexia Putellas ★⋆
Odio Amarte | 1.6k All of your Barca teammates think you and Alexia need to get together, but the two of you are 'enemies'. First Camp It's all to much for you on your first ever Spain camp (teen reader) [posting date tbc] La Reina You finally shoot your shot with the queen of Spain [posting date tbc]
✧ ✦ ✧ Niamh Charles ✧ ✦ ✧
I wanna ruin our friendship Niamh wants more than anything to tell you how she feels but she's to scared to lose her best friend [posting date tbc] Let's tell the world you and Niamh decide it's finally time to go public with your relationship [posting date tbc]
•♬✧ CWFC ✧♬•
We made it After battling injuries, sicknesses and mental health problems for years, you finally made it all the way to the final day
•.¸¸☆AWFC☆¸¸.•
Go away (platonic) You and Kyra are always up to no good, but one day it gets all to much for your Arsenal teammates.
Scare Cam Kyra sets up a scare cam and it doesn't go to plan
✧ ✦ ✧ Lucy Bronze ✧ ✦ ✧
Don't be sorry | 3.1k the matildas lose to england in the semi final of the world cup and you take the blame
#wip#current wip#woso#woso fanfics#woso community#woso x reader#masterlist#kyra cooney cross#sam kerr#leah williamson#arsenal#awfc#chelsea#chelsea women#cwfc#caitlin foord#caitlin foord x reader#alexia putellas#lucy bronze#matildas#lionesses#niamh charles#arsenal wfc#katie mccabe
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something something loser trio headcanons because i can’t stop thinking about them
—PART ONE—
RUTH FLEMING:
got called “phlegmy fleming” in elementary school because she has horrible seasonal allergies. the nickname stuck until middle school. she transferred during eighth grade.
200% a cat person. she loves cats and wanted one when she moved out. both of her parents are extremely allergic.
her favorite color was red. after her death and the events of npmd, it makes peter sick to look at anything red not just because of blood.
the least squeamish person to walk the face of the earth (which can be corroborated by her behavior in npmd). she loved dragging pete and richie to haunted houses in the autumn.
she and pete met in tap class when they were 6 years old. upon learning pete’s name, ruth gasped and asked “like spider-man?!” they’ve been friends ever since.
ruth loved to give pete a hard time. a lot of the innuendos she made were at his expense (read: to freak him out). when he’d get too into his head, a dirty joke was, in her opinion, the best way to snap him out of it.
big on social media stalking. she knew so much about so many people. shared all of what she knew (good, bad, and ugly) with richie and pete.
definitely was a girl scout growing up. hated it. had a massive crush on one of the older girls and freaked out over it.
has taken the am i gay test 34 times (just to be sure).
came out to richie first after a trial run of “practice kissing” each other. they both cried. he came out to her the same day (messy bisexual icons).
they teased each other equally and often about the other’s taste in men and women.
when they both came out to pete (at the same time), he flipped, asking if “anyone in this damn town stuck to one gender?” (bc ted swings all ways, be so fr). after steph comes out to him as bi, he remembers the remark and tears up a bit.
loved to lust over ted as a bit. pete hated it.
coffee > tea. argued about this with richie almost daily.
she loved wine mom romance novels an embarrassing amount.
was in the library’s dnd club for 3 years to “improve her acting skills.” loved to play incredible horny bards
would have loved short n’ sweet. slim pickings??? taste??? JUNO????
planned the trio’s halloween costume every year. they always coordinated.
loved the muppets movies growing up
her favorite musical was spring awakening.
her dream role was sally bowles in cabaret.
DEFINITELY would have named her cat(s) after characters from cats (the musical)
loved her friends more than anything in the world. but especially loved to antagonize them :)
(I’m ill about her. Like seriously.)
#starkid#starkid npmd#npmd#ruth fleming#my pookie#nerdy prudes must die#loser trio my beloved#hatchetfield#hatchetverse
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Derelict. [Blue Eyes x Human!Reader]
Reference: This Imagine
Implied Blue Eyes x Human!Reader
Rating: Angst (a resolved ending).
Fandom: Planet Of The Apes
A/N: My first angst/Blue Eyes work on my blog as of now, hopefully many more to come in the near future. Can you believe I was listening to Bartender by T-Pain while writing this 💀
"Father, am I an outcast?" The question hung in the air with such intensity that the truth of the question didn't even have to be reflected on, there was always an inkling lingering in the reality of your mind, it was just hard to come to terms with it. How could you possibly be an outsider when this was truly all you really knew?
Maurice was your father, and the colony was your home. You very much knew that you were a human, but were you truly one of them if you were raised by the likes of apes? You wondered on that often, Maurice and Caesar were your looking glass into the world you barely got a taste of. Your reflection was only a reminder that you just may be the last of your species.
"No, you are a part of us." Your father signed to you, his expression firm and his reassurance sturdy, but you felt nothing as such. You felt as if your foundation was unstable and on the cusp of collapse. You felt your body's heavy movements as a sigh escape the entrapment of your lungs as the previous events weighed down on your mind.
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Taking walks on your own were nothing out of the norm for you sometimes you just felt residing too long within the confines of the colony is overbearing and in a way you understood that it was normal for humans or says Caesar, Maurice tends to explain a bit more in detail human concepts whilst Caesar often keeps it short and simple, you don't push for more information from him since the distant look in his eye triggers something reminiscent of empathy inside of you.
Though your relationship with Caesar is best described as being at arms length, your relationship with his eldest son Blue Eyes was an entirely different story. Blue eyes was your kindred spirit since the moment you were taken in. He and Ash became your close companions, and thus, a trio formed in the midst of uneasiness of a human child amongst the ape colony.
It wasn't long before you became one of them and you being just a child, you were of no harm to any of them and since you were taken under the wing of the most trusted member of the colony, there was hardly any protests aside from Koba and his great distaste of the apparently bloodthirsty (gremlin) human child standing before him.
You jump over a fallen over tree that rested 2 feet away from a reserved area that you, blue eyes and Ash often habituated since it was so close to the river you all would fish from, you hadn't seen blue eyes or Ash so far today so you figured that you'd find here waiting on you to catch up with since you slept in today.
As you approached, you heard multiple voices jeering in tone, feeling an anxious feeling creeping up your throat so you cautiously crouch, making sure to keep out of sight in the tall grass watching within a reasonable distance.
You see Blue Eyes and Ash with their backs to you but with their hunched over position it seems that this encounter with the clique of young apes infront of them was anything but pleasant, the opposing apes had mannerisms that came off as condescending and taunting as they seemed to tower over your friends.
"Blue eyes weak.. for being friends with weak human" the male ape huffed out a laugh, the other apes following the action, they were amused by the way blue eyes turned into himself, by his body language you can tell he was on the defensive and you feared that it could possibly break out in a brawl but your body refused to move from your position to interfere.
The group were following Blue Eyes and Ash's movements almost as if they had the intention of corning them somehow but now you were in view of your friends fronts, their expressions and hand signs on full display for you.
Blue eyes had a stressed and almost kicked puppy dog simper while Ash looked at the apes with a leer. Clearly, he was almost at his limit of being mocked upon.
You gazed at Blue Eyes' hands, and he signed out his response. "I'm not weak. She's just an outcast." His signing was harsh and precise in nature, as if he was trying to express the finality with the subject to get it over with, ash's face contorted with clear disagreement and shock within a second.
You mouth fell open in disbelief and a gasp was ripped from your chest, the sound exposing your location to the nearby apes, Blue Eyes' face fell as he met your watery gaze, the group of apes hooted with exclamations of mirth at your presence, you couldn't keep your composure as you turned to run back down the path back towards the colony.
Morbid thoughts ran rapid in your head along with memories that contained blue eyes in the them, the memories of moments you two shared, how you two snuck off into the woods late at night to get a glimpse of the night sky with no one else but each other, your hands barely grazing as you laid next to each in the clear area or the time when he carried you on his back rushing back to the colony when you fell out of tree and bruised your entire right side, he proceeded to stay by your side your entire recovery. Did that even mean anything to him? Did he even care about you at all?
You heard a hard and fast pounding on the dirt ground before you felt a warm calloused hand grab your wrist, but you were quick to release yourself from his grasp as you whirled around.
Blue Eyes was standing before you, his chest rising and falling in panicked breathing as he reached for you again but you stepped away, tears of hurt slipped from your eyes as you stared at him with bewildered sadness.
"I thought we were friends" Your voice wavered, sniffles broke through the tense atmosphere as Blue Eyes seemed to be struggling with an internal debate, you never would have thought that he would back stab you by demeaning you in such a way, you truly thought your exterior didn't matter to him but you suppose your humanness was a bigger dilemma than you thought.
"We are.." He voiced out, despite knowing him for as long as you have hearing his voice was always a pleasant surprise for you, his voice was quiet with a rasping edge to it almost as if his vocal cords were working overtime due to his lack of speaking but you always thought it had a sweet undertone to it.
He looked desperate to comfort you, and he knew that he was at fault, but it killed him to see you so heartbroken. He's never seen you cry with such intensity.
More tears only seemed to overflow, and a sob racked your body as you looked into his crystalline eyes that also reflected your own sadness. You turned your back on his outstretched palm, ignoring his plea for forgiveness.
"I don't believe you."
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Maurice placed his large hand on top of your head, his palm encasing the entire top of your scalp. He gently petted you in tender affection. You felt more tears build up in the corners of your eyes and hugged your knees closer to your chest in a plea to keep the dam from bursting from your eyes.
"Some do not understand..Some too focused on differences. You belong, you are loved." Your father signed to you, you gazed up into his eyes and you could clearly see the truth of his words as you thought back on all the times that you have been accepted by the ones who matter to you.
"Blue eyes young..trying to find his place just as you..he knows, you are of his kin." As much as it hurts to think about, you know that your father is right. You nod back at him with a strained smile. You look behind him, and you're met with blue eyes standing there with a regretful look to him.
Maurice also looks back before he nods to you and pats your head, slowly turning and leaving as he passes by Blue Eyes he gives a stern stare, Blue Eyes lowers his head shamefully before he ambles over to the ledge your sitting on.
As he sits next to you, notice that he's covered in mud and there's scratches on his face and hands and out of instinctive worry you grab his hand inspecting the wounds on his rough hands. You look to his face, and he stares back at you with a boyish charm to his face. "I fight Jon.. he called us weak.." He grabbed your hands into his, a remorseful look settling taking over his features, you feel your stomach turn in nervousness to how intimate in nature this seems to you, he's so close to you that you two could join in foreheads and you could feel the dull yearning in your body.
"You being human doesn't matter.. to me.. never will." You feel a smile pinching at the corners of your lips as you watched him present his palm to you. You couldn't help a tear fall from your eyes. You slid your fingers over his palm before holding it back into your hand with elation.
Your humanness didn't have to be a dilemma. You belong right where you are with those who love you.
#blue eyes x human reader#blue eyes x reader#planet of apes x reader#planet of the apes#pota#reader insert#fanfic#fanfiction
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🎃 LSBC Questions: Part 24! 🎃
Lock, Shock, Barrel, and Calliope questions that call for quick answers will be under the cut in batches of 10-15 🧡
Previous bulk questions batch
I like telling their story best though short comics!
They don't call them dates but they'll hang out casually as a group sometimes!
I drew fem humans at a fashion show, the designs would probably be a variation of that
The trio are very supportive of how their friends want to look, so they don't force their aesthetics on each other. But she'd paint his nails if he asked her to. His nails are naturally black.
No, Lock hates PDA. Shock doesn't want to see it but Lock doesn't want to BE seen even more [1] [2] [3] [4]
Lock adores compliments and praise. But the tsundere in him still responds "s-shut up" 😳
(since confessing and officially deciding to date) about a year for both, but I draw things out of order.
Lock still doesn't care for formal events, but he tolerates them more after the confession. He went from 10/10 hating them to like...7/10 hating them. He would still prefer to have Barrel's attention all to himself but he feels better about him mingling and dancing ever since Barrel made it very clear that Lock has his whole heart.
Banshees whose dependent line comes to an end rarely recover from their grief. They spend their existence emotionally bonded to them, attune to the daily, fluctuating probability of their deaths, and to lose them feels like losing their family and purpose. Calliope fully expected to be bluebells by now, so the fact that she gets a second chance at happiness makes her feel so lucky and grateful!
Not long! Flying, Potions, and Hexes are the three stages of coven studies, and it's typical for the first to be mastered much quicker than the following two, which can take many years.
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