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pellucid-constellations · 9 months ago

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If It All Fell (7)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst, PINING, Azriel's POV and he is incredibly sad

a/n: Yay here's more <3 I promise it gets happy and there's a little teaser of what that'll look like in this part. Let me know what you think pleaseee :)

Series Masterlist (all parts ♡)

Azriel

Azriel’s heart came to a thudding halt.

“What was that?” he asked softly, trying to play it off. Trying to pretend as if you hadn’t just asked him the one question he had hoped would never come. Because you were supposed to get better before it came to this.

He had begged the Mother for any kind of reprieve.

She hadn’t listened, as Azriel had expected.

“Mates,” you slurred, your head bobbing on his shoulder. The High Lords had exhausted you. “Helion said you… he said something about a mate. I can’t remember exactly… but no one’s told me what that is.”

Pure adoration tore at Azriel’s chest. Your words blurred together as you sunk deeper into his arms, and Gods, did he love you. He let himself imagine that you were drunk—just for a moment. You were drunk and still his and he was carrying you home after a night at Rita’s.

“Azriel?”

The moment ended and panic replaced the temporary comfort that had consumed him.

“Yes, my love?” It had slipped, a mistake fueled by his clouded mind. Azriel counted his footsteps and held his breath, but you only hummed in response, too drained to notice the endearment that had fallen with such desperation from his lips.

“You were telling m’about mates,” you reminded him. Your arm slipped from his neck and landed in your lap. Azriel held you closer, feeling your body begin to lose its grip.

“Of course,” he dutifully replied. “A mate is… it is a gift from the cauldron. An equal to share a bond with.”

“Like a lover?”

Azriel could hardly piece your words together with the way they tumbled out.

That, and his stomach was twisting, reminding him of the very bond that was crying out within him. This was wrong. It was all so terribly wrong. He didn’t have to have this conversation with you last time; it had hurt you too much to even hint at the topic.

Back then, Azriel had been so deep in anguish he couldn't keep food down, so desperate to just speak to you that his body rejected all else.

This was somehow worse.

“Much stronger,” he whispered, pressing his nose to your temple in an act of weakness. You didn’t notice. “Our souls are linked—mates I mean. A mating bond doesn’t always lead to the pair being lovers, but if they choose to do so, it’s enhanced. It’s unexplainable, truly, having someone connected to you that you love so deeply.”

“That sounds nice,” you mused, a melodic flow of syllables starkly contrasting the effort with which Azriel was trying to string his sentences together.

“It is.” He gave in to his urges and looked down at you in his arms, your hair flushed against his leathers, your face soft and drowsy. “It is wonderful.”

You cracked an eye open. Azriel had stopped walking. “Do you have one?”

“What?” he choked out.

“You speak as if you know the feeling well. Do you have a mate, Azriel?”

“I—” There were no thoughts in his head, nothing but the sound of your voice and your question repeating itself like a bell tolling in a vicious pattern. “Yes,” he sputtered out. “I do, yes.”

You smiled softly, but it was paired with a furrowed brow and a light sigh. “Good,” you nodded to yourself. “You deserve a mate.”

Too much talking, too much thinking; your head lulled into his arm, face against his chest, and you were asleep.

Yes, this was much worse than the last time.

Azriel adjusted his grip and carried you back to the room you didn’t know belonged to the both of you.

The pounding in your head was your first indication that you were awake. You moved your hand to your hairline before opening your eyes, applying pressure in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure there.

Useless.

A small groan made its way up your throat. The night before, or whenever it was—you had no idea how long you’d been sleeping—was a jumbled mess in your mind. You remembered meeting Helion, being told you were in love with him, being told that you actually weren’t in love with him, and then he and Rhysand had entered your mind and left you as nothing more than a vegetable.

There were other pieces too, like Azriel carrying you back to your room and talking about… mates? Yes, that sounded right—the larger-than-life, effervescent partners bestowed upon fae by the cauldron.

And he had told you that he had one.

That was good. Great, even. Something stirred within you, an uncomfortable feeling, but you ignored it in favor of the pain radiating across your head. Gods, why did it hurt so much?

Helion and Rhysand had been in your mind. They were going to discuss things with you.

You shot up far too quickly, the motion sending shooting pains up your neck.

“What?” you heard a voice panic. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

Another jarring look to the side and you just about passed out from the pain. You caught a glimpse of Azriel before you squeezed your eyes shut to try and manage it, his large form folded into a chair by the door that was certainly not made to accommodate wings. You lowered your head into your hands and heard the chair screech against the floor.

“What is it, y/n?” Azriel asked, voice closer now.

You let out a shaky sigh. “Sorry, just—it’s my head, give me a moment.”

He didn’t speak, but the room became dark. That seemed like an impossible feat, with the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the walls and letting in the rays of the day court sun. But the pounding in your head receded a fraction, and you could tell it was dimmer even from behind your eyelids.

“Does that help?” he asked, so low you could barely hear him.

You felt his breath at your arm.

“Yes,” you whispered back, and when you opened your eyes, Azriel was there. His wings had circled you, encasing you in a darkness that blocked out the world, his knees at the side of your bed.

“You got up too quickly,” Azriel offered.

“I know, but I wanted to hear what the High Lords had to say about the witch and my memories and what I need to do to fix everything. Have you heard anything?”

“Very little. I’ve been here.”

“For how long?”

“You slept for a day and a half.”

“And you stayed the entire time?”

“You requested I stay by your side. You’ve been here.”

You bit into your lip, the heavy weight of guilt loading onto your chest. Azriel flinched as if he felt it himself. “I wanted to stay,” he comforted. “It puts me at ease to… see you while we’re in this court. To know exactly where you are and who’s around you.”

“Because of last time,” you stated, but it was a question that hung in the air.

Azriel’s eyes tracked along the planes of your face. His hand twitched. “Yes, because of last time.”

He looked so serious, bordering on forlorn. Despite the pain in your head and the conflicting emotions rising within you, you attempted to lessen some of the load that seemed to bogg the shadowsinger down.

“You could have taken shifts with Cassian, you know. Or even, I don’t know, laid on the bed that’s the size of a small apartment. I was out cold the entire time—didn’t wake up once. I wouldn’t have noticed if you did,” you offered with a hint of a smirk playing at your lips.

Azriel’s gaze dropped to your mouth, his own expression lightening. “Cassian would fall asleep immediately. And, just to let you know, you did wake up. Several times.”

You gave him a doubtful look. “I think I would remember that.”

The shadowsinger bit back a smile and something within you shone at the playful look in his eye. “Right, so you don’t remember waking up and practically ripping that from my body?”

His eyes shot down to your chest, an action which you followed to find a large, unfamiliar sweater swathing your body in warmth. You looked further down at your hands, only to find the sleeves of the garment covering your palms and fingers as well.

An incredulous laugh bubbled in your chest. “I wouldn’t—I didn’t actually rip this off of you, did I?”

Azriel shifted his knees into a kneeling position beside you, his wings shuffling and creating a sound you had begun to find comfort in. “Well, you didn’t exactly ask politely.”

You groaned and shoved your face back into your hands. “Gods, that’s embarrassing. It’s because I was delirious, I swear. Those damn High Lords scrambled my brain.”

“Y/n, you have a penchant for demanding things in your sleep. Food, water, clothing, more blankets. Once you woke up to ask me for an entire roast duck and in the morning you had no recollection. You were quite aggravated that night.”

“No, stop, I can’t take this. I am melting into a puddle of mortification and you are making it worse.”

Azriel chuckled. “It’s alright. I’ve grown used to it over the years. It’s almost charming, really.”

You peeked through your sweater-clad fingers. “You can’t mean that.”

“I mean it very sincerely. When you are sick or unwell, you sleep through the entire night. When you wake up and grab the neck of my sweater like you’re robbing me, I know things are okay.”

You groaned again, this time tilting your head back and immediately regretting the action when a pulse of pain permeated along your temples. But it wasn’t so bad anymore; Azriel and his wings made it better.

You took a moment to gaze upon his face in the proximity. He was smiling slightly, some humor still shining in his hazel eyes. The occasional shadow made a pass along his cheeks and by his ear, whispering secrets you weren’t privy to and then coming to wind around your body as well. His hair was mused and untamed, landing in soft patterns across his forehead.

Azriel was so beautiful it hurt.

“Does your mate ever get upset that we are so close?” you asked, the question not even fully formed in your head before it entered the space.

The smile slipped from Azriel’s lips and you regretted your impulsivity almost instantly.

“No,” he answered, a slight shake of his head. “I wouldn’t worry about that.”

“Has something happened? Between the two of you?”

“Y/n, please don’t worry yourself over—”

“It’s just—Azriel, I know how hard all of this has been on you. When you spoke of your mate it was the first time I saw you look at peace. That’s why I’m asking.”

“You remember what I said?”

“All of it,” you smiled, but Azriel only looked grave. “Az—"

The shadowsinger jutted back as the familiarity left your lips. He sent his shadows out, their configuring forms covering the windows and the cracks in the doors until it was dark enough for him to remove his wings from around you. With him went the comfort of night-kissed air and warmth and all of the things that made sense in this life you had been dropped into.

“Rhys has requested that we meet in the study to discuss findings,” Azriel relayed, clearing his throat and standing from his place on the bed. “I laid out some of your things and a servant ran a bath when you started to stir. Do you need help—”

“I’ve got it,” you interrupted, eyes downcast, feeling as though you’d ruined something that was already painfully delicate.

“I’ll be here if you need me. Just outside the door.”

You believed him—you did—but something was missing. Something you couldn’t keep up with. Perhaps it was the knowledge that he was in love with someone. Mor, maybe? Or one of the sisters Cassian talked about on occasion?

The thought of him with his mate made you nauseous.

You shouldn’t have asked.

“A replication?” you asked, running a hand along the side of your head in an attempt to look casual about the throbbing taking place there. “So… it is like last time?”

“Partially, but because the witch’s powers aren’t pure, she was unable to mimic what a full daemati can do. So, same outcome, fewer side effects,” Rhys offered, a calming presence across the table. “Witches often find sources to draw from because they don’t have access to their natural abilities any longer. Your source was—”

“An opening in her mind,” Azriel concluded, expression guarded as he sat stiffly beside you. “There were remaining injuries in her mind. The witch found her weak points and used them against her.”

Helion nodded, rounding one of the more ornate chairs and basking in the light streaming through the window. “Very astute. We thought there were no remnants of—”

“Don’t say his name,” Azriel warned.

“—of the attack,” Helion quickly corrected, obviously not in the mind to start an argument with the keyed-up spymaster. “But they must have been miniscule. We think she must have been an old witch, very practiced.”

“So what do we do now?” Cassian gruffly asked, arms crossed as he leaned against the windowsill. You turned to look at him, but the sunlight casting his shadow sent your head ablaze. You quickly righted your gaze and squeezed your eyes shut to compensate.

You felt shadows stalk beneath your feet and across the floor until they consumed the light of the window. If anyone had any comments on the shadowsinger’s act, they didn’t voice them.

“Now,” Helion breathed out, dropping into a chair and interlacing his fingers atop the oak table. “We wait. Just like the last time, this kind of power is not something we can simply undo. We need a witch, and witches are incredibly elusive.”

Trepidation gripped your heart, sending your lungs into a fiery descent. You were just supposed to wait? Wait and hope that maybe, possibly, they would find a witch and fix this before your life moved on without you in it?

Your breath came out in quick, uneven puffs, exacerbating the ache in your head.

Azriel sat up in his seat, high alert and on the defensive.

But Rhysand was quicker than his spymaster’s anger. “There is the possibility that this wears off on its own.”

Your eyes snapped up. “Was that a possibility last time?”

“No,” Cassian remarked, brows shot up to his hairline. “That’s why you were missing for so long and in so much pain after. You both made it clear that there was no moving whatever the daemati put in her head.”

Helion and Rhysand shared a look, but your High Lord was the one to speak. “It was weaker this time, more permeable. We think, with time, the wall the witch attempted to replicate will break down and you’ll have everything back. She did only do this to you to flee from attack. It wasn't personal.”

“How much time?” Azriel strained.

Helion replied this time. “There is no way to know, shadowsinger.”

“What about the pain? You said fewer side effects but I couldn’t even have light in my room this morning.”

Rhysand looked sheepish, eyes darting over to the window still opaque with shadows. “Yes, well—we may have pushed you a bit too far during our assessment.”

Cassian let out a disbelieving huff from the corner of the room. Azriel gripped the arms of his chair until they groaned.

“So it’ll go away?” you asked, desperation trickling into your tone.

The wood beneath Azriel’s hands splintered.

“Yes, very soon. We can give you some tonics before you leave as well. They will help speed up the process,” Helion promised, eyeing his chair being slowly destroyed.

In a motion that felt almost second nature, you covered the spymaster’s hand with your own, shadows wrapping around the press of your skin. It was then that you noticed the ring. Silver and unassuming, it took up residence on the ring finger of his left hand and looked like it belonged no place else.

Our souls are linked, he had said, talking about his mate with such passion.

You removed your hand from his.

Azriel flexed his fingers upon your departure.

“We were thinking,” Rhysand began after a pregnant pause that seemed to blanket the room. “With your pain, we might want to stay a few more days. Winnowing can add extra pressure to the body and flying would—”

“No,” you were quick to dispute. “No, I want to go home. It’s lovely here, Helion, and I thank you for all you’ve done and are doing, but I want to go back to the Night Court. I want to try and live the life I’ve made for myself, even if I have no idea what I’m doing.” Another pause. “If that’s okay.”

“Of course that’s okay,” Azriel spoke from beside you. His words sounded dull, his fingers remaining outstretched on the chair.

“We will continue looking for the witch on our side,” Helion nodded, pushing out of his chair. He came before you then, meeting your gaze. “I cannot apologize enough for what your time in my court has cost you. I only hope that all will return to you. I have missed you, y/n.”

And then the High Lord of Day was gone, and you had no recollection as to why he would miss you in the first place. Everyone was saying they missed you, even as you stood before them unharmed and intact.

A harsh reality slammed into you with the departure of the High Lord.

If you didn’t get your memories back—if there were no witches or deteriorating walls in your mind—they would continue to miss you. You would forever be a husk of your former self, never understanding the full picture of who you were.

But that wasn’t okay with you—not at all.

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x female!reader #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel spymaster #acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel angst

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erwinsvow · 8 months ago

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can we have rafe try to grovel ?? :((((( shy reader deserves better !!! <3 https://www.tumblr.com/erwinsvow/751213087399510016/what-if-rafe-ever-hit-shy-reader-from-built-up?source=share

he will grovel!! side note i dont know how i feel about this its just for the sweet anon who wanted part two

the moment rafe shuts the door and traps you in the room, between his body and the wall, you know some part of you has just broken that you'll never fully be able to fix.

everything in your body tells you to look up at rafe and do something. slap him back, push him away, turn around and storm out of the room and try to at least show him you're just as mad as he is—but none of that actually happens.

hot tears keep spilling down your cheeks, and you stay frozen like that for what feels like forever, staring at the floor of rafe's bedroom. the sound of rafe's heavy breaths fills the space, though you can barely detect it over the way your heart is pounding in your ears.

you want to leave. but you don't know where you even would go. before the events of the last hour, there was no where you wanted to be more than wherever rafe was. and now, staring at the floor instead of up at the boy who you had gladly given your heart to only for him to snap it in half with his bare hands and deliver it back, you stay frozen, waiting for rafe. you are always waiting for rafe.

"kid, i-" you finally look up, through wet lashes and almost painful eyes fluttering slowly, and rafe stops talking the moment you do. you don't know why, but it doesn't take you long to figure it out. there's a mark on your cheek the size of his hand, probably an imprint from his ring too.

it's such a shame—you always loved that ring.

you snap out of your thoughts when rafe keeps talking, though there's still blooding rushing in your ears. he sounds muffled, his mouth moving and expression looking, you can only imagine, somewhat close to yours—sad and angry all blended together. you keep blinking slowly, listening but not really listening, waiting for him to finish so you can leave.

how stupid you must seem to him, and to yourself, you think pathetically. he just hit you, and you're waiting for him to finish, so you don't impolitely interrupt. you should drive straight from tannyhill to a therapist's office—though you think not even a licensed professional could help you figure out what exactly is wrong with you.

the thought makes you laugh, corners of your mouth turning up and a rush of air leaving your throat. half a laugh, half a sob. the gutting realization has just hit you—whatever was wrong with you, rafe was the only one in the world who seemed to understand you.

"baby?" rafe asks, and you actually snap out of it this time—looking up at your boyfriend, wondering if he knows you haven't heard a single thing he's said so far.

"i think i should go home," you reply, wondering where your keys are and where your wallet is. you don't keep track of these things anymore, usually since rafe drives you everywhere and pays for everything.

"okay. i'll bring you, just let me go get-"

"no, i-" you stop yourself—about to apologize again. everything running through your mind makes you choose your words carefully. "i'm gonna go home."

"you didn't drive here, kid. i picked you up, remember?" rafe looks back at you and you feel a fresh wave of tears take over. you hadn't remembered.

"oh."

"listen, kid, i'm so-"

"i'm going home," you repeat firmly, mostly to yourself. "i'll just-i'll walk."

"y'not walking. it's dark and-"

"rafe, stop." the way you say it, he actually listens. you don't sound like yourself, you can tell from the way he looks at you, rafe's face doused with concern and apprehension. you look away, turning to face the door. "i'll be fine. i need to go."

"c'mon, kid, don't go," he says, and every bone and muscle inside you wants to listen, to do what he says like you always do. you feel more hot tears coming up, stopping them seems impossible yet you know crying is useless. it already happened and the damage is already done.

you turn around from your position, knowing it's a mistake. rafe gets closer, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks. he holds your face like he always does, except there's one big difference—you flinch the moment he starts moving.

"baby," rafe says quietly, and everything in you stops for a moment. brain lagging, breath catching, even the tears stop for a second while you look up at your boyfriend. "i'm so sorry. i am so sorry. i fucked up, okay? i know i did, but please don't go."

"rafe, i can't stay," it comes out just as quietly, a notch above a whisper. "you hurt me." it comes out wrangled in a sob. rafe wipes away some of your fresh tears with his hands.

"i-i know. and i'm gonna regret it forever, but-" rafe stops, and you stop too. you chew on your lip nervously, realizing it's going to bleed from how much you're biting down. "can-can i at least bring you home? please?"

"okay," you give in-but you shouldn't have.

you don't even know how you're gonna explain the mark on your face to your parents, or why you're home so early when you said you were sleeping over. every movement feels exhausting—grabbing some of your things and walking down the stairs to getting into rafe's truck. the drive to your place isn't very long, only ten minutes, and you stare out the window the whole time. it feels like hours with the way rafe looks at you at each red light.

rafe pulls into your driveway and you look up at him expectantly, though you're not sure why.

"can you-can you turn the headlights off? i don't want them waking up," you say, after what feels like ages of silence.

rafe turns the lights off but doesn't say anything. it's not until you reach for the doorhandle that he does—it's almost muscle memory for him. he leans over you to pull the handle and open the door for you, but you flinch so hard when he moves that he can't even get the door. instead he looks back at you while you stare up at him. without any words, you both know what the other is thinking.

"goodnight, rafe," you say, your own hand on the door now.

"wait, kid," he says, and you stop your movement immediately. even in this situation, you can't help but listen. "can i see you tomorrow? please?"

"i don't think that's a good idea."

"c'mon. we-we have to talk about this. i can't just.. not see you. i'm gonna go crazy."

"i need to go rafe." the second you say it, you start feeling bad about it. it's so engrained in you—trying to avoid hurting rafe in any and every way possible, that the very idea of not giving him what he wants makes your chest ache painfully. "i.. i have to think about it."

he leans over, slowly this time so you don't get scared again, opening the door for you like he always does. you climb out, getting your bag and trying to pretend everything's fine until you get inside your room.

"good night, kid. i'll talk to you tomorrow."

without replying, you walk inside. rafe's truck stays in your driveway until you lock the door, and he doesn't drive away until minutes after.

surprisingly, you make it to your room before you start crying. and you don't stop crying until the sun comes up.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #tw abuse

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chrissv4mp · 5 months ago

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౨ৎ WHAT IF?

PART 1 ; YOU DON'T REMEMBER CALLING OUT FOR ME?

SUM: matt can't seem to stop worrying about you. he can't seem to stop replaying the events of that night.

PAIR: matt sturniolo × f!reader

CWS: cursing, crying, yelling, brief mention of car crashes, slight blood, road rage(?), mentions of amnesia (the loss of memories, facts, information, and experiences).

WC: 2.9k

NOTES: highly requested part 2 is FINALLYYYY here! (might be a part 3 cus... why not?)

TAGS: @livialifesblog @jetaimevous @watercolorskyy @blahbel668 @her-favorite @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @fallingforfalll2 @muchloveforhacker @slutforsturnioloss @sturniluvr @httqvi @stasiesturn @phoenix062

NAVIGATION

— MATT. MATT WAS YOUR BOYFRIEND. That's why he saved you. That's why he was the first person to run towards the crash, and that's why he was so touchy with you in the ambulance. That's why you can't stop the faint images that flash through your mind of his blurry flace. But, is that also why you hear yelling in the back of your mind? Is that why your heart hurts and beats rapidly every time you see him?

Is he the reason you're lying in this hospital bed?

Monitors beep beside you every other second, tracking your heart rate and blood pressure and whatever else they need to. The IV in your wrist moves with every subtle squirming motion you make, and your head still aches with the sting of the gash and... something you still can't grasp.

Your heart aches as well. Not only for yourself, but also for Matt. He had to witness the whole thing happen, or else you wouldn't remember the terrified look on his face as he dragged you out of the drivers seat. He watched the love of his life experience a near death situation, and you couldn't imagine how it would feel.

But somehow, you can. You can imagine it.

How? Why can you feel exactly what he must've felt right in that moment? Did you experience that feeling, too, or was it just empathy? It didn't feel like it. It felt too real to be just empathy, but you didn't know how or when you felt like that, so how could you prove it to yourself?

"Hey," a soft voice caught you off guard, and your body jolted in shock before realizing who it was. Matt. There he was, standing just behind the privacy curtain in the room, "Sorry to startle you. Do you mind if I come in?"

You only gave him a weak nod of your head, your lips curving into a small, hopeful smile. Matt's smile seemed to widen as he stepped toward your bed, closing the curtain behind him before he moved to take his place in the chair beside your the bed.

The only sounds were the beeping of monitors and the muffled chatter of other patients and doctors, neither you nor Matt having the right words to say. What were either of you supposed to say right now?

Matt knew what he could say. He was just scared to say it.

He didn't want those horrible memories of the fight to come back to you. He never wanted you to remember the heart-shattering words he spoke to you.

So, instead, he decided on a more normal conversation starter, "How'd you sleep last night? Sorry I couldn't be here, they wouldn't let me stay unless I was immediate family." He was lying. Why was he lying right to your face?

Because he couldn't stand the sight of your hurt, beat up face. He felt guilty every time he even heard your voice. His eyes weren't even on you right now, focused on the floor as he fiddled with his fingers in his lap.

You shrug, hands toying with the thin sheets of the hospital bed, "I couldn't really sleep with all the monitors beeping, but I got some hours in, so it was fine."

Matt just nods gently, almost as if he doesn't know you and doesn't want to know you, only giving the small gesture so you would think he's entertained. It was almost as if he was speaking to a stranger, but he wasn't. He was speaking to his girlfriend.

He should've been comfortable with you by now. You assumed the relationship had been long, or else you wouldn't have had his initial as the pendant dangling from your necklace.

"I'm scared." You say quietly, lower lip trembling subtly as you glance over at the monitors that tracked your heart rate among other things. You were scared dying. You were scared of being stuck in the hospital for longer than a month. You were scared that you would lose Matt, the only person who visited you.

He could cry. He could do so many things, but all he did was sit there and clench his fists. He was scared, too. He was terrified, but he had to be strong. For you. "Don't be. I promise you'll be okay."

Your own tears surfaced, and Matt choked on his spit as he heard your quiet whimpers. He didn't know what to do. No. He did know what to do he was just scared of doing it. How would you react? What if you still thought he was some stranger?

As you wipe your tears, you finally speak, "You said we needed to talk about something," you mutter, tilting your head to the side in an attempt to catch his gaze, but you still get nothing. His eyes dart all over the place, not once sparing you a glance even as you continue to speak, "Is it—What did we need to talk about, Matt?"

His name sounds foreign coming from your mouth, the way it rolled off your tongue so strangely (well, to him, at least) made him suck in a shaky breath. You almost don't notice him shudder, his whole body changing his sitting position, almost as if he was uncomfortable being in the same room as you.

"We don't have to talk right now if you're not ready. I'll be back every day, so we can talk whenever we're both ready." Matt speaks softly, giving you a weak smile as he taps his foot on the tiles of the floor, "Plus, I wouldn't wanna overwhelm you with all of it after your... incident. And you said you didn't sleep well last night, so that's another thing—"

"No, it's okay. I'm ready." You cut him off, nodding your head with an eager look on your face. Maybe if he spoke, you'd remember. Maybe if he had told the whole story, you would remember, and everything would go back to normal. You'd remember.

Right?

Matt shakes his head as a soft chuckle falls from between his lips, "No, no, it's okay, Y/N. We'll talk some other time." He was pushing it back. He didn't want to talk. Did the doctors not tell him the same things they told you, or did he just not want you to remember?

"Matt, I'm saying we can talk now. I'm ready." You say, voice shaking slightly as you watch the way his fists clench and unclench every other second, "Let's just—"

Beep, beep, bee—

"Y/N, I don't want to fucking talk!" His loud voice booms in the much quieter room as he shoots up from his seat beside you. The soft blue eyes that were once full of hope were much darker now, much colder, "Can't you get that through your fucking head?" He breathes out, throwing his hands up in an exasperated motion.

He tilts his head to the side, scoffing as he wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. When he finally looks over at you, it feels like his heart breaks.

For the millionth time since last night.

Your eyes are teary, lips parted as short breaths fall out. Your hands grip the hospital gown you're wearing, and you almost look like you've seen a monster. Because you have. Matt just sighs, fists clenching once again. Why was he being like this?

"Just leave it alone, kid," He mutters, shaking his head as he begins to walk away towards the privacy curtain. He doesn't spare you another glance even as he shuts the curtains behind him, leaving you alone to process what had just happened. What had happened?

Kid. You weren't a kid. Sudden anger washed over you as you finally processed his sentence, and something came back to you. Memories of the moments before the crash.

"Don't be so fucking sensitive, Y/N! I was just messing around. You're getting all riled up over nothin', kid."

"Don't call me 'kid', I'm not a fuckin' kid, Matthew. And you could've died from the height of your apartment! You're still drunk."

The room around you seems to spin, and you feel sick to your stomach as your eyes move around the small room you were set in. If he was your boyfriend, why were you fighting that night? And if you were fighting, why did he come to save you?

Beep, beep, bee—

Matt groaned in frustration as yet another car honked at him, his grip on the steering wheel tightening in both anger and anxiety. He was worried he wouldn't make it to the hospital in time. He had left the apartment earlier than usual in an effort to be on time, but it had just resulted in him getting stuck on traffic.

On The Five, too, an unusually busy street at an even more unusual hour of the day, "If these dumb motherfuckers don't stop honking at us, I'm gonna go insane." Nick sighed from the back, running a hand through his freshly-washed hair as he looked out of his window.

Right. He had invited both Nick and Chris to tag along with him to the hospital, and despite Nick's complaining about the early hour, he still came. He hadn't seen you since that night, and he never even asked if you were alright, too scared of what you would say.

"Nick!" Chris yells, turning in his seat to look back at his brother. Nick just rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over one another as he huffs.

"No, he's right, Chris. I'm gonna punch someone if they honk at me again." Matt huffs, eyes moving to his phone to check how long it would take to get there.

30 minutes.

His heartbeat picked up as his grip got impossibly tighter on the wheel, accidently turning to the right before he finally focused and got back on track. Nick and Chris gave each other a knowing look before their eyes were on Matt again.

"Dude, fucking move!" Matt yelled, his voice strained as he tried his hardest not to panic. His anxiety was never this high in traffic, why was it this high right now?

Nick's eyes widen at the booming voice of his brother, his hand moving to his heart in surprise as he stares at the back of his brothers head rest, "We're gonna be late, fuck." Matt sighed, his breathing short.

"Kid, it'll be fine. Calm down, we'll get there when we get there. Y/N won't be mad." Chris coos in an attempt to reassure his brother, his hand moving to awkwardly pat his shoulder. Seeing his brother so stressed made him hurt, his face contorting into a look of worry as he stared at the side profile of Matt.

His last words almost make Matt break, his breath hitching as he replays the moments of his last visit. He yelled at you. He snapped at you because he didn't want to talk. Why was he such an asshole? "She's gonna be mad, Chris."

"Fuck," Matt anxiously runs a hand through his messy hair, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before they open to look back at the road, "I yelled at her. Chris, I fucking yelled at her!" He breathes, worry clear in his tone as he finally spills.

"She's gonna resent me fore—" Matt starts, taking both of his hands of the wheel as he drags them down his face. He sucks in a deep breath, tears threatening to prick in his eyes as he feels that familiar suffocating feeling. He couldn't do this right now. He was in traffic and he was late and he had to get to you and...

"Matt, shut the fuck up," Nick says, his voice rising in an attempt to get his brothers attention. When he saw Matt's eyes in the rear view mirror, he began to speak, "Nothing could make her hate you after what you did. You saved her life, for Christ's sake."

"Right. Just apologize, kid. She's probably confused with everything going on. Just tell her what you feel." Chris chimes in, nudging Matt with his hand as he smiles at him. Matt nods subtly, hands moving back to the wheel but still maintaining that tight grip.

It was still killing him inside.

Ambulance sirens come closer and closer to Matt's car, and now he's a couple blocks away from his apartment. Now you're lying on the grass, and you're gone. He doesn't pull over even when he sees the ambulances on the shoulder, his eyes looking off into the distance.

"Matt, pull over!" Nick says, tapping the headrest as he notices the ambulances. His brother doesn't even turn the wheel, too lost in the fake scenario in his head. There was a universe where he didn't come and get you.

"No," Matt whispers, finally coming back to it as he looks out of Chris' window, noticing the ambulances. He still doesn't even think to pull over, "No."

His head was spinning, and when the ambulances finally passed, the traffic started to clear. Matt didn't hesitate to stomp on the gas, jolting all three triplets' bodies back as he sped down the highway.

"Matt," you whisper, watching as your boyfriend and... 2 more of him walk through the curtain and into your room?

Chris notices the confused look on your face as he walks in last, his lips tugging into a small smile as he moves to sit in the seat on the left side of the hospital bed. He waves to you, "Hey, Y/N. I'm Chris, Matt's brother, and also one of your friends."

"We're triplets. I forgot to tell you I was gonna bring 'em today, sorry." Matt chuckles lightly, rubbing your shoulder softly as he takes the other seat on the opposite side of the bed. Nick takes the seat on the far end of the room, right by the curtain as he smiles at you.

"I'm Nick, glad to see you're okay, Y/N." Nick says, his voice quiet so as not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere of the room. He waves his hand at you in a greeting, placing it back on his thigh as he sees you smile.

They all came to see you.

"Thank—" You suck in a breath as their presence finally sinks in, eyes fluttering shut for a moment to compose yourself before you finish, "Thank you guys for coming to see me. 'Ts means a lot, thank you."

Chris' heart flutters at your words as he relaxes in his chair, comfortable silence filling the room as he takes in the whole thing. He was glad you felt at least somewhat comfortable around them, "Don't thank us, we're just so, so happy that you're alright.

Matt still feels the light tension between you two as his eyes meet yours for only a second. Yours move away, but his... they stay. Finally. He breathes deeply before scooting closer to the edge of his chair, practically leaning over you now, "I'm sorry for snapping at you yesterday. It wasn't right of me, and I should've just told you that I wasn't ready to talk."

Your eyes move to his again, breath stuttering as you notice that look in his eyes. The same look he gave you in the ambulance ride here, the same look you... somehow, remember from previous events. Dates. More intimate moments and even some sad ones. You remember them.

"It's okay." You match the volume of his voice, eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips. You want to kiss him. Is he even comfortable with that right now? Matt answers your question for you, leaning closer to your face and pressing his lips to yours softly.

Nick cringes lightly, but he doesn't make a peep, instead moving his eyes to the floor. He didn't want to ruin the moment. He wanted both you and Matt to be happy. Chris smiles, moving his hands up to clap them together slowly.

The sudden noise makes Matt pull away, and Nick's eyes move, all of your heads turned to Chris, who just sits there, continuing his celebration, "Let's fuckin' go, Matt!" He calls, his voice straining as it always does whenever he's excited.

Matt blushes furiously, rolling his eyes as he gives his brother the finger. You and Nick laugh as Chris continues his motions, only further urging Matt. Before Chris can even say anything else, Matt is rounding the hospital bed and punching his brother in the shoulder repeatedly, eliciting a string of 'ows' from Chris.

"Actually, shut your fucking mouth," Matt murmurs, ruffling Chris' hair before he moves over to his seat again. Nick smiles in amusement, raising his eyebrows at Matt, "Yeah, that'll for sure show him."

"I'll give it to you 10 times wor—" Matt catches himself, his words sounding dirty to himself in his mind as he claps a hand over his mouth, his scream muffled.

Nick, Chris, and you all erupt into laughter. You and Chris grab onto each other as you laugh, unable to contain it anymore.

Even if you didn't get all of your memories and experiences back, you were glad you'd have this memory. Permanently.

You hoped.

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allisluv · 9 months ago

Note

this is definitely not inspired by a recent dream of mine

if you had a wet dream about finnick odair. GOD IF YOU HAD ONE ... the first thing you feel when you wake up in the semi-darkness of your room, your eyes squinting at his still sleeping figure, would be SHAME. you just feel miserable because you feel like you're like these capitol's citizens who are unable to see past his divine beauty </3

you go to get a glass of water, and wake up with finnick, half asleep, in the doorway, concern on his face. you don't want to tell him directly what is the cause of your awakening but we all know that he will manage to get the words out of you.

he does not blame you for a moment. "you should see my dreams about you", he says without a care and leaves you speechless. and then ... the dream becomes reality <3

he wears the most smug look after + says something like "i bet it was better than that dream"

— 🫀

dreams.

summary: finnick takes care of you after an... imaginative dream

a/n: hi hi hi! i've never written smut before so constructive criticism is welcome just please don't be mean because i will cry (fr) thank you anon for your request + i hope this lived up to expectations <3

content warnings: established relationship, porn with a little dash of plot, oral (fem!recieving), praise kink, use of the phrase good girl, unprotected p in v (please wrap it before you tap it), lots of consent and finnick being cheeky as always. oh and not proofread for the time being

pairing: finnick o'dair x fem!reader

It takes a while for you to register your surroundings when you shake yourself awake. It's dark in your room and you have to squint in order to make out Finnick's sleeping figure next to you. His chest rises and falls in shallow breaths and you're relieved that you didn't wake him.

As the dream runs through your head like an old movie, you squeeze your thighs together to get rid of the ache between your legs. Shame bubbles in your chest and bile hits the back of your throat.

Wasn't this exactly what the people in the Capitol did? Got off to the thought of him kissing his way up their bodies? You bite the inside of your cheek until you can’t focus on anything other than the metallic taste of blood flooding your mouth.

You pull the covers back and swing your legs over the side of the bed, padding across the wooden floorboards in your bare feet. Flicking on the light switch in the kitchen, you grab an empty glass before filling it with cold water from the faucet.

A pair of warm hands sneaking their way around your stomach is the first thing that you manage to register in your hazy mind. Finnick presses a kiss against the shell of your ear before asking, "What’re you doing up this early, honey?"

"Couldn't sleep," you murmur, setting the glass back onto the marble countertop. “Did I wake you?”

Finnick presses a kiss to the crown of your head as his fingers trace patterns up and down your arms. “Your side of the bed was cold. Was wondering where you'd gotten to, that's all," he shrugs and turns you around to face him. "You gonna tell me whats going on in that head of yours? Was it a bad dream?"

You slide onto the countertop and Finnick's hands instinctively fall to your hips. "Something like that," you mutter. "It's nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing," he prompts, gently using his thumb and index finger to tilt your head towards him. Your gaze remains glued to the wall behind him but he angles his head to catch your eye. "I need you to use your words, baby, cause I don't understand."

You shift uncomfortably on the countertop, praying that he'll drop it, (which isn't likely to happen, because Finnick O'dair is the text-book definition of stubborn). "I didn't have a bad dream."

"Then what was it?" Finnick asks, his eyebrows knitting together in a blend of confusion and concern. Warmth creeps across your cheeks. "Oh."

You try to bury your face in your hands but his reflexes are quick and he catches your wrists in between his fingers. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. You should see my dreams about you," he grins proudly. "Why didn't you say something sooner, honey? Are you gonna let me take care of you?"

Goosebumps rise on your skin as your tongue runs over your lips. You nod without making a sound.

Finnick's fingers skim the lace at the bottom of your nightdress. He's teasing. "Gotta hear you use your words, baby." His hand trails higher and higher until he's tracing feather-light touches along the outline of your black underwear. "Come on, use your words for me."

Your heart beats against your ribcage as he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your stomach. It's hard to think when your thoughts are consumed by him. He pulls your nightgown up to your hips, exposing your damp panties. His thumb toys with the hem. "Please," you whine breathlessly.

"Please what baby?" he peers up at you through his lashes. "You know I'll give you whatever you want, just need to hear you say it."

"Please fuck me."

He gives a satisfied hum and sinks to his knees in front of you. "Good girl. My gorgeous, needy girl. Am I gonna find you soaked under here?" His fingers work the soft material down your thighs. "Can I?"

"Please touch me." Your hips chase forward in search of his hand and he runs his fingers through your folds. Your eyes squeeze shut, hand balling his white shirt into your fist. "Oh my god."

He drops his hand and buries his face in your cunt, tongue easing you open as he tracks his way to your clit. Your hands find purchase in his hair and you tug hard.

"You feel so good," you scratch his scalp with your blunt nails and he moans into your cunt. Finnick reaches between your legs, his fingers feeling between your folds as he sucks on your sensitive clit. Familiar tightness was coiling in your core and, as if he could sense it, Finnick stood up.

You whined at the loss of contact but he swallowed it with a kiss. His warm hands smooth your hair out of your face and back behind your shoulders. He was always so gentle with you.

You threw your head back and he obliged by trailing wet kisses down the expanse of your neck. He hummed against your skin as you tug at the hem of his t-shirt desperately.

Finnick chuckles as you strip him of the thin cotton. You toss it to the side, not bothering to look where it lands. All you can focus on is how much you want him to fuck you.

Finnick kisses you lazily and pulls down his sweatpants and boxers in one go. You palm his bare cock and he twitches in your hand, hot and heavy. "Are you sure you're ready for me baby? I don't wanna hurt you or anything," he frowns.

You kiss the crown of his forehead and pull your nightgown over your head. The cold air nips at your bare breasts and Finnick's eyes darken at the sight. "I can handle it. Please, need to feel you."

Finnick grips your hips in his gentle hands and lines himself up with your entrance. His tongue slips into your mouth as he pushes into you with such force that the breath is knocked from your lungs. No matter how many times he fucks you, it always takes a while for you to accommodate to his size.

He presses gentle kisses to your nose and your cheeks before finally brushing his lips against yours once more. "You still with me, honey?" He brushes a hand across your forehead, wiping away the strands of hair that had gotten stuck from the sweat. "Being such a good girl for me, sweetheart. Always so good for me. Stretching me so well."

Your pain soon morphs to pleasure and as your hips cant forward, he thrusts to meet you. "Feel so full, Finnick," your nails drag against his bare back, no doubt leaving marks.

"Yeah?" Finnick smirks, lifting one of your legs and wrapping it around his waist. The angle drives him deeper inside you, and to make it even more impossible to string together a coherent sentence, he drags his tongue over your sensitive nipples. "Are you getting close, baby? Yeah you are, I can feel you squeezing me."

He kisses you slowly as he pushes his hips to meet yours again. Your mouth leaves his and you kiss along his jawline, moaning into his ear as he fucks you. "Finnick," you whine, clinging to the space between his shoulder blades. It's the only word you can think of. Your thoughts are consumed with him.

"I've got you, honey," he hisses as his hips slam into you. "Come for me. You're beautiful, baby. Come for me, I know you can do it, I'm so close--"

Finnick surges up to capture your mouth in a kiss as your orgasm washes over you like the waves outside your house. Finnick's hips still and you can feel his warm seed pumping into you.

Too exhausted to hold yourself up, you collapse against Finnick, who holds you close as you both come down from your high. Your kisses are sloppy and languid but you feel so warm, so full, that nothing else really matters.

You whine when he pulls out but it's not so bad when he's soothing it better with soft kisses and gentle caresses. He whispers that he loves you and offers to carry you to the bath but not before getting one smart remark in. "Bet I was better than in the dream, huh, honey?"

#the hunger games #grace talks🐚🌷#thg #headcanons #finnick odair #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x y/n #blurb #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair smut #writers #fem!reader #the hunger games x reader #writers on tumblr #oneshot #🫀 anon

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spncvr · 10 months ago

Note

HIII I kinda suck at writing so maybe you could take my idea and use your amazing writing skills and make something of it? (Only if you want ofc!!) hear me out yk how Spencer rambles about random facts and everything at the bau imagine if he had a partner (was a profiler as well) and that knew a lot about musics or movies and would ramble about it to him?

Ignore this if it sounds stupid 😭

rambles | s. reid

summary: you talk a lot, spencer doesn't mind.

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: okay so idk if this counts as gn!reader?? but reader wears a dress lol. drinking, and again my terrible english,, lmk if i missed anything!

a/n: hey beautiful!! this deffo does not sound stupid i had fun writing it but this is so bad im sorry i didn't do u justice *crying emoji* also im so sorry this took me forever to finish LMAOOO

masterlist

YOU CAN FEEL it.

In your spine, in your ears. The song’s quiet but it had you in its grip, tight and firm—music’s always been like that to you. It didn’t matter if it was Hendrix, Queen or even Chopin; it has always been the one thing to make you stop dead at your feet. It’s a feeling you can’t quite put your finger on. There wasn’t a word in the English language that could possibly describe how it made you feel. Perhaps, you think humorously, you ought to learn another language, or two.

You’re wearing this dress. This sweet, white silk thing that sweeps against your knees each time you take a step. The taste of expensive wine sits against your lips, lingering. The glass rests idly around your hand and your grip is careful. Expensive red wine and a cheap dress don't usually mix well together.

“You okay?”

You smile, teeth and all. Spencer who’s found his place next to you, furrows his eyebrows worry painted against his soft features. He looks tired. But he’s here, with the rest of the team; he always is.

“Fine,” you say, blasé. “You, Dr. Reid?”

His eyebrows raise slightly, “Yeah, fine.” then, “nice dress.” It’s a small whisper.

You brush your tongue against the wine on your lips. The comment catches you off guard—especially when he’s dressed like this and looks at you like that. So, all that leaves your wine-stained lips is a small: “Oh.” then, because you remember your manners you say, “Thank you.”

The song changes, and Spencer smiles, “The songs—” he says “they’re nice.”

“I—” You stop yourself from rambling because really, they’re more than nice. It’s Elle Fitzgerald. She’s—Her voice, her instrument is clear as a bell, with diction that’s almost impossible to misunderstand. Her rhythm is— well it’s, you can set her as the metronome for her own band. Which, well, isn’t exactly easy to do. The way she’s able to scoop and bend her pitches with such precision is, beyond, nice. So the song, really it’s, more than nice, it’s a masterpiece it’s—

“Uh, yeah, s’nice.” you pause, “More than nice, really.”

Spencer smiles, amused, “More than nice?” he echoes.

You clear your throat, “It— yeah. I mean, it’s Fitzgerald, you know…”

“I don’t know,” he says simply.

Figures, you think. “No, yeah. She’s, like, got this tone in her voice, you know? And it’s like she’s the one leading the band— with the rhythm, I mean. As in like, instead of the drummer, which isn’t exactly easy to do. You know, actually, some people say she — she’s got the voice of an angel. Or something along the lines; can’t really remember and—” you pause, slightly embarrassed at how much you’ve been talking.

“Er, sorry,” you mumble sheepishly. The edge of your shoes had suddenly become increasingly interesting. “didn’t mean to go on a tangent.”

Spencer kisses his teeth, and you look up to find him grinning. “No, uh,” he scratches the edge of his eyebrow. “You don’t need to apologize for talking about something you like.” He seems to think about his next words as he brushes his hand against your arm. It sends a shiver that lingers longer than the touch itself. Spencer Reid could be so cruel sometimes.

“I love listening to you talk.”

Your dress ends up wine-stained, anyway.

as usual my inbox is always open for requests (or just to talk lol) but it will take 192374 years to actually finish it,, reblogs are soo appreciated !! (u guys r always so kind idk why im asking for them) so is feedback btw!! (despretely in need of some)

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cressidagrey · 2 months ago

Text

You are the best thing that's ever been mine - Part 2

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ariel Cane (Original Character)

Summary: Sao Paulo 2024. The Dutchman delivered a defining drive…but maybe there is a relationship that could also use some defining.

Warnings: Jos Verstappen, angst, crying, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation

Author Notes: Hi, hey, hello! Apparently I write F1 Fanfiction now?! Also this is the first time I am trying a social media au so my Canva Skills were put to the test. (Disclaimer: I kinda put legibility over authencity, so twitter doesn't look like twitter and messages looks like...something).

Also huge thanks to @onebigfangirlworld and @leodette for holding my hand with this 😘)

The checkered flag waved and GP was in his ear: "Wow. It’s been a long time coming, mate, but, boy, was that worth the wait. You are the man."

Max pulled in a slow breath. His heart was beating fast with the exhilaration of the race, with the thrill of victory. He had won. The first time since the Spanish Grand Prix. From P17 to P1.

"OOOH YES!! What an unbelievable race, guys! You know what that is? Simply lovely."

"Max, that was amazing. 17th to first. That was a world champion’s drive. You were absolutely a class of your own today, " came Christian's voice over the radio.

There was something in his tone of voice...something that scratched something at the edges of Max's brain.

"We had an...incident at the garage today," Christian said carefully. "I would like to start this with saying that Ariel is fine."

Max didn't like the sound of that. An "incident" at the garage? That didn't sound good. And he didn't like the way Christian's tone was all cautious, as if he was bracing for some kind of reaction.

He swallowed, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. "What happened?" he asked, his hands clenching around the steering wheel.

There was a pause, and Max could almost picture Christian gathering his thoughts. "Jos," Christian finally said. "He said some things, and he..." another pause. “He slapped her."

Max's mind blanked out.

He slapped her.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened so much it made his knuckles white. His heart was suddenly racing again, but not from the race. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, fueled by anger.

"What do you mean, he slapped her?" he asked through gritted teeth.

His father had done what?

"Exactly that," Christian replied, his voice firm. "He was yelling at her for no reason, and he slapped her. It was completely out of line, and it's absolutely unacceptable behavior. I've already dealt with him, sent him away. Max, I didn't tell you earlier because I knew it would only distract you in the race. I didn't want you to worry or get worked up."

He couldn’t talk. Couldn’t bring out the words.

He remembered the commotion he had heard, the wordless screaming that had happened…he hadn’t been able to make out the words…but he could just about imagine how it must have…

And alone the thought of anybody, especially his own father, laying his hands on Ariel in anger…it was making him ready to go to prison for life for outright murder.

Jos had put his hands on Ariel.

On Ariel.

Ariel.

The best thing that had ever happened to him. The one person in his life that he knew was going to have his back in every single way every single day. The one person that had never backed down from his temper, that had never hesitated to call him an asshole… who had been there for him for years.

Who knew him better than he even knew himself sometimes. It was…

It was infuriating.

Ariel was his. Nobody got to lay his hands on her unless they wanted to deal with Max himself.

"How is Ariel?" he bit out sharply.

"She's a bit rattled," Christian replied quickly, and Max could hear the hesitation in his voice. "A bit shaken up understandably, but she's okay. The medic checked her out. She's...she vomited afterwards." That sent a cold shard of worry down Max's spine.

She had already looked pale and green around the gills that morning but he hadn’t quite… Max hadn’t really thought that that was…anything but…

Ariel hated wet races, even when she had never outright said it. Max had thought that it was just her nerves and not that anything had been physically wrong with her… but then she had had seafood for dinner the evening before, maybe that hadn’t been a good choice…

But whatever it was, Max couldn't help the image of her pale, shaky, and vomiting flashing through his mind.

"I'm coming now," he said firmly, his decision made in a heartbeat. "I’m coming to the garage right now."

"Max, you just won a race," Christian protested, his voice concerned. "You're supposed to be celebrating right now."

He didn't care. All he could think about was her. He had to see her, he had to make sure she was okay.

"I'm not celebrating anything until I see her," he retorted, his tone brooking no argument. He didn’t care what he was supposed to do. He needed to see her. He needed to see her now. "Is she still with the medic?”

"No, she is taking a nap in your driver's room," Christian answered after a moment.

The news brought a wave of relief through Max.

At least she was resting, and safe from Jos' reach.

"She's sleeping. She's fine. At least get weighed first, alright?" Christian pushed him. "I'll talk to the FIA, maybe we can sneak you out for a moment before the interviews start?"

To say that he was furious about it was an understatement.

Max had never been so angry in his whole damn life.

The anger was a living thing inside him, an inferno of righteous fury. How dare Jos confront her like that? How dare he put his hands on her? The very thought made him grind his teeth to the point that his jaw ached.

For the first time in his life...that win didn't matter to him. At all.

The win...he had won. That would normally fill him with pride, with satisfaction and the adrenaline of accomplishment.

But it meant nothing right now.

No win in his life mattered if he was going to lose Ariel.

Nothing mattered without Ariel. She was the only thing that mattered.

Nothing compared to the thought of her being hurt, of her being at the receiving end of one of Jos' outbursts.

Max could deal with his father’s poisonous words. His father could say whatever he wanted to him. But Jos hadn’t.

Jos had spit his venom in the direction of the most important person in Max’s life. Had dared to put a hand on her.

And that meant…that the fury that burned in Max’s gut was all-consuming, a fire in his veins that burned away everything else.

When he finally brought the car to the designated stop, he unclipped himself and climbed out...Normally a win after such a long drought...it would have made the Red Bull garage erupt.

This time the usual celebrations after a race were replaced by a somber mood. Everyone was there of course, congratulating him on the win, but the usual cheer and happiness were missing. Everybody's mind was still caught up in the events that had taken place during the race.

Christian was the first to greet him. He patted his back firmly. "Well done, mate," Christian said, his voice quiet. "It's been a long time coming. You deserve this one."

Somehow he mustered a thanks, even when the fury was still coiling deep within him.

The need to be by Ariel’s side, to reassure himself that she was fine, was almost overwhelming.

And instead of doing just that, there was the media waiting for him.

Of course there was.

They were like vultures, circling the winning driver, waiting for their chance to ask questions and take pictures. Max hated them at that moment, hated every single soul of them.

Max had never wanted to strangle the media more. His jaw was tight as he was bombarded with question after question about the incident in the garage.

“Have you heard about what happened?”

“Do you know what it was about?”

"What was said?"

The questions were relentless, and he could feel his anger simmering just under the surface. It took every ounce of his control to keep himself from lashing out. "I just heard about the incident," he said, keeping his tone icily even. "I don't know anything yet. I'll talk to Ariel as soon as I am done here."

One of the reporters, a little more brazen than the others, piped up with a question. "There are rumours that Ms. Cane is...well...expecting. Is there any truth to that? And if yes, are you the father?"

The question stunned Max into a moment of silence.

What was…What the actual fuck?

It took him a moment to process the question, to comprehend what the reporter was insinuating. Pregnant? Ariel? With his baby? The very idea was...it was sending him into a tailspin.

Regardless of whatever everybody else had ever thought...there had never… nothing had ever happened between him and Ariel.

She was his best friend. The person he trusted most in the whole world and he quite simply adored her.

It wasn't that he didn't want her.

He did.

That had never been a question. From the very first time he had ever seen her...he had fallen a little bit in love right then and there, in late 2019...fallen in love with the blue eyed girl with the bright red hair that had smiled at him in that meeting room.

She had never once taken any of his bullshit. Had never once backed down from any challenge he issued… had met him head on, her shoulder squared.

Ariel had grown too important too quickly for him. He was utterly terrified of fucking it up. Of losing her. What if she didn’t return his feelings? What if she did and then they ended up divorced down the line and hating each other?

At least like this… he could have her as his best friend. That would need to be enough.

It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t even close to enough.

But to be asked that question...to be asked if she was carrying his child...it was like pouring gasoline into an open fire. It just made the possessiveness well up inside him like a tidal wave.

He wanted to snap. He wanted not to answer at all. He wanted to tell the media to fuck off and leave him the hell alone. He wanted to answer that question by giving the reporter a bloody nose.

"That's a very personal question," he said, his eyes cold. "The answer is no. To both questions.”

Another reporter, not satisfied with that answer, piped up. "There have been rumors though," he started. "About a possible relationship-"

“My personal life is not up for discussion,” he cut him off sharply. "Ariel Cane is the best thing that has ever happened to me. She has been my best friend for the last 5 years and a vital part of our team. Ariel is..." he trailed off, trying to figure out how to phrase it. How to express the enormity of what she meant to him. And when he finally spoke, he was surprised at how easily the words came. "She's incredibly important to me. Ariel is a remarkable woman, who I respect immensely. And a day doesn't pass, where I don't appreciate having her in my life," he continued. He had to defend her, to make it clear that what was between them was not what the media liked to portray it as.

The reporters looked a little stunned at the outburst. The room fell silent, everyone digesting his words. Max didn't care.

He had said what he needed to say, and had set the record straight. The last thing he wanted was for her to be dragged down because of him.

Someone finally broke the silence. "What about your father?" another reporter asked carefully. "Will you talk with him?"

The mere mention of his father brought the anger back into the forefront of his mind. He ground his teeth, his hands clenched into fists. Max felt the anger flare up inside him again, hotter than before.

“I will. He won’t like what I have to say,” he snapped.

"Don't you think that your father may have had a reason for slapping her?" one reporter piped up.

"No," Max's answer was sharp and immediate. "There is absolutely nothing that would justify what he did. And if my father ever dares to even think about getting close to her again, I will make his life an absolute living hell," he said, his voice quiet but deadly.

The reporter looked like he wanted to press the point, like he wanted to dig further. But Max was done answering questions now.

"That's enough," he said firmly, his voice brooking no further argument. "Now I would like to go and see my friend and beg for her forgiveness."

He didn't wait for a response, the need to see her taking over every other thought.

He didn't fucking care anymore. If the FIA wanted to fine him, they could do that. He had more money than he knew what to do with after all.

He turned away from the reporters, ignoring the last of their shouted questions, and made a beeline for the Red Bull Garage. He didn't stop, didn't slow down even when Team Officials tried to talk to him.

All he cared about was getting to her. Getting to her and making sure she was okay.

Next Part

#max verstappen fanfiction #formula 1 #max verstappen #max verstappen smau #max verstappen fic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #max verstappen fluff #mv1 fanfiction #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fake instagram #f1 smau #max verstappen social media au

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lizhly-writes · 3 months ago

Text

based off this post. and this line, because i am going insane:

it’s okay, an ding disciples are allowed to unlock the top rights when they grow up, they take after their dad!

introducing: hallmaster jiang and disciple wu!

The peak lords of Cang Qiong were not meant to be Shang-shixiong's personal harem, but that seemed to be what was happening anyway. This was not something that Jiang Yunyan usually minded -- he normally found it incredibly amusing -- but. But.

"Disciple Wu," Jiang Yunyan said. "That is not how you are supposed to solve your problems."

"But it worked, though," muttered the little disciple that he had pulled aside after hearing about said disciple's escapades.

Wu Youxuan had been an entirely normal An Ding disciple, if one with the unfortunate tendency of getting roped into fights against Bai Zhan disciples. While he came out of these fights without too much damage, it was still disruptive to his regular tasks and duties. It was becoming a problem.

A problem that Wu Youxuan had apparently gotten advice about from the An Ding Peak Lord.

"You seduced five Bai Zhan disciples," Jiang Yunyan said.

"It's an overstatement to call it seduction," Wu Youxuan said. "This disciple simply... said a few words."

'Said a few words'. If he was following the direction of Shang-shixiong, Jiang Yunyan could very well imagine what kind of words. "Is that so?"

"Well --" Wu Youxuan began, and then his head abruptly snapped to the side, the movement not unlike that of a cat suddenly catching sight of a flock of birds.

Jiang Yunyan followed his line of sight to see that this was almost exactly what had happened. There was a pack of Bai Zhan disciples who had been passing by, all of which had frozen under Wu Youxuan's gaze, which had shifted from 'sullen boy getting reprimanded' to 'boy with enough arrogance to drown the world'. The way he tilted his head, the way he smirked -- it was all... strangely familiar.

When Jiang Yunyan recognized it, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. That was the exact bearing Shang-shixiong had worn when Jiang Yunyan had almost walked in on him seducing Liu Qingge.

Shang-shixiong was so annoying. Why was he like this? Furthermore, if he had to be like this, did he have to set this kind of example for the disciples?

"Hi," Wu Youxuan drawled, and fluttered his fingers almost teasingly at the Bai Zhan disciples, who were all turning various shades of red and starting to scatter. Most of them, anyway. There was one entirely unaffected disciple who made a rude hand gesture at Wu Youxuan before almost pointedly turning his back on him.

Wu Youxuan's smirk dropped.

"Do you have a particular disagreement with that disciple?" Jiang Yunyan said.

"No, that's just Chen-shidi," Wu Youxuan said. "I think he's mad at me. He won't talk to me anymore. Which is fine. I don't need him to talk to me. He's an asshole, anyway. Who needs him? Jerk."

None of these words seemed to stop him from staring longingly after that Chen-shidi as the other boy stomped off.

Was it that Wu Youxuan seduced all Bai Zhan disciples except for the one he was actually interested in?

"Did Lord Shang's advice not work on Disciple Chen?" Jiang Yunyan said, vaguely amused.

"I didn't try it on Chen-shidi," Wu Youxuan said, in the voice of a boy desperately trying not to sound miserable at the fact that his crush was ignoring him.

"You specifically didn't seduce Disciple Chen?"

"It's not seduction," Wu Youxuan said immediately and then, a little more hesitantly, "Jiang-laoshi thinks I should try it on Chen-shidi...?"

That was not what Jiang-laoshi had said at all.

"If I seduced him -- not that it's seduction -- he can't ignore me anymore," Wu Youxuan said, warming up to the idea. "He'd have to talk to me again." A pause. "Not that I care about that.

Fucking teenagers.

"Yes, you obviously doesn't care at all about that Disciple Chen," Jiang Yunyan said dryly.

"Right," Wu Youxuan said, sarcasm flying over his head in the face of his newfound determination to seduce his crush. "May I be excused, Jiang-laoshi?"

Shang-shixiong was such a bad example.

Jiang Yunyan contemplated what he could say. Have you considered your crush is mad because you're seducing other people? You shouldn't use seduction to solve all your problems. An Ding is getting such a strange reputation nowadays. Stop listening to Shang-shixiong, he's a terrible role model.

In the end, all he said was, "You're dismissed."

Wu Youxuan nodded sharply, and spun on his heel, settling into the graceful stalk of a predator after prey.

That Disciple Chen was in for an interesting time.

#my writing #svsss #well. technically #contains no canon characters #i only mention shang qinghua in here #jiang yunyan #wu youxuan #neither of those two are new ocs! :D

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heavenlytouches · 5 months ago

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can you write a imagine about charles xavier? like, you and him are roomates on college and one day you just confess to each other? plsplsplsplsplsplsplspls

Hello dear and thank you so so much for a request! This idea is so so goodl :D. Also thank you for feeding my Charles Xavier/James McAvoy obsession xD Let’s goo :O El <3

Charles Xavier- mind games

𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝

GN reader

<3 (SFW)

TW-none

YOUNG!Charles Xavier

studying calmly until Charles suggests a "mind-reading" game ;)

HUMAN!reader doesn't know Charles is a telepath

Charles Xavier

The rain drizzled gently against the window, a soothing rhythm that filled the dimly lit room with a calming energy. The soft sounds of droplets racing down the glass played a subtle background melody to your weary thoughts.

The common room of your college dorm was strewn with textbooks, notebooks, and an assortment of empty coffee mugs that had once proudly proclaimed the need for caffeine during late-night study sessions.

Across the cluttered table, the ever-charismatic Charles Xavier was hunched over a thick volume of psychology, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked beautiful as ever- his silky dark hair slightly damp from walking in the rain and his blue eyes alight with intelligence.

Charles was brilliant, charming, and effortlessly flirtatious; the perfect concoction of qualities that made it impossible for you to see him as just a friend. In a way, he knew it too, though neither of you spoke about the unspoken tension lingering between you.

As you flipped through the relevant chapters of your own textbook, you stole a glance at him—it seemed like a perfect time to study, yet the heavy clouds outside made everything feel a little too gloomy. You sighed, breaking the silence. You could somehow feel him in your head.

“I can’t focus like this, Charles. It’s too dreary.”

Charles looked up, his expression shifting from studious to mischievous.

“Oh, come on! That just means there are more interesting things we could be doing.”

You rolled your eyes, ready for him to suggest another one of his ridiculous distractions, but you had to admit that part of you was curious.

“And what do you have in mind?”

He leaned back, an easy grin spreading across his face. His ocean-like eyes gleaming.

“How about a game of mind reading?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. Charles was looking at you with amusement.

“That sounds like a terrible idea. You’d just end up winning—again.”

“Exactly."

He said, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“And it’ll give me a chance to demonstrate my exceptional telepathic abilities.”

“Telepathic abilities?”

You raised an eyebrow. He was always saying he's all that and a bag of chips, You adored that but sometimes, he could go overboard with making up stories.

“Are you trying to impress me?”

“Maybe a little.”

He replied, leaning closer. The space between the two of you seemed to shrink as his tone softened, and your breath caught in your throat.

You turned your gaze back to your books, a blush creeping onto your cheeks. His teasing flirtations made it difficult to maintain your composure, especially when you secretly harbored feelings for him that were only getting harder to hide.

“Alright, I’m game. Show me what you got!”

You relented, trying to keep your tone light, but the fluttering in your stomach said otherwise.

Charles’s face lit up with a playful glint as he shifted closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially.

“Okay, here’s how it works: I’ll guess what you’re thinking, and if I’m right, you have to concede that I’m the ultimate mind reader."

You rolled your eyes, thinking he's just messing with you. He caught your gaze and placed a finger to your lips, shushing you and adding, so self assured:

"But if I’m wrong, I’ll do your next homework assignment.”

You chuckled, pleased with the stakes.

“Fine! But don’t cry when you can’t read my mind.”

He faltered for a second, presenting a faux-stern expression.

“You underestimate my skills. Ready?”

You were deep in your thoughts, something he will never guess. You remember watching a movie with him. You made a fool of yourself, snorting like an idiot. You're sure he doesn't remember that moment. You had your joker.

As he sat cross-legged on the floor, you watched him watch you, his gaze steady as if he were truly delving into your thoughts. He leaned on one hand, his slender fingers against his temple. You felt a strange thrill rush through you, as if you were participating in something much more profound. A moment passed, then he grinned.

“You’re thinking about the last time we watched a movie together and how I made you laugh so hard you snorted.”

You blinked, wondering briefly how he could’ve gotten that right—not that you’d ever verbally confessed. With shock, you replied:

“Okay, yes! But that’s just—”

He cut you off, waving his hand dismissively.

“Next round! This time, I’ll go deeper.”

You didn’t realize what he meant until the atmosphere shifted around you, a tangible tension wrapping tightly at the back of your mind. Suddenly, his smile faded, replaced by an intense look of focus.

You looked at Charles, his hair dry now collecing in small locks around his face, his blue eyes gazing at you. He was perfect. His freckles were gently glowing, dimmed light casting a warm shadow on his face.

His gaze held yours, something unspoken passing between you. After a moment, the corner of his mouth tugged upwards again.

“It's me huh? You like me. Like, really like me.”

Your heart raced, pounding like the rain outside, as embarrassment washed over you in crimson waves. You snapped out of your imagination, staring at him.

“No, I don’t—”

“Come on.”

He teased, his voice smooth as silk.

“I can practically feel your thoughts. I can navigate this storm of feelings you’ve got for me.”

You swallowed, trying to muster some semblance of dignity.

“That’s not fair! You’re a telepath!”

“True..”

He said, his gaze softening, genuine warmth radiating from him.

“But I’d like to think—given the circumstances—you’d have just as much courage if you knew.”

“Are you… are you sure?”

You murmured, vulnerability flickering through you.

His grin turned sincere then, a vulnerable glimmer in his eyes.

“I felt the same way, believe me. I just kept hoping you’d figure it out."

He smiled softly, moving closer to you, his fingers still pressed on his temple.

"I'm sure can share our feelings without mind games.”

You nodded, heart racing as a wave of relief washed over you. The air around you buzzed with a new electricity, and for a moment, everything felt right.

“So, will you let me guess what you’re thinking now?”

Charles asked, a smirk returning to his lips, his characteristic cheekiness resurfacing.

“No!”

You exclaimed, unable to contain your laughter.

“Though I think I have some mind games of my own that I could play.”

His laughter echoed through the room, merging with the sound of rain, filling the space with warmth and possibility. You knew this was just the beginning of something exciting and terrifying, and you couldn’t wait to unravel it further together.

“You’re on, mysterious one.”

He said, leaning back in expectation, as you both settled back, laughter spilling out like an open window to every secret and every future dream waiting to be shared.

I hope y'all liked this one :D. Wow two James McAvoy connected posts in a row TwT (guess my fav actor).

Don’t forget, requests are always open and I can write for any character you’d like!

I love you guys so much <33

(@iseveryoneherederanged another one babes ^^)

El <3

(all images were made by: El via canva & paint)

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teddybeartoji · 9 months ago

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mickey i need ur thoughts on jjk men (esp satoru) helping out and showing love for their partner with autism

like uuuuuuuu i was thinking abt toru keeping a pair of his sunglasses with him hust in case youre visually overwhelmed. ORRRR him teleporting you to a quieter space when he notices that theres too many complex sounds that are upsetting you.

ughhhhh like imagine one of them remembering that pressure is soothing for you and js puts their full body weight whenever you come back home from a bad day.

GUHHHH them keeping candles of your favorite scents and alwaya makes sure to keep your safe foods stocked up whenever you visit

OH NOW I'M REALLY KISSING YOU GRAY MY BELOVED!!! THIS IS SUCH A WONDERFUL LITTLE ASK WAHHH I GOT SO GIDDY

i agree with everything you said!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! now i know that every single one of them would do anything and everything to help you out!! but i did pick some things out that really made me think of them!!! anyway hello my fellow autistic ppl this one is for you all i love you very very much<333

satoru 100% carries extra sunglasses with him and i think he'd actually carry his black blindfold aswell. obvs he's not gonna make you wear it as you're moving through public but he'd lead you to a quiet spot and then just let you have a moment. he's either sitting you down next to him or he's holding you against his chest, protecting you from every single ray of light that could possibly make it any worse for you. bc honestly... sunglasses are sometimes just not enough for me personally. i've had my fair share of times where i just have to cover my eyes with my hands bc it just hurts so much.

we all know that satoru is a big yapper but i know he needs his quiet time too. i think he would love to just Do Nothing with you in complete silence. maybe you're both just taking a nap together, maybe you're just laying in the sun out in the park. maybe you're resting your head on his lap, maybe he's resting his on yours. it's all just about gentle touches and looks.

he loves it when you ramble and he's literally your biggest hypeman!! he's ready to spend all of his fucking money on you and any fucking equipment you could ever need. you want a new game or a new console? they're both already waiting for you at home. you want to start drawing? he has already ordered a tablet for you to practise on. you want to get into photography? he's buying you a camera and three different lenses. he wants you to be happy and he wants you to be able to do everything you could ever possibly want. he's just the sweetest guy ever i am crying rn actually:((

he's the best little autism bf btw. bc he gets it. he understand. he knows. he knows all about the light sensitivity. he knows all about the difficulty of eating "normal" foods, always munching on candy and snacks bc that's just easier. he knows about the fidgeting, he knows about the innate need to have somebody lay on top of you. he knows about the rambling and the hyperfixations. he knows about the confusing social clues and the ridiculous differences of speaking tones. he knows about the eye-contact problems - whether you're someone, who struggles to keep it or you're someone, who can't tear your eyes from everybody else just like him - he understands! he knows about being straighforward and speaking exactly what's on your mind and then being scolded for it. he knows about Not Really Understanding personal space. he truly does understand and he's ready to do anything and everything to help you cope with Life.

toji is theeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee best weighted blanket and i stand by that. he's so fucking huge and he's so fucking heavy - he's perfect. he's gonna tease you about it but just a little!! you tug him by his hand and he gladly takes his place on top of you bc let's be honest... he's gonna love it, too. he's protecting you! he's taking care of you in a way that doesn't need words! he's trying his best! and if this is what you need - he is going to do it!!!

also with the light and sound sensitivity - he'd gladly pull you into his chest and cover your eyes with his big ass palm. and it would feel soo comforting wtf. the weight of it and just the fact that it's him?? fuck, i know it'd be so good. or your ears. he's placing them on your ears, muffling the overwhelming sounds while cradling you and wahh:(( he'd make you feel so safe.

suguru and shoko and parallel play. it's amazing. they will read a book while you're gaming. or suguru's painting while you're reading. or shoko's having her morning smoke and coffee while you're doing your skincare (i'm sorry i just can't get out the beautiful picture of her sitting on the little windowsill of your bathroom, a cig inbetween her fingers and a cup of coffe in her hand. no words are being spoken - it's just the sound of the birds outside, the water running and her gulping down her little espresso. thank you for listening.)

or suguru's doing his little home workout routine as you're crocheting. or it's you and shoko just laying on your shared bed scrolling on your phones in silence. could literally be whatever. they're gonna glance at you every once in a while, they're gonna ask how you're doing, how you're feeling and then they're gonna give you a tender smile and a kiss on your cheek and continue on. i'm melting just thinking about it.

suguru is obviously also going to be there for you if you have sleeping problems. he understands them all too well and he's pulling out all the stops to help you fall asleep (and himself). he's gonna make the tea one night and you'll make it the next night. it's equal. maybe you're also going to take a lovely little bath together, you'll giggle exhaustedly as you both slur out very stupid jokes and after that you'll both climb under the covers and take turns in listening to each others heartbeats and (hopefully) fall asleep.

shoko and sarcasm. she definitely makes a lot of sarcastic jokes and comments and she'll be a bit confused at first when you just blurt out the good-old "i don't know whether you're joking or not". but i think she'd find it super cute. she'll still occasionally make the comments but she'll make sure to check in whether you got it or not. i think she would tease but she'd do it very lightly (she definitely cackles when satoru doesn't understand sarcasm though lmao but you're her baby and she doesn't want you to feel bad). and i think she would love if you made terrible sarcastic jokes. like she would laugh until there are tears prickling in her eyes and you'd still be like ????? i don't understand and then she'd laugh even more. she's so cute.

kento is always ready to cook for you. he understands how hard it can be, how overwhelming it can be. he doesn't mind it a bit. i truly think this would be good for the both of you! he loves to cook and it's such a relaxing thing for him, and it's even better now that he knows he can see you fill your cheeks with delight. he needs you to eat well and he will make sure you do!

i also think that he's so patient with you and he'd never ever make you feel like you have to speak with him. he buys little plushies that you can turn inside-out, a pink side and a blue side - indicating how you're doing on the Speaking department that day. and these tiny interactive pins and you can express whatever you're feeling without ever speaking a word. he never pressures you in any way, always just reward you with more reassurance and a kiss to your temple.

he's ALSO the best listener. like he never talks over you. never. not even on an accident???? it's a superpower i think. he let's you talk at your own pace and he just stares at you with very soft eyes:((

wait i also think that shoko, utahime and yuki would gladly speak for you. in a sense of if you have social anxiety or you stutter or anything like that, they'd easily take up the task of ordering for you! they literally have all of your orders remembered and everything.

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lolokouhm · 1 year ago

Text

pt.2 is out!

"Could you rail me?"

That's not something Megumi expects to hear at 10 p.m. Especially coming from you.

You're drenched - that's the first thing he notices. It's been raining the whole day, pouring even, making early autumn weather even gloomier than it usually is. You don't have an umbrella and the light jacket you put on yourself earlier in the morning looks completely out of place - it doesn't even have a hood to hide under. Or maybe it's not the jacket that feels off? Maybe that's just you.

You, the one who is always prepared. You, the one who is always put together. You, the one who, as far as he's concerned, should be in the cinema on a date with your boyfriend right now. A dickhead boyfriend, Megumi makes a mental note. He couldn't bring himself to like the guy, but as long as that idiot treated you right, he wasn't really in a place to say anything. But apparently, something has changed.

"Could you rail me?"

Yeah, something has definitely changed.

Megumi doesn't really say anything as you get inside - your every movement is showing how furious you are, and it’s not like Fushiguro's not used to people with bad temper, it's just you're not one of them. He's never seen you like this before and, combining the situation with that question you’ve asked him twice, he's taken by surprise. That gets him thinking. Something must have happened, and judging by your face...

Then he notices. The smudged mascara, the barely visible traces on you cheeks, and your red, puffy, eyes.

You cried.

Megumi has seen you in various mental states, but never furious - and most importantly, never crying, so he couldn't possibly have any idea how seeing you like that would make him feel. He knows now.

He'll kill him.

"Come on, you need to take a hot shower, or you'll get sick", he finally says, his voice sounding surprisingly normal and calm. He's relieved - all these years of hiding his emotions and not letting them surface have at least some perks. Looking at your state, you need something - someone - to calm you down, and Megumi won’t let himself lose control just over his imagination and groundless jealousy. You need to tell him what happened first.

So when you’re finally out of the shower, your hair still damp, drowning in his cotton, black T-shirt, Megumi is waiting in the kitchen - and he needs you to speak.

„He cheated on me.” It falls from your lips, light as a feather, and these words do something to him. Something that could have very bad consequences. „We broke up. But it doesn’t even hurt. I… I am so fucking stupid.” You’re not crying anymore - there’s a fire in your eyes that Megumi has never seen before.

„He’s the one that’s stupid.” That is probably the nicest adjective out of many others he has on his mind right now. He observes you carefully as you adjust yourself on a high hocker next to him.

„No, I am. I…” You sigh, hiding your face in your hands. „I didn’t cry because he broke my heart. That’s the problem. He didn’t.” That’s a relief, but Megumi’s still not convinced. His brows furrow, as he’s trying to understand what exactly has happened. „I was crying because I don’t fucking understand myself.” Your gaze suddenly jumps on him and the intensity of it makes him gulp. „That’s why I want you to rail me.” Before he can form a coherent answer to that, you speak up again. „I think I have feelings for you. Romantic feelings. And that makes me a cheater, because I went into a relationship knowing that. Or at least suspecting that.”

So many things Megumi didn’t expect to hear tonight.

He just stares at you, not sure, whether his heart is racing or it’s completely stopped beating. You’re blushing, but at the same time doesn’t look embarrassed. Despite that cute pink tone on your cheeks, you seem determined, and he’s not sure what he should do about it.

„Or you can say you won’t”, you suddenly speak up again. The eye contact is so intensive, to the point it physically hurts. „You can say that and I’ll see if it breaks my heart. It’ll be easie-”

„I won’t rail you.” It jumps out of him faster than he’s able to process it, and his heart drops as your face turns pale.

„Okay. It hurts. So this is a crush after all.” You stand up suddenly and rush somewhere - his apartament isn’t big, but the embarrassment hits you like a truck and you just need to hide. Or die.

„How the fuck do you expect me to rail you?” Nervousness in Megumi’s voice makes you turn around. He’s got up from his seat as well, his worried expression long forgotten - now he just looks angry. „I’ve had sex like three times before. Fuck”, he sighs, pinching his nose bridge. As if that ever helped somebody to focus. He doesn’t have any other options though. „Jesus, (Y/N). You can’t just say these things like that. Why can’t you just like… say that you have a crush on me? At least I’d know how to answer”, Megumi murmurs and now you’re confused.

He cannot comprehend the fact that you haven’t noticed. Everyone noticed. Itadori, Nobara, Gojo - everyone. Even he himself noticed. The gradual changes in your friendship, the staring, the smiles that cost him way more than anyone else, and yet he would give you them for free. The jealousy that came few months ago - with you being asked out, taken on dates, kissed. The irritation. And eventually, the nights where he would be so hard and frustrated, and the only cure seemed to be a memory of you. Of your skin. Of your touch. He was sure when your name left his lips that one particular night - he let his imagination run freely, and it sprinted to the point where he imagined it was your hand going up and down on his dick. He panicked a bit, that night. Your friendship was more valuable than anything else. He couldn’t risk it.

So he endured.

And now this?

That’s not fair. You play dirty. You asked that fucking question three times and now he’s sexually frustrated and stressed beyond what’s humanly possible. He tried so hard, gritted his teeth, tossed and turned - and you just destroyed everything.

So when Megumi comes up to you to catch your face in his hands, you can feel his anger. And a million other things that convince you, that yes, Megumi Fushiguro could rail you without any doubt. He kisses you - and the kiss tastes like longing, like desperation, like something more, than just „liking”. Like…

„He was first”, he murmurs, as he pulls away, just millimetres, but enough to be able to say what he needs to say. His long, slender fingers rest on both sides of your face, the right thumb delicately brushing you cheek. A feeling completely different from that sudden kiss.

„What?” You feel a bit hazy and so does he.

„And you were always so happy… I just couldn’t…”, he mutters, running with his gaze when the embarrassment hits him. He curses himself for wearing that black sweater tonight, it’s so hot he cannot stand it - especially when your hands land on his covered chest.

„I was happy because I was with you, you dumbass!” You moan, and even though it’s not sexual at all, Megumi can’t help but groan. You are intoxicating. „I thought you didn’t like me… So I tried to…” You’re interrupted as he pulls you for another kiss, even more needy than the first one. And you suddenly forget what you wanted to say.

Megumi still remembers, but he needs you. If that’s a dream, then he just hopes he’s not going to wake up. Luckily for him, the way his body reacts is more biological than ever and that gives him some hope.

„You tried to…?”

„I tried to fall in love with someone else.”

„You’re stupid then.” His lips travel down your neck as he’s leaving slow, sensual kisses all over it. You grip tightens on his forearm, nails diving between the sweater’s weaves just to find his skin underneath. You had no idea Megumi could kiss like that, and when his fingers slide down your collarbone, you find out that you had no idea that he could touch you like that either. „If you talked to me, we’d save a lot of time.”

„You could have said something too”, you whisper, and the combination of stress, anxiety and bliss makes your legs go weak. Luckily, Megumi’s here, and his arm keeps you in place. „You never say anything. And I…” A little whine interrupted you as his teeth grazed over your paper thin skin. „I don’t know how you feel.”

„You really can’t see it?”

„I need you to say it. I can say it. I’m in love with you, Megumi”. Is it really your voice, or are the angels singing? He could swear he got the chills. „Please.”

Years of hiding. Years of not saying anything. Years of keeping his feelings hidden. All that, just for him to make a confession.

„I’m in love with you, (Y/N).” It’s shaky, it’s soft and it’s quiet, falling into your skin and melting into your soul - something you needed so desperately. And that’s enough.

You need to see him, so you cup his face into your hands, and the picture leaves you in awe - his soft cheeks are flushed, blue eyes shining with desire. It’s so unlike him, and the fact that you’ve actually managed to pull these words out of him shows how desperate he is.

„You can let go” you whisper, before pulling him for another kiss. „Don’t overthink it. Just… let go.”

Who knows - he might rail you after all.

masterlist ❤️

#megumi x you #megumi x reader #megumi smut #fushiguro smut #fushiguro #jjk megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jujutsu megumi #megumi #fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi imagine #megumi headcanons #megumi drabble #jjk drabbles #jjk imagines #megumi fluff #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader

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personasintro · 1 year ago

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Mutual Help | #28

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.4k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

When you told Jungkook your plans for the evening, you weren't lying. After you took a shower, you watched a movie on his Netflix account before you scurried to his bedroom. It didn't take you that long to fall asleep, although it felt awfully weird being in his bed without him around. It's stupid, but you did miss his warmth or just his scent, that lingered on the sheets only. Nothing too drastic, it's not like you were crying for his presence and for once, you were happy for him that he went out with his friends. He deserves to loosen up, just like you told him.

The buzzing of your phone is what wakes you up from your calm sleep, your mind taking a few seconds before you realize the never ending sound that woke you up is your own phone. With half–closed eyes, you see Jimin's name flashing on the bright screen that makes you groan before you accept the call.

"What?" Your groggy voice sounds loud even to your own ears, hearing the sigh of relief on the other end.

"Thank god," Jimin's soft voice resounds, "I woke you up, didn't I?" In the middle of him asking, you hear muffled music before there's a peaceful silence.

"It's--" you look at the time, "three in the morning. Of course, I'm fucking sleeping." you murmur, fumbling with your tired eyes.

"I'm so sorry, I really didn't want to call you but Jungkook insisted." he says, voice sounding guilty and you could probably perfectly imagine his guilty face too, if it weren't for the name of your best friend being mentioned.

Your tired mind suddenly starts working and you quickly realize that Jungkook is out with his friends, Jimin being one of them. "Jungkook? Did something happen?" you ask, slowly sitting up as you're waking up from the deep slumber.

"Yeah and no," you hear him chuckle, but before you can voice out your worry Jimin quickly adds. "He's fine, well drunk but fine. He insisted I've to call you."

"Jimin, I'm too tired to ask questions. Just tell me what happened." you sigh, rubbing your temples this time as a yawn leaves your mouth.

Jimin feels sorry for you, he wishes he'd be just as stubborn as Jungkook and wouldn't allow him to persuade him to call you. Of course, you were sleeping. It doesn't take a genius to know that. There would be a low chance of you being awake at three in the morning, especially after knowing that you're at Jungkook's all alone. What else could you be doing?

"Well, he got drunk and emotional, something about Kiko cheating." he says carefully, not sure how you'd react to the mention of his ex-girlfriend.

"Fuck," Resounds from your mouth, your worry increasing at the mention of Kiko and the whole incident that has been bothering Jungkook.

"Yeah exactly," Jimin agrees, "And he just started crying, so I wanted to take him home. Calling a cab of course, before you start lecturing me about driving while drinking, Tae already did that," you giggle, finding it amusing that Taehyung is the one giving a lecture about being drunk. Well, he did have a point. "But Jungkook wouldn't want to go and just kept asking about you."

It's weird how your ego jumps at that, finding it rather appealing to the point that it strokes your ego knowing Jungkook asked for you. According to Jimin's words, he's probably too drunk to call you himself and you wonder just how much he's drunk when he can't call you. Also, the mention of him crying and bringing up Kiko speaks for itself. You do feel bad for him, you hoped he'd enjoy this evening without any drama or hard feelings. To hear that he's being sad and crying just breaks your heart.

"What an idiot," you grumble, "I asked him if I should pick him up."

"You know how he is," Jimin sighs, "He never wants to bother anyone."

"Yeah, yeah. I know..." you mumble, turning on the night lamp as you scrunch your eyes at the brightness. "What's the address?"

As you're walking towards the club, which has bad parking since you had to park your car down the street, you hug the pink cardigan closer to your body. Thankfully, the ride was just twenty minutes away from Jungkook's apartment and after Jimin informed you they'll be waiting for you outside by the time you get there, you just hoped Jungkook doesn't cause any trouble in the meantime. Or have any more breakdowns. Just like Jimin promised, as you near the club, you notice him first and surprisingly Hoseok is standing beside him. They're standing more on the side, filling the time while waiting for you by smoking a cigarette. You know Jimin smokes occasionally, especially if he's clubbing but other than that he's not a smoker, so the sight of him taking a drag of a cigarette isn't that unfamiliar.

By the time they become more clear, you notice Jungkook sitting on a curb with head hanging low looking like he's either asleep or ready to vomit any second. God, you hope he won't be throwing up in your car. It may not be the newest but you got it cleaned up recently and the thought of your car reeking from a vomit makes you want to gag. Jimin is the first one to notice you, already dropping down the roach as he extinguishes it with his boot.

"The savior is here," you hear Jimin saying, causing you to snort as you laugh while you shake your head.

They both greet you, but before you can greet them back, you see Jungkook's head snapping up as he locates you. Surprisingly, there's no trace of sadness on his face as his eyes look a little bit red but that could be easily from the alcohol. When Jimin said he's drunk, he meant completely wasted as Jungkook starts grinning at you.

"Hey baby," he slurs out, smirking as he keeps grinning at you. He looks dumb, cutely dumb and you can't help but snort at the sight of your completely wasted best friend that wiggles his brows.

"Hey guys," you greet everyone, glancing at Hoseok who just gives you a mere smile but before you can focus on the particular glint in his eyes, you look back at Jungkook who's trying to stand up.

In his state, it's very hard and practically impossible for him to do. Thankfully, Jimin and Hoseok come to the rescue and help him stand up but not before Jungkook stumbles, trying to find a balance. He's trying to swat their hands off his body, but they have a tight grip on him. You find the sight very amusing, never seen him this wasted and even though you do feel a little bit worried, you're glad he's not bawling his eyes out. Maybe he's over it.

Jungkook has different phases while being drunk, and being funny and talkative is one of them. Although, he does look like he can't even comprehend a single sentence without slurring or sounding decent.

"Finally someone normal." he comments, trying to get their hands off him as he's walking towards you.

Jimin frowns, glaring at his friend that seems to be too preoccupied looking at you to notice. But something tells you even if he noticed, he's too drunk to care right now. Sober Jungkook would never say something like that, caring too much that he could possibly hurt his friends with his words.

"Jesus, thanks Jeon." Hoseok mutters, trying to stabilize him.

Jungkook glares at him, slapping his hands away as Hoseok groans in annoyance and lets him go. You chuckle, shaking your head at Jungkook who just grins at you innocently.

"Wow, you must've missed me." you joke, reaching for his hand as he keeps stumbling. Jimin is the only one trying to stabilize Jungkook and his balance that is dancing around the edge.

"Uhm, I did," he nods, your nose scrunching as soon as his breath reeking of alcohol hits your nose. "Did you miss me?"

"Yeah, I can't live without you." you roll your eyes, causing Jimin to snort as Hoseok holds his laughter causing Jungkook to stare at you in betrayal.

"Stop," he says, sounding like he's breaking and even pouts that make you actually feel bad for making fun of him. "You're lying." he murmurs, looking down at his feet.

"Where is your car parked?" Jimin asks, interrupting Jungkook's sulking who just gives him a big glare despite his eyes shutting.

"Just down the street," you answer, pointing towards the direction you came from. "Come on, let's go home." you say to Jungkook, grabbing his hand as he blinks at you and gives you a lazy smile.

"Home, I like that. Yes, yes, let's go home." he nods, pursing his lips in a deep thought but as he's ready to take a step, he stumbles but luckily with Hoseok nearby, he quickly grabs him by his forearm and keeps him steady.

Jimin grunts at Jungkook's weight, grumbling a dry 'let's go' which you totally understand. Somehow, he always ends up taking care of a drunk person. First Taehyung, now Jungkook.

"Where's Taehyung?" you ask, letting go of Jungkook's hand to give Hoseok better space to keep him steady from one side while Jimin does the same thing from the other.

Ignoring Jungkook's whines of protests and reaching for you like a little baby, you look at Jimin who seems to be annoyed but somehow still glad for your presence. "Inside, he wanted to help but then Jin and the rest of the guys joined the booth, so he stayed and explained everything." he explains, causing you to nod.

"Thanks for doing this, I appreciate your help." you say to Hoseok, his eyes finding yours as he looks surprised that your words are aimed at him.

But it's quickly gone and just gives you a smile in return. "Don't mention it. He's my friend too." he says, smiling as Jungkook scoffs beside him.

He starts blubbering something, something that none of you understand or care to understand. It's enough to draw the attention of passersby that seem to be very amused at the sight of wasted Jungkook, and even keep chuckling loud enough for you to hear. The sight is amusing, you've to admit. Two guys trying to keep steady the very wasted one, who's the youngest but bigger and taller than any of them which makes it even harder.

Successfully, you reach your car which you unlock as soon as it's near before you open the passenger's door. Hoseok is in charge of trying to get Jungkook to sit down without bumping his head against the roof, while you and Jimin stare with worried eyes.

"I'm not drunk!" you hear Jungkook protest, swatting Hoseok's hands.

"Hey, you okay?" Jimin asks quietly, his voice hushed as Hoseok is dealing with your annoying best friend. You look at him confusingly, not understanding the meaning behind his worried eyes as he sighs. "Jungkook told me that you two broke up. And that you're staying at his place?" he asks unsurely, Jungkook's distant protests being heard in the background.

"Ah, yeah. There was something wrong with my pipes but it's fixed now. I'm moving back tomorrow, well today." you chuckle, noticing Jimin giving you that look where he raises his brow and waits for you to say something else.

"So, it's true? You broke up?"

You're not stupid. Jimin's curiosity and worry is caused by Jungkook telling him that the two of you broke up. You did agree to it, ending your deal that is, but Jimin doesn't know anything about it. All he knows is that you broke up. He doesn't know that it had been fake all along and it makes you feel incredibly guilty.

"Well, yeah," you answer unsurely. "It's nothing too drastic." you shrug, not really sure how you should react.

You've always been bad at lying, you're surprised by yourself that you kept the deal going without them knowing anything. Well, if you're not counting Hoseok being suspicious but something tells you it wasn't just your bad acting. As he explained, it was just hard for him to believe that Jungkook found someone else, out of all people his best friend that he swore he'd never date.

"You sure?" Jimin asks, looking skeptical which makes you nervous but you just give him a nod.

"Yeah, it's better this way." you assure your friend, who just gives you a smile of encouragement before Jungkook's whines are being heard again.

You glance at him, seeing Hoseok struggling as he's trying to put the seatbelt on while Jungkook protests and starts to trash his hands.

"Oh my god," you sigh, walking towards them as you gently push away Hoseok. "Jeon, shut the fuck up." you scold him, causing Jungkook to look at you with widened eyes.

You hear Jimin snort as Hoseok complains about Jungkook being like a little kid, while you tag onto the seatbelt.

"Put your seatbelt on, you moron." you grunt, pulling it for him anyway because you know he's not able to do it in this state.

Although, he looked like he'll listen to you and do it. You just want to get back home because you know there's probably still a lot of work ahead of you and by that, you mean taking care of Jungkook's drunk ass.

"Did he throw up?" you ask the guys, straightening yourself as Jungkook's head keeps dangling off the headrest which makes you snort at him. He smiles at you lazily, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he's trying to keep himself awake.

"Not that I know of, no," Jimin answers, "But he might. He drank a lot."

You sigh, hoping that won't happen or if it happens, at least he'll be able to hold it until he's out of your car. So turning back to Jungkook, leaning yourself towards him you tell him sternly; "Don't you dare to throw up in my car, Jeon." you even point your finger at him in a warning, awfully reminding yourself of your mother that used to scold you when you were a kid.

Luckily for her and yourself, she didn't have to do it so often.

"Can't promise." he says, burping as you scrunch your nose in disgust.

"Do it and I'll choke you to death." you warn him, surprised when he starts cackling as if you just told him the funniest joke. The three of you stare at him cackling as he slaps his thigh before he looks at you with a smirk.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?" he says, causing you to cough in surprise while Jimin and Hoseok burst into laughter. "Isn't that my thing, though? Wasn't I choki--"

Before the end of his sentence could be heard, you're already shutting the door harshly as you give Jimin and Hoseok a sheepish grin.

"Don't listen to him, he's just drunk." It sounds like an awful excuse and you're sure they're not buying it, but you could care less.

You're more embarrassed that Jungkook would pull out something like this, but why are you surprised? He gets talkative when he's drunk, awfully so.

"Should we help you get him inside? I'm not sure if you can manage on your own." Luckily, Jimin gets you out of the awkward position and asks a rational question which you're grateful for.

"Thanks, I'll manage. You guys go and have fun, I'll take care of him." you assure them, looking at the both of them as they smile at you.

"You sure?" Jimin asks, worriedly glancing at the car where Jungkook is sitting. Or maybe sleeping already.

"Of course, thank you Jiminie." you smile, letting him hug you as it feels like he's giving you somehow more a comforting hug rather than a goodbye one.

When you pull away, you look at Hoseok who smiles at you. "I'm sorry." he apologizes, causing you to frown in confusion.

"Why are you apologizing?" you chuckle, watching him sigh.

"Jimin probably told you. Jungkook was crying a lot... because of Kiko and what happened. I'm sorry, it's not easy watching him going through that." he says, voicing out more than just diplomatic thoughts and answers. And somehow, you appreciate that while your features soften as you give him a smile.

"It's not your fault," It really isn't. "It's not easy for him, but it's not your fault." you repeat, smiling as you give him a comforting hug. He looks shocked for a couple of seconds, but soon enough you feel his hands on your back as he gently hugs you back.

Your hug is interrupted by the three firm knocks on the window, before you both glance down at the car seeing Jungkook frowning. "Don't touch her." you hear him say behind the window, his voice muffled but clear enough to be heard as you roll your eyes.

Is he really scolding Hoseok for even hugging you? You can't with this guy. He's even more annoying when he's drunk.

"Text me when you get home, okay?" Jimin asks, causing you to nod as you assure him that you will.

The car's door is pushed open as Jungkook leans out of it, luckily the seatbelt that's digging into his chest and crook of his neck, keeps him in place. "Jiminie hyung, Hobi hyung--" he slurs, earning a set of snorts that come out of Jimin and Hoseok's mouth.

"He never calls me hyung." Jimin comments, Hoseok laughing as you just shake your head at your best friend.

"I wanna go home." he mumbles as he leans his head against the car wall and yawns.

"Thanks guys, couldn't have done it without you." you say, smiling at the both of them as you push Jungkook's head more inside as he whines but you just glare at him before shutting the door in his face before he can protest.

"Of course," Jimin nods, smiling at you as you walk around the car and open the driver's door. "Good luck, you'll need it." Jimin jokes, causing you to roll your eyes but you do laugh because you know there's a little bit of truth in his words. Okay, maybe a lot of it.

When you successfully drive out of the parking lot, you're surprised by Jungkook being silent and when you glance at him a few times, his eyes seem like they're closed and he looks like he's sleeping, although you're not sure because you're focusing on the road. However, after some time he starts fidget as he straightens himself before he looks around, or at least tries to through his hooded eyes.

"You should've taken my car." he speaks up, causing you to snort for like a hundredth time tonight.

"And why would I do that?" you ask him, chuckling as he makes himself comfortable before he turns his head to you, still making sure he's leaning it against the headrest. He doesn't trust his own body and stability.

"What's mine is yours." he says, your laugh erupting in the car.

"We're not married, Kook. Married couples say that." you laugh at him, stopping at the red light before you look at him seeing a frown and pout settling on his face.

"Who says that?" he grumbles, "There is no rule for this."

You just shake your head at him, not seeing much sense in continuing this particular conversation when it leads nowhere. And you know how Jungkook can get, you really don't plan on arguing with drunk and stubborn Jungkook. For the rest of the ride, he stays quiet most likely spacing out, his body and mind screaming for him to relax but whenever his head is about to drop, he always shakes himself out of the daze and pries his eyes open. Getting him out of the car isn't the easiest thing, but surprisingly Jungkook listens to you and stays leaning against the car while you lock it. Hugging him closer to you, you're aware that it takes one wrong step or another stumble and the both of you would be on the floor immediately. Even though the walk to the apartment building and his front door is slow, you manage it without stumbling or falling. However, you're certain you can't feel your right side where Jungkook is leaning against.

No matter how tired Jungkook seemed to be in the car and on the way back to his apartment, he seems to be awakened as you force him to sit down on the small bench he has in the corridor, trying to take off his boots. He doesn't refrain himself from mumbling a flirty remark of you being on your knees and taking off his shoes, which makes you roll your eyes but you decide to ignore it.

Leading him to the bathroom, your next aim is to get him to wash himself. As much as it'd be best for him to go to sleep, he reeks of alcohol, smoke and most likely sweat and a nice (maybe cold) shower would get him sober up a little bit.

"Jungkook," you sigh, trying to get him to stand up from the toilet seat. "You need to take a shower." you remind him, almost whining when he just hangs his head low and lets out a deep sigh.

"As long as you'll take one with me." he chuckles at his joke, shoulders shaking at his ridiculous joke that makes you groan from frustration.

Ignoring him, you start unbuttoning his button up shirt while trying to refrain yourself from looking at his honey skin. He looks up, dark orbs staring at you as he starts smiling causing you to give him a look of confusion and curiosity.

"What?" you murmur, feeling awkward when all the buttons are unbuttoned, exposing his toned chest and abs that makes you look anywhere but there.

He doesn't answer, trying to get a hold of something and it doesn't take long for you to realize he's trying to stand up. Catching his arms, you try to hoist him up with both his and your help, which you get to do and he hovers himself over you. He starts fumbling with the belt on his pants, doing an awful job trying to unbuckle it as you groan, swatting his hands away as you unbuckle it for him. Somehow, with your help of course, he manages to take off his clothes as you're rather focusing on the stack of toilet paper behind him, than on his naked figure.

"Alright," you sigh, "You can wash yourself, right?" you ask, scratching the back of your head as you open the shower door for him, eyes looking at the ceiling.

He doesn't say anything, simply getting into the shower as you turn on the water and set the right temperature for him, not too cold but not too warm either. As you close the shower door, ready to get the hell out of the bathroom, his voice echoes from the shower.

"No, don't go. Stay here." he calls out, causing you to innerly groan at his stubbornness and innocent tone. Drunk Jungkook might win an award for being the most annoying and cutest Jungkook at the same time.

"Jungkook, you're capable of washing yourself. I don't need to stand here." you tell him, rubbing your temples.

Although, there's a part of you that wants him to be safe because he can easily slip and fall. But there's something about him being completely naked and taking a shower, it's intimate and you feel like you're invading his privacy, especially when he's completely wasted and not in his right senses.

But Jungkook doesn't agree with your unspoken thoughts and snatches the shower door open before you can make another move. You stare at him with wide eyes, which drop down his body just for a second before you can feel your face burning.

"What if I slip?" he pouts, droplets of water falling down his body. "Please."

Sighing, you know you'll regret this in the morning and probably feel especially awkward when Jungkook will be asking you about this, because you know he will. He'll want to know what he was doing while being drunk.

"You're so annoying, Jeon," you murmur with a disapproving scowl, "Fine, just turn around and... wash yourself."

However, this time he doesn't fully listen to you and a sly smirk slips onto his lips as you can't help but look at his face.

"Are you blushing?" he asks, your tough and annoyed facade breaking down as you cough for a moment before you muster yourself. "Come on, you've seen me naked."

"I'm not blushing," you deny pathetically, growing embarrassed because even drunk Jungkook can notice your red cheeks and awkward face that you're making. "Hurry." you snap, turning around but you still notice his dick dangling between his legs from your peripheral vision.

With flushed cheeks and embarrassment swallowing you whole, you busy yourself preparing a towel for him. When he's finally done, you hand him the towel without looking at him and if it weren't for the awkward situation and Jungkook's nudity, you'd slap him because of the cocky chuckle that slips out of his mouth. When he's decent, you walk to his bedroom to pull out some basic shirt and boxers for him to wear, knowing he doesn't like to wear too much clothes to sleep. You hand him the clothes without another word, turning around to let him dress even though you hear a few grunts here and there as he's struggling to put it on.

"Help me," he pleads, voice soft before you hear a thud as he stumbles into the shower door.

Turning around, you find him leaning against the shower door with a lazy grin.

"You're not going to make this any easier, are you?" you grumble, eyeing the black shirt that's hanging off his neck because that's what he was able to do only.

He doesn't answer, nor you wait for him to because in this state, it looks like he's barely in his senses. Putting his arms into the sleeves, you put it on before you snatch the black boxers out of his hands. Crouching, you're trying not to look at his dick that's just right in your face. Fuck, thank God there's no one else witnessing this.

Of course, you've seen him naked before (many times) but this situation is different. Jungkook is drunk and even though he needs your help, your irritation is simply caused by the embarrassment of this situation. The elastic band snaps against his hips as soon as you're done, causing him to flinch in surprise but before he can open his mouth, you're leading him towards the toilet where you make him sit on the closed lid. You prepare his toothbrush for him, knowing he's probably in no state brushing his teeth on his own. So you walk up to him, arching your brow as he stares at you with curiosity.

"Open your mouth," you tell him, ready to put the toothbrush into his mouth but he doesn't listen and smirks instead.

"Shouldn't I be the one--"

"Shut up," you cut him off before he can say something inappropriate once again. "Open your mouth, Jeon." you frown, causing him to sigh before he opens his mouth obediently and you start brushing his teeth.

He sits there, head tilted back as he gives you a better access to his mouth. Your eyes and hands are focused with your task, trying to brush his teeth as best as you can. Which probably won't be brushed well, but at least his breath won't be reeking of alcohol and he'll thank you in the morning.

You notice Jungkook watching you silently through hooded eyes, but you don't think of it that much but that's until his hands touch the back of your thighs. You almost jump out, eyes widening at the sudden touch but you decide not to react to it that much. There's no point in scolding him because he's drunk and you're already tired to do that, you just have to get this over with so both of you can sleep.

However, Jungkook doesn't make it any easier for you (again) but his hands slowly glide up your ass cheeks.

"Jeon," you warn him, feeling him squeezing them. "Why are you touching my ass?" There's no point in asking, but you can't stay silent while he's touching you – your ass to be precise.

"You don't like it?" he pouts, speaking while mouth full of toothpaste and the toothbrush, letting his hands fall down as he sighs in disappointment.

Rolling your eyes at his childishness, you pull out the toothbrush out of his mouth as the toothpaste starts to dribble down his chin. You take his hands, pulling him up as you tell him to rinse his mouth. He does, messily but he does, which is all that matters right now. When he's all cleaned up, smelling like his favorite shower gel and fabric softener, you feel satisfied and calm that you can go to sleep. He's taken care of, he's fine and that's all that matters. All he has to do is sleep it off and he's going to be fine.

As you tuck him into the bed, you make sure there's a bucket beside it with a glass of water and two pills on the nightstand. Laying down next to him, you tell him a goodnight. Turning around to him with your back, you stare at the closet on the opposite side from you, not closing your eyes just yet. You yawn, trying to make yourself comfortable as you hear him breathing softly. You think he's already asleep, you wouldn't be surprised considering how much he drank. But then you feel him shift behind you, scurrying himself closer to the point you can feel his warmth and mattress dipping underneath his weight. Your breath hitches, a soft 'oh' spilling out of your mouth as you feel his arm draping over you before he's pulling you closer. His firm chest is pressed against your back and you hear him sigh, arm still draped over you.

"I cried tonight..." he mumbles tiredly, but you can hear the sadness behind that tired and drunk voice.

"I know," you whisper, touching his arm as you caress it. "Are you okay?"

It's a stupid question, of course he's not if he was crying. Just knowing that he's deeply hurt and was not letting it all out until tonight, hurts you too. You wish you could see him happy. He probably had just a weak moment, considering that he drank more than he probably should. Alcohol plays a huge role in this too, but it doesn't matter because he still cried.

"No," he whispers, your heart aching for him but before you can voice out your worry and sadness, he's already blubbering behind you. "I'm so fucking drunk."

You giggle, shaking your head at him. "You are," you agree, staying quiet for a moment.

There's no movement or sound behind you, other than the soft puffs of breath. "Kook?" you whisper, getting no response in return. He's sleeping.

Your mind is filled with scenarios of what Jungkook's night looked like, your mind already imagining him crying in the club with an aching heart. When Jimin texts you to make sure you got home safely, you text him back saying Jungkook is already sleeping and relatively fine. However, his next message makes your heart ache too.

Jiminie: what happened with kiko... i've never seen him so hurt

Jiminie: he was so out of it tonight

"He'll be fine, i'll make sure of it" you type, sending the text.

Jimin's text comes in seconds, the tiny smile spreading onto your lips as you read it before you look at Jungkook sleeping. He looks calm and there's no trace of sadness on his face. No matter what he's facing right now, you're there for him. He doesn't deserve this heartbreak. No matter how he'll decide, you'll be there for him every step of the way.

Jimin's right. And you read his text again, somehow it gives you a tiny bit of courage and determination.

Jiminie: I know

Jiminie: You always do

#networkbangtan #ksmutclub #btswritingcafe #ficswithluv #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook au #personasintro

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winterarmyy · 1 year ago

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Imagine a like avenger!Bucky x shape shifter! Reader.

It could be enemies to lovers smut too because why not?

The reader is the beast boy but a girl version...you can make them green

I don't see skin color 🙄(I'm joking,I'm black)

What if you make the reader green it could be like Bucky's in his room and he hears crying so he follows the sound to find y/n crying because she messed up on a mission and some agents said mean things idk and he is trying to comfort her and then they kiss and then more idk

Then, if she isn't green it could be .....sex pollen...she gets hit with sex pollen while on a mission and comes back...well you know worked up? She's in pain and even those Bucky "hates her" he also wants to help her so he..how do I say this.. he fucks her brains out.

I'm Not Like Her

Y/N had her heart broken when some agents made fun of how her body look and Bucky came in clutch with the rescue.

Note: I'm not even open for asks but your brilliant mind just spark something in me! Plus, i see you a lot in my comments so here you are... and the pic is hilarious btw 🤣

Pairing: avenger!bucky x shape shifter!reader

Words: 1.5k++

Warnings: mild enemies to lovers, hint fat shaming, angst, bucky likes to tease the reader but not too much, fluff, cause he secretly loves her, allusion to smut??? and sam just being himself.

Idea explanation: personally i don't think i'm qualified enough to write about being discriminate against for skin color. I need more research of it.

BUT, physically, i am on the curvy side. I don't have a flat stomach, my thighs are bigger than they supposed to. cause i'm fucking 4'11 (so i look fat for my height). And i know what it feels like when people comment abt that.

Soooooo instead of turning green, imagine that the reader doesn't have the fit and perfect model-like body like other agents. Her powers? She can shape shift into any living being (person/animals/aliens) for a short amount of time, like 3-7mins.

Bucky Barnes is a bully. He'd do anything to annoy the shit out of Y/N. Everything he does just ticked her off, you name it; hair pulling, cheeks pinching, mean little jokes about how Y/N would suffocate him to death if she ever sit on him.

Bucky Barnes acts exactly like a mean teenage boy who bullies the person he likes. But she doesn't know that, does she?

What she knew was he is a menace that loves to see her bright red, in embrassment and anger. What she knew was he likes to dig into her skin and ripped her heart out from how vexingly mean he is with her.

But, he was never cruel. No. He is the sweetest a man can be when he wants to. She still remembered those days he would drop off bunch of her favorite snacks and sweets during that week she was hospitalized from a rough mission.

Don't get her wrong though, he still teases her A LOT during those visits but it was sweet of him to come by and cheer her up.

But if he wasn't cruel. Then, why was she on the verge of tears?

Y/N stood alone in the kitchen, her hands strongly gripped onto the edges of the counter like she would shatter it with her bare hands. At time like this, she wished nothing more than just to shift into a bird and fly away.

Just so far away that no will able to catch her.

But those agents certainly did shot a bullet through the thickness of her gut when they said those words.

Y/N was just going to grab a cold drink after her sparring with Bucky, when she heard their vile whispers. She stopped at her tracks and hid behind the wall the moment she heard her name was mentioned.

"I don't understand why we keep her around. Did you see her panting for air from a quick sparring with Barnes? And doesn't she sound like a pig?" He sneered.

"We keep y/n around cause she has powers you, dumbass. Why are you being mean anyway, didn't you guys had a thing like 2 weeks ago?" The other voice said.

"It was a prank. Didn't think she'd believe it. Me dating her? Please. Not in any universe." He trailed, "Though if she shift into Natasha, then maybe I'll consider fucking her." Y/N could hear his smirk even from the block of the walls.

The other man laughed as if it was funny, "But it only lasts so long though? What if she turn back into herself when you have your cock inside her?"

The man gagged and said, "Ewww please stop. That's just fucking disgusting."

And when they left the kitchen, Y/N aimlessly went to the area. What was she gonna do just now? Oh, get some cold water. But why won't her hands move? They've been digging into the hard surface of the counter for how long now? If she goes any harder, her fingers would bleed. And why's her vision was blurry? Why there's wetness on her cheeks?

She didn't even notice that she was crying, beause she was so focused on fixing her own broken heart. And even if her pride was left to almost nothing, but she held on. She chose hold on to it for as long as could. Cause deep down she knew they were right.

No one's gonna love her for who she is, they will always be blinded by the flaw of her body and not see the pure of her heart. And if that is the ugly truth she had to face, then she chose to love herself. To be proud of herself.

But it is so hard does it? How can you love yourself when no one else is willing to love you?

"Doll?" Bucky's voice was soft when he called her that she didn't even heard him the first time around.

When Bucky heard sounds of someone sniffling, he knew that someone was crying. So he followed the hiccups of voice to the kitchen. But he didn't expect the culprit would be Y/N.

He almost rushed to her when she continued to sob, "Hey hey hey, what's wrong sweets? Did you hurt yourself?" He briefly cupped the softness of her cheeks before slightly holding up her hands to see if there's any cut from it.

When he noticed that there weren't any physical injuries, the tense of his muscles relaxed just a little bit. His big hands went to reach her face again, and gently wiped her tears away. He was so tender with his hold but his tone was far from it, "Who did this to you?"

And she told him exactly what happened. Even with hiccups in between her ranting breath. He listened. He listened to every single word she had to say, not cutting into her confession, not even once. And Y/N didn't know why she told him that. He supposed to be the last person she complained to about her look, about her weakness, about her flaws.

Bucky Barnes, the same one that loves to tease her about it all. He wasn't supposed to hear the dooms of her heart. But, he was. He was listening to her.

And he was seeing red.

Bucky had never felt rage this powerful in his life, he swore that if he let it consume him, the tower would be painted with blood. But, he held back. For her.

Because she needed someone to be there for her. And Bucky felt he was the luckiest to be that person.

"I'm not like her." She whispered tiredly. "I'm not like her, Bucky. I'm not attractive like Natasha or pretty like Zendaya or even Steve at that matter, like he has such tiny waist for his built, and he's a fucking man!!" She ranted every minor things that bothered her to him.

Bucky thought of his words for a while and simply said, "Yes, you're not like Natasha, or Zendaya, or Steve..." he chuckled at the end, "...But that's the best bits about you, doll." There was this flare in his eyes that Y/N couldn't wrap her finger around it.

"Are you making fun of me, right now?" She glared in between the tears in her eyes.

"No, I'm only telling you the truth." Bucky tucked her hair as he continued, "So what if you're not like her? There will always be someone that will see you more that just a piece of meat to fuck."

"Well, then I won't have that someone then."

"Oh, but I know one person though." Bucky grinned, "Me."

Y/N was rendered speechless when he confessed his true feelings.

"Doll, have you ever wonder why I love pinching your cheeks so much?" His fingers started to trail across her cheeks and his stare lingered in her eyes as his naughty hands find their way to her hips.

"It's because I was desperately trying to avoid grabbing these soft, thick thighs of yours." his eyes darkened the moment that he said, "And oh baby the things I'd do for you just to slide my cock between them."

It was like she was hypnotized by the way his hardened bulge grinding against her tummy. It felt good and his lust-filled gaze was doing nothing but making her wet, "Bucky..." she whispered.

Bucky lips was so gentle on her eyelids and her temple, until his teeth grazed along her neck and his groaning call reached her ears, "And do you know why I was pissed when we were sparring just now?" Asked before quickly clarifying, "It's not because I lost to you."

He grinded a particularly hard thrust against her that he accidentally moan in pleasure, "Oh babydoll, no. It's because I have this absolutely gorgeous girl on top of me, and her slutty body was just so close to me that I got so fucking hard. "

Bucky lifted her face towards his to watch how she was melted in his touch, "I was so pissed, because I can't fuck you the way I want to." His lips was so close, hovering over her own as he confessed.

But suddenly they felt a splash of water hitting side of their face, "Woah woah woah. Down, boy. Bad bucky. Bad!" Sam yelled. Imagine his surprise when he got into the kitchen to see Bucky literally humping on Y/N like a dog in heat.

They didn't even notice him approaching them with a glass of water in his hand.

Though Y/N was absolutely red in embrassement, but surely Bucky doesn't give a fuck. He didn't even acknowledge Sam's pleas to stop, especially when he crashed his lips on hers.

Y/N moaned lewdly as he effortlessly lifted her on the kitchen isle, feeling his clothed cock rubbing against her needy cunt. At that point, who cares if anyone's watching. She wanted him so bad. As bad as he wanted ruin her.

Sam scrambled backwards when Bucky started to unzip his pants, "Shit he's going feral." He dramatically ran across the halls leading to the kitchen as he announced, "Okay people, out. Get out. No one is allowed to the kitchen unless you want to be in debt cause I am not paying for your therapy."

Safe to say the kitchen was a fucking mess when Bucky was done with her and the cleaning crew was traumatized by the amount of wetness and cum they had to clean around the area.

End.

A/N: This was so random but I hope you enjoyed it! Drop some thoughts behind for me to pick up and squeal at, would you?

#random asks 💌#yinn writes 📝#bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #avenger!bucky

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