#but then march talked to me and I said “I could fix him... or make him worse w/e” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherry-leclerc · 8 months ago

Text

star-crossed ☆ mv1

genre: angst, fluff, humor, lots of back and forth, smut

word count: 9.1k

Fixated, you and Max struggle to stay away from one another. All the while, everyone tries to convince you that it won't ever work out.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, fingering

inspired by this !

cherry here!...as a wise person once told me: footnotes = crumbs. hope that helps!! enjoy :)

The table was long, practically going for miles, but not really—it was just your closest friends. They all converse with one another, talking about the upcoming season, the upcoming season, and oh, what’s that? The upcoming season. And you’ve had enough of it, he can tell, so he gently rubs his thumb over your hand, easing your nervous tick.

White florals lay neatly on the wooden top, fairy lights hang up above your heads, and Frank Sinatra plays from your fiancé’s phone, connected to the Bluetooth.

Pierre stands up firmly, clinking his glass with a spoon. When it doesn’t seem to get anyones attention, Alex lets out a loud whistle. Everyone’s heads turn. “Merde—finally. Well, first of all, welcome on behalf of the groom's best man!” Crickets. His smile drops. “I-Its me. I’m the best man.”

“More like Best Party Killer. Sit down,” Daniel yells, aiming a peony at his friend's head.

The Frenchman swats it away, to which Kika glares as it hits her. He nervously chuckles, pecking her cheek, swiftly. “Comme je le disais…we’re here to celebrate two very important people. Can ya take a guess?”

“Why did you choose Pierre as your best man again?” you whisper to the twenty-six year old. He shrugs, hushing you once before his watercolor eyes flicker back to his friend.

“Any more guesses?”

“Okay, thank you!” you yelp, standing up and motioning him down. “Thank you, Pierre, for saying a whole lot of nothing, really.”

The blue eyed boy silently pleads, hands pressed together in prayer. “Oui, oui, I’m done, I’m done.” A warm hand snakes to wrap around your wrist and you sigh, sitting back down onto his lap. He clears his throat. “I thought we could go around and…share some stories about the soon-to-be husband and wife. I’ll start.”

“Great,” Kika groans, massaging her temples.

“September 4, 2022.”

Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“You said it would be warm!”

Lissie squeals when you reach out to pinch her forearm. “I said slightly warm. More so cool.” A harsh glare. She winces. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”

Despite the evident goosebumps, you march your way over to the pen, awaiting your first interview. Lissie stands besides you, raising two thumbs up and a toothy grin. You got this! Your stomach churns as you fix your set up. She’s right, you’ve worked for this moment, day and night. You weren't going to mess up for any reas—

“Should I just come back later or…”

Blinking, your heart stops beating as your mouth runs completely dry. He looks around for his publicist who just sighs and starts tugging him away.

And we’re here with Max Verstappen, Lissie hisses—assisists. Coughing loudly, you bring up the microphone to your lips. “Max Verstappen!” The RedBull driver turns back to face you, clearly puzzled. You cringe at your sudden outburst, but continue. “So nice to see you. Saw you had a magnificent drive.”

Blue eyes pierce basically through your soul. He smiles, shoulders relaxing, hands leaning against the barrier. “Yeah. We did have a lot of luck on our side today. Plenty.”

It wasn’t that hard to pick up from there, question after question being basically given to you, to which he answers with professional ease. His dimples even pop out with every punctuation, it makes your chest swell. You clear your throat, eyes flickering to your list that now narrows down to one last inquiry.

“Everyone nowadays fears you, it seems like.” He laughs, rolling his eyes. “But I do have one question—how does it feel to be the villain in all of Formula One?”

His smile slips away. “Sorry?”

“Uh-oh,” Lissie mutters.

But you don’t catch onto it, his sudden defensive tone, his dark glare. Beaming like the sun on the earth, you nod. “Well you aren’t the most liked, per se. Often hated by others. Do you think your dominance has affected your relationship with the drivers on the grid?”

When you finally look up, you clearly notice his change in demeanor, and that makes you flinch. We should get going, his publicist squeaks, already pushing him away. Let’s not air that last question, thank you.

Fiercely, you turn to face your friend. “I still had a minute left!”

“Why would you say that?” she screeches. “Why, why, why?”

You blink. “I’m lost. What did I do wrong?”

The brunette sighs, brown orbs analyzing the short clip. “You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what.”

“Their relationship had started rather…rocky,” Pierre announces, swaying his hands back and forth for emphasis. “But don’t you worry! I. Fixed. Everything.”

“She really said that?”

Max whips his head to Checo, then to Yuki, then to Pierre. Each wears a loopy smile. He scowls. “She’s new here, she must be—I’ve never seen her before. Who does she think she is?”

“A legend, that’s who,” the Frenchman retorts, almost high and mighty.

Max takes a long sip of his energy drink before scoffing. “I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”

A few hours have now rolled by and you’ve finally realized—you messed up. Here you go, basically painting him out to be the bad guy, when really, he’s just a strong driver. No one thinks he’s a villain, you think he’s a villain.

“You think he’s going to protest against me? Get me fired? Boycott? Hates me?”

Lissie giggles, tidying up the equipment from the last round. “No. No. No. Maybe?”

Groaning, you hit your forehead over and over again with your clipboard before a sharp accent makes you stop. “Hello.”

“Oh! Hi!”

His lips stretch, then steps closer to you. “I’m Pierre—”

“I know who you are,” you cut him off. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m—”

“New?”

Your cheeks burn up at his accuracy. “Yes?”

“I thought so,” he pronounced with a goofy grin. Annoyance builds up inside of you but hold back and bite your tongue. The Frenchman fixes his sunglasses that lay on the bridge of his nose. “So…I’m going to take the chance and say that what you asked wasn’t meant to hurt his feelings?”

You soften up quickly. “I hurt his feelings?”

A nose scrunch. “Let me backtrack; Max doesn’t have feelings, therefore there’s nothing to hurt, but he does hold killer grudges, so yeah.” He lifts the frames. “He doesn’t like you.”

“Lovely,” Lissie mumbles from her spot besides you. “Is there a way…we…can fix all this misunderstanding? Because that’s what this is! A misunderstanding!”

The Alpha Tauri driver clicks his tongue in deep thought. “There’s not much to do other than apologize. Explain yourselves, maybe? He’s very Old-Fashioned.”

“Okay, yes.” You scurry down the paddock. “I could do that! I could so do that.”

“Other way!” he yells. Turning around, you see him pointing you down to the right. You giggle, nervously, and continue your sprint.

You catch him quite fast; his tall stature and blond hair are pretty easy to spot. “Hey—hi!” Gasping for air, you clutch onto your side. “H-hello. Again.”

His jaw ticks once, and in an eerie motion, a warm smile forms. You shudder. “Yes?”

“I just wanted to apologize about before. That was not the right thing to say, I am so sorry…please don’t demand for my release.”

A dark brow quirks up, looks around, then back down to you. “I’m not here to ruin your life, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

You sigh in relief. “God. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Crouching down to you, he tilts his head to the side with a sly grin. “You’re very welcome, but that doesn’t mean I like you.”

Your breath hitches, shivers spreading like a wildfire. “Sorry?”

“Yeah.” He steps away. “You already said that.”

“He was a bit guarded. Definitely guarded.”

“Isn’t this supposed to make me look good?” your fiancé grunts, dark eyes narrowing down on the Frenchman. “You know what? Just sit down.”

Pierre smirks. “See? Guarded.”

Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)

“I’m not a quitter.”

“There we go!”

“But he makes me want to quit.” “Oh, well now we’re back to square one,” Pierre groans. “He’s being hard headed, that’s all. I’ll talk to him again, don’t worry.”

And he does.

It happens during one of the worst moments in your life; you weren’t wearing makeup.

“You look—”

“Hideous?” You blush. “Yeah, don’t even mention it.”

He swallows, digging his hands deep into his pockets. “I wanted to apologize… for the way I reacted. It was immature.”

“N-no, you had every right to be upset. I crossed the line and I’m sorry.”

Max nods, Adam’s Apple dancing up, then down. “Truce?”

Staring down at his large hand, you smile and slip yours past it. “Truce.”

And as a rare occasion, his smile meets his eyes, crinkles and all. The RedBull driver disconnects first, then rubs his jaw once before signaling down to your wet hair. “Pool day, I see? Enjoying the benefits?”

With a cheesy look, you shrug. “It’s one way to relieve stress.”

“Yeah—and what’s another?”

His tone is sultry and irresistible, you can’t help but rip your gaze away. “Anything that brings thrill, I suppose.” A tick. “Whatever that may be.”

“And what if it’s something bad? Does that still count?”

You laugh, throwing your head back. The Dutchman’s lips wobble as a weak attempt to not smile. “You’re not a bad person, so yes.”

His tongue clicks. “Uh, I don't know. As I recall, you called me a villain?”

Groaning, you gently smack his chest. “Will you ever let it go?”

“Might take me a while…”

Just as you’re about to respond, your phone rings and you smile. “L-Lissie.”

The blue eyed boy nods. “Are you going to be interviewing me from now on?”

“Ah—is my ban lifted?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes. “Then yes.” Strolling past him, you wave. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”

“Where are you even going with any of this?” Lewis hollers from the end of the table, taking a sip of wine. “You’ve just been talking about yourself, not them.”

Pierre scowls. “I’m getting there!” He returns his attention to the couple, gleaming. “So, as you can imagine, once I weaseled my way in and fixed their problems—your welcome, by the way—a certain spark came through. It was clearly evident.”

Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)

“Nepo-Baby?”

You hum. “They all are.”

Lissie groans. “So how will I know which one?”

“Oh, you’ll know.” Squinting accusingly, the British girl sticks her tongue out before standing up, hands on her hips. She yawns. “I have to go find Will. Something about—whatever, you probably don’t even care.”

You giggle. “Nope. Have fun.”

Silence engulfs you as you close your eyes momentarily, pulling your coat over your chest.

“Don’t you have to watch the race in order to report back on it? Ask questions?”

“Dude, I was just falling asleep…” You peek an eye open. “And yes. But it hasn’t started, so I'm clear.”

Max whistles, unimpressed. Falling down next to you on the fluffy couch, he places his hands over his stomach, closing his eyes, too. You try not to laugh and instead do the same.

“Haven’t seen you around much.”

“Been hiding from you.”

“Seems like. Don’t do that.”

“Fine.” You grin, sitting up straight. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”

“Probably.”

You snicker, pink tongue poking from in between your teeth. The cold air makes you snuggle deeper into your wannabe-blanket and he can’t help but take occasional glances. Teeth chatter. “C’mon. I’ll walk you.”

“...and I turned and said, isn’t that Celine Dion?” Lissie waves her hands back and forth, swaying like a Fly Guy. She pouts, stopping her movements. “Turns out I was just really freaking high.” Will laughs, jotting down God knows what onto a piece of paper as she continues cluttering herself with an obnoxious amount of wires. The British girl huffs. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder if it was—” A sharp gasp. “Him? Oh my—it’s him!”

“Don’t you mean her?” Will hums from his spot, still not looking up.

But wide-eyed Lissie stares with her jaw on the floor as you and Max cross by, laughing and pushing each other as you make your way down the paddock. As soon as you blush when he winks, it becomes all the more real. The young reporter nods, curled hair bobbing up and down.

“R-right—her.”

Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)

“Is he cute? Yeah, maybe.” A finger pinches her top lip before releasing. “In a weird way.”

“Hey,” you warn.

“Is he your type? Don’t know why, but yes. I could see why you’re into him.”

“Great…”

“But is he the right choice? No. Not at all.”

“...and fantastic.” Flopping down onto your towel, you groan. Suddenly the blazing sun wasn’t the worst feeling because Lissie was right. It’s unbearable, almost. You prop up, facing her with a scrunched nose and squinted eyes. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh?”

“Oh no.” A sip of coconut water. She purses her lips. “God no.” You sigh, slowly, then sprawl back down with a sour snarl. You can hear her debate; muttering, mumbling. Still, that doesn’t get rid of your bad mood. The brunette pokes your thigh gently, nibbling her bottom lip. “He’s just so—and you’re just so—” A beat. “I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah.” Waves crash harder. Sun beams brighter. You open up the bottle of sunscreen, spurting some onto your burnt legs. You rub briskly; up, down. She flinches. “Yeah, I know.”

“And for a while, that was that,” Pierre announces, feigning indifference. “No more love birds.”

“Oh,” George blurts. Dark brows pinch up, teasing smile playing out. “Then why are we here?”

“Oh God,” you groan, digging your face into the nape of the twenty-six year old. You can faintly sniff out his musk scent, clean and so him. It makes you smile like a teen. “What if we just elope?”

He chuckles, vibrating and sending you on your own personal rollercoaster. “We always can. Is that what you want?” And he asks because he knows—no. That’s not what you want. Separating yourself to peck his cheek, you shake your head with a playful pout. “No. That’s not what I want.”

“Good.” Watercolor eyes flicker to where Pierre finally gets yanked down and Lissie takes over with a proud smile. “Because I think this is actually going somewhere.”

Bahrain International Circuit—-March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)

So you kept your distance, and oddly enough, he did too. For plenty of reasons. And it wasn’t even that hard, really. He spent his summer break traveling and you spent yours as a homebody. No texts, no calls, no nothing.

“Heads or tails?”

“Tails.”

A sly grin. The silver coins flips a couple rounds before jumping up and down, clapping. “Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”

“You’re going to get a sugar high and not be able to sleep later.”

“Until I can feel my teeth rot,” you retort, slipping your tongue over your pearly whites.

Answering a few emails, you perch onto a chair. It’s too stiff, so you twist and turn until you ultimately decide to just stand. A gust of wind salutes you as your orbs flicker up to the sudden shadow. A breath catches.

Max tilts his head in greeting. “Working hard already?” Your lips part. “The season’s barely begun.”

And just like that, your world tilts on its axis, but this time with more to lose.

“As your best friend—” Lissie points clumsily at Carmen who giggles while the British girl furrows her thick brows. She glances around before spotting you dying with laughter on your fiancé’s lap. She claps. “I knew straight away—he was the one for you.”

Miami International Autodrome—-May 7, 2023 (Miami Grand Prix)

“How long has this been going on for?” she hisses, disappointed eyes challenging both you and Max. She gags at the hickeys on your neck and his tousled hair.

With wobbly legs, you take her hands into yours. “A week—”

“No.”

“Well, two—”

Green paints her face. “No.”

“One month,” he murmurs from his corner in the elevator. Watercolor eyes flicker up, loopy. “It’s been a month. Ever since—”

“Azerbaijan.” Shamefully, you look down at your shoes and nearly scream bloody murder when you spot your thong just a few steps behind her. “Ew, gross,” Lissie gasps, shutting her eyes in despair. Taking in the opportunity, you scatter down and retrieve the thin fabric. The Dutchman releases a laugh, but bites down when the British girl glares hard. She curls a brow at your breathless state. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Giggling nervously from your place on the floor, you keep your hands behind your back; out of sight, out of mind. “Begging for forgiveness?”

“Oh stop it, a piece of land is what I need in order to forgive you for being dumb as shit.”

You frown, but quickly stand up when she exits the elevator. You can hear him follow with a bored expression. “Lissie, wait!”

Like a spinning top, she turns back, long layers slapping her pink face. “You two know this isn’t a good idea, right?”

“Yes—”

“For a million different reasons—”

“I-I’m aware,” you stutter.

“Then why did you do it?” she whispers.

And the truth is, you don’t know. All you know is that nothing else matters when you're with him. It’s sickening how blindsighted you get. Anxious eyes twirl over to the blue eyed boy who shared the same expression despite being unbothered a few seconds ago.

Licking your lips, you play with the fabric. “That’s it. We’re done.” You turn to the RedBull driver. “Tell her.”

“Done.”

For a moment, you almost let yourself flinch from how fast and easy he’s able to say that one word. Lissie’s judgmental eyes look at you, then him, then sighs, reluctantly nodding. An awkward moment ticks by and then she’s focused, appalled.

“Are those your panties?”

“You were like a dog who couldn’t bear the idea of leaving its bone.” Everyone snickers while you throw the same peony Daniel had aimed at Pierre to shut him up. She laughs, raising her arms up in defense. “And I know—I know—I came in like a monster, warning you off of all the drivers because like it or not, they’re scumbags—”

“Ey. Watch it,” Carlos deadpans from the corner, brown eyes playfully glaring.

She shrugs. “But I no longer liked playing the role of an evil step-sister so…” Tears brim and you choke on a wet sob. “I’m just so happy that you’re happy.” A pause. “That you're both happy.”

Leaping off his thick lap, you rush over, embracing her. She laughs, returning the gesture. “I love you,” you start. I know. “And I’m so happy that you never—”

A knowing smile. “I’d do anything for you.”

Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)

Sneaking into his motorhome, you moan as soon as he gets his hands on your; sliding up and down your body with urgency. Heat radiates off of him and onto you. All of this— the cramped room, his lips attacking your neck—makes you dizzy. Clutching onto his sweaty hair, you arch, completely to him and for him.

“We s-shouldn’t.” You gasp. Long fingers tease your aching pussy as you whine. He instantly slaps a large hand over your mouth as he continues his movements. The stretch burns, but it's fairly familiar that you don’t even cry out, just stare back with knitted brows and an open mouth that he can’t see, but can feel expand beneath his palm.

“You’re probably right.” A steady stroke. “You should be out there.” His knuckles curl as he reaches your g-spot. “Preparing those foolish questions.” A muffled moan. “But you’re here, because you know that this excites you as much as it does me.”

Calloused pads push down before drawing figure eights deep inside. “You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be—”

“No,” you cut him off. “Don’t even try and blame it on—”

“Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?”

Feeling your orgasm rolling in is one thing, but your snarkiness is another. Gritting your teeth, you force him down to kiss you, teeth and all, and then rip away with a sultry smile. “Maybe, but who cares?”

You’re not completely off. At that moment in time, neither of you cared about the consequences. It’s just that as soon as a room of watchful eyes flicker to you two, you swallow a low wince.

Grabbing your microphone, you fix your disheveled hair. Lissie’s eyes flicker between you and him, slow and scary. Like she’s reading right through you and your lies.

Beaming at the awaiting grid, you raise your chin up. “Who’s ready?”

“Finally,” Daniel yells, rolling his cuffed sleeves. “Someone with an actual story to tell.” A wide smile has never made you more nervous than at this very instant, so reasonably so, you swallow the entire glass of—

“Vodka, baby! That was my vodka—your champagne is right there.”

Blinking, you giggle, wiping your plump lips with the back of your hand. “What yours is mine, no? Isn’t that what marriage is all about?”

He chuckles. Lean arms wrap around your waist like a harness. “Keep this up and you’re not going to be able to sleep later.”

“The opposite, actually,” you state as a matter-of-fact. “Just need to get blackout drunk.”

He cocks his head to the side. “That’s not like you.” “...should have seen her! She was wasted as shit!” the Australian yelps, buzzing with excitement. You nip at the air all while he raises his voice an additional octave. “I found her there, at the bar, close to getting alcohol poisoning, but you know what they say—only drunks and children tell the truth.”

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“Oui, the beer! Fucking amazing,” Pierre declares with a mouthful.

“Say it, don’t spray it,” someone screeches, and is quickly identified to be Alex when he wipes his shimmery forehead. You laugh, taking baby sips from your drink. Shirley Temple, because contrary to belief, you weren’t a nasty drunk.

The Frenchman pouts, tapping his fingers against the brown glass. He turns to you with a sheepish grin. “I read your article.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “Have to admit, it's kind of boring. It’s not your fault though. Max Verstappen's domination has made the sport sort of…” He pretends to wilt, to which you toss your head back with laughter.

“Your time will come, Pierre, your time will come.”

“Shit, shit, shit! Bathroom!” Lissie’s long legs wobble like a plate of jello as you hurry over to catch her.

“Crap—you smell like shit.”

The British girl squeals, yanking her hair, dancing from side to side. “I smoked a fat blunt, but never mind that, if I don’t find a loo in approximately five seconds, then I will smell like actual shit.”

A nose scrunch. “That’s not very lady-like.” She paces some more. “Let’s go.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the crowded room, Max watches as the two journalists slip away. He keeps a close eye for a while until a certain brunette swoops in right next to him with a loopy grin and crinkly eyes.

“You should talk to her. Seems like you really like her.”

“What? What makes you say that? What makes you think that?”

Daniel shrugs, rotating his blunt back into his mouth. “Dilation.”

The Dutchman gags. “What…like when a woman gives birth?”

A sore laugh. “As in your eyes.” Another hit. “Y’know…they just look—different. When you look at her, I mean.”

And he hopes it is not apparent that these words make him swallow. For the past year, he’s tried his best to hide his feelings for the sake of not making a fool out of himself, and later for a whole other, but…

He licks his sudden dry lips. “Hm. Doesn’t matter if my eyes fucking shine or not, she’s not my type.”

The Australian frowns. “Sucks. Lissie’s really cool.” His eyes flicker over to the RedBull driver in a nonchalant manner, but when he blinks back with rose tinted cheeks, despite not having a sip of alcohol, he chokes on his puff. “Oh shit, no…”

In a flash, Max yanks the blunt away, dipping it into an anonymous drink. “You’re right, she is so cool—”

Brown eyes narrow down in accusation, brows knitted sharply. “Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie…” A wince. “Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.”

And just like that, Daniel notices the blown out pupils revert back to its original shape. Small and empty. “Yeah. Of course.” He plops back down onto his stiff seat, rubs his eyes, then smiles. “I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.”

“He—” Daniel points over to the broad twenty-six year old who sits with a timid smile. “...didn't have a single sip of beer that night because he was too focused looking after her.” A whistle. “And if that isn’t love, then I don’t know what is.”

“Wow, congrats,” George says to your fiancé. “For not being an alcoholic, really, that's impressive.” You can hear the humor that coats his voice and you can’t help but giggle. Calloused fingers slip up to pinch your thigh as you laugh harder.

“That’s why I drank twice as much that day,” Pierre announces with a firm voice. “Because he was missing out on some fantastic beer.”

“Drunkard,” Alex whispers to Lily who stifles a snicker.

The tall Australian clicks his tongue. “So who was the wasted one who confessed their little white lies?”

Everyone’s eyes turn to face you as you burn up with mortification.

“What the fuck, I barely even drink!”

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“You.”

“Me?”

You snarl, stomping over. “She's a lightweight, dumbass. Why would you get her high? Jesus, we have a flight in eight hours.”

Daniel cackles, clapping as if delighted at the fact. “She kept insisting! I felt bad.”

An eye roll. “Douche.”

He tries to make it up to you with a drink. “Pierre says they’re good.” You eye the bottle hesitantly. He sighs. “Come on, trust me.” He eventually sneaks off for a minute, but returns with a new blunt.

“Did you pull another one out of your ass or where did you get that from?”

“Oh no. How many did you drink?”

Squinting, you motion him to take a seat. He does, but he can’t even smoke in peace now that you sway from side to side, despite being seated. “I don’t know. Too many.” He groans, large hands tugging his hair. You take a long sip, then raise your glass like some wannabe. “He told me he loves me. Tonight. Right when you left. And you know what I told him?” Another sip. “I told him I love him too.”

The Australian chuckles. “I didn’t expect you to fall for someone like him.”

“Me either. But I fell—tumbled.” You frown. “I’m just not sure this is the right thing to feel, y’know?”

His orbs flicker to the twenty-six year old who huddles with a bunch of the other drivers. He smiles, tilting his head. “Why not?”

“Because everytime I look at him, I fear the way my heart beats. He laughs, I laugh, and it feels wrong. He smiles, I smile, and it feels wrong. He makes one of our inside jokes, I understand, and it feels wrong.” A shaky laugh. “And something that should feel fucking right, doesn’t.” Glossy eyes switch over to him. “Does that make sense?”

“Not really.”

“Great,” you let out, wiping your tears away. “It’s fine, I didn’t expect you to understand.”

Daniel smiles, fondly, like an older brother. “It doesn’t, and you want to know why?”

“Why?”

A second passes by before he leans back against his chair. “Because it looks like you really—really—like him, so why should any of that matter? Just let yourself be happy, fuck everything else.”

You scoff, furrowing your brows. “You’re a bad influence.”

“Why?”

“Because it would never work out.”

“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” Almost robotically, he drops his blunt into your beer bottle. “You can’t…”

“Yeah. I know.” A pause. “Beer’s ass, by the way.”

Daniel taps his fingers against his chin, comedically. His orbs flicker between you two who stare up at him in deep focus, awaiting for his next words. He grins. “You two, it works. It always has.”

Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“Oh fuck,” he grunts, thrusting into you harder as you cling onto his arm, eyes screwed shut. “H-holy fucking—hell.”

You moan, mouth hung wide open. “Feel so good, Maxie, so, so good.”

Blue eyes admire the way you arch towards him like some sort of warm invitation. The way your legs lazily drape over his sweaty waist, how your scent hugs him like no one else. It’s all so familiar, and nice, and right. Your soft palm grazing his jaw makes him alert in an instant, desperate to not miss a single thing that lives inside this moment.

He furrows his dark brows. “We-We’re not made for one another.”

“I know.” He grunts, animalistically. “They warned me about you.”

“They told me to stay away from you.” His tip brushes against your g-spot and your head lolls back, a loud sound. “But God, it’s been impossible.”

“Max, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m close.”

He grins, rubs your clit, and whimpers when he feels you reach your orgasm. You shudder when he follows soon after, face digging into the nape of your neck. Your heart pounds like a ticking time bomb, but still, you run your fingers through his dirty blond waves.

“Lissie…Daniel…they’re—”

“Right?” You choke up. “Yeah, you don’t know how much I hate that they are.”

He pulls away, and somehow, his watercolor eyes appear more blue than ever before. Black, almost—nearly. And you’re sure yours do too.

Max plays with your hair, tracing it like a map. He gulps. “So do I.” A tug. “I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”

A wet laugh. “I love you, too.” Wobbly smile. “And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”

He hums. “What would that be?”

“Nothing.”

“I know many of you guys are wondering why I’m best man—”

“Not wondering, more like questioning,” Carlos quips with a sly smirk.

Pierre flips him off and you laugh at the immature interaction between the drivers. “Because it really could have easily been anyone else. Ha! Even you Carlos.” The Spaniard mocks him with a shady, playful, look.

“Then again, who would have thrown a better rehearsal dinner for Charles and his bride-to-be?”

Circuit Zandvoort—September 4, 2022 (Dutch Grand Prix)

"You got on Max Verstappen’s bad side, that’s what."

“It’s probably nothing or he’s just a sensitive little pussy,” you shoot back defensively.

Lissie snickers, hushing you, orbs scanning the pen. “You can’t say shit like that! Any of it, actually,” she adds. “Just…think before saying anything.”

You huff, arms crossed, stubbornly. “Fine.”

As the open area starts filling up more and more, by some miracle, your nerves start dying down.

Or so you thought.

“Before I let you go, I do have one more question.” Charles smiles down at you, shy dimples poking through. You return the gesture. “Would you consider yourself Ferrari’s savior or their scapegoat?”

“Jesus,” the British girl groans, covering her eyes with second-hand embarrassment.

The Monegasque lets out a nervous laugh, turning to face his publicist who simply tippy toes and whispers something into his ear. He nods. “I-I-I actually have another interview set up, but thank you for your…questions.” Pink tints his ears as he looks at you one more time before strolling away.

“Alrighty then,” Lissie hollers. She sneaks the microphone away. “Jitters, totally normal, but yeah, you’re done for today.”

“I don’t care if she’s royalty, I’m never willingly doing an interview with her ever again.”

“Would you look at that?” Pierre gloats with a wicked grin. “Max Verstappen got butthurt.”

The Dutchman scoffs. “No, I did not. I just don’t like stupid questions, and she made one.”

Yuki snickers at his wary response. Pierre rolls his eyes. “I could talk to her, if you want me to. I love shit like this.”

“I don’t.”

“Well too bad, I’m going to.”

“Yeah. You already said that.”

Dumbfounded, you blink as he walks away, wet towel draped over his head. If you had known he was this much of a shithead, then you wouldn’t have bothered to try and apologize. Clicking your tongue, you burn with fury as you glare, but as soon as the Ferrari driver brushes past you, you fall back from your trance.

“Hey!”

He turns, green eyes furrowed with confusion. “Hey.”

A wince. “I’m sorry about my ignorant question from earlier. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Charles blushes. “Am I that easy to read?”

“No, but Pierre let me know.” You awkwardly kick your shoe against the pavement and his eyes follow. You stop. “I sort of pissed off two of the most important drivers on the grid today. You, uh, just happen to be one of them.”

He softens like ice cream on a hot summer day. “I’m not pissed.” You almost let out a giggle from how foreign his accent makes the curse sound. He stammers. “You just caught me off guard, that’s all. Plus, I can’t answer questions like those. It would make all of us look bad.”

“Oh. Duh. Of course.” Now you burn up. “I should have known. And it’s no excuse, but I’m new and I’m just…figuring it out.”

His eyes crinkle as he nods. “Who was the other driver?”

You groan. “Max.”

He winces, shaking his hands, theatrically. “Yikes. Yeah, now he’s probably pissed.”

Autodromo Nazionale Monza—September 11, 2022 (Italian Grand Prix)

“Will you ever let it go?”

“Might take me a while…”

As soon as your phone dings, vibrating against your palm, he curls a brow. “L-Lissie,” you fill in with a subtle smile. “See you around. And put on some sunscreen. It’s good for you.”

Rushing back to the pool with a new bottle of SPF, you grin as he aims a deadpan expression. “A little Vitamin D is always necessary.”

“Don’t care, I don’t want to look like a peanut in two years.” You plop some onto his hand as he childishly swipes it over his face. You squirm with the way droplets slither down his toned chest.

Charles extends his hands. “Can I have some more?”

You laugh, wet hair tossing back like a curtain. “Hypocrite.”

Green eyes glare down, playfully.

Marina Bay Street Circuit—October 2, 2022 (Singapore Grand Prix)

“I can’t believe someone’s rocking your boat,” Lissie yelps, clutching onto your hand desperately. “This is monumental.” A teasing giggle. “We should definitely document this.”

As soon as she pulls out her phone, you flip her off. “And this, my dear, dear friend, is why I’ve been keeping this a secret.” She zooms in as you laugh, brushing her away. “Quit!”

The British girl groans, slipping it into her back pocket, then wiggles her thick brows. “Can I guess who it is?”

“No.”

“It’ll be fun!”

You spin around. “No, Lissie—no.”

“Nepo-Baby?”

Flustered, you twirl your necklace and hum. “They all are.”

“Fucking hell. So how will I know which one?”

A mocking laugh. “Oh, you’ll know.”

The brunette stays wondering despite being in the middle of telling her story from last week at the pub. She traces back to every possible driver, but they’re all natural flirts, so fuck that, how would she ever even be able to guess that—

“Oh my—it’s him!” She gasps with hawk eyes as she watches you two keep a careful distance from one another, as if temptation burns within the gap. Lissie lets out a delirious laugh as she turns to Will, who is still rather focused on his task. “I, um, will be right back!”

Wearing a goofy smile, you make your way back to the pen, but squeal when a firm grip wraps around your waist, tugging you into a cramped bathroom. You cringe at the suffocated smell. On the other hand, Lissie jumps from corner to corner. “How did I not notice? I mean, shit, you’re eyes—they’re huge!”

You frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

With a toothy grin, she pokes your ribs. “It means I know who it is.”

Your heart stops, then bite the inside of your cheek, feigning indifference. “We’re just getting to know each other, but he’s really kind, and I…I really like him.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” she whispers in a seductive manner, jeweled hands slapping your ass. You chuckle, opening the door, and turning back. “You get lost in his eyes, don’t you? Heard that could happen.” A swoon. “So what? Are they like the ocean? Like a blueberry Laffy Taffy?”

“Hm. No. More like green apple.”

She halts, mid-shimmy. “What do you mean green? His eyes are blue. And I would know—they scare me half of the time.”

“What are you talking about? Charles’ eyes are green.” The brunette gapes, mouth hung wide open as she pushes herself to speak, but can’t find the strength. You knit your brows, neat and high. “I told you not to scroll through your phone at three a.m. anymore. See? Jet lag is catching up to you.”

Autódromo José Carlos Pace—November 13, 2022 (Brazilian Grand Prix)

“I’m just looking out for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Tired eyes squint over at the blue waves, then at the kids who build sandcastles.

She sighs, propping herself to face you with a sorrowful smile. “It’s okay to be confused about your feelings.”

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, I know its as bad as it sounds.” You raise your straw onto your plump lips, sucking. “But they’re just so different from one another. I mean, Charles makes me feel giddy. Like really giddy. It’s nauseating. He’s sweet, and caring, and he's snappy but it’s endearing.” A soft smile and dreamy eyes. “He even helps with my notes.”

“But Max…he’s hot tempered. It drives me nuts. He never asks for help and always hides behind some brick wall. It isn’t like him to show me that he’s interested in getting to know me, but…” Cries ring through the hot air as a wave washes the sandcastle. “I want to get to know him. The real him.”

Lissie’s lips turn downwards at your broken tone. You act uninterested, but she knows it just for show, and that might be the worst torture of all.

She bumps your head with her shoulder, softly, and you instantly pout. “You’ll know what to do, babe. But if we’re being realistic here, Charles won’t wait forever.” Pause. “And Max isn’t the kind to grovel for anything other than podiums.”

Bahrain International Circuit—March 5, 2023 (Bahrain Grand Prix)

“Heads! Go on, Coffee Boy. Oh, and make it extra sweet.”

Charles lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders drooping as he strolls away. You pick and choose emails to respond to before leaning against one leg, typing away fiercely. You even have time to get back to your sister who begs for a souvenir. Any, she adds with a thousand smiley faces.

“Working hard already? The season’s barely begun.” Your breath catches so sharply that it hurts your throat for a second. His voice is somehow deeper, but it could be because you haven’t seen or heard from him in about forever. Max steps closer. “H-how was your summer break?”

Your berry lips open, then close, then repeat. It’s embarrassing. “Never bad to get ahead, and I—had a good one. Much needed.” He nods attentively. “You look—” You stop before admitting. “Healthy. You look really healthy”

A booming chuckle. “Thanks. You look really healthy, too.”

Blue eyes linger for a second too long and that fills you up with unwanted adrenaline. “Why are you here?” Pink expands through your cheekbones as you grimace. “I mean—here.” You point at the tiny tent as if it weren’t obvious what you were referring to. “Here, here.”

The Dutchman’s lips dance, fondly. “Well I was walking by, saw you, and wanted to say hi.” He looks around with a subtle frown. “Is now a bad time?”

“Well—”

“Mate,” a sweet accent rings through the air as you screw your eyes shut. Max turns to face Charles with a slow grin. The Monegasque tilts his head in greeting, hands occupied with your beverage and his. “How have you been?”

“So, so. Yourself?”

“Good. Refreshed.”

“For me?” he jokes. The brunette chuckles, raising the coffee cups with bright orbs. “Lazy Carlos, always sending you, right?”

The Ferrari driver shakes his head, curls following, then hands it to you. You hesitantly take it from him as you avoid eye contact. “Thank you, Charles.”

His smile widens, pecking your lips. “Still don’t think you should drink it on a daily basis, but hey, you’re welcome.”

Max blinks. “W-when did this happen?”

The green eyed boy hums, lips twisting against his straw. “Over break.”

“Oh.” Gaze slips over to where you bite your cheek. “You spent it in Monaco?”

A harsh tick. “Yes.” With an open mouth, he nods, like a muppet. You purse your lips, facing your boyfriend with pleading eyes. “Do you want to start making your way over? I don’t want Carlos to say anything about being late. You know how he is.”

Charles snickers, then intertwines his fingers through yours. “See you on track?”

The RedBull driver released a low breath, cracking a smile that looked more like a snarl. And while Charles doesn’t notice it, you do. Of course you do.

“See you on track.”

Miami International Autodrome—May 7, 2023

“Then why did you do it?” she whispers. The judgment and confusion that radiates off of Lissie is enough for you to grow gray. She rolls her tongue. “You can’t be doing stuff like this anymore, you have a boyfriend.” Her eyes screw shut, then snap open. “He adores the ground you walk on, are you insane?”

Tears well up at her truthful words. They sting all at once, and you carelessly crumble as your numb lips start to wobble. “Lissie—”

“No. Just—stop. Stop talking.” Max raises his eyebrows at the journalist and her sternness, but feels bad as you inch back, heels clicking. She huffs, pacing the hall. When she comes to a stop, she glares at the Dutchman. “How could you do this, too?”

“I never meant any harm—”

“Bullshit! Both of you are so stupid, it’s worrisome.” Shame fills your veins as you look down, pinching your undergarment as some coping mechanism. The British girl sighs. “You have to tell him.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no? He deserves to know.”

Decreasing the gap between you two, you sniffle, shaky hands clutching harder. “It’s going to kill him, Lissie. I can’t do that.”

And you can tell she’s running through her options because she’s your best friend. And above all, you were hers. With hesitance, she nods. “This has to end.”

You nod, desperately. “That’s it. We’re done.”

Circuit de Monaco—May 28, 2023 (Monaco Grand Prix)

“You’ve been a bit uptight. Could it be Charles that’s making you feel that way?”

“No. Don’t even try and blame it on him.”

He pinches your nipple, then licks your humid skin. You whine at the sensation. “You’re not getting anything in return for lying. It’s pathetic.”

You hiss when your climax tempts to fall. “What's the lie?”

“That you love him.”

“I do love him—”

He groans into your neck. “You sound so pretty.” A sloppy thrust. “When you choke around my cock, my spit, my cum.” Your eyes roll back when he pushes against your g-spot at a different angle. “Admit it, you’ve always enjoyed it.”

“You’re sick."

“Maybe, but you’re well worth it.”

You clench around his length and he hisses like a snake. In pain. In lust. Doesn’t matter. “You’re a shitty friend—”

Jaw clenches. “You’re a shitty girlfriend.” When you cry out in pleasure, he smirks. “Fine, then answer me one thing; is this stress reliever a bad thing?”

“Maybe, but who cares?”

And there's nothing left for him to do, simply smiling down at you like the Cheshire Cat, somehow scarier than The Joker. If not more.

Red Bull Ring—July 2, 2023 (Austrian Grand Prix)

“Right, but we’re not talking about Lissie. Mate, you can’t…you know you can’t.” Daniel grimaces. “She’s taken.”

“I know,” Max stutters. “Who do you take me for?”

The Australian is easy to tell when he laughs genuinely, but even the RedBull driver can spot the difference to the one exiting his mouth right now. “You think she’s pretty—that’s all.”

“That’s all,” he confirms.

“And that’s not a weird thing to admit because she is a pretty girl,” the brunette tries to help as Max nods happily.

“Exactly.” A pause. “You get it.”

Daniel brings the blunt up to his mouth, taking a hit, then blows out. “Y-yeah…because it’d be bad if you liked her, liked her.”

“I know that. I-I-I was never going to—yeah.” His heart pounds fast against his ribs when you giggle, pecking Charles’s neck, all while conversing with Lissie, Kika, and Pierre. He directs his attention back to the Australian and lets out a raw laugh.

“I wouldn’t be that stupid.”

“You’re a bad influence.”

“Why?”

“Because it would never work out.”

“And why not? You’re giving up too eas—oh.” In an instant, his brown eyes follow yours, and it makes his heart drop. Because it’s not Charles that you’ve suddenly realized that you love, but Max. “You can’t…” Somewhere close by, Pierre yells, cheering with a group of older ladies as Kika glares, shaking her head. He inches closer. “You can’t do that to Charles. He loves you.”

“And I love him,” you announce, brushing your hair back. Timidly, you peek over at him. “I’m not a saint, I know that, but I would appreciate it if we kept this between us.” A sore chuckle. “W-what matters is that I choose Charles. He’s the love of my life.”

And Daniel knows he probably shouldn’t agree to any of this, and yet, he finds himself nodding, curls bouncing. “Just between us.”

You smile gently, going in for another sip before laughing at the blunt that sticks inside.

“Beer’s ass, by the way.”

Circuit Zandvoort—August 27, 2023 (Dutch Grand Prix)

“I love you. Y-you weren’t some fuck buddy to me…you’ve always been more than that. And…I hate that too.”

“I love you, too. And it’s because I love you that I know what comes after this.”

“What would that be?”

“Nothing.”

He flinches. “I-it doesn’t have to be that way. You could lea—”

You sigh, pulling your dress up as he zip his race suit. “I can’t leave him, Max. It’s not that easy.”

He pants, blue eyes tracing your face anxiously. “A-and why not? Why can’t it be that easy?”

A cruel laugh wiggles up your throat as you dig your nails into your palm. “Because I’m engaged!”

He ricochets with a scoff. “Oh, what? Now you suddenly care about not being called a cheater?” You look away and he chuckles. “Because that’s what you are—a fucking cheater.”

Your face patches into a shade of pink as you breathe heavily, refusing to let the tears fall. “And what does that make you?”

“I am not a cheater.”

You snarl. “No, but you’re a God awful friend.”

He steps back, large hand running against his lips, drying them out, getting rid of your saliva. “You’re just—you know what? Fuck you.”

You gasp. “No. Fuck you.”

Max rolls his blue eyes, finally reaching his breaking point as he pushes you against the wall to his motorhome. “You’re scared, aren’t you? Of realizing what we actually are.”

Heavy pants. Orbs flicker down to his rosy lips. He almost smiles. “What are we? A cheater and a bad friend?”

“No. A villain and their accomplice.” That seems to do it. A strong tide takes over as you sob against his grip. And it doesn’t hurt, it’s not tight. It’s only secure. He continues with a dark look swirling his orbs. “You know, you were always the first one to point out someone as a bad person, when in reality, it's you.”

“Okay, stop—”

“And I’m not innocent either—I’m well aware—but I’m not the one with a ring around their finger.”

“Stop!” you yell, pushing him away harshly. It should feel foreign, the fury and the shame, but that’s all you seem to know these days. Or ever since you met him. “You’re right. We’re two rotten apples, or whatever the fuck you want to call it, but can you blame me? You’re fucking with my head, Max!”

He softens, and for a moment, its pure silence, other than your tiny cries. Licking his lips, he pats his thigh. “You already know I’m wrongfully in love with you. I just actually thought I stood a chance. That it would be me.”

“Max…”

He winces in pain with how sweet your voice sounds pronouncing his name. It’s always been that way. When you first interviewed him a year ago, to when you first kissed him back and gasped his name. But it only got dirtier and dirtier throughout the course of time.

“Be honest with me, please.” Bloodshot eyes look up at him. “Is he your safest option? Is that what this is?”

And with one final, tormented look, you open your lips to breathe out.

“He’s someone I could envision a future with, Max.” A beat. “And you’re just a footnote.”

“Voilá!” Charles cheers as he claps loudly against your ear. You yelp at the sudden sound all while trying to reach for his hands to stop his movements. He grins, deep dimples imprinting like feet on sand. “That was beautiful, really, it really was.”

Rubbing your ass against his bulge is the only way you think you can get him to shut up, and he does, immediately letting out a strained chuckle. Smiling sweetly at your friends, you shrug. “I had my doubts, Pierre, but this was pretty cute. Thank you.”

The Frenchman gloats, clicking his fingers. I told you, I told you they’d like it! Your fiancé kisses your cheek. “That’s why I chose him.” A playful frown. “You see, mon amour? You never hold any faith in my decisions.”

Rolling your eyes, you stick your pink tongue out at him. “I still think you should have chosen one of your brothers.” A stern look. “Like Lorenzo—wasn’t he the one that helped you buy the ring?”

“Yes, but that would have been unfair to Arthur. He would’ve felt left out.”

“Arthur’s too distracted trying to figure out the difference between left and right!” The Monegasque tosses his head back and you admire with a soft glow. “I lo—”

“Wait,” Carlos hollers, deep accent ringing. You and Charles turn, bubble bursting. “We all went around sharing but Max.”

“Yeah,” Lily ponders, fingers tracing her lips. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Pierre hums. “Mate?”

Max blinks, shaking his head. “Ah, it’s alright. We’ve heard enough, don’t you think?” His joke is meant to be easy going, but it comes out dry, and even to this day, you can notice it. Licking your already glossed lips, you flip your gaze to Lissie and Daniel who share the same worried expression.

Because Lissie was your best friend. She would carry your secret to the grave.

Because Daniel was Max’s best friend. He would carry his secret to the grave.

But the Dutchman himself didn't care. He honestly felt like he had nothing else to lose.

“Okay then,” he whispers, wiping his sweaty palms against his jeans. He slightly tilts his head to the open sky, as if wondering when it would swallow him whole. He was secretly hoping it would. Beady, excited, and petrified eyes stare back at him as he smiles awkwardly. “I…”

“He doesn’t want to,” you declare, twisting to signal the Frenchman. “If he doesn’t want to, then he doesn’t have to say anything, it’s fine.”

“No.” Blue eyes darken as he places his drink down onto the wooden table. “I want y—” He bites his tongue, immediately tasting metallic. “I want to.”

“Let him,” Charles says, chuckling softly. “Don’t kill his stride.”

So, with neat brows drawn together, clammy fingers playing with your silver band, you sit back down. Like a force of nature, the Monegasque hugs you from behind. You gulp, leaning the back of your head against his shoulder.

“I think it’s crazy how one minor decision can change absolutely fucking everything.”

“Oh shit,” Lissie and Daniel mutter next to each other, exchanging the blunt back and forth.

Your face twists up like a wrinkled shirt. “If you’re not going to say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.”

“You don’t even know what I’m going to say,” he instantly shoots back, but feverishly deflates when Charles furrows his dark brows like some Doberman. Astonished at his cold tone, you blink, lashes fluttering like a notebook. He almost swoons at the sight, but amazingly holds back.

“If you hadn’t taken Pierre’s advice and apologized to Charles, then we wouldn't be here. If you hadn’t spent summer break with him, then we wouldn’t be here. If you hadn't fallen in love, then we wouldn’t be here.” He swallows. “It’s the little things.”

“And, um...what makes a relationship work out is the commitment. If one person commits and the other doesn’t then it won’t ever work out, but you two…” You nibble on your bottom lip harshly, holding your breath as he looks into your bright eyes. He releases a forced chuckle, as if it would help get rid of his splintered heart. “You two chose each other, so…cheers to that.”

“Wow,” Charles hums, blankly. “That was surprisingly heartfelt…” A sheepish grin. “Thank you, mate.”

It’s as if he’s suddenly admitting defeat to someone who didn’t know they had him as an opponent to begin with; the way he throws the peony at the Monegasque, who catches it with ease. “Don’t mention it.”

So, as Max sits alone, with no date, he begins to wonder that maybe—just maybe—you were right all along.

He gave his speech last.

He was the footnote.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

1K notes · View notes

mooonjin · 2 months ago

Text

Reminiscing

Notes: BLESS THE SECOND SEASDON OF ARCANE OH MY DAYS HES SO GOIREGOSUSSSSSS can u tell viktor is my fav :3

Pairing: Viktor x f!reader

Summary: Years ago you and Viktor had parted ways, and for good reason. It was no longer about science to him but evolution. But evolution is the future? So why was Viktor dwelling so much on the past?

Warnings/Tags: 16+ because its bit suggestive so shooooo - tin/machine viktor, SLIGHT submissive viktor, SLIGHT submissive reader (hopefully its pg enough), swtiching, exes, trying to get back together (oof dont do that), suggestive innuendoes, touchy feely mentions, f!reader implied but no use of feminine pronouns — tell me if I've missed anything!

Part Two >

It had been years since you last saw Viktor, yet the memory of your parting remained etched into your mind like a wound that refused to heal. You remembered the way his gaze had shifted, once warm and full of curiosity, now cold and unyielding. His obsession with the Glorious Evolution consumed him entirely, leaving little room for anything—or anyone—else in his life.

He spoke in absolutes, his words more like calculations than sentiments. You watched helplessly as the person you once knew vanished piece by piece, replaced by a man driven by a vision far beyond your grasp.

The day you walked away was devastating. You hoped, perhaps foolishly, that he might pause, might see the toll his ambition was taking on everything he once held dear. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. Viktor had chosen his path and you had no choice but to choose yours.

In the years that followed, his name became a distant echo, carried to you only by the occasional whisper of rumours. Tales of the Machine Herald, a figure deemed a God, filtered through the shadows of the world. You heard of his relentless march toward perfection, but not once did he cross your path. Not once did you imagine he would.

Until tonight.

The moment you flicked on the light in your living room, your heart stopped, the air leaving your lungs in a rush.

Someone was there.

Seated in your armchair like they owned the place, their silhouette sharp against the glow of the lamp. You froze, instincts screaming at you to run, to fight, to do anything but stand there rooted in place. For a moment, they said nothing and neither did you. The stillness stretched thin.

Then, their voice cut through the tension like a blade, calm and deliberate.

“We need to talk.”

Your chest rises and falls erratically, the sound of your ragged breathing filling the heavy silence around you. He stays where he is, his presence is unnervingly calm. The dim light catches the gleam of his golden eyes. It feels alive, almost predatory, as it fixes on you.

“Are you done gasping for air?” he asks after a long moment, his voice gripped with impatience. The words slice through the room as if your panic were little more than an inconvenience.

“What the hell—who are you? Get out!” you exclaim, your voice raw and trembling with a mixture of fear and adrenaline. Your fists clench at your sides, your body tense and coiled, ready for a fight or flight you haven't yet decided on. Your eyes dart around the room, searching for something—an escape, a weapon, an explanation—anything that could make sense of the stranger sitting so calmly in your home.

The figure doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react to your outburst. Instead, he remained perfectly still.

“You know who I am,” he replies, his voice distorted by the rough mechanical overlay of the mask he wears. The silence stretches taut, heavy with tension, his lack of movement somehow more menacing than any action could be.

Then, with a faint whir and the soft ‘shing’ of metal, he shifts slightly. The purple artificial muscles in his left arm flex beneath the layers of metal, “And there’s no way I’m leaving until we’ve spoken."

He leans forward in the chair. You take a step back, your foot catching slightly on the edge of the rug, but you don’t dare look away from him. Another step, then another, the distance between them never feeling like enough.

You stumble slightly as your heel brushes against the wall, your retreat halted. You were trapped between the hard surface behind you and the immovable figure in front.

Yet he doesn’t rise. He doesn’t chase. He simply watches.

With a deliberate motion, he takes a step forward, and another, closing the space between you with ease. Panic rises in your chest, but before you can react, he’s there, leaning over you. His body is so close, trapping you between himself and the walls of your home.

“You’ve changed,” he remarks after a long pause as he regards you like an old friend. His eyes narrow slightly, taking in every detail of your appearance.

“You look… softer,” he adds, his tone flat and dismissive, as if this change in you is something that doesn’t sit right with him. You don't miss how mechanical his voice sounds.

“Who... are you?!” The words escape in a rush. Your voice shakes, betraying the fear that is starting to creep up your spine. Who is he? Why does he feel so familiar, and yet so... wrong?

There’s no trace of recognition, no warmth in the air, just cold steel and the distant hum of something supernatural beneath his skin.

His fingers graze your skin lightly before gently grasping your chin, the coldness of his touch like ice. His grip is firm but there’s an unsettling gentleness to it. He tilts your face upward, forcing you to look into his eyes.

You can feel the weight of his touch and yet, it feels like it’s not just physical. It’s invasive, as though he’s reaching inside, probing for something. Your neck feels exposed, your breath catching slightly as your body instinctively tenses.

There’s nothing soft, nothing human about his stare. It’s all too alienated, too distant. The faint hum of his prosthetic arm seems to vibrate through the air, a constant reminder that whatever—whoever—this is, it isn’t entirely human anymore.

He leans in slightly, his head tilting to one side, as if pondering the absence of recognition in your expression.

His mask doesn’t convey anything, “You really don’t recognise me?” His tone carries an edge of disbelief, as though it’s almost unthinkable that you wouldn’t. He shifts his weight slightly, but his grip doesn’t loosen, his fingers still lightly holding your chin.

“Take your mask off!” your voice firmer now, though it trembles with the intensity of your frustration. The metallic distortion of his voice only makes it worse, the mechanical overlay making everything feel distant. He’s not any person you could remember, not even close.

He raises an eyebrow at your demand, "Very well," he mutters, his voice still tinged with that mechanical rasp but there's an odd calmness in it now. He pulls it free and it’s as if a veil is lifted from the air.

What lies beneath the mask is a face you know all too well, yet so different from the last time you saw it. His features are gaunt, sharper than you remember, as if the years have carved something out of him.

His skin is pale, almost ghostly under the light. There’s no mistaking it. His eyes, though shinier, still carry a familiarity that hits you like a wave. It’s him. The man you once knew—his face, his expression, the very essence of the person he was, buried beneath the mask and the years.

For a moment, you just stare at him, speechless. He’s right in front of you now.

Real. Yet he feels like a ghost, like a shadow of the man you once knew.

"… What happened to you?"

It’s the first thing that comes to your mind and it seems to carry the weight of everything that’s changed, everything that has shifted between the two of you over the years.

You stare at him, your gaze traveling over the sharp angles of his face, the hardness in his eyes. This isn’t the person you once knew, the person you once trusted and once loved.

The question seems to amuse him, “What happened?” He echoes back to you, his voice ringing with that familiar accent of his. A humorless smile twists at the corner of his lips, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. The smile is dull, "Piltover happened," he adds, as if the mere name of the city is enough to explain everything.

"What happened," he says again as a growl now, “is that Zaun was cast aside—ignored, neglected, abandoned.”

His words hit you. Zaun. That forgotten, broken city that had always been on the edges of Piltover’s gilded perfection. The place that had been swallowed up by the ambitions and the indifference of those who held power.

The place where everything was left to rot, "So I made the city better, myself." His voice is steady, but there’s a dangerous edge to it now.

“And now Piltover is afraid.”

Before you can even react, he reaches up with a swift, practiced motion, placing one hand on the wall beside your head. His fingers splayed wide, as though he owns the very space you’re standing in.

“And you?” he asks, his voice dropping even lower, laced with taunting amusement. The question hangs in the air, thick with challenge, daring you to respond. “Are you afraid of me?”

It’s a question loaded with intent, the kind of question that isn’t meant to be answered, but to make you feel small. However there’s something else in his voice, something... hungry. His words aren’t just a challenge, they’re a test, a way for him to gauge whether or not you see the change in him.

There’s a part of you that wants to deny it, to pretend he’s still the person you once knew, but the truth is right in front of you. This is not the same Viktor.

“You’re not a person,” you’re not sure if he can hear the quiet desperation in your voice as you speak. But as his gaze locks with yours, the chilling look in his eyes seems to confirm what you fear most. Whatever humanity once existed in him is long gone, replaced by something far more dangerous.

He’s not a person. Not anymore.

“That’s the first thing you’ve said that isn’t obvious,” he sneers, his voice dripping with disdain, “I’m as human as you, if not more so,” he rasps, his words cutting through the space between you with confidence.

There’s a hum in his voice, a certain finality in his tone. “I still have a soul—a heart. One that beats just for you.”

His claim is so absurd, so twisted. A heart that beats just for you? He sounds like he believes it, like he truly believes that his obsession, his transformation, was somehow a sacrifice made for you.

His hand on your chin tightens and you can’t help but flinch. Here he is, speaking of love and devotion as if those words still carry any meaning. As if you’re supposed to believe him.

“No, we parted years ago.” The statement feels heavier than you expected. His expression flickers, ever so slightly, the faintest crack in his demeanor. The bitter smirk that had curled his lips falters for just a second before settling back into place.

“We did,” he says, a blend of mockery and intimacy. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes. The corner of his lips quirks into a sly, humorless smirk. “I always parted you… in bed, that is.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as if holding back the sharp retort you wanted to hurl at him.

He laughs again, this time his chuckle is dark and deep, “You remember that, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous hiss. “You remember how I used to make you scream,” he says, the statement suggestive as it sounded.

His smile widened, the curve of his lips taking on an unsettling mix of nostalgia, “I’d drop to my knees for you,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth. “Anytime, anywhere… begging you to touch me, just where I needed you most.” His eyes burned into yours.

His hand finally released your chin, the absence of his grip almost startling. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers trailed down your neck in a slow motion, the touch lingering just enough to make your skin prickle. When his hand slid around your waist, the shift in contact was seamless.

“You didn’t just take my heart when you left me,” he continued, his voice softening into a purr that sent a shiver down your spine. “You broke it.” Viktor whispered. His lips quirked upward again, but this time, the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

“You know why we split,” you say, your eyes narrowing as you force yourself to meet his gaze, despite the suffocating proximity.

"Always in the lab,” he murmurs, his voice softening slightly, but the growl lingers beneath the surface, ready to rise again. “Late into the night, always trying to find a new way to reach the Glorious Evolution.” His lips curl into a faint, humorless smirk, as though mocking himself as much as the memory of his relentless drive. “Always chasing perfection… and always losing sight of everything else.”

His fingers continue their slow, deliberate path down your body. His hand finally reaches the edge of your shirt, pausing there for the briefest of moments before grabbing it and lifting it slowly.

The fabric drags against your skin, exposing your chest inch by inch. His gaze flickers down, and a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

“You really are soft now,” he murmurs, "so soft."

You grimaced, "Stop it."

“Why?” He asks, his fingers moving even further down, sliding over the top of your thighs. “You don’t like it when I touch you?”

You instinctively swat his metal hand away but the moment your hand meets the hard, surface of his prosthetic, a sharp jolt of pain runs up your arm. You winced in result.

He grabs your wrist in a sudden, forceful motion, his fingers tightening with a painful grip, “Don’t do that.” He says, a warning tone in his voice. “Don’t swat at me like I’m some filthy little pest, when you used to kiss my hands like I was your god.”

"You're no God." You try to pull your wrist free, but his grip doesn’t budge.

“I’ve never stopped wanting you.” He says, leaning down to bury his face in the side of your neck. Viktor lets go of your wrists and instead pushes himself between your legs, pinning you to the wall with his body.

“I thought of you when I was supposed to sleep.” He purrs, his voice soft and rough in your ear. “I thought of you when I woke up.”

Then, with a deliberate movement, his body shifts closer, and you can feel the undeniable pressure of him grinding against you, pushing you harder into the wall. “I thought of you when I was desperate.”

Viktor's lips are close to your ear, his breath warm and unsteady as he speaks again, this time with a cruel twist. "You don’t even know, do you? How much I’ve ached for you." His words hang in the air.

“I thought of the way you looked back then.” He says, one of his hands trailing back down, grabbing your thigh and wrapping it around his waist. “When I still had you…”

He presses close to you, his hips pushed firmly against yours and his body close enough that you can feel the heat from his body against your skin. “How your skin used to taste…..”

“...You need to leave, Viktor.” You murmur. He leans in just a fraction closer, his lips curling into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. There’s no amusement there.

“Oh, I’ll go.” He says, his lips tracing a path over your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses over your skin.

“But not until we’ve caught up.” He lets go of your hair, one hand grabbing your thigh to keep your leg wrapped around his hip, while the other goes to your shirt, grabbing hold of the material once more.

“Maybe we should start with a little… reminiscing.”

Post Notes: lol i want to make another part but wioth smut oopsise!!!!!!!!!!!! viktor is eating my brain rn

~ ~ ~

my taglist form!

#viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor lol #mooonjin #arcane #arcane viktor #the machine herald #viktor machine herald #viktor m #machine herald #arcane act 3 #arcane s2 #arcane spoilers????#arcane season 2 #viktor season 2 #viktor x you #ENJOY PLS :DDDDDD #viktor imagine

569 notes · View notes

oddinary4bts · 7 months ago

Text

Chasing Cars | ch 10 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Yoongi x Hoseok

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: side character breakup, jungkook is still a little jealous lmao, alcohol, curses, they both are anxious to lose each other tbh, explicit content: hickey, breast play, oral sex (male receiving), jerking off, fingering, protected sex

☆word count: 10.1k

☆a/n: fun fact, this is the chapter that made me choose the title for this fic!! and this is also where the angst starts :') I hope you still enjoy reading <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Monday, March 25th

You hate college. More specifically, you hate having to turn in multiple lab reports every week. There’s just something about building a lab report that irks you.

You don’t know how researchers do it. You think you’d go insane if you had to write report after report after report but…

You’re already going insane after all.

You sigh, rubbing a hand on your forehead as you look at the tables you’ve been trying to make for half an hour. Yoongi, sitting across from you, raises his head from his laptop, an eyebrow cocked. You offer him a tight-lipped smile, going back to your report as he doesn’t pry, focusing back on his own work.

As much as he spoke to you at the party last week, Yoongi has been a lot more silent today. You reckon you might know why - Hoseok said in the group chat that he’d come to study too, and he’s yet to show up. It’s evening now, and you have a feeling he’s just not going to come.

You don’t know if you can entirely blame him - it’s Spring Break after all, and most people are trying to forget about college for the week.

But you can’t, because you’ve got that lab report to work on and a final to study for.

You blink a few times, trying to bring your laptop back in focus, and then you go back to work. You spend another thirty minutes fixing the tables, not caring that the titles clearly could be better. Nabi said she’d go over everything you’ve done, and you know she’s much better with titles anyway.

You’re lucky she’s your lab partner.

“Are you hungry?” Yoongi asks all of a sudden, and you startle, looking up at him.

Right in time, your stomach grumbles, and you let out a small laugh. “Yeah, a little.”

“Want to order burritos?” Yoongi suggests.

You nod enthusiastically, and he chuckles, picking up his phone. The smile that was on his lips dies almost immediately, and he deeply sighs. You furrow your brows questioningly, glancing outside of your study rooms.

Jungkook isn’t working today, yet you find yourself looking for him all the same.

“What’s wrong?” you ask Yoongi, pushing Jungkook away from your thoughts.

Even though every thought of him makes you warm inside, giddy like a teenager with a crush.

“Hobi,” Yoongi simply replies.

You purse your lips, picking up your water bottle to take a long sip as you search for something to say. You settle on, “You guys talked after the party?”

Yoongi nods. “Yeah.” He pauses, sighing deeply again before handing you his phone. “Just choose which burrito you want.”

You grab his phone, quickly choosing what you want to eat as he remains silent, typing away on his laptop. You’re aware he’s avoiding the question, but you have a feeling he needs to talk. It’s in the way he worries at some dry skin on his bottom lip, an anxious tell you recognize all too well for having it too.

“How did the conversation go?” you ask as he finishes up the order, putting his phone back down on the table.

“It went okay,” he admits, yet he looks defeated. You understand why when he adds, “He told me he doesn’t want to be with me anymore.”

You widen your gaze. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi laughs bitterly, slightly shaking his head. “I feel blindsided. We were all happy before the party and now…” He shrugs vaguely, letting out a choked sound that almost passes as a chuckle. “It just came out of nowhere.”

“I’m really sorry…”

He shrugs again. “What can you do? I really just jumped in too fast without realizing that he was reluctant. I was stupid.”

“I don’t think you were stupid,” you say, trying to sound reassuring. “You’ve had feelings for him for a long time, and it felt like you were finally getting something in return. Anyone would have been blindsided.”

“I should have known when he insisted we take it slow and not share a room though,” Yoongi insists. “And though the sex was great there was a lot of stuff he was uncomfortable with. Not that I ever did anything without him wanting to do it but…” He wets his lips, glances your way before setting his gaze on his keyboard again. “I was his first guy.”

“Yeah, he told me,” you admit.

Pink dusts Yoongi’s cheeks, and you can tell he’s embarrassed by the turn of the conversation. So this time you don’t pry, letting him figure out what he wants to say next.

“I think he realized that he’s not into guys all that much,” Yoongi eventually says. “Like… he wanted to try it out and turns out it’s not as nice as he thought it’d be kinda thing, you know?”

You nod. “It sucks that it had to be with you though. You didn’t deserve that.”

Another shrug, like it’s all Yoongi knows to do right now. “Yeah, I guess.” He chuckles, a sad sound that makes you want to get up and hug him, though you know Yoongi’s not big on physical touch. “I don’t know if I should be mad or sad,” he admits a few seconds later.

“You’re allowed to be both.” He cocks an eyebrow as if not convinced. “I’m serious,” you insist. “You like him. Obviously, it’s going to hurt if he decides he doesn’t want to be with a guy. And obviously, you’re allowed to be mad too, because to you it can feel like he was leading you on.”

Yoongi meets your gaze. “Have you ever thought about becoming a therapist?”

His statement surprises you, and you laugh, scrunching up your nose. “No?”

“I think you’d be good,” Yoongi says. He sighs deeply again, picking up his phone. “Food’s on its way.”

You’re technically not allowed to eat at the library, so you end up eating on the steps outside when the food arrives, the fresh evening air welcoming after being stuck in a small, stuffy room for a couple of hours. Yoongi keeps pouring his heart out to you all along, as if he’d been holding everything in for too long, and the dam finally burst.

You’re happy to be there for him. Even though most of it is the same thing as at the party last week, you’re happy he’s comfortable enough to confide in you, and you try to cheer him up.

“If you want,” you say after a time. “I could try to speak to Hobi. See what he really thinks about this all.”

Yoongi holds your gaze for a few seconds before looking away, his eyes shifting to the cloudy sky. “Nah, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he says. “I’ll just have to move on.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just nod. “Your choice. I’ll be here for you.”

He smiles, sighing. “I know. Thank you.”

On that note you return to your study room and to the lab report awaiting you. Yoongi busies himself with his composition as you work, and you finally finish taking care of the text for the results about half an hour later. Nabi said she’d do the discussion, so you send her the link, asking her to tell you if she wants you to fix anything, and then you close your laptop, folding your arms on top of it.

“Done?” Yoongi says, pushing his headset down so that it rests around his neck.

You nod, dropping your face on your arms. “And I’m dead.”

“When do finals start for you?” he asks.

“Next Tuesday,” you admit.

“Isn’t that early?” Yoongi asks, gaze widened in surprise.

It might be. You only have one then though, and you still have two weeks of classes in your other courses before the rest of your finals. You’ll still take it - it means one less final during the true final week.

You tell so to Yoongi, who admits he doesn’t have finals, instead having projects in three classes. It leads to a conversation where you compare biology to his music major, and another fifteen minutes go by in comfortable silence when the conversation dies of its own volition, as you scroll on your phone and Yoongi keeps on working on his music composition.

You startle when someone knocks on the door of the study room. You glance that way, eyes widening when you notice Jungkook on the other side. Yoongi lets out a small laugh at your expense, and you get up, opening the door for Jungkook.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as he walks in, two coffees in hands.

“Thought you might need this,” he says, offering you one.

You take it with an eyebrow cocked quizzically, and then you watch him as he drops in one of the empty chairs at the table. He’s got a backpack with him, and he pulls out a laptop and a notebook from it while you and Yoongi are just stunned silent.

“What are you doing?” you ask again as you sit back in your chair.

“Figured I’d come study here with you guys,” he explains simply.

You glance at Yoongi, who shrugs.

“Oh?” you let out, settling your gaze back on Jungkook.

“Unless you guys don’t want me to?”

Yoongi saves you by replying, “No, you’re all good man. I was leaving anyway.”

He clearly wasn’t, as you’re the one who finished writing your report and he was still in the middle of his composition, yet he still gets up, closing his laptop and putting it in his backpack.

“Text me if there’s anything,” you tell him as he’s sliding one of the straps of his backpack on his shoulder.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, and he nods curtly. “Will do. Thanks for everything.”

You offer him a small smile, and then he’s walking out, not once looking back.

“Did you really have to come here?” you ask Jungkook, and it sounds far more accusing than you meant it to be.

“What?” he lets out. “Just wanted to see what the hype is all about when it comes to the library.”

You offer him a no-bullshit look. “Were you jealous because I was studying alone with Yoongi?”

Jungkook frowns, a crease appearing between his eyebrows. His lips jut out in the hint of a pout, and something melts inside of you, like it always does when it comes to him.

“He’s the one that left the second I got here,” Jungkook points out.

“Because he’s going through a hard time, dumbass,” you say, punching Jungkook in the shoulder.

He rubs at the spot, his pout intensifying, if that’s possible. “He still could have stayed, I wouldn’t have minded.”

Jungkook isn’t wrong, and though you really want to be there for Yoongi, you know he’s the kind of person that needs space a lot. Or at least that’s the impression he’s given you in general, and you really hope he didn’t leave because Jungkook showed up.

“I was done though,” you admit, patting your closed laptop. “I was thinking about heading home.”

Jungkook flicks your nose, taking you by surprise, and you sit back in your chair as you shriek. It earns you one of his bunny grins, and you truly are melting like snow in the sun. “Well then you’re going to have to stay with me for a little longer, mmh?”

You tilt your head to the side, though you can’t help the smile that tickles the corners of your lips. “And do what?”

“Study?” he sarcastically lets out. “Do whatever it is that you bio majors do.”

You end up doing so, rereading your notes for your first final. It’s boring, and you don’t think it’s really productive when Jeon Jungkook is sitting next to you, stealing quick glances in your direction.

You catch him for what feels like the tenth time, and you roll your eyes. “Stop looking at me.”

“Why?”

“Because,” you offer as an explanation. “We should go home.”

He narrows his gaze at you. “Why?”

“People could see us here.” And go and tell Taehyung about it.

“I’ll handle Tae if he gets upset, don’t worry,” Jungkook tries to reassure you, but it does the opposite.

Indeed, a drop of lead forms in your stomach because, what if Taehyung learns?

You don’t want him to know. It’d complicate everything, ruin everything.

“Besides,” Jungkook adds, “I’ll have to handle him in April anyway.”

You frown, a confused crease streaking across your brow. “Why?”

Jungkook meets your gaze. “I’m going to Paris with Jimin to see your brother at the end of the semester.”

Your heart starts racing in your chest, anxiety flooding your blood. “Oh?”

Jungkook toys with his piercings, scanning your features carefully. “Yeah. It’s been planned for a while.”

“You didn’t tell me.” You’re aware you once again sound accusing, but you can’t help it.

Not when you see the expiration date of your relationship with Jungkook flashing in your mind.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I just didn’t think to tell you? I thought I mentioned it when we Facetimed Tae the other day.”

You can’t blame him for not explicitly telling you - the trip has likely been planned for a while, and it’s not like you speak about your brother a lot. Though you mention him once in a while, you’ve both been good at avoiding talking about him. Now that he’s mentioned the Facetime call though, you do recall, and it’s like a hand is squeezing around your heart some more.

“No worries,” you say, and you offer him what you hope is a reassuring smile. “When do you leave?”

“April 29th, I think? I’ll check.”

You nod, and you look away from Jungkook to stare at your laptop instead, though your gaze loses its focus as your brother invades your thoughts. You think about what he’d say - you know he’ll be furious, and he’ll likely kick Jungkook out of your apartment.

Jungkook will never be able to handle Taehyung. Not when he’s being an overbearing asshole like only he knows to do.

“Peach,” Jungkook says in a small voice that almost sounds whiny. “Why do you look so upset?”

“You can’t handle Tae,” you say. You worry at your bottom lip and then take a deep breath. “It’s really better if he doesn’t know.”

Jungkook remains silent for a few seconds, though he nods his head. “Okay.” He nods again, offering you a tight-lipped smile. “Do you want to head home then?”

“Yeah,” you answer without a beat of silence. “Yeah, I think we should go home.”

Jungkook’s gaze drops to his laptop, and you feel bad. You truly do - he looks defeated, much like Yoongi looked like earlier.

“Can we watch something when we get home though?” you quickly ask.

You can’t help it. You can’t stand the sight of Jungkook upset - it’s just wrong to you.

He immediately brightens, a small curving his lips upwards. “Yeah?”

You nod. “Yeah, definitely. Should get some cuddles in too.”

His smile widens, and he meets your gaze, the usual mischievous twinkle back in the depths of his eyes. “Sounds like a plan.”

And it really is. You think, you don’t need more with Jungkook. You don’t need the relationship to change, don’t need anyone to know. Because it’s simple right now, and there’s beauty in its simplicity.

Wednesday, March 27th

“Don’t!” you shriek, but Jungkook ignores you, stealing the TV remote from your hands.

“We’re not watching your reality TV show,” he says as he plops down on the couch into a lying position.

You glare at him, frowning as you fold your arms on your chest. “You like it.”

“Sometimes.” He flashes you a bunny grin that makes you gulp around a sudden lump in your throat. “But right now, I’m in the mood for a movie.”

You look up to the ceiling, searching for salvation yet finding none. “What movie?”

“Just come here,” he says, opening his arms for you.

You can’t resist. His gravity is too strong, and he pulls you in, like he’s the sun and you’re the comet.

Though you might come from the Kuiper Belt, you know you’re bound to crash into him anyway.

Once you’re nestled in his arms, Jungkook resumes his scrolling on Netflix.

“What about this?” he asks.

“Extraction?” you say as you eye the movie he stops on. “I’m not in the mood for action.”

“Then a romantic comedy it is.”

You chuckle against him, pecking the mole on his neck. He chooses the movie Always Be My Maybe, and then tightens his grip around you.

“I like that movie,” you say.

“You’ve seen it already?”

You reach for his hand before he’s able to change it. “Yeah, but I don’t mind,” you reassure him.

He nods, and that’s how you end up watching the movie, slowly dozing off on his chest. You’re in and out of sleep, watching the bright screen whenever you wake up, and when the credits roll in, Jungkook yawns over you.

“Were you sleeping?” you ask, faking offence.

“You were,” Jungkook points out, flicking your nose as you raise your head to look at him.

You move your face away, resting your head on the couch. “Barely.”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, and then you both burst out laughing.

You like this. You like the intimacy of being with Jungkook in your own home, like that in between these walls you get to call him yours. It’s treacherous, but oh so inebriating, like he’s summer wine you’ve become addicted to.

Instead of watching another movie, Jungkook goes to his room to retrieve his speaker, and he puts a random playlist on while you fetch a rosé bottle from the fridge, where you’ve left it before watching the movie. You’d decided to spend the evening in despite both your friends and his friends asking to hang out, and so you’d gotten a bottle earlier today.

That, and the board game Ticket to Ride, your favourite board game.

“That’s not how it works,” you complain a while later, when you’re one glass in and Jungkook grabs a locomotive and wagon card from the five on the side.

“What?” he lets out.

“If you take a locomotive you can only take one card,” you remind him.

It’s his first time playing, and though the game is fairly simple, you’ve noticed Jungkook has a tendency to try and cheat his way to the win. You’re tempted to let him keep the two cards when he offers you puppy eyes, yet you stand your ground, holding your hand out.

“Give me the wagon back.”

“Take it from me,” he teases, lips stretching in a smirk.

“Oh, you want to play this way?” you reply in the same teasing tone, and Jungkook toys on his piercings.

“Maybe?”

You get up from where you’ve been sitting on the floor, walking to the other side of the coffee table. Jungkook watches you, an apprehensive yet excited look in his eyes, and he laughs the second you drop behind him, hands aiming for his sides.

He leans against you, his large frame almost enough to make you crumple to the floor, and you wrap your arms around him, holding him close.

“Give me the wagon,” you repeat.

“Or what?”

“Or I’m not playing the game anymore.”

He looks over his shoulder at you, a pout on his pink lips. “Okay then, take your wagon back.”

He gives it to you, and you smile victoriously before pecking his cheek. “Thank you.”

You walk back to your side of the table, though you stop halfway, eyes brightening.

“I love this song!”

Jungkook leans back on his hands, tilting his head to the side as Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol starts playing.

It was your favourite song growing up. You used to listen to a different version of it you’d heard on Grey’s Anatomy, and you’d listen to it whenever you felt sad. Whenever you needed to feel like you weren’t alone in the universe, like someone was waiting for you, somewhere.

And as you look down at Jungkook while the lyrics start, you know someone was waiting all along.

“Sing it for me,” Jungkook says, smiling softly.

You can’t help the blush that creeps on your cheeks. “I don’t know how to sing. But you do!”

He chuckles, yet immediately starts singing as you offer him a hand to pull him up to his feet. He obliges, and he rests his large hands on your waist as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close. He sways you to the music as he softly sings, cheeks dusted in pink, and you pull him even closer, resting your head on his chest.

Simple intimacy. That is what you and Jeon Jungkook are made of, and you think, if he’d ask you to lay here, in this moment, you’d lie with him until eternity took you in its hold. Until you’d be nothing more than dust between the stars - remembrance of what was once great.

But April is looming closer, a giant towering over the both of you, one step away from crushing you under its boot.

“You know,” Jungkook says while the song continues in the background.

“Mmh?” you let out, looking up to meet his gaze.

His eyes are heavy with emotions, and you swim in them, bathe in them. You feel complete, cherished, and you hope he knows you feel the same way.

You hope he knows you’ve been falling in love with him despite the odds.

“I’ve never been like this with anyone before,” he admits, his voice gentle. “I’ve had situationships, I guess, but nothing like us.”

You smile softly, your heart racing in your chest. “Me neither. You’re the first.”

It’s true. Though you’ve sort of dated Sam Hwang for a few weeks during the summer, it was nothing like it is with Jungkook.

Sam Hwang never looked at you the way that Jungkook looks at you.

Jungkook leans forward, resting his forehead against yours as he keeps on swaying you both to the music, the song nearing its last chorus. Your eyes flutter shut from the proximity, and your breaths mingle as you fall silent for a few seconds.

“I love having firsts with you,” he whispers.

You almost reply that you love him. The moment calls for it - the atmosphere is that of romance, the music is close to your soul, and he… He’s the blood in your veins and the oxygen in your lungs. Yet you can’t say it - you’ve never told anyone you loved them before. And you’re not even sure you truly love him. Yes, you have feelings, but everything is overshadowed by the knowledge that you’re bound to end.

You don’t want to tell him you love him and make it too real only to have him slip from your fingers the second Taehyung learns.

“Me too,” you instead reply. “I love spending time with you.”

It’s as close to the truth as you’ll get, and he allows it, pressing a soft kiss on your lips. It’s slow, patient, like the whole universe will pause for you two. He pulls away when the song ends, bending to grab his phone on the table.

He restarts the song, and the second his phone is back on the table again, you pull him back in, tiptoeing to kiss him again. He wraps his arm around your waist, holding you tight against him, and you sigh at the pillowy softness of his mouth, at the way his piercings feel just right pressing indents in your lip. His free hand cups your cheek, holding you in place as he deepens the kiss, tilting his head to the side.

His tongue swipes at your bottom lip, almost hesitantly, but you open up for him immediately, tasting the rosé in his mouth as he kisses you deeply, languidly. The kiss never accelerates, yet it’s infinitely passionate.

Much like that first kiss you’d exchange, during the power outage on Valentine’s Day.

You think you knew then - he’d kissed you so softly, like you were fragile, just a flower petal a second from being blown away. Even then, he’d cared for you, and it’d scared you.

But there’s nothing scary about this. There’s nothing scary about the way he gently hikes your shirt up to slide his hand underneath it, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. There’s nothing scary about the way he sighs when you run your hands through his hair, gently tugging at the soft strands. There’s nothing scary about the way he backs you towards the couch, spinning around at the last second so that he can sit down.

There’s nothing scary about him pulling you in, always, so that you straddle his lap, connecting your mouths again a second later. No, it’s only natural. He’s the wind and you the leaves. He’s the sun that shines on you, his moon.

You were always meant to collide after all, and though the aftermath might be terrifying, all you can do right now is enjoy it while it lasts.

Jungkook tentatively grinds up, his arousal evident as he presses against your clothed self. You let out a breathy sound that makes him push his tongue in your mouth, and you suck on it, earning a grunt from him as his hands drop to your hips to drag you on him again. You grab at the hem of his shirt, disconnecting your mouths just long enough to pull the fabric off him, and then you’re kissing him again, crashing your lips on his hard enough that you think you taste blood, though you don’t care.

You just want him. Need him, so viscerally you think you’ll combust.

“Peach,” Jungkook lets out as you move to his neck.

Unable to resist, you suck a hickey on him, a bright purple mark on the spot where his shoulder connects with his neck. He groans, leaning his head back against the couch to give you better access as you lick at the spot, soothing the sting.

When you straighten, Jungkook meets your gaze, his chest quickly going up and down. You’re just as out of breath as him, and when he reaches for the hem of your shirt, you let him take it off you, leaving you in only your black lace bralette. He looks at your breasts, cupping them in his large hands as he sighs appreciatively.

“Every time it’s like you get more beautiful,” he murmurs, and he looks up at you then, his eyes crinkled at the corners in what you can only call adoration.

“Kook…”

His hands return to your waist, and he wets his lips, playing with his piercings. You grind against him, and his eyes immediately flutter shut.

“You think we can fuck out here?” you tease, rolling your hips.

“On the couch that your brother bought,” he replies, and there’s something so sinful about the thought that you know you’ll do it.

It’s not like Taehyung is around and will know.

So you bend forward, capturing Jungkook’s mouth in another languid kiss while you unbutton his pants. When the button comes undone, you straighten, standing between his legs so that you can pull the jeans down his legs. You leave the boxers on, eyeing his length as you kneel, hands resting on his thighs.

“Can I suck your dick?” you ask.

He chuckles. “Yes. But please be quick, I want to be buried inside of you.”

You narrow your gaze at him, but let out a laugh despite yourself.

You focus on his dick again then, on the wet spot at the top where his purple underwear has turned darker. You bend forward, littering small kisses along his shaft, and you tentatively lick at the wet spot, the taste of his precum filling your mouth. And though you’d planned to tease him, to be the brat you know he likes, you give in right away, pulling his boxers down just enough so that you can lick at his slit.

He lets out a breathy sound that has you bite your lip as you look up at him through your lashes. He’s got his head thrown back, eyes closed, and from this angle, all you can see is his sharp jaw.

You pull his boxers down more, and he helps you by raising his ass for a few seconds. His dick springs free, already rock hard, and you immediately grab the base to hold it up as you finish taking off his boxers, letting them tangle around his ankles. You’re quick to lick a long stripe from between his balls up to the tip of his cock, and then you take him in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around him.

He bucks his hips, fucking up into your mouth, and you moan when he hits the back, your eyes immediately watering.

He lets you lead after that, hands lost in your hair as you bob your head up and down, working him closer to his high. You love the feel of him in your mouth, love the way he grunts and praises you under his breath, and you think you’d be able to come from just hearing him, pleasuring him.

It doesn’t get to that though. When Jungkook truly nears his high, he pulls you away from his dick, and you meet his gaze to see his pupils are blown wide, filled with so much lust all you can do is obey when he says, “Go get a condom in my room, mmh?”

You nod, and you get up to walk towards his room, feeling his gaze burning on you as you pass the threshold and head to the night table. You pull a condom out, and you walk back to the living room to find Jungkook jerking himself off, his grip on his dick tight enough you know it has to hurt a little.

“Put it on for me,” he says, and he stops jerking off, holding his dick up for you.

You sit next to him, pulling the condom out of the tinfoil package, and then you roll it on his dick. He hisses as you do so, but the second it’s on he pushes you back until you’re lying on the couch and he’s hovering over you.

His hair falls in his eyes, and you quickly push the strands back. He leans in, pressing his lips on yours for a kiss far softer than what you expected, and you smile against him.

He grins when he pulls away, eyes shining with lust and adoration again, and then he’s taking off your pants, taking his sweet time. Kissing every inch of skin revealed, from your inner thigh to a spot below your knee. He stops after that, instead eyeing the wet spot on your underwear, and then he pulls at his piercings, sending you a dark look that makes you go molten.

“I want to fuck you in this,” he says as he finishes taking off your pants, his free hand going to your hip where he traces your underwear. “Want to ruin your panties.”

“Do it,” you challenge him.

He doesn’t need to hear more before he’s returning over you, and his hand pushes your panties to the side so that he can run a finger between your folds, and then circle your clit. You grind your hips, seeking more friction, but Jungkook doesn’t oblige, instead pulling his finger away from your pussy.

“Be patient,” he whispers, and then he kisses you again.

The kiss is feathersoft, gentle, and you lose yourself in the very essence of him. You don’t care - you just want this moment, forever. A scene constantly replaying, away from the atrocity of the world, with your favourite song as the background music.

“Please,” you beg in a soft murmur when he pulls away from your lips, and this time he obliges, returning his hand to your pussy. This time, he pushes in, and you sigh against him as your walls clench around his digit.

“You’re already so wet,” he says, and then he’s kissing you again, his tongue lapping at yours.

You moan in his mouth, hands lightly scratching his back as he adds a second finger. You can hear squelching sounds between your legs, and you’d be embarrassed if it didn’t feel so good that you can’t form a single coherent thought.

“Fuck,” you curse, and Jungkook chuckles, pecking your cheek.

“You take my fingers so well, peach,” he praises. “Will you take my cock just as well?”

You moan again, and you nod your head yes. “Yeah. Please.”

He smirks, pulling his fingers out of you. You both eye them - they’re covered in your juices, and it’s decadent, sinful.

Even more so when Jungkook puts them in his mouth to clean them thoroughly, drinking in your juices.

“So sweet,” he whispers after, and then he shifts, straightening between your legs so that he can align his dick with your entrance, your panties still pushed to the side. He meets your gaze, his own dark with lust. “How do you want me tonight?” he asks, rubbing his dick on you slowly.

“Just fuck me, but come near,” you say, pulling on one of his wrists so that he leans over you again.

He smiles, infinitely soft despite what you’re doing, and then he pushes in, ever so slowly. Inch after inch, Jungkook spears you with his dick until he bottoms out. He stills there, and you wrap your legs around his dainty waist to keep him as close as possible. He obliges, stealing a deep kiss on your lips, and he slowly pulls out before slamming to the hilt again, and you moan in his mouth.

The rhythm he establishes is slow and steady. Deep, in a way that makes you see stars in his gaze. Or maybe that’s just the way the light reflects in his eyes, or the emotions still swirling in the depths of him. You don’t know. All that you know is that you’re falling and falling, with no chance to ever stop now.

You’ve crossed too many lines to ever be able to stop. So you’ll enjoy it while it lasts. Chase all the cars around his head until you can’t anymore, until the last nail is in the coffin and you have to say goodbye to this, to him.

But for now, you enjoy. And you enjoy as best as you can, eyes fluttering shut as he slightly picks up the pace, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You hold him close, arms and legs tight around him, and you moan as he makes love to you.

At least that’s what this feels like. And you wouldn’t want it any other way. You just want the warm proximity of his body on yours, of his lips kissing your mouth. Jungkook gives you all, and you hope he knows you’re giving all to him in return.

Everything. You’ll give him everything until you have nothing left to give, if he so takes it.

“Fuck, peach,” he whispers. He slows down his rhythm, meets your gaze. “I’m really in love with this pussy of yours.”

You know why he says it that way. Know exactly what he truly means but can’t say, and you take that too, keep it locked up in a safe corner of your heart.

“I know,” you whisper, cupping his cheek, and he rests his forehead on yours again.

“I’ll fuck you like this every day,” he says, and it sounds like a promise.

A promise that maybe you’ll make it past your brother’s return.

“Please do,” you beg, and then you’re kissing again, and he’s pounding into you harder, seeking completion for the both of you.

You come before him. Nails digging in his back while you arch yours, walls pulsing around him. That’s what sends him over the edge, and Jungkook climaxes, his head falling in the crook of your neck as he comes and comes.

He’d paint you white if it wasn’t for the condom, and the thought makes you grind your hips instinctively. He kisses your neck in retaliation, and you moan softly, tilting your head to give him better access.

When you’ve come down from the high, you glance towards the coffee table and your abandoned game of Ticket to Ride. The sight makes you laugh, and you press a soft kiss on the mole on Jungkook’s neck as he asks, “What’s got you laughing?”

“We never finished the game,” you remind him.

He lifts his head just enough to look at the coffee table. “Damn,” he lets out. “I totally forgot about that.”

You can’t blame him. When you’re together, you forget about everything, too - he becomes the center of your universe. And you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Should we finish it?” you ask.

He meets your gaze, pecks your forehead once. “Shower first?”

You can’t say no to those big doe eyes, so you follow him to the bathroom.

And while he washes your back, you hear the clock ticking, your expiration date looming closer with every second that passes.

Saturday, April 13th

The movie theatre is packed.

You’re waiting in line for popcorn with Nabi, Namjoon and Ria, while Seokjin, Hoseok and Yoongi go to the bathroom. The hall of the movie theatre is loud, and you’ve been standing in silence with your friends as you wait for your turn, though you’ve been eyeing the menu as you’re trying to decide what to order.

You settle on a medium-sized bag of popcorn to share with Yoongi, and Namjoon and Ria grab different candies and chocolate bars for themselves and your other friends. You’re walking towards your movie room when you notice an all-too recognizable tattooed boy, who stands taller than the group that surrounds him.

His eyes light up when he sees you, and he grins broadly as he waves at you.

Four pairs of eyes turn to look at you - Jimin, Sera, Lisa and Eunwoo - and you smile at them, though your gaze quickly shifts back to Jungkook.

You’d told him you were coming to the movies with your friends before going out for drinks. You’re not surprised he’s decided to pull up - despite everything you’ve told him, he’s jealous of your friendship with Yoongi. Which you reckon is funny - Yoongi is trying to fix things with Hoseok, and all you’ve been doing is offer help to him when he needs it.

You don’t think the relationship is fixable, but you haven’t had the strength to break it to Yoongi yet. Not when they had a moment last week, and he’s been far too happy about it since then.

You walk over to where Jungkook’s standing, your friends in tow. It’s hard to stop yourself from hugging him, but you manage to do it, instead greeting everyone and smiling at Jimin as he asks what movie you’re going to see.

“Dune 2,” you reply.

Jimin snorts, saying, “Thought so.”

It sounds ominous, and you slightly furrow your brows, glancing towards Jungkook. He only shrugs his shoulders as he purses his lips.

And that’s how you end up mixing friend groups for the movie. You’re not surprised when Jungkook manages to sit on your left - he’s clearly been scheming for this all along. Yoongi, entirely oblivious, sits on your right.

“I haven’t even seen the first movie,” Yoongi says as he leans towards you. He quickly glances further down the row, where Hoseok sat with Namjoon and Nabi.

Jungkook mirrors Yoongi, and he’s so close you catch a whiff of the detergent he uses to wash his clothes. “It was practically a walking simulator in the desert. Not much to miss.”

Yoongi nods, sitting back in his seat. He offers you a knowing look, and then turns towards Seokjin and Ria on his other side, joining whatever conversation they’re having. You purse your lips, before sliding your gaze back to Jungkook.

“What are you doing here?” you ask through gritted teeth.

“My friends wanted to see the movie,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Thought we could go at the same time.”

You look up to the ceiling, though a smile is playing at the corners of your lips. “What a coincidence.”

He grins. “What a coincidence indeed.”

It makes you chuckle, and before you can say anything else, the light of the movie theatre dims, leaving you in only the glow of the screen as it comes to life.

You eat your popcorn as many movie trailers pass on the screen, Yoongi taking some once in a while. The movie starts when you’re halfway done with the bag, and soon you’re lost in the scenes, too focused to eat.

That’s when Jungkook strikes, stealing a handful of popcorn from your bag.

“Hey!” you whisper-shout, and he winks at you as he eats a mouthful of the snack.

“What?” he whispers back once he’s swallowed.

“That’s mine.”

He flicks your nose, leaning closer to say directly in your ear, “What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is yours, peach.”

You narrow your gaze. “You haven’t even bought any snacks.”

He shrugs. “I knew I’d steal yours.”

You roll your eyes, slightly shaking your head as you look back towards the screen, and he chuckles softly. Scenes flash in front of your eyes, and you get lost in the action. It might be an hour later, or just a few minutes, when Jungkook pokes your knee, attracting your attention.

You glance at him, but he’s focusing on the screen, his skin looking honey-like in the light. You furrow your brows in question, but when he doesn’t say anything, you shrug, looking back at the screen.

He does it again thirty seconds later, and this time he’s stifling a laugh when you glance at him.

“What do you want?” you whisper as you lean closer to him.

“You,” he replies simply, his eyes darkening as he meets your gaze.

You gulp. “We’re in the middle of a movie theatre with all of our friends.”

“I know,” he says, shrugging. “I’ve just been thinking of how you feel around my…”

You punch his shoulder before he can finish his sentence, and Lisa throws you a look that makes you sit back in your seat, folding your arms on your chest.

“Just focus on the movie, Kook,” you mumble.

He chuckles again, but before he can say anything else, Lisa nudges him. He glances at her, leaning closer when she whispers something you can’t quite hear.

His whole demeanour changes after that, and he sits back in his chair, a slight pout on his lips. Gone is the playfulness, but you think it’s safer that way. He’s way too obvious when you’re in public, and though Taehyung still hasn’t said a thing, you know it’s bound to explode in your face soon.

Jungkook is leaving for Paris in just a few weeks after all.

It douses you, and you finish watching the movie with a lump in your throat, one that doesn’t disappear even when you’re at the bar later, your friend group mixing with Jungkook’s far too easily. Of course, Jungkook notices, and he sits next to you, nudging you.

You glance at him, noticing the concern in his eyes.

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“No,” you lie, but he sees through it immediately.

“Is it your cramps?”

You’re on your period. Obviously, he knows, and he’s been sweet about it, buying you snacks and putting his hands, always warm, on your lower stomach while you cuddle.

You purse your lips, shaking your head. The concern doesn’t disappear from his features though, and you feel bad. Enough so that you say, “I’m just…”

You trail off as Lisa appears, sitting on the other side of Jungkook with two beers in hand. She gives one to Jungkook, who thanks her quickly before setting his gaze on you again. Yet she lingers, and you find yourself unable to speak, shrugging your shoulders.

“If there’s anything, just let me know,” Jungkook says, and he offers you a small smile that does nothing to tame the worry in his gaze. “I don’t mind heading home earlier.”

You nod once, and the conversation dies as Hoseok appears on the other side of the table, cheeks red with the shots he’s already downed.

“Not drinking tonight?” he asks you.

You shrug. “Not really in the mood.”

Hoseok narrows his gaze in his suspicion. “I’ve never seen you not in the mood to drink.”

You chuckle. “Well, now you have.”

You’re relieved when he lets it go, especially as you sensed Jungkook tensing by your side, an indication that he was going to intervene if Hoseok didn’t drop it. There’s a short silence, during which you notice Hoseok looking at Yoongi where he’s drinking with Namjoon and Seokjin, a few tables over.

You glance at Jungkook, motioning towards Hoseok. Jungkook frowns, not understanding, and you quickly pull out your phone to text him.

[10:37 pm] You: i want to talk to hobi about yoongi but not in front of you guys

Jungkook pulls out his phone to read your message. He doesn’t reply, yet he nods, turning towards Lisa. “Where are Sera and Jimin?”

“Ordering something at the bar,” Lisa replies, entirely unaware. “Why?”

“Want shots?”

Lisa beams under Jungkook’s gaze, and you taste bile in your mouth as they get up and walk away together, Jungkook shooting you a quick glance over his shoulder.

You can complain all you want about Jungkook being jealous of Yoongi, but you’re just as jealous of Lisa after all.

“What’s up with you and Yoongi?” you ask when they’re out of earshot, gaining Hoseok’s attention.

“Man…” he trails off. “I don’t know. I don’t know how I feel.”

“Is that why you’ve decided to switch universities?”

You’ve been asking yourself that question for weeks, but Hoseok has been good at avoiding you, clearly realizing that you’ve grown closer to Yoongi.

Hoseok widens his gaze, and the blush on his cheeks deepens. “No? I said it’s because I’m following a professor.”

“What professor?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow.

Hoseok shrugs, his eyes dropping to a knot in the wood of the table. “Why do you care?”

“You’re my friend,” you remind him. “No matter the history that we have. I’d be sad to see you go.”

He chuckles, and it’s a lot more bitter than you ever expected to hear him. “Listen, I don’t really want to be questioned. Is Yoongi the one that asked you to ask me this?”

“No,” you say. “Not at all. I’m just worried about you.”

“About me?” he repeats. “I’m all good, Y/n.”

He doesn’t sound convincing at all, so you say, “Just make sure you don’t do something you’ll regret.”

“I already did,” he admits, and his glance towards Yoongi is far too telling. “I’m not into him like that. I don’t even know if I’m into men like that.”

“Have you told him?”

He shrugs. “Here and there. I think he knows.”

You think so too, as Yoongi had mentioned it when you’d studied together a few weeks ago.

“Just make sure you’re honest with him, and honest with yourself,” you say after a few beats of silence.

Hoseok purses his lips, nodding once. “Will do.”

The air turns awkward as Hoseok just keeps on staring at the knot in the wood. You feel bad - you used to be a lot closer to him, and in just a few weeks, your relationship shifted. But you think it might be for the better - you can’t imagine how Jungkook would feel if you were close to someone you used to sleep with, considering he’s jealous of a friend you’ve never done anything with.

Not that that would stop you from being friends with someone. Especially not when April 29th is coming soon, and with it, your situationship - you’re not sure you can call it a relationship - will end.

“Where are you moving?” you ask.

“San Diego,” he replies quickly, and a shy smile appears on his lips, like the thought excites him. “I can’t wait to not have to deal with winter anymore.”

“I can imagine,” you say, chuckling. “Though winter wasn’t too bad this year.”

“If there was an inch of snow then it was bad.” He says it wisely, and this time you laugh as he breaks into a smile.

The conversation is easier after that. Still heavy, because you both know the friendship likely won’t survive the distance, but you still manage to have fun as you speak about classes, about life, and about what he’ll do once he’s in California. Half an hour passes like that, and then you move to the bar, agreeing to grab a single drink.

You settle on an Amaretto Sour, and Ria and Nabi join you at the bar. You end up doing Lychee bombs with them, and then you follow them all back to the table where the rest of your friends are, along with Jimin, Sera and Jungkook.

You’re relieved to see Lisa isn’t there. Not that she’s not nice. She always is, despite her obvious attraction towards Jungkook. And though she clearly senses that something’s happening between you and Jungkook, she’s never said anything, and you respect her for it.

You sit between Nabi and Ria, and Nabi quickly melts against Namjoon next to her. You snort at the sight, turning to say it to Ria, who seems to be in a staring contest with Seokjin across the table.

You don’t really know what’s happening between the two. Ria mentioned that she’s not interested in him, saying he’s just gotten out of a relatively long relationship, and you’re not close enough to Seokjin to know his opinion.

You’re just observant, and you know just how much the air fills with electricity when these two are concerned. Lightning is bound to strike at some point, and you just hope it does so without hurting anyone.

You wonder, is that how the people around you perceive you and Jungkook?

The evening unfolds, calmer than your usual outings - you find yourself going home just a little after midnight. Jungkook’s with you, and he unlocks the door as you slowly walk up the stairs, shooting you a glance.

“You sure everything’s okay?” he asks as you finally reach the top.

You purse your lips, meeting his gaze. The streetlight down the stairs reflects in his gaze, and he looks angelic, innocent like this.

“Yeah, I’m just…” you trail off. “You’re leaving soon.”

His features soften, and he opens the door for you to walk in, following behind you. “I know,” he says once he’s shut the door.

You turn the lights on, meeting his gaze. Unable to help yourself, you cup his cheek, thumb swiping at his skin. “Want to share a bed tonight?” you ask.

As if you haven’t been sharing a bed for weeks already.

“Yes, of course,” he immediately agrees, and he covers your hand with his own, tugging you closer. “If you kiss me first.”

That makes you smile, like only he knows to do, and you tiptoe, pressing your lips on his in a featherlike peck.

“That doesn’t count,” he complains, lips jutting out in a small pout.

“Then kiss me,” you challenge. “Kiss me stupid.”

You don’t need to ask twice - he closes the distance between your mouths, lips ravaging yours, and you lose your hands in his hair.

Later, after you’ve sucked his dick in the shower - you don’t like having sex on your period, but you still wanted to make him feel good - you lie down in your bed, the fairy lights making the atmosphere far gentler than it should be.

It’s treacherous, and you lie with your head on Jungkook’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Chasing Cars is playing on his speaker, and you hold him tighter, putting all of your love in the act. He kisses the top of your head, mouth lingering against you.

“I’m happy you came tonight,” you admit. Indeed, despite the anxiety of Taehyung learning, you like hanging out with Jungkook. Like spending as much time as possible with him right now - the clock is ticking after all, and the sound resembles that of a bomb about to go off.

“Me too,” he whispers.

You lift your head, meeting his gaze. “Have you talked to Taehyung recently?”

The question takes him aback, and his eyebrows knit together. “I speak to him almost every day, why?”

Because you’ve been avoiding your brother like the plague. Because you know the second you speak to Taehyung, you’ll blurt out the truth, and you’re not ready to face his reaction yet.

You doubt you’ll ever be ready.

“How is he and the girl doing?” you ask. “Ariane?”

“Good,” Jungkook answers. “They’re pretty much official now.”

Your lips stretch in a thin line, and you rest your head on his chest again.

You don’t want him to see the jealousy in your gaze.

“Good for him.” It sounds just as flat as you feel - like a tire pierced with a nail, emptied of all air.

Jungkook must feel it too, because his grip around you tightens, like he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. As if it’d save you from the looming heartbreak.

“We’ll figure it out,” Jungkook whispers a while later, when you thought he was asleep.

You hope he doesn’t take your silence personal - you just don’t think you can figure it out.

Taehyung would never let it happen. So silence is what you offer Jungkook, and you wonder if the beat his heart skips is an indication that he’s breaking, much like you are breaking too.

Sunday, April 28th

Time goes by fast. Sometimes, you think it’s even faster when you’re trying to hold on to something - like sand slipping through the fingers of a fist held tight, time has been slipping away.

The end is near.

You’re sitting on Jungkook’s bed, watching him as he packs his suitcase. He’s been lazy, stopping often so that he can kiss you, hold you. He’s been clingy lately, much like you’ve been.

Like you’ve been trying to fit a whole relationship in just a few weeks.

Jungkook lifts his head from his sock drawer, meeting your gaze. He smiles, but there’s sadness behind his pupils, lurking in the depths of his eyes. You want to take it away, but all you manage to do is smile a weak smile.

“I wonder if they’ll want to go to the Catacombs,” Jungkook says.

He’s been saying random stuff once in a while as he packs, grasping for a conversation you haven’t been able to join in. But you try, you always try, and you know he’s not mad at you for it.

Jungkook could never be mad at you.

It’s strange how he changed in the last four months. You think back on the Incident, that dreaded Incident you had believed to be the most embarrassing thing in your life. Today, you know it wasn’t. It was the start of something great, something you wish never had an expiration date.

But nothing gold can stay, or so they say.

“I bet they’re creepy,” you answer. “Not sure I’d go if I were you.”

“I assume you’re the kind of person who gets scared while watching horror movies too, huh?” Jungkook teases, and he walks towards you, hands full of socks.

He drops them in the suitcase at your feet as you slightly shake your head, a teasing smirk growing on your lips. You doubt it meets your eyes, but it’s the best you can do.

“Says you, who prefers watching romance over action,” you tease.

Indeed, the first few times you’ve watched movies together, he’s suggested going for action first. But he never once appeared disappointed when you chose a romance movie, instead beaming at you as he nodded enthusiastically. It was adorable, endearing, like everything is when it comes to Jungkook.

You can hardly believe he used to sleep around, used to be the most renowned fuckboy in your college. Nowadays, Jungkook appears more like a hopeless romantic, and it’s easy to figure out why.

As someone who never received love from his family, he’s been craving it his whole life. At least you think so, and you’ve been giving it to him, pouring it to him, by actions rather than words.

“Nothing beats romance,” he declares, and you chuckle as he plops down on the bed next to you.

You turn your head towards him as he lies down, one hand on his chest.

“Is that why you cry in every movie?”

He frowns, a pout adorning his lips. “I don’t.”

You cock an eyebrow, because obviously he does, and you both burst out laughing at the same time.

No matter how dreaded the circumstances are, the chemistry between you and Jeon Jungkook is undeniable. And as you look at him, you wonder if there’s a universe out there where you’re allowed to be with him. Where older brothers aren’t a thing, and where you get to call him yours, to scream it from the rooftops.

It douses your enthusiasm, and your smile falls as you look away.

Jungkook sits up, cupping your cheek to force you to look at him again. He scans your features for a few seconds, and you stare at his eyebrow piercing, as if that will keep you from crumbling.

“You know…” he lets out. He sucks on his lower lip piercings, pulling at them so hard you think it has to hurt. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Yeah?”

He nods. “I really want to make us work.”

His simple sentence empties everything in your head, in your soul, until there’s just him left.

“But how?”

“I’ll speak to Taehyung,” he says, for what has to be the thousandth time. Indeed, you’ve had that conversation before, but you never once agreed. “I’ll speak to him in Paris, and then when I come back this doesn’t have to be over.”

“This?” you repeat.

“Us.”

You sigh, and you look between his eyes. Hope lights his gaze, and you think there has to be a museum out there to exhibit such beauty.

Jungkook is breathtaking in every way that matters.

“Tae will kill you,” you say, and the hope slowly withers like flowers in the fall. “Try to have a nice trip instead.”

“Then we can talk to him when I come back,” Jungkook suggests. “Together. I can use you as a human shield if he tries to kill me.”

You snort, and the hope reignites in his gaze. “What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then he’ll be mad,” Jungkook simply states. “I don’t want to lose you, peach.”

Fuck. You’re in love, and you’re in love deep.

“You might lose his friendship,” you say, but your resolve is melting away far quicker than you expected. Because he’s offering you a silver lining, a life vest in the storm that’s been raging inside your head for weeks.

“I honestly don’t care,” Jungkook says, but you see it in his eyes: he cares, and he’d be hurt. “I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

You highly doubt so but… what if he does? What if he forgives Jungkook, forgives you?

Then you wouldn’t need to travel to another universe. You’d have this one, and you’d have Jungkook.

Maybe you should try.

“Are you sure?” you ask, voice smaller than the atoms holding your body together.

He nods vehemently. “I am. 100%. I don’t want to lose you when we’ve barely just started.”

“Kook…”

He kisses you then, as if he needs to show you with action instead of words. You end up tangled in his bed, your bodies connected on a level deeper than the physical, yet you wouldn’t dare say it. And he doesn’t either, not even when you inevitably go to bed later that evening.

You’re nestled in his embrace, a few minutes after he’s turned his LED lights off, when you say, “Kook?”

“Mmh?”

“Don’t talk to Tae in Paris,” you say. “We’ll wait for you to come back. And we’ll talk to him together.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Okay. If that’s your wish, then I can do it.” He’d said so earlier after all.

You nod. “I think it’s better if it comes from us both instead of just you.”

“Makes sense.” Jungkook kisses your forehead, and a soft smile spreads on your lips. “And peach?”

“Yeah?” you murmur.

“If you miss me too much, feel free to sleep in my bed and wear my clothes, okay?”

“Okay.”

He kisses your forehead again, and despite the words exchanged, you fear it might mean goodbye.

Prev | Chapter 10.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

no but why did I forget how sad this chapter was? Help, they are so afraid to lose each other :') anywayyys what did you guys think about this chapter? Did you like it?? Please let me know:)

#chasing cars ch 10 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #btswritersclub #chasing cars #chasing cars series

633 notes · View notes

cressidagrey · 5 months ago

Text

Looked to the Sky - Chapter 17

Summary:

Eira Archeron was neither a Valkyrie, nor a Seer, nor the High Lady of the Night Court. She was, however, Azriel‘s mate with her own mysterious, untrained powers.

Also known as: Azriel tries to court his mate the human way.

Warnings:

THIS IS THE LIGHTNING IN A BOTTLE SEQUEL! SO READ THAT FIRST IF YOU WANNA READ THIS ONE OTHERWISE THIS MAKES NO SENSE!

Low Self Esteem, Discussion of Sex, some very "human" ideas of sexuality, Definitely NSFW and without @k-godling this would have never happened.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

"Where is Eira?" Azriel asked, well, half demanded.

His mate was nowhere to be seen. Usually, she would be one of the first that appeared at family dinners, already there before Azriel even arrived. And maybe a part of him was missing the way she would smile at him in greeting, the way she blushed.

"I don't think she'll want to have dinner with us tonight," Feyre said delicately, exchanging a look with Nesta. "But if you wanted to bring her dinner to her room, then that's fine. Just if she asks you to leave...it's not about you. She just had a...trying day."

A trying day? A bad day? If she had a bad day, she was supposed to tell him. That was what that bargain was all about. And if she didn't listen to that bargain, the consequences could be...dire.

Azriel felt a pang of worry in his stomach at Feyre's words, and he felt his shadows twist and turn in worry. What in the world had happened that made Eira have a trying day?

Lady Death asked us to leave them after she had us fetch a book for her, his shadows reported.

What...kind of book? he asked, and he didn't miss the hint of unease that settled over his shadows.

You should ask our mate that, the shadows sidestepped.

What aren't you telling me? Azriel demanded silently, fixing the shadows with a stern glare, refusing to take the non-answer.

They ignored him blithely.

So instead, he fixed two plates and then went stomping up the stairs. If she had a bad day and she hadn't bothered to tell him, he was going to be...Azriel was going to have a talk with her. It was the one thing he'd asked of her, the one thing he'd tried to hammer into her, that she was supposed to tell him when she was upset.

Azriel marched up the stairs two at a time, all but stomping down the hallway, his mood only darkening with every step. By the Mother, let her have a good reason for this. A very, very good reason...

He stopped in front of Eira's door, balancing the two plates in one hand, and he took a long moment to try and calm his expression. He knew all too well that the expression on his face was probably one that could scare most people shitless, and he didn’t actually want to scare Eira. He never wanted to scare his mate.

"Eira," he called out, his voice firm, commanding. "Can I please come in?"

It took so long for a response to come that he was almost tempted to kick the door in, but after another long moment, her soft, hesitant voice finally called out.

"Y-yes, you can come in..."

He breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of her voice, and for a moment, he was surprised by just how relieved he was that she seemed to be all right.

The worry that had coiled so tightly within him since Feyre informed him that Eira would not be dining with them lessened. He pushed the door open and stepped into the room, his eyes immediately finding her small form on the bed.

Something in him clenched at the sight, and his chest tightened as his eyes quickly raked over her, looking for injuries or signs of pain. Reddened eyes, pale skin...she had pulled the sleeves of the woollen dress she wore over her hands like she wanted to keep them warm.

Azriel felt his heart lurch in his chest at the exhausted look on her face, her eyes red and weary, skin pale.

His stomach twisted. By the Mother, what in the world happened to her...?

"I brought you dinner," he said simply. "Feyre said you probably weren't up to braving the family dinner this week."

"Oh...right. Yes, of course," Another hint of that exhausted note in her voice, and the sound of it made a pang of pain shoot through his chest.

"I-" she started, but then she faltered, and she suddenly refused to meet his gaze.

"What happened?" He asked her, as he handed her the plate. What had happened that had resulted in Eira...behaving like this?

Eira took the plate from him, her hands shaking almost imperceptively, her bottom lip caught between her teeth again.

"Nothing," she mumbled. "I just had a....trying day..." She didn't look nearly as convincing as she tried to be, though, and the hint of exhaustion and...mortification in her voice told him that she was lying.

A pang of hurt flared through him at her words, twisting and coiling in his gut.

She was lying to him. She'd had a bad day, a very bad one, that much was clear to see, and yet, she was lying, and she wasn't planning on telling him about this.

"You are lying," he stated calmly, and his voice was so low, it was almost a growl. "And quite bad at it, if I might be so bold to say..."

Her eyes shot up to his, guilt flaring on her face at his words, and for a moment, she just stared at him, her eyes wide.

"I'm...I'm not lying," she protested weakly, but Azriel was not in the mood for excuses. He was in the exact opposite of a mood to listen to excuses. This wasn't helped by the fact that it was getting cold outside and that meant that his hands and the joints were aching, leaving him on a shorter tether than usual.

"Eira," he said, and the word came out in a demanding, steely note. "Don't lie to me. We have a bargain. To tell each other when we have a bad day."

"It really wasn't a bad day!" she hurried to assure him, "I swear!"

Azriel did not believe a word she said. The exhaustion on her face was obvious for a reason, and he was certain that if he tried to take her by the shoulders, her body would be trembling.

"It was a bad day," he said, his voice coldly calm, trying to control his anger. "Don't deny it. If there was nothing that was going on, then why do you look like you haven't slept in a week?"

Eira opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again, and once more, the guilt on her face looked like something she'd like to disappear into.

"It...it was just hard, that's all," she mumbled, dropping her focus back down to the plate of food in her lap. "I had a...talk with Feyre and Nesta and it wasn't...it...was hard."

"A talk," Azriel echoed, and his stomach dropped. What in the world would a talk with Feyre and Nesta make her look like that? So exhausted and...ashamed?

Eira nodded, and once more, that hint of guilty shame flashed over her face. And suddenly, his mind supplied the memory of what Feyre had said...about a book that they'd 'given' her.

What in the world was in this book? What kind of book could make her look like that? A cold, dark anger flared within him. By the Mother, what did they make her read to look like that?

"What kind of book did they make you...read?" he ground out, his voice hard and demanding, the cold anger coiling within him like a snake.

Eira's hands suddenly trembled, so violently it was a surprise that she did not drop the plate, food and all, on the floor.

"Nothing bad," she protested instantly, but as she spoke, the shame and guilt on her face flared even worse, until her cheeks were a deep, tomato red. "It was just a...book..."

"What kind of book?" he repeated again, not missing the way her voice shook on her words.

She was not going to get away with not answering him. Something had happened to her, and he had every intent to find out what. She took a breath, and he saw her swallow hard like her throat had suddenly gone dry.

"It was...it was a book...of...images. And..." her voice got even smaller, and that same, damnable, guilty shame was on her face again. "And explanations..."

Images, his mind supplied, and his mind was once more filled with the sight of what could be in a book of images...pictures and explanations of… "Of what?"

"It was...it..." Eira's voice came out in a quiet, strangled whimper, and she suddenly seemed incapable of looking at him. Her face flushed beet red.

"It was pictures of...of...male...anatomy," she mumbled, words so small and quiet, it was a wonder he caught it.

His mind went completely blank for a moment.

Male...anatomy?

All the anger drained from him.

"And what...happens...between a...wife and a husband," Eira whispered.

He couldn't help it. A surprised, relieved laugh spilt out of him at that. That was what she was so worked up over. She'd read a damn book, not about anything bad, but about sex.

"That's what have you looking like you haven't slept in a week?" he inquired, and he couldn't help the hint of humour in his words. "A book about sex?" he repeated, his anger and worry evaporating. "That's what have you looking like death warmed over?"

Confusion suddenly crept into her expression, the guilty shame replaced by surprise as her eyes finally met his.

"You're not...upset?" she asked bewilderment in her voice.

He couldn't help but bark out another surprised laugh at her words.

"Why would I be upset?" he inquired, "Why in the world did you think I'd be upset?"

"I..." Eira's voice was small, and her expression confused like she didn't understand...

"Because it's not proper for a wife to...I just...it feels wrong.." she finally mumbled, and her voice was so embarrassed, it was all he could do not to scoop her into his arms and kiss her on the forehead.

Gods, she was the most innocent creature in Prythian, wasn’t she?

He had had his own…thoughts had thought that she was a virgin, that there probably hadn’t been anybody in her past…at least she had never mentioned anybody and the way she reacted to his kisses and touches…it was a dead giveaway. He hadn’t known how to broach the subject though, without making Eira think that he demanded more from her, and that was the last thing he had wanted.

He was more than ready to give her all the time in the world, to wait until she was comfortable and felt ready to share a bed with him.

But he hadn’t…the fact that clearly she was so innocent that the prospect of pictures and explanations of sex were had her looking as if she hadn't slept in a week…that was another matter entirely.

"There's nothing wrong with reading about it," he assured her fiercely. "It's not improper."

"It's not...?" the confusion on her face grew, and Azriel felt a pang of pity for her naivety.

"It's not," he said evenly. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with knowing or learning about the...anatomy of a male…or about what happens during sex," he assured her gently, trying to soothe any worry or guilt she had. It was like soothing a nervous rabbit.

"God, sweetheart, there would not even be anything wrong with it, if you would have taken a lover before," Azriel said with a sigh. "I would have never expected you to be a virgin."

Eira's eyes widened at that, a look of surprised confusion flashing over her face, and her voice was barely more than a whisper as she responded.

"You wouldn't?"

"No. No, I would not." He assured her with a smile, the urge to hold her growing stronger and stronger by the second. "There is nothing wrong with experiencing pleasure. And if you would have found someone before, as a human, that would have made you feel good, I would have respected that."

Her eyes went even wider at that, and her voice was more than a whisper this time. "You...would have...?" The bewilderment on her face was...stark, and he suddenly got the feeling that he'd have to correct her misconceptions and innocence in many different things…

"I would not have cared," he promised her fiercely, as he sat across from her, dinner plates forgotten on her bedside table. "So I take that Nesta and Feyre talked to you...about how sex works?” he asked her. Her face was bright red and she looked everywhere but at him. “Do you have any questions for me?" He asked her gently. Was there anything that Eira wanted to talk about to him? Anything at all that…

The question immediately made Eira's face turn crimson, but he saw that note of uncertainty in her eyes, the flicker of doubt that told him there were questions, things that she wanted to know, but was clearly too embarrassed to voice.

"You can ask me anything you want, sweetheart," he assured her gently, his voice soft as a whisper. "I won’t get angry, I swear." He hated that he needed to promise her that, but something eased inside her at that promise, and blue-grey eyes lifted to look at him.

"A-Anything?" Eira's voice was little more than a breath, her eyes so wide, it was a wonder that they didn't pop out of their sockets.

A smile stretched across Azriel's face at her words. "Anything," he assured her. "Anything you want, sweetheart. Ask me anything. I'll answer."

Eira took a breath, her throat working as she swallowed, and that guilty note of shame and worry crept back into her features. "It...it feels...wrong to ask," she finally mumbled, her voice small and almost ashamed.

A pang of pity flared through Azriel, and it took every ounce of will within him not to cross the distance between them and pull her into his arms.

"There is nothing wrong with asking," he promised her gently. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with being curious and wanting to know. Please ask, Sweetheart. We are going to get married. I want you to be able to ask me anything." Especially about this. Especially when alone the idea of sex seemed to fucking terrify her…

Eira let out a soft, shuddering breath at his words and another, guilty, glance flared in her eyes, but then she swallowed hard.

"I...I need to know," she whispered. "I...need to know if...it's going to hurt the first time....when we..."

Oh by the godforsaken cauldron...

"Sweetheart," he said gently, his voice soft and almost soothing, gently taking one trembling hand in his. So this was what this was about.

"It is different for everyone," he said gently, his thumbs stroking the back of her hands. "Some feel some pain, others discomfort, and some don't feel pain at all… But I promise that I will do everything in my power to make it as pain-free and comfortable as possible for you, Eira."

"A-And...it won't be...bad for you?" The insecurity in her voice clawed at his heart. She was so anxious, so worried and embarrassed, and she had no reason to be. He shifted closer, letting go of her hands and wrapping his arms around her, so he could pull her into his lap as gently as he could, cradling her in his embrace.

"Never," he whispered, pulling her flush against his chest, feeling her trembling body press against his. "It won't be bad for me, and it won't be bad for you. I promise you. I swear on my life that I will only ever try to make you feel good, Sweetheart. " he murmured into her curls.

A shuddering breath escaped Eira's lips at his words, and he felt her hands press against his chest as if to pull him closer.

They sat like that for a moment, her in his lap, her head resting against his chest, listening to the pounding of his heart. And then Eira's voice came again, quiet and timid.

"And...I won't be...bad at it....will I...?"

She was so worried that she would be a disappointment, that she would be bad at this… Inexperienced, yes, but bad? "Oh sweetheart," he whispered, gently, firmly pulling her even closer, his hand coming up to gently run his fingers through her curls. "You will not be bad," he assured her, his words firm. "You'll be amazing."

"B-But I don't know...how-"

"Doesn't matter," Azriel said, gently stroking her hair. "You are perfect as you are, and there is nothing wrong with inexperience." His other hand gently wrapped itself around her waist, his fingers flexing, pressing her closer against him, as if by his touch, he could soothe all of her worries away.

"You'll be fine," he said again, his voice soft, almost crooning. "You have nothing to worry about. We will just...take it slow. We have all the time in the world. We don’t need to do everything in one night. No need to be worried about being wrong, or about not being good enough. You are perfect as you are, sweetheart, and there is nothing for you to be embarrassed or worried about."

Eira let out a shuddering sigh, her body finally relaxing in his embrace. She still felt nervous, he could tell, by the way her body trembled slightly underneath his touch, but he could sense that his words were working to soothe her anxiousness.

"I promise," he assured her again. "I promise not to do anything you don't want me to do,” he promised her fiercely.

He gently tilted her head back, until he was looking straight into those big, grey eyes of her, and by the stars above, he wanted to kiss her right then and there.

“But if you want…” he trailed off slightly. "Have you ever...Have you ever touched yourself?" he asked her gently.

Eira's cheeks instantly went crimson again, and he felt her tremble underneath his touch once more.

"N-No," she mumbled back at him, embarrassment in her voice, her eyes not meeting his gaze. "I...I've never...why would..."

He felt a pang of surprise and pity at her words, at how flustered she got just at the idea.

“You don’t need me for that,” he told her softly. “If you want to…you can try to touch yourself. And Ii you do, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, sweetheart." He felt the shiver run through her body at his words, and he saw the flicker of embarrassment once more in her eyes as she considered his words.

Her voice came out in a whimper, timid and quiet and so damn innocent as she answered.

"Do you…touch yourself?" she asked him, her voice trembling.

“I do,” he answered, swallowing. “I certainly do.” He did. Granted, these days, every time he touched himself, all he could think about was her. Eira. Her lips, the swell of her breasts…the way she looked at him and blushed…Numerous fantasies in his head involved her…Involved her in every fucking way he could get away with…

“What… What do you think about it?” she asked him, her voice hesitant.

“You, sweetheart. I think about you,” Azriel answered, quietly, his fingers still running through her hair.

Her trembling intensified, and for just a moment her scent seemingly went haywire.

"But...how?"

"There's no real right or wrong way, Eira," he assured her gently, his voice soft. "When you are alone...touch yourself anywhere on your body, anywhere that feels good. Your breasts…between your legs... And when you find...when you find your pleasure...you'll continue with that...until..."

Her cheeks blazed even redder at his words, and her voice was but a soft gasp as she looked up at him.

"Until...what...?" she asked, and he saw the flash of nervousness and curiosity in her eyes.

"Until you reach your release," he said softly.

***

Quite frankly…she was a mess about it.

Her heart was racing, her hands were clammy…and when she recounted some of the things that her sisters had told her…it was making her…she didn’t even have a word for it.

She didn’t.

They had pushed and prodded and she had hated it, twisting in her skin, but there had been a part of her that…that had realised that they did this because they wanted to help her. Even when that involved making her mortified and her face the colour of a ripe tomato.

Even then.

And she was grateful, she was…or maybe she knew that she would be grateful for it one day.

Her talk with Azriel…well, that had been something else entirely.

He thought about her. He thought about her when he touched himself…when he found his own pleasure. he thought about her.

She wished she knew about what exactly he was thinking. Was it the chaste kisses they shared? The few times, he pressed his tongue into her mouth. And how that made her whole body covered in goosebumps?

Was it that?

And she wanted…she wanted to try. She was…curious.

Eira wanted to try this, to touch herself.

But… she felt so...ashamed by it as if it were wrong. Even when Azriel had told her that it wasn’t wrong, that he didn’t mind if she found pleasure in herself, and...and Gods, she wanted it, she wanted to know how it felt...

Her room was dark, just a few fae lights blooming. She took a few slow steps into her room, towards her bed, her heart still hammering in her chest.

It was still hard to believe that he had actually just…that he hadn’t seemed to care. Had even seemed to approve of the idea of her touching herself…or her learning what exactly it meant to…have sex. That he wanted her to find pleasure in herself.

Her body trembled with nervousness, and her breath was coming out in short gasps, as she sat down on the edge of the bed, her legs feeling like they might collapse under her at any second.

“I need a few…hours of alone time,” she told the shadows softly, closing her eyes. “You can come back later though.”

Of course, they responded, not sounding angry or upset in the slightest, squeezing her wrist just once, before they disappeared. Leaving her alone. The door was locked. Nobody would hear what went on in her room, right?

He told you to do this, she reminded herself, and her hands shook as they slowly came up to her nightgown…

Maybe if she just...didn't take it off. If she just...she slid underneath her duvet, closing her eyes as she blindly unbuttoned the first mother-of-pearl button...baring her chest.

She could faintly hear her breath coming out in gasps, quick and shaky as she felt the cool air of the room against her skin, her nightgown falling open from the two small buttons she had managed to undo.

Her hands trembled as they slowly came back up to her chest, coming to rest against her collarbone, just above her chest, and she shivered at the touch.

Slowly, softly, she ran her fingertips down her skin, against her throat, across her chest...

Her breasts were heaving with her breaths...tightening into hard peaks, seemingly feeling heavy and warm in her grasp.

Something was knotting heavy and low in her belly, as well. It was...odd, and almost uncomfortable, almost unfamiliar feeling, and she didn’t know if… Eira had never experienced this before, and she wanted, she wanted more, wanted the uncomfortable, almost tight sensation to ease.

Her fingertips traced down over the skin of her stomach, her skin burning underneath her touch, and a breathless, shaky moan escaped her lips.

Lower and lower and lower...until she reached the apex of her thighs, her thighs spreading shakily...finding that thatch of curls damp...and...

Eira gasped at the sensation, her hand flinching back from her skin like she had been burned.

The heat, the moisture...by the cauldron… it was hard not to pull her hand away again and just stop entirely, but no, she wanted this, and she didn’t want to stop.

Eira slowly, carefully, cautiously moved her hand against herself again, and she bit back a cry at the sensation it created, at the almost painful heat, and oh Gods, the feeling.

It was odd, like a burn and a sting and a tingle and a shudder and a gasp all at once. She didn't know if she could take it, a part of her wanted to get up and stop…but a bigger part of her wanted to give in and see where that feeling was taking her.

She slipped her hand lower, brushing against the burning seam of herself...and let a finger dip in further. She was wet. Slick. That was…good. That was how it was supposed to be. At least according to that book, Nesta had left it for her to read…and…even when she wanted to die from mortification…she would rather read the book than ask anybody about this.

Slick and wet was good. Slick and wet meant that her body was preparing itself to receive her…husband.

She couldn't help the whimper that escaped her.

Her body arched, startling her with…the intensity. But...no, Azriel had said that there was no wrong way, right? No...he wouldn't lie to her, wouldn't want her to feel bad, and oh Gods, the feeling flared up across her skin

What if...What if...What if he was the one that touched her? How would that feel? His hands were bigger than hers...broader...his skin warped with scar tissue, but she knew his touch would be gentle...

The thought of him touching her, the thought of his hands on her skin...the warmth of his body, the touch and strength of him, and she had no idea how she would even withstand that, how her body could even take that, that intensity...

Her head fell back against her pillows, and the moan that escaped her throat was louder, sharper, needier. She found herself closing her eyes, imagining that it was him, that it was him who was touching her, and Gods, how she wanted that, wanted him, wanted him to touch her.

Wanted to feel his hands on her body, wanted to feel...wanted to know how those broad, scarred hands of his would burn against her skin...

To know how those strong, gentle hands would feel as they wandered across her body, how they would feel as they...as he touched her.

She explored hesitantly...slipped one finger further down and then up again...until…

She found the place the book had talked about. That little knot at the apex of her thighs.

Her breath came in a shaky gasp and her body writhed on the bed, and the feeling, the pleasure flared through her in a rush, and it sent another loud, needy moan ripping through her throat. Gods, what would it feel like if he touched her like this? If it felt this good when she touched herself, what would it feel like if Azriel did it? What...what would it feel like if he did this to her if he touched her like...like that?

She imagined how his voice would sound, his low, deep, velvet-like voice, rough and gentle all at the same time, as he told her what to do, as he guided her, as he touched her, and oh stars above, she wanted that, wanted that so badly, wanted to know what his lips felt like against her skin…

You are perfect as you are, sweetheart, and there is nothing for you to be embarrassed or worried about, his words echoed through her memory, and she let out a shaky whimper at the memory of them.

She just knew that if she…if she trusted him and let herself fall, he would catch her.

A shudder wracked through her body again at the words that echoed through her mind, and she wanted to believe them, wanted to believe that....that he would want her, that she would be good, and that he’d think she was enough...

Her fingers shifted against her, and a gasp burst out of her again, a needy, shuddering whine that almost made her cringe. Her body shivered and trembled against the sensations, and it was so good, so good and not enough.

It was...it was...so wonderful, so pleasurable...and it wasn’t enough, Gods, it wasn’t enough...

It wasn’t...not enough...she wanted more of this wonderful feeling, as odd and embarrassing and wonderful as it was, and her hips arched, and fingers moved, and more, please...more…

It wasn't enough. Tears gathered in her eyes. Not enough.

Wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough......

She tried, her body writhing against the feeling, shifting and twisting and her hips arching up to try and find more, to find that pleasure again, but it evaded her, eluded her, leaving her in frustrated need and desperation, and oh Gods, it was embarrassing to be so needy and desperate, but she just…she needed…

She pulled her fingers back, and her body trembled. What had that book mentioned again? What if she… the one hand that had gone to clench into the duvet…she placed it on her chest, against one aching and stiff breast, while the other one slipped back to her clit.

Maybe if she just… What if it weren’t her own hands. What if it was Azriel?

She went back to draw tight little circles around her clit, a moan leaving her mouth.

She tried to picture it. Tried to imagine it. Tried to remember how it felt to have him kiss her…feel his lips on her, wondering if it would the desperate sort of kisses he sometimes gave her, when he pressed his tongue into her mouth and her whole body trembled in her grasp or if it would be slow and calm…

Tried to imagine Azriel above her, the warm and heavy weight of him, pressing her down into the mattress, until the only thing that she still could feel, could see, was utterly surrounded by…until that was just Azriel. Just her mate.

A moan escaped her throat again, her head falling back against the pillows, and it was amazing, the feeling rippling up through her body, leaving her feeling almost overwhelmed…

The feeling was rising and rising, and the pleasure was almost so much, and she could practically feel his hands on her skin, his touch all over her…

What…what would it feel like? She wondered hesitantly, allowing herself to explore…to dip one single finger inside her, her body clenching around the intrusion, wet and drenched, her slick smeared all over her folds…

How big would he be…like one finger of hers…No, the pictures had made it look thicker. Maybe two?

The angle wasn’t perfect, but she hesitantly, pressed a second finger inside her, whimpering at a burning….sensation, a stretch?

Her body was arched and twisted now, her other hand tangling in the sheets, and she was so close…

She continued her touches, her touch feverish, her hips coming up again, burning, shuddering, and she was so...so...so close, her body twisting under her own touch, and by the stars above, it was almost too good.

Her body writhed and trembled against her own touch, and the pressure was building, building, building…

She imagined him above her, imagined the idea of him….of him pressing inside her, of sharing her body with him, like that…It was…

...and then, finally, finally, it snapped, and a loud, high-pitched cry erupted from her lips, her body shuddering and writhing and her head arching back against her pillows, and oh Gods, the pleasure that flared through her was so intense that for just one moment….one moment everything went white, and she was blind and gasping.

Eira slumped back against the bed, her entire body shaking. She couldn't even...she couldn't think straight for at least a good few minutes, the pleasure lingering across her skin, leaving her body hot and shivering.

She was left tangled in her sheets staring at the ceiling, suddenly wondering how people didn’t do this constantly.

And then she wondered if…if this was what she managed, without any experience, without knowing what the hell she was doing…then…then how would it feel to have Azriel’s hands on her body? How would it feel to…

Would it feel just as good as this had?

Or would it be even better?

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x oc #azriel x reader #azriel fanfiction #azriel fanfic #Azriel x Archeron!Reader #the prophecy #Looked to the sky

330 notes · View notes

cyberdollface · 1 month ago

Text

╔══ ❀•° Daisy Chains °•❀ ══╗

Summary: You seduce your dad's best friend, the hound of the underground.

fem!reader x Vander.

Warnings: smut with a little tiny bit of plot; size kink; sexual frustration; sexual tension; masturbation; fantasizing; teasing; slightly bratty reader that torments Vander.

word count: 4.457.

Sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

Your dad asked you to take the order for the newest deal inside the store, as it was too heavy for Ekko, his new adopted kid, to gather from the spot you were on to the middle of the alleys 3 feet below.

Your dad’s best friend was there too. The big, mighty Vander was busy saving a small salesman from a beating and making the dealer pay the money. It was cute how caring he could be to the nation of Zaun—his people. It made you want him more.

You were a teenager, barely 16 years old, when everyone followed him, marching to the other side of the bridge, and taking the first seat when it all came down. Now, you were standing in the same place as they did, but 10 years later.

You admired the old man, the best guy around Benzo. You even missed him while doing business away from home in the Noxus Empire, but you couldn't deny it. He looked even better now with his softer belly and pepper and salt hair.

You felt his gaze before you could see it. He had been looking at you since you got back to town. You pretended that you didn't see his longing eyes on you every time you went to the Last Drop with your friends in your short, pretty dresses, or whenever you hung out with Vi and the kids, teaching them to climb their way up to Piltover.

He always got himself together, though. One who wasn't chasing his behaviors wouldn't have noticed, but you did. You loved his attention; how couldn't you? Being desired wasn't new to you, but it being him made it different. All that authority and aura made you feel a little bit cogent. You couldn't help it; it was going to your head.

His eyes following you when you walked away for the day or even fixed your voluminous hair couldn't go unnoticed for you. Even around your poor, unaware father… Benzo could not even suspect it. His own friend gawking at his older daughter, full family gatherings passing around more rapidly with your new game of catching his attention.

Vander approached you, cutting off your thoughts:

“Where are you going with all that heavy stuff?”

It wasn't late, the sky had just got dark.

“I'm going to drop this off at the shop” You smiled at him. “I wouldn't mind some help, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, contorting his face into a slight grin.

“Can’t deny helping a lady, right?” His posture straightened when he heard your giggles as if he was more sure of himself now.

You kept walking steady, even though one step of his equaled two of your own, he was ensuring that you were walking at the same pace. You guys even managed to make small talk now and then, cutting through the crowd.

“You’re going to the market tomorrow? Heard there's gonna be some good stuff there.”

He said to you while minding his steps.

“Of course, I'm going, Van. Wanna buy some more skirts and dresses, you know? Quite like this one I'm wearing” You smiled again.

“It looks cute on me, doesn't it?” You posed for him the best way you could with the small box in your arms. Of course, he grabbed the bigger one to carry.

His eyes went momentarily darker as he stared at you. It lasted only for a few seconds before Vander averted his eyes. A trash can now looked really interesting at that moment.

“Yeah, it looks… good on you.”

You were having too much fun.

As you two neared the back of the shop, you thanked him, soon enough you would be putting the boxes away in the stock and closing its locks.

“You know what else I want to buy at the store?” He leaned in closer to you to hear you better.

“A new nail polish. It's green, kinda yellowish” You hold your hand in front of you, passing one finger atop a nail as to illustrate the act of painting them.

“Hmm, quite close to this color” you approached him, lightly touching the buttons of his shirt.

He stopped breathing, swallowing thickly while looking at your hand on him. He cleared his throat.

“I better get going, you know… open up the bar.” You couldn't help but laugh a little, looking up at him through your browns.

You had his full attention, Vander was radiating heat, and you could almost taste his want for you, for something.

“You wanna fuck me, right?” You ask him while playing with the buttons on his shirt. You couldn't help but notice how big he was, standing at least 40 centimeters taller, his frame twice your size even though you weren't exactly a small girl.

His left hand goes to your waist, playing with the bow tied to your red dress. You lift your eyes to hold his gaze, raising an eyebrow.

"You know I would do anything, for it – for you. But we can't, you know it right? We shouldn't – I shouldn't"

It was working—hell, yeah, it was working. It made you feel powerful, how much of a reaction you could get from a man like Vander, especially when you knew he wasn't so easily charmed.

"Well, that's a real bummer, huh? I need someone like you...—" You made a show of tightening your arms together, showing more of your cleavage to his hungry eyes. "... Ya know, I've been thinking 'bout it, daydreaming, but it's never enough. Can't ever fill me deep enough with my fingers, it doesn't matter how hard I imagine it's your hand instead of my own."

You pout at him, grabbing his fingers from his right hand just feeling how wide and long they are, not stopping your mind from wondering how they would feel inside. Could you even accommodate more than one? Hell, you would die to know. You let out a hot breath and realized that the hand you were holding was trembling. Did you just make the hound of the underground shake?

You grab him, making him press you more against the wall, one of his legs between your tights. The slit in your long dress gets higher and higher the more you flex your thigh.

Vander let his head lay low on the wall, his nose right in the curls of your hair. It smells good, he thinks, it's always good. He took a deep breath, no more fighting the hard-on he was growing.

"Think about you too, princess... Too fucking often" He pinches your waist then drags his hand lower and lower, reaching the skin of your thigh revealed by the slip in your dress.

You reach between your bodies and put your hand on top of his to ground him, making him grab the fat of your thigh harder. It made you gasp a little, eyes closed but you didn't need then to know he lifted his head to peek at your reaction. Fuck your face was pretty... Dark skin shone with the low lamplight of the street you were in.

The frenzy you two were in reached its end as you heard a loud crack on the streets, followed by voices.

It was like his mind returned to earth, his hands were more sure of themselves, Vander cleared his throat, getting off your hold and adjusting your dress.

As he distanced himself, you couldn't help but finally look at the obvious bulge in his pants. It was promising and Vander could feel the wet spot he made in his trousers with his precum.

You knew that he was close to breaking. You would eventually get what you wanted; you always did.

You watched as he fixed himself, trying to hide the taint but failing, his cheeks pink.

He tried looking at you over the wall, the disappointing expression on your features, damn you were pouting again. The sight made him throb in his pants so he looked away.

"I should go, fuck, should've never come with you in the first place–" he passed a hand through his hair, which was falling in his face and sighted "– Good night, I guess."

You will eventually get what you want, you told yourself. You always did.

Vander avoided you for some days, never letting his eyes lay on you for too long, making conversation short. He could see that he was getting on your dark side by denying you attention.

He couldn't help it, he already had a good imagination by just flirting, your little escapade with him only served to feed into his fantasy.

In the late nights, he found himself palming his trousers, mind drifting to you. Vander wished he would have kissed you that night, smudging that pretty shiny lip gloss off your lips. He grunted slowly, he hated that he had to do that again, beating one off to his friend’s daughter. Fuck he was disgusting, but the kids were sleeping, he had time for this at the very least. Vander never thought he was being so obvious, but honestly, how could he help it? When you went to his bar on Friday nights you always wore the thinnest mini skirts ever, fuck that black one was his favorite, hanging low on your hips, your soft tummy lightly poking out… The memory made him throb.

Suddenly his pants were too tight, he needed some relief, needed you. Sitting upright in his bed, he pulled his sweatpants down below his balls, just enough to free his cock. He let his imagination hang free, thinking about how easy it would've been to just bend you on one of the tables, making you feel him, how you made him feel.

He spat on his hand, leading it to his dick, smearing it up and down. You would have offered your body to him, he knew that now. Fuck, what type of panties would you wear? One time he got a peek, white and frilly with some lace, really cute. Vander loved your thighs, he knew it would feel amazing between his hands, around his cock. His hands were working faster on his length, he was panting a little, biting his cheek to remind himself not to make too much noise, that the last thing he needed was some of his kids waking up.

You always smelled so good too, sweet, it was sweet. In his fantasy you giggled at him that way he found endearing, looking back at him and arching your soft body so the skirt would flip over your butt.

He was getting close, fuck his balls were aching so much, he needed that release.

You nodded at him, as to say ‘Go ahead, Van’ wiggling your bottom to encourage him, he didn't need to be rushed twice, he touched your ass, countering the fabric of the frills, when he got to the bottom he found the spot wet, it was so easy to imagine himself pulling the cloth aside and filling you up. You looked tiny under him. God, he tried his fingers around his fat tip in the upstroke to mimic the tightness of your hole, letting out a grunt. It was all he needed to cum in his hands, cursing your name under his breath. Fuck, he was disgusting.

God, he prayed Benzo would forgive him. Vander can never let this fantasy of his come to life if he gets all worked up with just a few stolen glances and some dirty talk… Imagine what actually fucking you would do to him?

“We are closed.”

You said when you heard the door from Benzo’s open thinking it was just a regular customer. To your surprise, it was Vander, and by his stunned face, you could see that he wasn't expecting to see you behind the counter.

He stood there awkwardly, sucking his teeth and gazing at his feet with a pack of papers in his hands.

“I thought Benzo was working today, I’ll… I’ll come back another time.”

You rolled your eyes at him and said:

“My dad will come back at night. You should look for him around 8 pm, Van.”

You said while returning to paint your nails on the counter. He recognized the color, it was that green nail polish you had talked about that night. You had indeed bought new dresses in the market, he had memorized your everyday clothes by now. That dress you were wearing right now was pretty, the pinkish color looked good on you.

He was already turning his back to leave when you dared to speak again:

“You have nothing to say, Vander?”

He sighed. You have always been stubborn since you were a teenager. He turned around irritated, his brows furrowed ready to scold you.

“I’m sorry about that, okay? Shouldn't have never gone that far.” His eyes were sharp as he was exasperated for just having to talk about that.

It made you even angrier. That day you played with yourself all night because that stupid man didn't want— no he didn't dare to finish the job. He left you hot and wanting in that damn alleyway.

“Now you say you didn't mean it? Hells Vander, now I am offended!”

You finished painting your nails and got off the bench, pouting as you made your way to the center of the store.

“We both know damn well what you did when you got home that night… You've been rubbing one off thinking about me for quite some time now.” Now you were standing in front of him, trying to look mean, pointing at his chest with your manicured nails.

“Too bad you're too much of a pussy to do something with the real thing.”

You waited for his reaction with a smug look on your features. Did you want attention? You would get attention.

He took a sharp breath and looked down at you. Vander was getting tired of this game of cat and mouse, if there was a proper time to solve the issue, it was now.

He sighed loudly before saying:

“Stop this shit, you know damn well we can't do this.” His voice was low, holding a bite to the words.

It was a warning, he freed his hands from the paper and held your arm down. It made you smile, he was so much stronger than you, and you wondered what he could use that strength for.

He saw the grin on your lips and he tightened his grasp on you, face twitching into something dangerous. You pressed against him, closing the distance even more, not running from him.

You flexed your fingers in the air, your hand in an odd position with the way he was gripping you. It was like the world disappeared around you two, you wanted to kiss him, make him lose it, so you got on your tiptoes, your face closer to Vanders now, being able to feel his breath on your face.

“Not asking you to marry me, ya know? Just asking to be fucked…” You sneaked your other hand up to his side, grabbing the fabric of his shirt near his hips tight with your fingers. Oh, you hoped you didn't ruin your nails with all this playing.

He leaned down on impulse, only realizing his movement when you two kissed. Vander pressed you more against him, if it was even possible to get closer, now one hand was still gripping your arm as the other went to your waist. The hound tasted addicting, like mint and cigars. You moaned slightly in his mouth.

“Thought you could do this for me… Been wanting this for so long ” You said, making a trail of kisses from the corner of his mouth down his bearded jaw as his right hand kneaded your skin, feeling up your body.

“Know you want it too, old man. So why not just do it?”

You said with your lips grazing his. Vander couldn't escape your affection, you had him wrapped around your daisy chains.

He brought you forcefully around the counter, getting you easily on top of it.

He kissed you with purpose, as to compensate for how long he took to do it, even though he was still apprehensive to touch you.

You let your hands wander from around his neck to his big shoulders, down his muscled arms, finally reaching his hands and leading them around your bum.

Vander groaned, breaking your kiss away, and gathered your skirt past your hips, revealing your lower body. He broke the kiss away to take in the sight, his body between your legs with you on the counter.

He could see your soaked panties from this angle. Damn, he was losing it. He gazed at your covered pussy intently, tracing his fingers to the outline carefully making you gasp.

He had grown a chub in his pants and it throbbed badly. He wanted to see it bare — needed to. You noticed him staring, dropping the weight of your body on your elbows behind you and chuckling at his reaction.

“You can take it off, Van.”

He eyed you, hating the expression on your pretty face, so full of yourself for what you accomplished. He wasn't himself now, he wanted to see it, your cunt felt chubby against his fingers, your wetness sticking to his skin.

He tried to still his hands while taking your underwear off, but failed. He noticed that you had seen it and yanked your bottom forward into him, kissing you to cancel his annoyance. You pushed him closer to you, making him bench a little as you left his tongue to dominate yours.

Vander was so affected by the act that he started to grind his bulge against your folds, hands groping all your body with his big calloused hands.

You got out the kiss, letting lose a little moan against his ears, which turned him on even more, hells, you had him cursing under his breath.

“Fuck me, please!” You whimpered under your breath. Vander opened his eyes he didn't notice were closed to look at you, your pouting face and doe eyes. It was wrong. The whole situation was fucking wrong, he can’t fuck you in the damn shop, in your dad’s counter, what the hell was he doing.

“You don't need to put it in, Van!”

You wiggled your hips to try to get more friction from the rough material of his jeans that confined his borderline painful erection. Your bare pussy leaving dots of slickness on the fabric, he realized he said that out loud when you answered.

“Just rubbing is fine!” You whined closing your eyes when it grazed your clit just good.

“Take it off, please? Please!” You begged.

He grabbed your hips firmly, Vander couldn't help but gaze at your pussy again. "Stop the fuss, princess– fuck" He panted into the air.

You opened your legs wider, "Van, if you just use it to jerk off it's fine, right?" You used your hand to open the inner lips wider to his hungry eyes.

"I-if you just don't put it inside it's going to be fine, just rub your cock right here"

You gathered slick in your fingers and ran them up and down your folds, which made you hiss, grabbing your bottom lip with your teeth.

You were giving him a headache, but when he returned to himself he was already taking his hard cock out of his trousers with trembling hands. You pushed him closer with your legs and put your hands on his member for the first time, your fist not quite closing from the thickness. It was feverish hot and so heavy it wouldn't even stand, instead, hang low right next to your center.

You stroked him to the top lightly, pushing it into your pussy, so he could feel your entrance. Vander let out a trembling sigh when you started to guide his cock up and down your folds, coating him in your essence.

His eyes closed when you started to moan for him, he was bumping your clit continuously with that big head of his cock. It was a shade darker than his skin and so fucking big... You know you were the one to propose to him to just use your cunt to jerk off, but you wanted to feel it inside, stretching you.

"Fuck, fuck, you're so..." he opened his eyes to see you shyly smiling at him.

"Is it good for you too, Van?" You meowed when you felt him take hold of his member, lightly shoving your hand off. He applied more pressure on it, so it was rubbing harder against you. You were so fucking wet and hot against him, he could barely speak, instead, he let his mouth open panting slightly.

His other hand found itself holding your right thigh open from behind your knee, sure it would leave bruises.

"Wanna feel it inside, please?" You moaned, your hands reaching the neckline of your clothes, pulling them down to reveal your chest to him. You knew what you were doing to him, turning his brain to mush.

"Can't do it, you know I can't" he grunted closing his eyes not to look at you in fear, he knew once he saw your pouting face he would listen to your every word.

You got that quickly, lifting one hand to his face, pulling him atop of you so you could give him a smooch on his lips and moan into his mouth as his tip grazed just right against your folds. His hands are now caging you, arms successfully holding his weight so as not to crush you.

"Open your eyes, want to see you" He tried to say no, but you caressed his face in such a loving way... He'll be damned, you will be his downfall for sure.

When he stood comfortable still kind of hovering over you, he opened his eyes, and what a sight was you, sparred all over Benzo’s counter, opened wide for him with your tits spilling from your dress, one of your hands guiding his dick down your slit to your entrance. Fuck, Vander could feel you spasm around nothing trying to pull him inside.

"Just the tip, Van."

You sighed, giving him your best puppy eyes as your right hand on his face caressed his jaw, your thumb firing his mouth agape, gathering his spit and bringing your fingers to one of your nipples, pinching lightly.

"Wanna feel the stretch…” You moaned for him. “Don’t you wanna feel me too?”

His hips jerked upwards, his eyes wide as his gorgeous tip stretched your opening. Your toes curled and Vander tensed on top of you, holding himself back from pushing all his length inside.

"Fucking hell, you're so, f-fuck" his eyebrows were scrunched. You couldn't help but smile drunkenly, haha, the big scary Vander was at a loss of words over you, because of you.

The thought made you clench, his hands flying to your hips as to make you still. All Vander wanted was to empale you on his dick, make that sly smile on your face disappear and give space to a scream.

You put your hands between your bodies again, he was more relaxed and that was the perfect time for you to guide his head slowly in and out of your cunt, tightening your fist around him a little.

He was all grunts as he manhandled you alone, taking your hands off him and putting it to his heart, that you realized later that was racing. Vander's eyes were moving intently between your cute face and your cunt glistened in slick.

You brought your other hand to your mouth gathering spit and dragging it over your soft belly into your hooded clit.

Vander was losing rhythm, "Gonna cum, ahh"

He was panting like a dog, trying to pull himself out of your grasp, but you used your legs to cage him.

"Please, let me out, princess, can't do it like that."

He was falling apart, too pussydrunk to do anything about it. His tip still going in and out of you in shallow thrusts.

You said: "No, no! You gotta do it in me, inside! Wanna feel your cum filling me up.”

You were stubborn, grinning between meows and moans, it made him irritated, you were always the brat, fuck now he was angry.

He shoved his whole cock inside you and gave you what you wanted, cumming deep inside with a grunt as your nails dragged across his arms.

You whimpered while he took his time being milked by you, as he worked your clit at a fast pace.

You finally came on his cock doing a final clench that made him shudder.

He got down to earth eventually, removing himself from inside you, and admiring the mess he made of you. You giggled shyly, waking him up from his stupor. Suddenly his brows furrowed, he remembered he was mad now, at himself for being fooled, at you for charming him.

He stopped his seed from spilling on the counter, which was already a mess with your slick, pushing his thumb slowly inside.

"Happy now?! You got what you wanted, just know it won't happen again."

He was putting himself back in his pants with a scow on his face.

"Let's see how you manage, old man.”

Your legs were trembling when you tried to stand to gather your underwear. He had to support you with one hand, then helped you fix your dress.

He got away from you, trying to find the bottle of water Benzo got at the shop, filling a cup and giving it to you.

He gathered his documents long forgotten on a side table, getting ready to leave.

"Oh Van, no goodnight kiss?" You approached him slowly, damn he could see his cum running down your plush thighs.

"Maybe if you play it nice I’ll let you fuck me again, this time properly."

He passed one hand through his hair while closing his eyes.

"That ain't gonna happen, I already told you"

Was he scolding you right now?

"Then I gotta have to look for another man to do the job."

He gave you a look, his eyes dark. Tormenting him was always so much fun! He turned his back to you.

"I should probably go, before... Before someone sees me"

Vander felt so upset, but when he closed his eyes he saw you, your body under him, the thought making him bulge again.

He knew damn well it was going to be another time, honestly, he could not wait for it.

Wrote this with my pussy btw. It was clapping in morse code, all I had to do was type it down.

Happy Christmas, guys!

The cute divider is from: @strangergraphics-archive

#vander smut #arcane smut #vander x reader #vander x you #vander imagine #vander fanfic #vander #the hound #arcane dilfs #arcane fanfic #arcane imagine #arcane #vander bitches RISE

387 notes · View notes

jiroufann · 2 months ago

Text

a/n: hey guys it's been a while [plus the parasites in me have started to voice their opinions], so heres another fanfiction! feel free to drop fanfic requests in my asks! I'll do some when i find the time!!

@marypaol here was the george fanfic i was talking about back in may!

george weasley x reader

About You

I know a place it's somewhere I go when I need to remember your face

"No, No, I can't risk losing you again, I won't let you. Just quit it," you sobbed.

"[y/n], look at me."

You looked up from his chest and into his warm brown eyes. Any other witch or wizard unblinded with love would have stared at the gaping hole where his ear would have been.

But, oh, since when were his eyes ever so beautiful? No amount of ghastly scars would distract you from those eyes. Even though the color brown was common to find, they seemed to fit him in such a distinct way. Now, those same eyes were looking at you with a sense of love and regret.

"I have to. We need to protect Harry."

You felt conflicted, as you were anguished with the thought of Harry getting hurt, but more so at the fact you could lose the love of your life in two minutes.

You looked down at the wooden rickety floor. Soon enough, the familiar tinge in your nose indicated that your eyes would quickly fill up with the tears you fought so hard to contain.

Then a rough hand gently touched your cheek and lifted your face up. The tears lost their battle and slipped down your cheek.

George looked at you with that same slightly crooked smile you grew up with.

He wiped your tears with his thumb. "You know that I love you, right?"

You could only nod. You knew, but you felt as though you could never know enough. After all, what were you supposed to do with those words when they turned into nothing but memories of the past?

Some sentences were unforgettable, but the way he gently touched your face, the way he would chuckle slightly as you fixed his tie for him, would these only become a fleeting dream you once saw?

He only patted the back of your head with his other hand. "And you know that I know that you love me, right?"

You tried to fight the same fight against your tears you lost a minute ago, but you lost it again. The tears fell harder and grew into sobs.

"I'll always love you, you know that? I'll always love you, [y/n]."

You looked up at those familiar brown eyes. The question that was at the tip of your tongue already had an answer, but you decided to say it anyway.

"Do you really have to go?" you mumbled.

He only stroked your cheek with his thumb. "You already know the answer to that, [y/n]. Me and Fred need to defend the castle's secret passages from the Death Eaters. It was asked by Kingsley Shacklebolt himself."

"Then why can't I go with you?"

"You're needed, but not at the battlefield, [y/n]. You know that we could save hundreds with your potion-making abilities. Snape said so himself."

You chuckled and ducked your head into his chest again. "You're marching straight into death and you still have the nerve to talk about my awful professor? Cheeky bloke."

He stroked your hair gently. "I can talk smack about any professor I want, it's not like I'll be graduating. Unlike little miss prefect over here."

Your heart throbbed at the nickname. Would there even be a Hogwarts left behind to hold your graduation?

---

You knew that you weren't supposed to.

But sometimes, to love someone was to disregard the danger. To love was to look back, to love was to run to the very place you ran away from, as long as it meant you could see your love for the last time.

So you ran.

Spells and counter-spells were fired from all different directions, illuminating off of the broken lunch tables you used to sit with George at. Pieces of wooden table legs were strewed across the grass. A piece of wood with your initials and George's initials intertwined within a heart fell near your feet. You blinked at it and your nose felt that familiar tinge.

So you ran.

There were dead bodies that rested next to the fountain with mouths that lay gaping. You wrenched your eyes away after catching a glimpse of one of your roommates getting shot by a flash of familiar green light. Memories of pillow fights and late night murmuring about the guys you and her thought were cute flitted across your senses as your eyes started to well up.

So you ran.

You ran until you saw a couple familiar figures in the near distance.

Then air exploded. Dust filled your vision and you saw a glimpse of red hair.

"George?" you whispered.

You sprinted over to him, ignoring the splinters of wood cutting into your arms and face. You held out your wand and continued to run as you murmured spell after spell.

The air exploded again, this time much more violently. The side of the castle blew apart and you screamed out the very first spell you learned in the walls of Hogwarts, now crumbling, as you fell to the ground.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

For a second, all was silent. The only sound that kept your senses intact was heavy breathing and the shots fired in the distance.

On the ground you struggled to keep your arm up, which was aimed at the several pieces of rubble in the air. Right below the rubble was a blurry sight of fiery-red hair. You could barely make out another figure dragging him out of harm's way. You squinted. That was when you realized. It wasn't George you had saved, it was Fred. Where was George? Was he safe? Was he hurt?

Your mind continued to race with questions, but when you saw the figure moved to safety, your arm gave in. Your vision started to dim as your head fell to the ground.

It was black for a while.

".../n]."

"[y/n]"

You stirred. Your vision started to come back to you, along with a throbbing migrane in the back of your skull.

You turned to the side to reach for your wand, and that was when you felt a slight weight on your right hand.

George stirred in his chair, blinking once, then twice.

Your eyes traveled up from the freckled hand that rested on yours. Those same beautiful warm brown eyes were holding yours in worry. The same eyes you fought so hard to look for.

The same eyes you fought so hard to see alive.

"Oh my gosh, you're awake. You're okay. Oh my goodness." He whispered.

You saw a flash of fiery red hair as he lunged forward to catch you in a warm embrace. Your head took its place in the crook of his neck as his hand stroked your hair. A familiar feeling that you could never get enough of.

"How is Fred doing?" You asked.

His gaze softened and he pulled away from the embrace to brush his fingers across your cheek. He took his free hand to clasp one of your hands, interlocking fingers together in a woven embrace.

"He's doing fine. [y/n], if you hadn't stopped the rubble from falling on him, I don't think—I don't think he would have made it out alive," he said, the last part said so quietly that you could barely hear it.

You gazed at him and moved your hand to gently brush his hair behind his ear.

George gave you the same familiar crooked smile when you moved to give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

"And you? How are you feeling George?"

He smiled. "I've never been better," he murmured. Then he looked up to think for a moment.

"Im absolutely knackered though, yeah."

You giggled. "Me too, c'mere."

He embraced you again, and you felt as though you recovered your missing piece all over again.

"You know that I love you, right?" You murmured under your breath.

"I know."

"And you know that I know that you love me, right?" You whispered softly.

"I know."

"I'll always love you, you know that? I'll always love you, George."

"I'll always love you, [y/n]."

You both fell into a warm peaceful slumber, one without war and rubble.

#harry potter #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #george weasley angst #george weasley fluff #fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #harry potter oneshot #george weasley one shot #george weasley fanfic #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

165 notes · View notes

ashwhowrites · 9 months ago

Note

Eddie Munson x reader,they fight over something stupid, but Eddie ends up screaming at Reader, so she stops talking to him, until Eddie realizes that he needs to apologize to reader, so he ends up making a cute date at the bench in the woods, and Reader accepts his apologies

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Don't yell

Y/N hated to be yelled at. She grew up with a family that screamed at each other and she hated the nasty stomach ache it caused. She'd break down, sob for hours, and hide in her shell.

Which is what she was doing right now. She sobbed into her pillow as her TV blared. She kept turning up the volume to silence her sobs. Whenever Y/N needed comfort, she'd go to Eddie. But she couldn't do that, because he was the last person she wanted to see. Because he screamed in her face. The argument wasn't that big of a deal, and Y/N didn't even remember what it was about.

All she remembered was Eddie's loud voice ringing through her ears as his hands moved dramatically. Eddie knew she hated being yelled at, yet he still did. His anger got the best of him and now she suffers from it.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Chanted in her head over and over. He tried to chase after her but she refused to listen to him. He wanted her gone so she left.

She ignored all his calls. She refused to open her window or doors when he knocked. She ignored him completely.

Even when they went back to school, she marched past him like he was nothing. He felt like an idiot when he chased her all around the school but she refused to turn around.

~~~

They haven't spoken in a week and Eddie was falling apart. He truly didn't know what he was supposed to do. He couldn't get her to talk to him so he screamed he was sorry down the hallways. He technically apologized, but it didn't fix anything.

He needed to convince her to see him and then he had to come up with the best apology he could. He had to make himself worthy of being forgiven.

Since she wouldn't talk, he tried to write instead. He begged her to meet him at his spot in the woods. He slipped the note into her locker and raced to the woods.

He unzipped his backpack and pulled out the decorations. He placed down the candles and grabbed his lighter from his pocket. He flicked the lighter until he felt the warm heat of fire at the top. He lit the candles and placed them on the small wooden table.

He grabbed the box of rose petals and sprinkled it along the grass.

"What are you doing?"

Eddie jumped, causing him to spill the rose petals into one big pile.

"Jesus Christ," Eddie laughed. He gestured to the seat and Y/N followed. She still had a hard face and her arms were crossed.

Eddie coughed nervously and took a seat across from her.

"Thank you for coming," Eddie said.

"What do you want, Eddie?"

"I want to apologize for raising my voice at you. It was wrong, and I know it's something you hate. You didn't deserve to be treated like that. I love you so much and I don't want to lose you. Can you please give me the chance to make this right?"

Y/N sighed but could feel his apology taking the weight off her shoulders. The sick filling in her gut lifted and she felt like she could breathe again.

"Can you promise to never yell at me again?" Y/N asked, she looked into Eddie's hopeful eyes and smiled.

"I promise," he said as he crossed his heart.

"I guess I can forgive you," she teased and rolled her eyes. Eddie beamed as he leaned over the table.

"Make-up kiss?" He pouted, his puppy eyes working their magic.

"Dork," she laughed but cupped his face and landed her lips on his.

Tags!

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson request #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson fluff #ashwhowrites

844 notes · View notes

wcnderlnds · 2 months ago

Text

looks like a tragedy now | draco malfoy

Summary: You and Draco had been together for over a year when an argument sent things into a downward spiral. Neither of you will talk to each other and when you do it only seems to make things worse. Warnings: N/A Word Count: 1.3k Authors Note: this is another repost from my old account. wrote in 2020 and the first ever draco fic i wrote so it’s not amazing but it holds a special place in my heart <3

“You could always just go over and talk to him,” Hermione suggested as she followed your line of sight which of course led her gaze to land on the one and only Draco Malfoy. At her words, you sighed heavily and shook your head. It took you another few seconds before you finally pulled your eyes away from him to look down at your plate of food. Not a single bite had been taken, too nauseous to even think about eating.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me, Hermione. I’m not sure I want to talk to him either,” you shrugged your shoulders, using your fork to push the uneaten food around on your plate.

“What even happened?” Harry had now decided to chime in. Ron was too busy stuffing his face with food to be too bothered to ask questions but he was still listening.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m going to the common room,” you said rather abruptly as you got to your feet.

“You haven’t eaten anything,” Harry noticed.

“Not hungry.”

And, with that you headed out of the Great Hall and towards the comfort of the Gryffindor common room. You really appreciated the concern of your friends but right now you didn’t want to even talk about what had gone on between you and Draco. It was a sensitive topic — one that you didn’t think you could talk about yet without bursting into tears. So, for now, you were going to sit in front of the fire, read a book and attempt to get your thoughts away from a certain Slytherin.

You and Draco had been together for over a year now. It had all started in fourth year when you’d been paired together in Charms for an assignment. At first, you didn’t talk much but then one day conversation started flowing when you questioned him about Quidditch. Conversations then turned into two friends hanging out outside of Charms then that turned into both parties seemingly getting a crush on each other then one day Draco had had enough of dancing around and asked you out at the start of fifth year. The rest was history. Since then you’d been together, it had been perfect until Draco started acting secretive and you let jealousy take over on your end. This had led to a big, big argument. Now, two days later you weren’t talking to each other, your relationship was up in the air and you had no idea what to do. Sure, you could easily have marched over to him and demanded to talk but some pretty hurtful things had been said and the last thing you wanted was to have another shouting match. It was safer to stay away from each other right now as much as it killed you. Little did you know it was killing him just as much.

“Cheer up, (Y/N). You better off without ferret face anyway,” Ron patted you on the shoulder. It had been a week now since you and Draco had spoken. You’d made no effort to talk to him and he’d made no effort to talk to you. In fact, you’d been actively trying to avoid each other.

“Yeah,” was all you said. You knew your friends didn’t like Draco. He wasn’t much a fan of them anyway so you didn’t really expect them to understand why you were miserable. You had to give them credit, though, they really were trying to make you feel better but it wasn’t helping. As the days passed by you felt more and more miserable. You missed him. You missed him so damn much. Maybe if the two of you weren’t so stubborn you’d have fixed this already.

You threw your bag down onto the ground, sliding into your seat at your usual table in Charms. This had been the class you’d been dreading all week. This was the class that you sat next to Draco in. You rested your head on your hand playing around with the sleeve of your sweater with the other. Suddenly, you heard a chair scraping across the floor and books being thrown on the table. He was here. He was next to you. You knew by the smell of his cologne. The smell you loved so much. Usually, he’d greet you with a warm ‘hello darling’ and not hearing those all too familiar words broke your heart. All you wanted to do was throw your arms around him and say sorry but you couldn’t. You wouldn’t. You were far too stubborn to give in. Besides, you deserved an apology too. You hadn’t bothered looking at him yet, solely focused on the thread of your sweater.

“Can you move your bag? It’s in my way,” Draco drawled without even looking at you. It seemed he was doing his best to avoid looking in your direction.

“Okay.” You picked the bag up, putting it at your other side and bravely took a look at him. “Draco...”

“Class is about to start,” he cut you off sharply. As he did, he took a quick glance at you. Eyes meeting eyes for the first time in a week. He looked sad. He looked as sad as you felt. But, this was Draco Malfoy and there was no way he’d ever show his emotions properly so he looked forward, shaking his head as if you’d annoyed him. In reality, he was putting on a show. He didn’t want you to know how much he was hurting.

Class finished and you couldn’t have been more thankful. It had been torture having to be so close to Draco and not talking to him. You both could have easily said something to each other but neither of you wanted to. Well, you did but neither of you wanted to be the first to start the conversation. As people rushed out of class, you found yourself running up to Draco, grabbing his wrist to stop him in his tracks. Swiftly, he turned around to look at you, yanking his arm away from your touch.

“What? I have places to be,” he said cooly. “Or do you just want to accuse me of stupid things again? Did I look at someone? Am I having an affair? I mean, I did look at Flitwick a few times. I suppose that means I’m in love with him, right?”

“Shut up. Just shut up,” you burst out, tears brimming your eyes. “You have no right to speak to me like that. If you weren’t so secretive and hid things from me then I wouldn’t have to be paranoid all the time. You blew off plans with me every single time we planned something, Draco. What am I supposed to think?”

“Maybe trust me and have a little faith in me. How about that, huh? But, no. Couldn’t do that, could you?” Draco sneered. You could tell he was getting annoyed all over again and so were you. Both of you knew how to get on each other's nerves. As much as you missed each other, this was something that couldn’t be solved that easily.

“It’s so annoying how nothing is ever your fault. It’s always mine. I’m tired. I wanted to apologise but you’re being a typical Slytherin and giving me that attitude. I thought you’d changed. Thought maybe you could have an adult conversation with me but I was wrong.” Using the sleeve you’d been playing with earlier, you wiped at your eyes to make sure you weren’t crying yet. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you cry.

“Whatever. Are you done?”

“Are you done, Draco?”

That took him back a little bit. He knew exactly what you meant but couldn’t bring himself to give a straight answer. “Maybe.”

That was the last thing he said before he walked away from you leaving you with a whole new sense of heartbreak. Was this the beginning of the end?

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #my fics

88 notes · View notes

tobitofunction · 6 months ago

Text

The Pact of Fire and Ice part 7

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part5 part 6

Spoilers for the future of house of the dragon, not a 100% accurate to the book

after a thousand years it updated again

You tighten your flight jacket around your body, "It's still not too late to stay here" Cregan said, "It's a fight of dragons, as a dragon I need to fight" you said turning towards him, he was in his armour his fur coat currently missing, he hummed and cupped your cheek,"I love your flight gear so much" he said placing his other hand around your waist, "You should walk around like this more often" he added kissing you gently, "I could say the same thing for you, the fur cloak his hiding to much of your armour" you said against his lips, kissing him again gently pulling at his locks "Don't tempt me now wife, we won't leave the bed for another week if you continue like this" he said as his lips ghost against yours,"My Lord?" a servant said gently," What is it" he said closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against yours," Aemond Targaryen took over Harrenhall and killed everyone within the walls" he said straightening his posture”Any word from Dragonstone?”,” They are preparing to use Aemond absent as advantage to take over Kingslanding and they want you to march as soon as possible” Cregan hummed,” Are the troop’s ready”,” Yes Lord, the Greyjoy and Manderly ships are also deployed to strengthen the sea snakes and help out to invade Kingslanding and destroy the Lannister fleet ” you turned to Cregan and patted his chest,"Well my Lord husband it's time, send worth to my mother that her army is coming" you said making the servant nod and bow before leaving. Cregan sighed and wrapped his hand around yours,"Off to war then".

You ended up deciding to ride your horse alongside Cregan. Tyraxes was flying alongside the winter wolves, high in the sky, she was just a blop in the bright white sky. “The roads are treacherous,” you said,” The north doesn’t have the privilege of the west wife, our harsh winters just keep destroying the roads so we don’t fix them, as it a waste of resources we rather put them elsewhere to good use” Cregan explained riding closer to you,” My men don’t find it a good idea to bring you along,” he said after a while,” Why not?” you questioned,” They believe you should stay in winter fell, swollen with a child,” he said softly, you sighed,” I suppose that was the deal of our marriage. I provided you with heirs in return for your help to get my mother’s crown back,” you said,” It’s different now however, our first born won’t be the Lord of Winterfell but heir to the Iron Throne,” he said,” Or daughter” you added making Cregan nod after a while,” Or daughter,” he said with a smile which you returned," I'm not bringing a child into this world until the war is over, I don't want to be pregnant while the danger of being assassinated by the greens is an option" you said which Cregan nodded at,"I agree with you on that one, also I'm scared of you carrying my heir" he said," My first wife died on the birthing bed with my son following in the days after",he said softly remembering the pain of losing his childhood love and first born child, he felt like dying in months after,"I'm scared too, losing children during pregnancy is common within my family, maester stated that each one of them had dragon like deformities, my sister had scales and a tale when she was born, I guess our blood is cursed" you said,"The Stark blood line isn't any different, I guess we can be cursed together" your cheeks heated up at that comment,"I guess we could". "My Lord it's getting dark and the men are tired" Greyjoy said,"Than we set up camp for the night".

You sat in front of the fire with Cregan sitting next to you, he was drinking some ale and talking to his men while we waited for the food to cook. You looked over your shoulder and saw Tyraxes, you excused yourself from Cregan and walked over to the large beast," Ao merbugon hāedar? (you hungry girl?)" Tyraxes lifted her head and pressed it against your body gently,"Nyke find nykeā tīkor hen ōtor syt ao hemtubis nyke kivio (I find a flock of sheep for you tomorrow I promise)" you said rubbing her scaly head,"You need to teach me Valyrian" Cregan's said from behind you, one hand found it's way around your waist.While the other rubbed Tyraxes forehead," She still seems to like me which is good" he smiled,"Or tent is ready if you want to sleep" he added after a second, "I will, I just wanted to check on her, we need to find her food tomorrow, she will need all the energy when we fight the greens" you said, Cregan hummed.

You shed your riding gear and got into something more comfortable,"If you are looking to take a bath there is creek close by" Cregan said sitting down on a chair,"A creek?" you lifted a brow,"Yes, my dear wife we are off to war so we won't have our usual luxuries but you are always welcome to fly home" Cregan said,"I know what you are trying to do and it won't work, I'm coming with you. I will be in the creek....fish don't live there?" Cregan chuckled and stood up,"I protect you from the fish, I will go with you" Cregan said,"It also will stop my men from spying on you","Spying? Aren't most of them married?","Even a married man will stop to take in the natural beauty surrounding them" you licked your lips.

The water was freezing against your skin, you wrapped your arms around your bare body, you turned to Cregan and saw that he was unfazed,"Aren't you freezing?" he chuckled,"I'm a northerner darling, and you are a dragon" he said wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you closer,"Can i be honest with you?" Cregan's brow furrowed but he nodded,"I feel useless in this war so far, so many people have given their lives and I just hid in a castle for the majority, I didn't know my brother died, I didn't even know he went to battle, the same with my grandmother Rhaeny's. My mind is filled they could have been alive if I assisted them. Cregan listened carefully, his hand cupping your cheek,"You might not have fought with sword in hand but you forged alliances, you proved to the other Northern houses that your mother's side deserves their alliance when you faced your Uncle when he took our men hostage. Don't disregard yourself my dear wife" you sighed,"But they still rather have me back in Winterfell than fight alongside them" Cregan sighed as well,"That's different, men usually range wars while the women stay at home. Times have changed something I needed to realise too" he said before kissing your forehead,"You and your dragon will bring an advantage to us," he said pressing you closer to his body,”You look so beautiful, standing bare in nature” he said softly kissing your neck,”Cregan” you whispered softly,”Ever dreamed of making love in the wild” he said his fingers tracing your skin,”The men could see or hear us” Cregan hummed against your skin,”They won’t come near the river bank, I told them to stay away and for the hearing part that didn’t seem a problem back in Winterfell Princess” he said making your cheeks darken,” Than my Lord Husband, ravish me like a wolf does”

You spend days riding your horse, Tyraxes becoming more restless with each day, she was feeding of your energy , you nearly reached Harrenhall, even though Kingslanding is your goal a jab of taking it back is planned. “We will reach Harrenhall in two days time we set up camp here” Cregan explained as he stopped alongside his men, he helped you off your horse Tyraxes landed in the open space which made the ground shake a bit,” From now own I want you to ride your dragon, if Aemond is at Harrenhall by chance we need air support but if it gets to dangerous I want you to promise to fly away, back to Winterfell” he said grabbing your shoulder,” Cregan I can -“,” Promise me” he cut you off,” I promise” he nodded, caressing your cheek with his thumb gently and kissed your forehead,”My Lord your camp is set up”,”Let’s rest wife, we have long days ahead of us” Cregan said holding his hand to you.

“Aemond one eye is still at Harrenhall, we should avoid it and go around it to get to Kingslanding” Cerwyn said,” We need all the men we have to keep the city under our control”,” We are here so we should take over Harrenhall while we have the chance” Lord Bolton said leaning forward in his seat,” How would you suggest doing so? Aemond has Vaghar” Cerwyn says,” Even though, I didn’t agree with her presence first, it be to our benefit having the Princess here, she is the heir and a girl, they would assume she be hiding in the north-“,” her dragon is not even half the size of Vaghar” Lord Frey son interjected,” Tyraxes might be smaller but she is quicker and Aemond had the chance to kill me but didn’t, if we draw Aemond out on dragon back, we can surprise attack him with Tyraxes and me” I defend,” My brother promised you Harrenhall didn’t he? I thought you be eager to take it back from Greens my Lord” I said,” Than we have a plan, we take over Harrenhall beforehand we continue to Kingslanding” Cregan said and his tone didn’t leave room discussion.

I changed into my nightgown while Cregan read the letters of the Greyjoys and the Manderly’s,” Any news?” you asked walking towards Cregan,” They haven’t reached the Lannister fleet yet but they are ready and that’s all what we need to hear” Cregan said pulling you on his lap,” I need you to promise me something” you hummed and moved a piece of stray hair from Cregan face,” If Aemond tries to kill you, fly to Winterfell, Tyraxes is faster as you mentioned use it to escape if needs be” he said his hands on your belly,” Cregan-“,”Promise me” you sighed,” I promise….if I have to flee I want to make love to you, I don’t think be able to live long without your touch” you smiled

The next day you saddled Tyraxes, she gently nudged you with her snout making you smile,” Ready my girl?” you asked patting her neck,”Try to keep up with us, I know it be tempting to fly head first to confront your Uncle” Cregan said placing his hand on your waist,” I can’t believe everyone who called Harrenhall their home is dead now”,” Aemond will repent for his sins, he won’t survive to see the end of the war. He will die, but the hand he will die on is still in the stars” Cregan said cupping your cheek, you looked up at Cregan, you pecked his lips gently,” Let me help you” Cregan said helping you on Tyraxes,” Be careful and remain what you promised

#house of the dragon #jace x cregan #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan fanfiction #cregan stark x reader #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x female reader

111 notes · View notes

starlightsuffered · 3 months ago

Text

My Goddess

A/N - does the "stop the fucking charade" scene get anyone else hot and bothered or just me?

Warnings - smut, pregnancy, cheating, sensitive nipples, climaxing from nipple stimulation, oral (female receiving), knife play kinda, angry Hal, breeding kink, cock warming, unprotected sex, desired voyeurism

"Bring her to me!" He screamed at his servants. Usually he was kind, he was respectful, but not now. He was so riled up, and only one thing could fix it. It was a well kept secret of the palace. King Hal had a wife, a Queen, but he was weak for you and only you. Nowhere else was he weak, but you made him this way.

You were just a wet nurse. Your nipples were used all over town to feed babies that mothers couldn't. Hal loved that, the sensitivity of your nipples. You were embarrassed, you felt weak for having such sensitive nipples, but your love adored it. He suckled on them day in and day out. He was obsessed with you and you were confused how you had drawn such a lucky card in life.

You'd met back in his wilder days, when the kingdom hadn't rested on his shoulders. You'd known he fucked around, but it was always you he came back to. He'd asked to marry you when he'd gone off to war, but you couldn't do it. You'd have so much to do, so much responsibility. Not to mention, the nation would despise you. If they reviled the once wayward King, what would they think of him picking a wet nurse to be his bride? Wet nurses were seen as little better than prostitutes in this kingdom, the only ones who appreciated them was the needy mothers they aided.

"Here she is your Grace," the Guard had roughly torn the baby you'd been feeding from your breast, giving it to the mother. You had been marched to the castle. They didn't normally retrieve you with such force. He must've been in a very bad mood.

King Hal had once been gentler, but the many betrayals he'd experienced had made him hard. He was never rough with you, but with others, he didn't pull back when he could have.

You were brought before the king. He was rushing towards you, hands eager and protective. He carried you off to his bedroom. You were wincing.

"Why do you make such a face my love," he demanded. "If they have hurt you, I will have there heads."

This was what you meant. Hal would have never beheaded guards before. He would have talked to them sternly, but not killed them. This is why you had been avoiding him lately, the secret you so badly wanted to tell him, was hard to keep in his actual presence.

"No, no, it is nothing," you said, not meeting his eyes.

Hal placed you on the bed in his decadent room. You always wondered how the Queen felt that you had spent more time in this room than she had. Although, there were many rumors of her escapades with French dignitaries. Hal did not mind, Hal only wanted you.

"You are hiding something from me, and you will tell me this instant," he snapped, pacing the floor. He knew you too well. Just one avoidance of his gaze, and he was reading you like a book.

"I do not wish to tell you," you mumbled.

"Why my love?" His voice was soft now. He was trying to look into your eyes. You bit your lip, tears welling.

"I've missed my cycle by three weeks," You admitted.

"You, what?" Hal seemed genuinely shocked.

"I'm pregnant Hal," you said, turning to him. A wild smile lit up his face. He was beaming.

"But my love! This is wonderful news, and it is surely mine?"

"You are the only man I've been with in years," you replied. He looked a bit pink at that. You knew you were not the only one he'd been with, but now, that problem was fixed. He wouldn't be obligated to try for an heir if one grew in your belly.

"This is amazing," he cheered.

"I'm not so sure it is," you said softly.

"Why ever not?" He asked.

"You have changed Hal," you whispered.

"What do you mean?"

"You are harder. I know it is not your fault, but it worries me. I worry you may be assassinated, or that you will start a new war. I know a King must be tough, but a father must be gentle."

He was silent for a long time after your speech.

"You are right y/n, if you choose to have this baby, I will endeavor every day to be the man you deserve, and the father my child deserves," he said, taking your hands.

"Oh, Hal, that is exactly what I wanted to hear," you sighed.

"You are also being moved into the castle. I am declaring you an official mistress of the King. You will be accompanyed by a servant, or me at all times. I want you treated no less than a Goddess."

"Hal," you hedged. "What about the Queen?"

"The Queen has seen this coming for a long time. I have long been drawing up papers for you to become my mistress."

"Hal, I want you to be kind about it," you instructed.

"I will be, but my first priority will always be you," he said gently.

"I love you," you told him, his heart melting words making it all the more clear he was your forever.

"Let me love you, my Goddess," he requested, and you nodded eagerly.

He kissed you deeply, his tongue tracing your lips. You melted into the kiss. He pulled you on top of him. You straddled his waist, combing your hands lovingly through his hair. You let your teeth graze his bottom lip, earning a moan from him.

His hands were at the ties of your dress in an instant. He was undoing them, trying to get you undressed as quickly as possible. You remembered when you'd arrived here he'd been in a rage. Now he was using only gentle touches, loving touches. You were the song that soothed the savage beast. You loved how malleable he became for you and you alone.

"Hal," you moaned as he kissed your neck, tearing your bodice. He grabbed a defensive dagger from his bed side.

"I am going to cut that dress from your form, from now on you are either naked for me, or in the most expensive finery the castle can afford."

He came forward with the knife. You did not shy away. Hal was incapable of hurting you. He pulled your garment away from you skin, not wanting to cut you. You closed your eyes, waiting to be bare before him.

Soon he'd cut through all you wore, and you were completely naked before him. His eyes drank in your body. Every time he saw you unclothed, it was as if it were that first time all over again.

"My y/n," he purred. "Look at you."

"Hal, love me," you requested. He crawled over to you, a feral glint in his eyes.

"Though I will miss these being as tender as they are," he said, beginning to massage your breasts. You gasped at the feeling. "They are for only two people now, me, and the child you bear."

He flattened his tongue against your sensitive nipple. It was enough to make you scream. He suckled your nipple into his mouth. You loved watching him like this, attending to you. The image was enough to make you come. Once he had been content to do it for hours, loving how you continued to react the same way as time passed.

"Hal, oh Hal," you moaned as he continued to lick your nipples, tracing them with his tongue. The sensation drove you wild. Now he added hands as he lapped and kneaded you felt a cord inside you break, and your orgasm baptized you in bliss.

"That's my girl," Hal praised, as you moaned. "I barely have to touch you."

"You are perfect, my King," you told him.

"And you my darling, are enough to make your own King bow before you," Hal said as he got off the bed and onto his knees. Your legs hung off the bed, and you presented him with your glistening pussy.

"No wine, no matter how fine, has the taste of you my dear," he said as he prepared to devour you. He kitten licked at first, making you squirm, but then he changed. He was lapping at you, tongue blessing your heat as it moved. He sucked your clit into his mouth, then traced it. He had you bucking into his lips, hands tangled in his curls.

There had been times when he'd sat you on his throne, naked, and worshiped your body. Him still in full regalia. You could knock the crown from his head with your needy hands, and he would not reproach you. That was how much he adored you.

"I'm going to come," you told him. He growled his approval into your heat. The vibration pushed you over the edge. You called his name as he continued to lap you through your orgasm.

When his face showed, it was covered in your essence. You were breathing heavily as he licked his lips. He did not wipe his face, but got back on the bed to kiss you thoroughly. You tasted yourself on him, and you moaned into the kiss.

"I can't wait," he said. "I want to see you grow, to see the proof that you are full of me."

He was removing his every article of clothing. You watched, eagerly. His beautiful form was often hidden under so many layers of finery, that you couldn't even make out the shape. You liked him bare the best. His slender body and milk white skin. He was beautiful.

"Yes, Hal," you agreed, as he lined himself up with you. He pushed into you, letting out a deep groan.

"My Goddess," he crooned. "So full, been cummed in so many times. I'll be the envy of every man who knows that you are mine alone, forever."

He was snapping his hips quickly, needy for the feeling of you. He hated any position that hid your face from him. Your breasts bounced as he quickened.

"Everyone will know it was I who bred the finest cunt in the land. It was I that filled her to bursting," he whimpered, only you would every hear the King whimper

"Yes Hal, yes, and you will fill me again and again, all of my days," you agreed, whines leaving your mouth as he fucked deep into you.

"You'll be so swollen with me, and your breasts will be ever heavier with milk. The thought alone is enough to make me explode," he panted.

"Oh Hal, I could live the rest of my life with your cock never leaving my cunt. Imagine you, ruling the kingdom, riding to battle, ordering your men, all with your cock buried in me."

"You're going to make me cum my love," Hal moaned.

"Then do it," you begged. "Fill me again!"

He rutted into you several more times before he was shooting ropes of hot cum inside you. He reached down to toy with your clit as he filled you. The sensation threw you into your third orgasm of the night. You were screaming, arching as it seemed like an impossible amount of cum filled you.

"There you are my Goddess, rest now," Hal said, cock still inside you, but urging you to relax. The two of you fell asleep that way. Lying in your lovers arms didn't have to end anymore, you were his mistress, and the mother of his child.

#reader insert #x reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chamalet #timothee fanfic #timothee imagine #timothee x reader #timothee x y/n #timothee x you #timothée chalamet #hal the king #hal x reader #Hal #my goddess

77 notes · View notes

andrealvsbooks · 3 months ago

Text

Until I Found You

“We both knew that this marriage was only on paper and the birth of Xaden is the same for me, just an obligation. I can't love a child who only reminds me of 10 ten years of lack of freedom. I must go and be happy, with the man I love and the baby I carry in my womb from him."

- Recovered Correspondence to Fen Riorson from his ex-wife, Eleanor Winters.

Shortly after Xaden saves Violet from torture and many cadets go to Aretia, Xaden arrives at a village razed by the Venin and discovers a girl who looks like her mother in the rubble.

English isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes or things that look weird please tell me so I can fix them.

Chapter 1

-Why? -Fen Riorson asks his wife as he looks out the window.

His voice sounded rough from all the time he had spent in silence since his wife had revealed her secret affair and pregnancy to him that morning. And there they both were at that moment, in his office, not knowing what to say, while his wife, Eleanor, just stared straight ahead with her usual expressionless expression as she stroked her belly.

-Does it matter, Fen? -asked the woman indifferently.

-Of course it matters, Eleanor! My wife has been cheating on me for I don't know how long and she hasn't even bothered to prevent a pregnancy! That was your intention, to mock me? Congratulations, you've succeeded! -Fen shouts angrily.

-Don't you dare say that, I've spent ten years of my life forgetting my feelings, giving everything to a husband and a child I don't love, counting every damn day for it to be over. Did you ever ask me how I felt? Of course you didn't. So don't you dare blame me for after almost 10 years finding love and prioritizing myself -Eleanor said calmly, as if they were talking about the weather, just as her mother had taught her since she was a little girl.

-Eleanor...I...love you.

-But I don't, and it's time you understood that a marriage is meaningless if the love is one-sided. I just...wish you could find what I found and know what love is, because this isn't -Eleanor said, her voice soft.

-What about Xaden? I know you don't love him, but he... he adores you, Eleanor. What will I tell him when you leave next week?

-He's smart, tell him the truth, -she said coldly.

-Don't leave on his birthday, please Eleanor, I beg you, don't do this to him, he's just a boy and he's your son too- Fen pleads.

-That child is not my son, it's just a simple duty that I had no choice but to fulfill, nothing else, don't make me repeat it again. Now, if you will excuse me, I am in a hurry -said his wife with annoyance.

-Of course Eleanor, I'm sure your lover will want to know about our conversation -said the duke sarcastically.

-Exactly, dear husband -said his wife in a mocking tone before leaving, closing the door tightly on his way out.

And as the woman walked through the corridors she heard in her still-husband's office the glass of probably his whiskey bottles breaking.

---------------------------------

March 6 was the day Fen Riorson would remember most, not only because it was the day his beloved son was born, but also because on that day his wife became a cold woman.

From the first moment Fen was fascinated by Eleanor, and for the first few months of their marriage, even though Fen knew she did not love him, he tried to have a good relationship and for an arranged marriage that was wonderful.

But when Eleanor stayed those pregnant attempts at a nice relationship disappeared, giving way to a cold Eleanor, as if she were an empty shell while Fen tried futilely to make her happy. The news of the pregnancy was for the young wife as if someone had poured cold water on her, although that was the purpose of the marriage.

The birth of Xaden only reinforced that behavior, refusing to touch him when he was born and ignoring his presence. Fen thought he just needed time. He was dead wrong.

So there they were 10 years later in the gardens of Riorson House, very early in the morning so that the Duchess's farewell would not be a spectacle.

-You could stay until tomorrow-suggested Fen once again.

-I don't think Xaden is too sad that I'm not here on his birthday, I haven't been with him for a long time.

Fen just nods which surprises the woman:

-You won't insist anymore, you? Fen Riorson, resigned?

-I'm tired of fighting for what is not possible, just please go now, I don't want some servant to see you leave and Xaden to find out through gossip," said Fen looking at the horizon.

Without another word they headed for the small carriage Eleanor had chosen to go unnoticed.

-Where will you go? -asked Fen.

-It is enough for you to know that it is a small village in Poromiel.

-Eleanor, you know perfectly well that the venin... -mentioned the duke worried.

-I know how to take care of myself Fen, besides Éber knows that place very well -interrupted Eleanor referring to her lover.

-I guess there's no point in trying to change your mind.

-No, it doesn't -agrees the woman as she climbs into the carriage.

-Then I wish you have a good trip, my dear wife -Fen said with a sad smile.

-Be happy Fen -Eleanor said goodbye with an exceptional true smile.

That day a boy spent his saddest birthday to date, a man lost his beloved and a woman began to taste freedom together with her future child and the only man she had ever loved.

Neither had any idea of all the misfortunes that would occur years later and the destinies would cross.

If anyone has any ideas for a one shot or multi chapter fanfics that are from Harry Potter, the chronicles of Narnia or the empyre saga, I'll be happy if you leave them in my question box to try to write them.

#fourth wing #iron flame #xaden riorson x reader #xaden x violet #xaden and sgaeyl #garrick tavis #imogen cardulo #bodhi durran #fanfic #brennan sorrengail #fen riorson

59 notes · View notes

abstract-crossverse · 5 months ago

Note

Could you do Phobos x fem!reader headcanons? Pretty please with a cherry and sprinkles on top? 🙏🙏

Weeeell since you asked so nicely… Been a while since I wrote for Phobos lmao, I do love this director, also I'm so sorry I've been away for so long, I got hyperfixated on other things and just been working my life really I got a little carried away… Yall deserve something big for how long I’ve been away lol, enjoy I still don’t know when a name ends in s if I still use ‘s or just ‘ at the end of it when merging “is” to the name…

===================================

Phobos x Fem!Reader // [hc/fic, fluff]

You probably met while you worked as an engineer for Nexus, let's switch things around, I mostly see scientist readers or something, it's not a bad thing but I wanna explore engineers and soldats as well, buckle up

Here’s the thing that I should explain before anything, Nexus Engineers and Soldats are not yellow blooded, those were not made in the labs, alr? These are your everyday Joes who are a little more interesting than your casual grunt with their knowledge, engineers are promoted with their knowledge to fix things and good insight while Soldats are promoted with high combat skills and high ambition, endurance and shit, all of them start as normal agents, got it? Alr lets go

You probably didn't work for anyone in specific, freelancing and fixing anything you could for a quick buck, you had a good reputation as one of the best engineers around Nexus City though. Phobos caught wind of your existence while passing one of your buddies who did work for him, the Soldat was telling their co-workers about your skills and how “you could fix anything you touched”. He's really exaggerating here, but he’s always been supportive of you, we’ll call him…. Tom, for easy reference.

The Director grew skeptical of your skills, it almost sounded too good to be true, and with how highly this mortal was talking about you, you must be good, after all, this was one of his top soldats, he wouldn’t be lying if he knew what was good for him.

“Really? She’s that good?” Phobos’s voice boomed from the door to the break room, many of the grunts flinched and straightened their postures in the Director’s presence, including Tom, who scrambled to turn around — knocking over his chair in the process — singled out as the rest of the room took a step back. The soldat stammered, caught completely off guard by Phobos’s sudden appearance, tensing as the much taller grunt stepped closer.

“Answer me, Soldat, is she as good as you say she is?” He asked with a dangerously calm tone, it was threatening, as if the Soldat said one wrong word he’d be beheaded on the spot, Phobos couldn’t bother to remember his name.

Tom swallowed the lump in his throat quietly as Phobos towered over him, his glaring red monocle almost casting a red spotlight on his face, he seemed to take a deep breath before answering confidently, “Yes sir, she is the best I’ve seen in a long time.”

One of the engineers scoffed at that, unfortunately just loud enough to make the Director shoot them a glare, making their blood run cold and lower their head in fear. Phobos hummed in acknowledgment, returning to Tom “... very well.” Phobos drew in a breath, “Lucky for her, we are still in need of recruits, especially engineers, so they can help with the machines and whatever else they do around the Tower. You will bring her here tomorrow for an interview, if she’s as good as you say, she will be hired.” with the demand in place, Phobos stood back up to his full height, looking down at Tom as he slightly shook in his boots.

“... and if I don’t..?”

Phobos’s glare intensified at the question, Soldats always seemed to be curious about the most insignificant things, how dare he question Phobos’ orders.

“Then I will personally make you an example as to why you shouldn’t lie about someone’s capacities to me.” He finished sharply, turning on his heel and marching out of the room, nearly knocking Tom over with the mere force of him being hit by his cape.

As soon as the employees thought Phobos was out of earshot, he could hear many of them reprimanding Tom for not shutting his mouth when he had the chance, it did make a grin tug at the corner of his lips, thinking the way most just immediately jumped on Tom for being a little too positive about your abilities and being caught was absolutely hilarious. However, if you truly were as good as Tom claimed, then you might just earn your spot in the Tower, yet another stepping stone for his plan of achieving Godhood.

When Tom came to you with the story, you… didn’t exactly know how to feel, flattered Tom spoke so highly of you? Annoyed he dragged you into this situation? Or scared of what Phobos might do to you if you didn’t meet his expectations… Either way, anxiety shot up, you had been questioning whether to apply to Nexus Core though, maybe actually get a full-time job instead of living off freelance, so this was the best time than any other to actually get that job. Or suffer Phobos’s wrath.

You dragged Tom inside your home to explain to you how the machines in Nexus Core looked so you didn’t have any surprises when going over. It was very bare bones; Tom knew nothing of machines aside from basically what they did, but it was enough to help you through and figure it out yourself.

When the next day came, you put on your self-assigned work clothes and got a ride with Tom to the Science Tower, yawning the majority of the way there. Tom had to go in early as shit due to his status, meanwhile, you usually got to sleep in unless you had a job, you weren’t used to the early routine, but nothing a cup of coffee on the way there didn’t fix.

Going through the Tower was long-winded, to say the least, the thing looked bigger on the inside, and the number of floors… Christ, you were starting to reconsider this opportunity on the 10th flight of stairs you had to go through, and you weren't even in the middle of the tower yet. But going around the rooms you normally would’ve never had clearance to as a normal visitor to the museum part of the place was good to know which type of electronics you’d be working with; they seemed… complicated, and it made you nervous.

Tom had been leading you by the hand because he just didn’t want you to get lost, and then get yelled at for it, so before you knew it you were faced with the Director’s entry doors. The guards were cold in their tones, requesting Tom state his business before letting you both through, and honestly, you were not surprised to see how huge the office was, what you didn’t expect though was to see other scientists working around in the same room, just right there next to the Director, you wondered if these were high-rank employees or if this was a way of keeping them under Phobos’s personal surveillance.

The Soldat let go of your hand and gave you a look of reassurance before you both looked at the towering silhouette at the top desk, seeming to admire his city out the window; the scene looked like something almost out of a movie. Tom took a deep breath before marching up to his office, with you following suit, pausing only for a moment to hear the G03LMs announce your approach.

As you approached his desk, he didn’t turn to you both just yet. Glancing at the other two Soldats standing guard to his sides made you double-take; they looked almost exactly like Tom did in uniform, only these guys seemed to have more buttons and pins on their uniforms than Tom did, those must be a bitch to take off every laundry day. Tom cleared his throat lightly before bowing his head to the Director, motioning for you to do the same before speaking.

“Director, I have brought the engineer you requested.” Tom announced almost as if talking to a king.

Phobos turned from his wide window to look at you both, the light from the dawn outside highlighted very few parts of him; it almost looked like a painting if it didn’t look oddly terrifying. He seemed to take a moment to analyze you before lifting his hand and lowering it a couple of inches down. “At ease, Lieutenant. You too, Engineer.” he boomed, allowing you both to stand straight again. His tone was sharp, but not harsh, simply an order.

Phobos retracted his hand into his cape, you’re not too surprised he actually wears the thing, Tom’s told you about the times he accidentally or intentionally knocked people over with his cape whenever he came around for lunch.

“I will take it from here, I’d like to get to know our… Possible recruit. Return to your duties, Lieutenant.” he ordered again, your eyebrows furrowed a bit as Tom nodded and spun on his heel, giving you a pat on the shoulder before marching away. Your anxiety spiked as you were left to stare up at Phobos on your own.

Okay, I'm getting too carried away here, let me speed things up a bit.

Phobos gives you an interview himself, normally it would be someone lower in rank due to his schedule being SO busy with paperwork, but again, Tom gloated about you so much he just had to see you with his own eye, completely valid reason, right? Yea, yea sure. Also, escaping from the amount of paperwork from their projects and agreements with other companies was a little nice.

He got your basic info, you answered his questions, that he had written in little slips of paper with basic answers under them he had a handful of the engineers write, he’s by no means a “tech nerd” like you engineers, but he did his best to grab the essential answer from your longer explanations with a smile on your face, you seem to enjoy mechanics, good, the ones with more passion seemed to give better results.

After all of that, he got up from his chair and walked around his desk to you, damn he was far taller than you anticipated. He said he’d give you a tour of the place and have you fix a couple of things with the other engineers, under his monitoring; we don't need you going somewhere you don't need to be, of course.

So the whole day you followed him around, grouped with a couple of random engineers in the facility; you successfully fixed something — which as much as these machines looked complicated they had pretty standard problems to be fixed so far. Around lunchtime, he took you back to his office which was mostly empty aside from some scientists finishing up work before quickly leaving to get their food and finish it within the 2-hour break Phobos gave them, which was surprising, most jobs didn't even give an hour. You may have off-mindedly muttered about that being nice, Phobos, seeing it as an opportunity to make a better impression and gloat a bit, claimed it was because he understands how huge and time-consuming getting up and down the tower to the food court and back was, plus, he enjoyed the time to himself that the break gave.

One long and unnecessary speech about how great of an asset you’ll make to Nexus Core, how he sees great potential in you, and how he can see you climbing the ranks quickly later… You're hired! Congrats, you work for the minion look-alike now. Yippee.mp3. He gave you a handshake, let you know where you could get the proper uniform for your work, and set you free to go home, saying you’d start that next Monday. Telling the good(?) news to Tom on your way out, he took you out for a celebratory lunch at your favorite place. At least he was happy you’d get to see each other more often; work always got in the way of your hangouts.

Either way, working at the Tower isn’t as bad as you thought it would be, most of the time at least; you got to know a couple of Tom’s other friends and co-workers around your first day, setting you up with one of his most “trustworthy” engineer friend. Much to their dismay, Tom begged them to babysit you until you got the hang of things in return for like… 5 favors he’d owe them in return. We’ll call this one Kai.

Kai did as promised, giving you a more in-depth rundown of how certain machines worked and what their most common problems to fix were just to give you a heads up, claiming they were feeling generous enough to let you know. Allowing you to take the lead in fixing some of these machines similar to how Phobos did in your interview, quizzing you from time to time on the machines, what they did, or how to fix a certain problem.

As much as they were incredibly monotonous in their voice, you could tell they were just as passionate about mechanics as you were.

Something you did notice throughout the day, however, was that the Director himself was around very often.

“Yep, that’s correct once again, great job [Name].” Kai gave you a tired nod and praise as you answered their question about the cloner in front of you correctly, glad you were paying attention to their ramblings about the machine earlier. You smiled at them behind your mask, hoping they saw how your eyes squinted to know so before they began to speak again.

“Now, this one has been having some problems with faulty wiring, I’ll fix this once since this equipment is so delicate, but I need you to watch and learn how it’s fixed so you-” Their thought process was interrupted halfway through unscrewing the machine’s control panel, raising their head and looking into space for a moment before looking at the doors to the room expectantly, cycling through every couple seconds, did they hear something? You mostly just heard the beeps and scribbles from the machines and the scientists, though… you felt some slight vibration at your feet. “.. is something wrong?”

“... The Director’s coming… again… don't do anything-”

“stupid, I know.” you finished their phrase as they continued with their work, feeling the vibrations of his footsteps approaching far clearer than before, ‘there are 3 doors leading to this room, two on the east and west, and one north-east up a staircase, it doesn’t feel like the footsteps are coming from above but I can’t tell where the sound of his boots are coming from, but… I’m willing to bet the… east door?’

The sound of a door opening to your right had half of the people in the room looking towards it, mainly those who were so lost in their work to notice, including you and Kai. ‘huh, it was the east… lucky guess..?’

You didn’t dare look at the Director for too long, after all, you had to focus on what Kai was doing… Kai, who was inspecting what the much taller grunt was doing with interest for a minute or so before going back to work with a light huff, sounded.. Baffled? You wondered what was wrong as you watched them mess with the wires, disconnecting and reconnecting a couple of set wires before starting to close the panel again, they worked fast that’s for sure.

“See? It’s pretty easy once you know which must be reconnected or switched around. Sometimes in a hurry some other engineers or scientists who don't know what they're doing mess up the wires and make the machine faulty.. The nerve of some people…” they muttered with a disappointed look, making you chuckle briefly before nodding in agreement, not before you felt a familiar looming presence behind you, though.

The large hand on your shoulder made you flinch as the Director’s voice nearly reverberated in your chest with how close he was, like a loud bass in giant speakers.

“Heyy, how’s the work going-... [Name]..! Liking this magnificent Tower so far?" His tone was far friendlier than you’ve heard before, a smile clear in his tone; it seemed like he struggled to remember your name for a moment but you wouldn't blame him if it was the case, with so many workers here and this being your first day…

“Oh! Uh- great! The work- well, the introduction is going great! I do.. Enjoy it here!” you answered a half-truth with a nervous smile behind your mask, you knew he probably couldn't see it but expressions die hard. “Good! Good! And- hello to you too….. Kaaaailee, yes, Kailee.'' The pause with Kai’s name was longer, and the confidently incorrect answer made it painfully obvious he genuinely didn't remember their name; it was almost charming, just a bit.

“Close yet far, sir.” Kai mumbled to themselves as they gave him a small bow “Hello, Director.”

“How’s your work?” he questioned with a small tilt of his head, his hand still firmly placed on your shoulder.

“Nearly done, sir. I’m just teaching Ms. [Name] here how our cloners work.” Kai gestured to you as Phobos nodded with satisfaction.

“Good good, delightful. Anyway, I must get back to my duties. You treat our new engineer well, Kailee, we don’t want a 2-week’s notice so soon!” Phobos’s laugh echoed through the room, sounding almost cartoonishly villainous as he gave two firm pats on Kai’s back before walking off through the west door.

You gave him an awkward wave even if he didn't see it, a hand lingering on the warm spot from his hand on your shoulder for a moment, ‘... that was weird’ you thought before turning your attention back to Kai, who looked to be in slight pain, leaning against the cloner for support.

“... you good?” your hand placed on their shoulder gently, concern starting to lace your voice, Kai let out a small groan in annoyance. “He never knows how to regulate his strength… either way, that was quite the odd interaction.” They stood back up straight.

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t be clueless. You noticed him following us too, right?” You paused before nodding with an unsure look, “Yeah- well, I mean.. It could just be a coincidence, right?” Kai shrugged their shoulders,

“Maybe, but the patterns are just too convenient…”

“Patterns?” you questioned, giving them way to elaborate “Well, when he comes around, he scans the room quietly before he focuses in our direction, then tries to act natural by looking over other people before gravitating to where we are. Looking over us or- like he just did, and maybe strikes a conversation.”

“It is a little odd when you put it like that, but doesn't he monitor new people like me too? Surely this is normal-” Kai held up a hand, something you caught on to mean he wanted to stop you mid-sentence before speaking, interrupting you but not at the same time. “Not really, no, at least not that I’ve seen.. He never did that with me at least, nor with any other engineers that I’ve trained before.”

You were about to speak before another engineer passed by you, butting into your conversation.

“I think yer thinkin’ into it too much again, Kai. Yer scarin’ the poor gal.” he softly punched the taller engineer on the arm, holding a box labeled ‘parts’ under his other arm, the thick southern accent being the first thing you noticed before processing his appearance, he turned to you. “Don’t ye worry yer tiny head about it, rookie, I’ve seen Ol’ Bos monitor some other newbies more closely like that befo’. Seems he does this stuff to ones who he thinks are troublemakers or ‘ave had a bad impression o’ him or Nexus as a whole! Ye don’t seem like the trouble kind, he’s probably just tryna give you a good impression or sumthin’.” he shrugged, stealing your bonnet for a moment to ruffle your hair lightly with a laugh before handing your hat back to you and walking off without another word.

Kai sighed with a shake of his head, rubbing the spot he was punched at as you fixed your hair with a light chuckle, “he’s in good spirits at least.” you mentioned as you repositioned your bonnet on your head, “I guess… he could be right, or not, Phobos is… a bit unpredictable at times… I hate it.” Kai complained as you chuckled again, he motioned for you to follow again, your shift wasn’t over yet and there was more machinery to fix.

I love expanding like this, even if this is probably not what you wanted, I’ll try to speed this up again.

Even after your first day, Phobos kept… lowkey stalking you through your first week, especially after Kai stopped holding your hand through things; you boiled it down to just being him making sure you're not getting into any trouble by yourself, though, it started becoming a bit more obvious that wasn’t the true intention as he started ‘accidentally’ bumping into you on the halls or taking the same elevator to places, sometimes even walking into you seemingly without noticing as you tried getting to Tom and Kai, who often invited you to have lunch with them at the break room if you weren't getting food at the patio.

Phobos didn't understand why he felt compelled to see you, he’s monitored newbies a few times, so this shouldn't be any different, yet… it was.

Most would try to get away as soon as possible unless he actively requested to have a talk with someone, no one dared stay around for long, they feared him, it was always the intent, to be feared, respected, to be this City’s GOD. Yet you were different, you weren’t scared; nervous at most, but it didn’t seem to be directed towards his presence completely. You consumed his thoughts when he was attempting to do his work, his mind gravitating to your face, your mannerisms, your laugh… It was frustrating, what had you done to him? It’s only been a couple of weeks and he’s enamored by you, he’s been attracted to other people before, albeit before he became Director, but it never seemed to go past their appearances, but this? This was bigger, this was more.

It didn’t take long for him to make sense of his thoughts, sure, a couple frustrations didn’t go unexpressed as he seemed to be unpredictable around. One day he’d be all gleeful and conversational with you, the other he’d be distant and judgemental, you assumed he was simply having stressful days… but your gut said to ask, to figure out what was wrong with your boss, especially since some of your coworkers found themselves with the short end of his temper.

So you asked, slipping into his office after the doormen left for lunch, you knew he was in there, he said he enjoyed the time for himself. The office was empty aside from his hunched-over shadow up at his desk, he didn’t hear you slip in as your boots clicked against the floor, making your way up to him.

He had his head resting in one hand as his other held a pen to a paper he didn't seem to read, simply staring straight down, taken by his thoughts. Soon you stood in front of his desk, holding his (allegedly) favorite cup of tea you had gotten based on his orders from the cafeteria in your hands, trying to find a way to gently snap him out of his thoughts without it backfiring harshly on you. Pulling down your mask from your face and letting it lay over your upper chest as you called out his name softly.

Took about 3 times and light taps on his desk for him to see you were there, irritation shifting to surprise to see you in his office, much more without your mask, he hadn’t seen your face properly since the interview… Clearing his throat, he asked what you were doing here, you explained that you were worried about him, and how stressed he was lately, so you came to ask if he wanted to talk, to rant, anything to make him less stressed just so he doesn’t end up killing anyone for a minor mistake sending him over the edge.

… You… wanted to talk… with him? I mean of course you would, he’s Nexus’ God-Emperor and Director after all, why wouldn’t you? Your words warmed his chest, you cared? You didn’t seem like the lying kind, and he had no reason to believe you would lie to him…

Of course, your request to spend time with him was accepted with a welcome, if you were anyone else he might have thrown you out of the window though. Your lunchtime was spent listening to the Director rant about anything he felt like telling you, about the worries of a certain grunt going against his cause, the stress of his goals, and the annoyance that was needed to cater to MERC and their demands for G03LMs, the angry and poorly written emails from their manager still sat in his drafts as he tried to word an unhostile email, it was hard!

He didn’t elaborate on certain things, but you didn’t pry, maybe if you did he’d get more stressed, that wasn’t your current goal. Though you couldn’t help but feel charmed by his demeanors, obviously he didn’t pass on opportunities to gloat about himself, but after he was done ranting, he asked to know more about yourself. It surprised you he was interested in your life at all, but he insisted, so you complied.

You both lost track of time, talking and laughing about funny stories from your lives and even gossiping about things outside and in the tower. Your previous image of Phobos had been broken, that intimidation and nervousness vanishing like smoke in the air, he was just like you and the others, if not a little up his ass but he was still a grunt like everyone else; He liked to gossip, he enjoyed technology and what it could do, he enjoyed comedy, horror, and action movies.

The more you talked, the more the both of you fell for each other, at some point he had forgotten to drink his tea, by the time Lunch was over and his guards came back wondering what you both were laughing about, the tea was cold.

You were disappointed to need to go back to work but you had machines to work on, Phobos suggested you pick up your conversation again the next day. And so followed your new routine, you’d come to work, do your thing, and stay with Phobos for the lunch hour until you went back to work, he even started messaging you after a while to send you goodnights or for you to elaborate on certain things he was really curious about from your conversations earlier.

It took a few months for him to ask you out, and even longer to finally ask you to be his. He made a big deal out of it, of course, it was something private between you both but he went all out on it, flowers, tuxedo, your favorite treat, the works. You made it official on the Tower’s rooftop, watching the sunset together.

He loves you just as much as he loves himself, dare I say even more, his diamond, his queen, he wants you to rule alongside him when he achieves Godhood. He hasn’t told you the full extent of his plans though, you know it's important but he won't elaborate on what he’s trying to do.

He loves PDA, getting a kick of showing others you’re his and only his, kisses, handholding, gentle touches along your sides and shoulders, etc. he doesn’t care about who sees you together, in fact, how dare they stare in the first place.

Phobos can be a bit of a jealous partner, getting protective and possessive of you at times if you hang out with your friends for what he deems to be too long. Later when you're both alone, he’ll remind you of who you belong to with long, deep kisses, and hold you against him, trapped in his arms. It’s nothing too rough to overwhelm you, he’d never forgive himself if he dared hurt you, he tries to take it lightly and playfully, trying to make you giggle even if he’s serious about his words.

Regardless he just wants you well, if you’re in any pain at all he WILL just give you the day off, mayhaps he’ll even excuse himself to keep you in his bedroom, staying with you and getting you anything you need, painkillers, water, anything you crave at the time. Spoils the HELL out of you, and will cling to you as long as you're comfortable.

Speaking of that, he’s a HUGE fan of physical touch. He’ll trace his nails along your back and gently rub your thighs when cuddling, trace his thumb along your knuckles when holding hands, touch legs when just sitting next to each other, and can't hold hands, rest his head on your shoulder and hug you if you're sitting on his lap. Playing with your hair… He’ll never admit he’s a fan of romance books, he’s always wanted to do this with someone, and with you he can finally relax and be soft-ish for once.

Also, he’s big spoon when you cuddle, he enjoys holding you more than anything, but if you insist on him being little spoon he won't protest much, being held is nice too.

If you have a spot when you keep your things at the tower he’ll take the time to leave you little gifts, mainly small things that you mentioned you’d like to buy some time or something, flowers, treats, even just little notes to lift your spirits. He enjoys being romantic, and if it means it’ll bring a smile to your lovely face then so be it.

Some of your co-workers are slightly concerned about your relationship, warning you of his manipulative ways at times, others can't be bothered to say anything because you keep Phobos in good spirits, and keep them from being yelled at so whatever. But he’d never manipulate you I’m sure… right?

Nicknames! My Dear, Starlight, My Love, My Queen, anything to do with your name, usually he’ll put “My” before the nickname because he enjoys reminding himself that he somehow managed to bag such a lovely person. It’s the only thing he questions about how he got so lucky.

He loves you beyond everything. It’s really gonna sting when he dies… Hope you’re ready for that.

===================================

#I missed writing for this guy #madness combat #madcom #madness combat x reader #maskwrites #fic/hc #anon ask #madcom phobos #mc phobos #madness phobos #director phobos x reader #phobos x reader #director phobos #mpn2 #madness project nexus 2 #madness project nexus

72 notes · View notes